: In which you do not condone Venti's detrimental drinking habits one bit. However, with the way he touches and showers you with ardent affection after every drinking sessions, you just can't help but to forgive his propensity.
And just like how you easily find reasons to forgive his flaws, he too finds it easy to love you under moonlit nights.
Venti/Reader (Romantic)
No pronouns are used in this ficlet. (Though there is the use of "beautiful" to describe the reader.)
Tags: kisses, established relationship, domestic fluff, midnight conversations, drunken conversations (venti), love confessions, words of affirmation, physical touch.
"You have no idea how much I love you."
You stare curiously at Venti who lays beside you. He is positioned on his side, fervorly gazing into your eyes, cheek puffed on the pillow.
His eyes are half-lidded, intoxicated in drowsiness and a barrel's worth of dandelion wine.
"Even I love you fails to convey how I truly feel at this point. For me to be so smitten, you must be love itself."
You try your best to obscure your smile—and your laugh. Ah, there he goes again.
He notices your struggle and turns into a laughing mess himself, covering his eyes with the back of his palm. You break, following suit with his laughter.
"Oh, come on! I was being honest." He looks at you accusingly.
"I know. You do this every time, Ven."
"How can I not?" he whines. "My mind doesn't let me rest for the night until I've ensured that I've said everything that needs to be said that day."
"But you do this every time you get drunk," you say. "And you're drunk about ninety percent of the time."
"Ten percent sobriety is a lot!"
"For a wine goblin like you."
He huffs through his nose, annoyed, but does not debate with you any further. Instead, he buries his face on your collarbone. His breaths feel warm on the skin.
His hand finds its way to your upper back, his fingers atop to frame your shoulder. You can't help but giggle at his drunken antics.
"Whatever you say, wine goblin lover," he mumbles. Then he remains motionless and silent for the longest time.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Tick. Tock.
Tick.
You think he's finally fallen asleep. How very Venti of him.
You attempt to rise from your bed to change his sleeping position to a more comfortable one, but you yelp as you are pulled back the moment you rise an inch.
He moves his face closer to your shoulder and plants a kiss. Oh, so he wasn't sleeping.
"Let's stay like this. Please bear with my drunken state a little longer, love."
You laugh again, devoid of prior playfulness and instead filled with adoration. "No matter how long you want me to stay, I will."
He stays still once again, aside from the rise and descent of his chest.
The curtains flutter with the outside wind, allowing the moonlight to peek through the window grilles.
The bedroom is entirely illuminated in silver and blue, from the photo frame that contains your wedding photo to the discarded pouch near the door that you could not keep due to how busy you were tending to your lover priorly.
Your gaze falls beyond the window towards the expanse of the night sky.
Is it just you, or do night skies always look brighter when your lover is beside you?
Venti opens his eyes to see your face basked in the moon, and he could have sworn all the wind left his lungs.
The first time Venti witnessed the moon in its full glory was when he was but a tiny spirit lost in the woods. He had yet to even understand the concept of beauty, nor did he have a clue on what the name of the mysterious glowing ball was.
and yet, as if it was nature to his soul—the way he was easily drawn to how the moon unleashed the acme of beauty in all things.
You are no exception. In truth, Venti thinks you are the most beautiful person to ever exist under the moonlight.
"You are so beautiful."
You turn back to him. His fingers tuck a stray hair to the back of your ear then let his palm rest on your cheek.
"The more we share eventide moments like this, the more I am inclined to believe I am not just in love with you anymore. You are love itself."
He slowly reduces the space between your faces until your noses touch in the proximity.
Heavens, how he could stare into your eyes and drown in them alone. That would make a merciful way to die.
"You have completely, irreversibly rewritten my definition of love."
He closes the space in-between and kisses you ever-so-gently. Venti's way of affection is an ardent procedure;
It is evident in the way he is gentle as he caresses your cheek, the way he lets out a soft moan when your hand feels the skin underneath his shirt, and the way he does not want to part from your lips, leaving you wanting more.
There are countless things he wishes he could say, before the imminent comes to take you away from him.
"My definition of love is the way your eyes reflect the moonlight. I'm holding you like this, and you're looking at me as if I'm the only person in this world."
"I think we should close the windows."
"My definition of love is the way my heart sunders into smithereens when tears fall on your face. You have been through so much, you cried alone too many times and no one even noticed."
"Haa... you're closer to it anyway, just shut it already."
"I wish I could have your pain, so then you would not need to feel as if you are alone in this world. I do not want you to feel as if you have no one to turn to in times when you need a shoulder to cry on the most."
"Wow, so bossy. When and where did you pick up such a displeasing attitude?"
"When you spoil me so much, you should have already expected this."
So just know, if I ever love again,
He huffs, smiling regardless.
"I love you. I hope the wind continues to tell you how much I do when I am no longer able to."
my definition of love is always you.
A/N: I did it. It's 5am. I'm passing out (＠_＠;)
Edit (3:14PM): I fixed the grammar mistakes. Thank you for reading :DD
: In which the abyss prince visits you on a quiet midnight, after years of you waiting for his presence in vain.
Sequel: Redamancy (to be written)
Relationship(s): abyss prince! aether x reader (romantic)
Tags: angst, secret balcony meetings, reunion after years, established relationship.
The rise of eventide moon,
When all dwellers come to swoon,
The phonograph sweeps your heart attune,
The disk pirouettes to Clair De Lune,
A peaceful evening ensued,
Until a pair of stranger's steps on your balcony tuned,
Sneaking up to that scheming buffoon,
Unaware of fate's plan that takes place soon,
The door swivels open.
The stranger's cape flutters with the wind.
**
"You are—!"
The stranger's harsh eyes shift to bewilderment upon descrying your figure. It was unclear why, whether it was because they have been caught, or was it because they were caught by you, especially.
A closer look was all it took for you to know the answer. Your eyes widen.
"Aether?"
Shock slowly simmers down to indifference. His golden eyes narrow, devoid of any sheen.
His lips part, closes, till he speaks again. His voice is hushed as he says, "I'm—I'm terribly sorry, did I wake you?"
Your heartbeat races, bating out of your ribcage in desperateness to grasp the elusive memory his voice allures.
Memories of that enchanting evening flooded your vision.
A man sat at the balcony's balustrade, clutching your palm and looking intently into your eyes.
You found your heart putty in his hands with every word he let go.
"I will cherish you until all the stars cease to glow."
With your thumb caressing his cheek and him feeling the skin of your waist after admitting you loved him back, the promise he made was sealed with a sloppy kiss.
You met him every midnight thereafter. He would knock gently on your balcony door, a handsome smile etched on his face whilst taking your hand to plant a kiss and whispering, "good evening, my love" before inquiring about your day.
He'd bring a bouquet of flowers with him sometimes. Often, he'd bring a music disk to play on the phonograph for you two to slow dance to as you both stumble, laughter erupting afterwards.
Some nights, he'd simply hold you close.
"Thank you for letting me to love you like this," he'd whisper, brushing his fingers along your hair, a warm kiss making its mark on your forehead.
"I'll see you tomorrow night once more, so please, wait for me."
Simple gestures they were, and yet they had you floating on cloud nine, believing that these secret midnight meetings were tailor made by the kismet—threads of every fleeting moment for sewing memories that would last for eternity.
You loved each other every night as if you would never get to love again by daylight.
Until it was true.
The clock's hand ticked three, mockingly signifying the three hours of waiting you've done in vain.
"How unusual, he's not usually this late." Holding your now-cold drink between palms, you whispered to yourself, "I suppose waiting a little longer won't hurt."
Perhaps it didn't.
One night without him didn't forebode the end of the world. You carried on with your daily life, ambling over the same balcony every moonrise, like a never ending loop.
However, after a month of seeing the sun rise above the mountains and never seeing his blonde hair, you realized something was amiss.
Maybe this time, you would always say. Maybe this time...
But nothing.
The turmoil in your heart grew.
"Aether..."
Winter eventually came around.
Frigid clouds spilled from your breaths, falling snow crystals bedecked your hair—you wished it was his gloved hand draping over your hair instead.
You wished he was here, long finished the hot drink you've prepared that had now gone cold, while telling you of the lovely sights he had seen in his ventures.
You wished he was here greeting you with "good evening, my love" once more, ambling to the comfort of your bed and lips meeting yours.
"He's not here again tonight," you muttered, disappointed, nothing out of the ordinary, looking down the empty road beneath your lonely terrace.
You supposed you had long been aware of it anyway, of the troubles that could possibly arise because you had made your adoration for the Prince of the Abyss known.
Perhaps you were simply in denial, stubbornly refusing to accept the reality laid right before you; or perhaps, it was him that kept you from fully embracing it.
"I will cherish you until all the stars cease to glow."
His promise had never sounded so shallow, senseless and untrue.
You tried to understand. Making enemy of the whole world, you were cognizant of the prospect that he may never return.
But even so, you waited, and waited, and waited again. The morning breeze grew cold after years of disappointment, but the midnight breeze was even colder without his presence gracing your balcony.
You waited nonetheless.
But he never returned.
You lived without him for several years, yet you never managed to fully immerse yourself in that foreign lifestyle. You awaited his arrival every night, but he never came.
But now that he's genuinely in front of you, you're perplexed, your defenses non-existent.
Why just now?
"N-not at all," is all you manage, stricken by incredulity. "Truthfully, I haven't gone to bed yet."
Where have you been?
"I see..." his eyes scatter everywhere but to meet yours. "You're up rather late tonight. May I know what for?"
Huh?
What for? his voice echoed, each repeat resounding a more sardonic tone than the former. What did he mean by 'what for?' Did he not meet you around this time every night before?
The luminous moonlight bathes his entire face, allowing you to catch a glimpse of his golden eyes, which are bereft of the affection you recalled they held.
And that's when you realize.
His eyes carry remnants of a stranger's gaze.
You must look stupid, hopeful eyes contrasting his indifferent expression. Your lips part but what of it when your voice was dead.
You hope that this is all a dream and he'd pull you in for a hug already, assuring that it was all a bad dream, a wicked prank, but you knew he was never one to make such sinister jokes.
It's painful. It hurts so much.
Everything erodes at time's behest. You are not different, not a subject to reality's clemency.
Is there truly no more adoration left in his heart? Is that why he left? What caused him to change?
Despite this, his face remains the same as before. Young, unblemished, a remainder of the man that you once loved, but is now the reason why you are lost.
You still cherish him, even if he doesn't. You treasure him and all of your memories of him.
"I will cherish you until all the stars cease to glow."
He made the promise, how come you were the one who fulfilled it?
"I'll see you tomorrow night once more, so"
"I'm..."
"...please, wait for me."
The moon casts its glow on you.
He hasn't told you straight that he no longer loves you, has he?
Perhaps this was one of your many naive premonitions again. A baseless hope. But if there's even a small possibility that he still cherishes you—
"I was waiting for you," you solemnly confess, "As I have been doing every night for all these years."
—you are willing to put up with a little more years.
Your heartfelt response, unbeknownst to you, tears him apart completely.
Note: Finally done AAAAA. This fic wasn't meant to be this long, I got carried away ueueueue.
Me: Finally done, I can finally post— *remembers that I still have to make his banner* or not. (-̩̩̩-̩̩̩-̩̩̩-̩̩̩-̩̩̩___-̩̩̩-̩̩̩-̩̩̩-̩̩̩-̩̩̩)
Oh, and there will be a sequel to this and it's going to be in the same series with the Origin fic I posted about Xiao. Keep an eye out, lovely people (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡
: It has been a long time since Kaedehara Kazuha first traversed beyond Inazuma's borders. He is now far from Inazuma, far from home. With you.
Kaedehara Kazuha/Reader (Romantic)
No reader pronouns are used in this ficlet.
Word Count: 322
The perpetual echo of sea water crashing on summat is a melody Kazuha is all too familiar with. It follows him in every excursions, like a friend he's known since exhaling his first breath.
The splashes resound in his ears even when he is out on an escapade, overpowering prior thoughts pondered on.
The splashes continuously allure him towards the precipice, snatching his attention completely away towards the beauty of Teyvat, towards everything the faraway horizon is willing to offer.
Well, there's nothing wrong taking just a tiny break...
And for the nth time, Kazuha finds himself breathlessly taking in the ethereal sight.
The sky is split in hues of blue and orange. The silhouette of faraway mountains and sea is hazy, coated with the shade of sunset while the side opposite foliage basks in moonlight.
His mind comes crashing down along with the tide's ebb.
Inazuma– his land of birth– is nowhere to be seen from where he is.
But it is alright.
"Kazuha, it's getting dark. It's best we return to the city now."
Because he has come so far, hasn't he.
"I'll be right there."
Far from home. And it is alright.
"Finding inspiration for your haiku again?" you muse.
He chuckles. "As always."
"Is it done? May I hear it?"
He stares into your eyes, a slight pause commences before he interlocks his slender fingers with yours. You two carry in with your walk.
"Hues of blue and peach, come frigid snow and hot suns..."
Suddenly, a sheen seems to illuminate from his free hand.
He levels it up to your line of vision.
Sure enough, a tiny ring rests amidst his palm.
Ah, so this was what he was pondering about earlier.
"...will you marry me?"
Far from home is always fine, because the hearth of your presence is enough to keep him warm anywhere he wishes to traverse, for all time.
In the end, the haiku was just an excuse for him to smoothly propose lolol.
Anyways, I'm very sorry for the constant change of themes. I'm inexperienced with this theme stuff and I'm also still undecided. Hopefully, I get to choose one soon.
Hues of flames and forests greet your awakening form.
"Good morning," his voice is silent, as always, almost drowning in the cacophony of sundering wood and splashing waters.
His arms lay around your midriff lackadaisically, hesitating to tighten his hold as though your body would break apart if he held you any tighter.
His lips mark a saccharine kiss on your forehead, and you relish every fleeting moment of that loving skinship. The warmth is transient, but you know better than anyone else that his tenderness remains, and will go on, everlastingly.
"You know, I don't think..." he pauses, once again, his honey eyes coruscating hesitation. But then he finds himself staring in wonder at the way your eyes illuminate when heeding his words. go on, I'm listening, it seemed to always assure. How you manage to calm his heart by simply being yourself will forever remain a mystery to the Yaksha.
"...I don't think I can see myself doing this with anyone but you."
Your fingers trace his hair to the back of his ear between his solemn musings. This elicits confusion from your lover, but all those bubbles pop when your lips come to meet his. He freezes, and out of nowhere doubtful thoughts of why me? clouds his mind for but a moment in time, before eventually allowing himself to feel weak in your loving embrace. His tainted arms tighten around your soft waist; he melts in the tenderness of your lips against his.
And then, Xiao knew he must've been destined to do this. To love you.
When his bones were first sculpted and his skin first weaved, his form too, was carved to fit the shape of your hold. You are the sole favorite of the sun, carrying your guardian's warmth wherever you go, and he is the son of earth, a being doomed to destruction, until you showed him light. They gave him hands sewn with a blade, and you, a hand that soothes his heart that forever bleeds.
And when the world comes to tear itself apart, it is still you who he holds.
His fate has been entwined with yours from the first breeze that blew across the lands, until Teyvat no longer breathes.
Note: does this count as a writing blog debut? hello, genshin impact fanfic community! (≧▽≦)
!! this ficlet is heavily inspired by 4hon's in one's image.
: in which losing him was grief like you've never known.
angst drabble
Losing Kazuha is seeing the world devoid of a particular color.
The orange sky blends with blues as the sun descends, the white avians flap their wings in flight overhead, and the onyx of your lone shadow is cast upon the grey cobblestone road.
Your world holds the colors of the galaxy, a neverending array of vibrant and dull circumstances.
You would survive, you would live on; it was just one color faded away, after all.
The universe was still illuminated by countless stars, the ocean was as blue as ever, Cecilias never lost their white, and... and...
as crystalline tears fell from the firmament itself, only then did it dawn how incomplete the rainbow is without its red.
To live without those kind vermillion eyes, nor the sight of crimson fabric bedecked with a maple leaf, or the carmine streak in his hair,
is to live without heat rushing to your cheeks, blood cursing through from the pace of a racing heart, the warmth of his arms that embraces everything—parts of you that was loved and died and was rectified,
and it is to live every moment seeing only the ghost of what should have been him growing old by your side.
Losing Kazuha is hearing a faint whisper in the wind.
With hopeful eyes, you turn abruptly, searching for his presence with bated breath. A sight that's oddly lacking for your liking.
He is nowhere to be seen.
And then your world shatters once more—you are left standing, holding not his warm palms but your own sorrow.
He isn't there.
He will never come back.
Losing Kazuha is an every day loss.
You thought the grief would dwindle in each passing day like a time-skip in light novels: a smooth-sailing from dangerous tides to safe shores.
How wrong you were.
Ever since you lost Kazuha, you lost him forever and you are forced to live with that fact until your skin is crinkled and you can't separate truth from delusion anymore.
You lose him when you open your eyes and his space in the bed is nothing but a crinkled mattress.
You lose him when you prepare a meal for two in a house inhabited by one.
You lose him when the sunlight hits a stone and he isn't there snoring away under the heat.
You lose him when you touch your own skin and the feel of his kiss is lost to time.
And you lost him, because losing Kazuha is only ever loss when you loved him until the death of stars.
: In which Greater Lord Rukkhadevata fulfills her final duty as the Dendro Archon.
Nahida & Rukkhadevata (platonic)
Warnings: spoilers for Sumeru archon quest, death
Tags: light angst, an attempt at a short novelization
Existence is brittle, it is as true as it is cruel.
Its entire foundation is built on the memories of fleeting creatures, even gods are able to forget other gods.
Existence, too, is built on the marks it left on the earth—traces which hold no power against the inhumation of sand and breeze.
On the other hand, the existence of gods tend to linger longer. Their existences are bound to longevity even after death.
Marked in ancient wars, instilled in the undying.
Their spirits forever haunt in the wake of their death bed, spreading karma.
Gods are not supposed to die,
yet their existences can be as brittle as human life when its foundation is built solely on the memories of humans and dead immortals.
"How can we just forget you like this?"
Gods are not supposed to be forgotten.
"Is there really no other way? There must be something else I can do!" Nahida's composure shatters, seethed from blazing desperation.
Rukkhadevata's avatar stares with a somber look at the tearful Dendro Archon.
She closes her eyes, acknowledging how painful the ordeal must be for she who posseses an empathetic heart.
Had her former companions—the Goddess of Flowers, King Deschret, or even the Grand Priest Kusala—asked this of her, she would have never come to terms with it herself.
But the past is long gone.
Nahida's tears are futile against the walls of somebody who upheld their will until the end.
On the contrary, all it did was invigorate her remaining consciousness's convection.
To leave Sumeru in the hands of a god who feels for people, she could not have hoped for anything better.
"You are the god of wisdom, Buer. You should know that there is no other way."
"But this is just too cruel...!" Nahida chokes on her sobs. "I don't want to forget you!"
The Greater Lord's lips stretch into a cryptic smile. She does not know what she is smiling for. In pity of herself, perhaps, or happiness that the denouement is nearing.
Forget me, huh...
As the former god of wisdom, she knows all too well what that entails.
That in the next hour, stretching into the unknown expanse of Teyvat's future, no one will mourn nor celebrate her again in-between.
To never hear anyone speak of Rukkhadevata when it was she who bore witness to the Goddess of Flowers's dance,
shared drinks with The Scarlet King,
seen and loved by Kusala,
it was Rukkhadevata who fought the forbidden knowledge despite the burning inner turmoil it brought in her being.
And ultimately, it was Rukkhadevata who perished five hundred years ago in the honor and safety of her people.
To live an eventful life only to be reduced to a state of non-existence, to be devalued smaller than even a speck of dust in the wind,
To hear no one speak of Rukkhadevata as if she never lived...how deathly terrifying.
It is akin to being caged eternally in the Abyss.
Had it been any other god, they never would have done it.
But for a god who cherishes her people unconditionally, Rukkhadevata deems it a fair price.
"There is no need to feel sad, Buer. As someone who delights in wisdom, what you should be feeling at this very moment is joy because you've finally found the answer."
Rukkhadevata's avatar turns to face Irminsul. "These are the words in their entirety. The answer you've been seeking for all along."
"Let the world completely forget me."
World... Forget me...
"Let the world completely forget me." Rukkhadevata whispers for no one to hear.
She stands in the midst of barren sand, unable to discern the crimson skies from the bright green glow her palms are emanating.
"Are you listening to my final wish, Irminsul?" She chuckles though her laughter holds no mirth.
"I am already missing my friends in Sumeru so painfully."
Sumeru.
"But I am exhausted..."
My greatest hiraeth.
"And I have come to realize that my existence is one giant paradox." She continues, green glow gradually tapering, "Here I stand, fending off forbidden knowledge, yet all the same, I am the reason why it has come to existence."
For the sake of Sumeru, this sacrifice needs to be done.
"I have long been corrupted by the forbidden knowledge as well, anyway."
Hence why I humbly beg to have my being be lost, buried in no casket of time, nor existed in any samsara.
The desert sand loses the coruscated green sheen. A loud thud reverberates afterwards.
The god's chest rises and descends as how her remaining life clings from the force of death.
Her eyelids grow heavier than a millenia's worth of memories.
The Dendro Archon is dying.
"I won't... allow it... not yet... at least, let me leave this...!"
The last step of her final duty.
Before her consciousness completely slips, she shifts it to Irminsul, sprinting to climb the humongous tree upon landing.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
She tears a branch from Irminsul, one so untainted and pure, and let it fall into the into the depth of soil where it will flourish overtime.
With this, she feels her lungs breathe its last breath.
"I'm sorry... It seems I can't fulfill my promise in this timeline after all. I leave the next Dendro Archon in your care in the next samsara..."
The body of the Dendro Archon begins to dissolve into tiny lime particles, translucent and fading.
This is it, my last obligation as the forgotten Dendro Archon
"Goodbye, people of Sumeru."
concluded at long last.
Goodbye, I wrote this while sleep-deprived. Gonna edit it tomorrow morning. ಥ‿ಥ
