acerrima proximorum odia

rules

♡ no nsfw for minors in any fandom. for series where characters don’t have canon ages (such as genshin impact) it's mostly down to my personal judgment (obvious ones like klee, qiqi and diona are out, and i’m iffy on venti personally)- just try to be mindful when sending in your request. and yes, this does also mean no nsfw for twst 1st or 2nd years. i am not trying to start discourse nor am i gonna go out and shame writers who do write nsfw for these characters, i just personally won’t! 

♡ i won’t write anything to do with pregnancy or childcare. things like breeding kinks or heats are fine, i just won’t write actual pregnancy or anything involving taking care of children. i do not like children.

♡ i do write noncon, but i gotta like... really vibe with the scenario, you know? dubcon is fine by me

♡ i don’t do songfics / crossovers with media i don’t write for. i simply do not consume a lot of media

♡ please don’t spam request. i can’t stop you if you go on anon, but please don’t

♡ i mostly prefer to write in fic style rather than bullet-list headcanons, but if you really desperately want bullet-list headcanons the max amount of characters is 7

Locked up in a prison somewhere you can only assume to be the Shogun’s estate, judging by the fact she’s here, you’re in enough pain you’re wishing for your consciousness to fade away. Sharp cuts from the tips of naginatas and spears combined with deep bruises from being hit with the butt end of swords and other weapons make your entire body feel heavy against the stone floor. The metal shackles that keep your wrists attached to the wall are set at an awkward angle that puts a strain on your shoulders and back, and your knees are starting to hurt from being forced into a kneeling position. The air is cold; you’re probably underground, judging by the temperature drop, and that combined with your soaked outfit from the rain adds another layer to your discomfort. 

“Raise your head when you are spoken to.” Baal raises a hand, and before you can even try to respond- try to rebel, try to spit at her, try to comply- a blinding purple light fills the dingy prison. 

And then you’re in pain.

It feels like you’ve been stung by a thousand wasps, like your blood is boiling over. It feels like your skin is going to tear from your body, like your muscles are going to tear into fibrous little stripes. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt; it’s worse than a burn, it’s a much more persistent and stabbing sort of pain, the sort that makes your brain stop working, as if incapable of comprehending it in its entirety. Vaguely, you register the noise of electricity crackling in the air- and a horrible, pained scream. It takes you a second to realize the scream comes from your very own throat.

“I trust that was enough of a lesson to teach you to meet my eyes when I speak to you.” Baal is uncaring to the pain you’re in; the fact that her hand still vaguely glows purple is what clues you in to the fact it was her who electrocuted you. Your throat feels raw; you’re in too much of a shock to scream at her, so you just raise your eyes to meet her cold gaze. 

“Y-you… Shogun…” every nerve in your body would be screaming danger, if they hadn’t gotten fried just a second ago. There she is, right in front of you, the very woman you’d sworn time and time and again to take down, the very figurehead the resistance dreamed of taking down; you’d never actually seen her up close in person. The Raiden Shogun is an enigmatic ruler, rarely making public appearances- it’s not odd for the average Inazuman to live and die without knowing her as anything but the way she is depicted in the statues of her around the land.

“Hm… Still capable of speaking, even though you just got electrocuted… You’re a sturdy little thing.” you can’t look away from her eyes now that you’ve met her gaze. Her eyes are purple; they remind you of the colors of the storm clouds that plague the country, of the electric haze that covers some regions. “It’s amusing to see how the weakest are sometimes the hardest to kill. Like a bug.”

“... Why haven’t you just…”  why haven’t you just killed me, is what you want to say; what you would say if even the mere act of talking made your body screech in pain. You’d accepted you’d die the second the samurai you were fighting against knocked you to the ground: showing even the slightest sliver of weakness to the authority is as good as a death sentence. And yet you’re alive- you’re face to face with the fucking Shogun, and you’re alive. It doesn’t make sense.

“It’s not your place to decide if you live or die.” Baal doesn’t take time in answering you, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. She takes a step closer to you, and you flinch, expecting the horrible feeling of electricity forcing its way through your entire body once again. But it doesn’t come; instead, your chin is roughly yanked forward, and your eyes open wide at the sight of the electro archon leaning to your level, her hand keeping your face in place by resting under your chin. “I don’t believe you’re under any delusion that you’re in any condition to be making decisions here.”

“Let- let go-” panic floods your body. Her hands on you make the memory of the small demonstration of her power replay in your memory; it’s only human instinct to try and get away from the one who caused such pain. But the way she holds your chin, combined with the chains that hold you down and the pain in your weakened body make it impossible for you to do anything more than flinch.

“I wanted to get one of the resistance fighters. To test exactly what the people who are foolishly going against me are made of.” you can’t stop yourself from shivering. A combination of the cold and fear make your body shake- and ironically, that slight movement sends waves of pain through your beat up body. If you survive this encounter with Baal (which you doubt), you’ll be bed bound for days on the very least. “But it seems I’ve ended up with one of their runts. If all the resistance was as easy to capture as you were, according to the reports, then they wouldn’t be standing as the nuisance they are.”

It hurts to be called a runt. But you know it’s true- you know you were one of the weaker ones in the resistance. A lot of them were ex-warriors, or soldiers who defected the Shogun. Others came form distinguished backgrounds, or at least knew their way with a blade. But you- you were an untrained comoner, someone allowed in solely because the resistance wasn’t in any condition to turn down any possible new members. Still, you’re at the mercy of a literal goddess: you’re sure that in this situation, even someone like general Gorou would crumble just like you’re about to.

“You’re clearly unfit for battle.” you don’t understand why Baal is taunting you; surely, she has nothing to gain from this all. Is she that mad the resistance that she enjoys tormenting a mere soldier who has no information or status? It doesn’t feel that way. From the way she talks, it almost appears as if she sees the resistance as a mere thorn on her side rather than an actual threat. But even so, the way she looks at you isn’t the way one would look at a member of a group that’s an annoyance at best. Even though she called you an insect earlier, she seems to look at you as if she were looking at some sort of delicate creature, something quite ironic considering she electrocuted you damn near to unconsciousness moments ago.

“Such a shame… You’re far too beautiful to be wasted in such an useless resistance.” Baal heaves what sounds like a genuine sigh. You freeze.

Surely you heard her wrong. A sort of dread begins to fill your body- although there’s no point in your body trying to give warning signs when there’s no chance of escape. Most would be mortified and over the moon to get any nice words from the Shogun, even more so a compliment as romantic as the one she so casually said. It’s not just the fact she’s the highest authority in Inazuma: Baal is also undeniably beautiful. Her long, purple hair frames her face perfectly, her skin is smooth and flawless like porcelain, a single beauty mark beneath her right eye. But even so, her compliment makes you seize up: because the way she speaks doesn’t sound like how one would compliment another person one finds attractive. The way she speaks almost feels like she’s talking to a particularly exotic pet, the way one would compliment a particularly well bred cat or dog.

“You- stop… toying with me-” the words spill from your mouth before you can think it through. Even though you know talking back is stupid, it’s all you can do- perhaps you can at least die knowing you talked back to the almightly electro archon. Maybe you can even soothe yourself as you die and convince yourself that such meaningless act was ‘standing up to her’.

“Delicate creatures like you aren’t meant to exert violence.” Baal sighs once again, and lets go of your chin as she straightens her back, once again standing above you. Your head falls down, your pained body hardly able to hold your head up; you remember her first electrocution came by because you didn’t meet her gaze, but you don’t even get the time to consider straining your neck to look her in the eye before she speaks again. “But just because you’re not built for battle doesn’t mean you’re excused from being disciplined.”

A purple flash. The mind-numbing pain returns- she’s electrocuting you again. White hot pain runs through your entire body, so powerful it feels like it almost overrides your nerves and sends you into numbness. Stuck in the fine line between incomprehensible pain and feeling nothing at all, your body spasms violently as a choked scream tears through your throat.

It’s almost all you can take; once the electro energy subsides, your body falls limp, only held up by the chains that keep you in place. Consciousness hanging on by a mere thread, it feels like your mind slips in and out of reality, but you’re keenly aware of the Shogun’s presence before you. 

“Still not at your limit… What a curious thing you are. Weak like a newborn deer, but as sturdy as a statue. Your dedication to clinging onto life is almost adorable.” Baal chuckles- it’s odd to hear such a sound coming from the mouth of a feared tyrant, but you can’t even bring yourself to be shocked. 

There’s another flash of purple light, and instead of flinching or bracing yourself, you close your eyes; you couldn’t possibly survive yet another blast of electro. But the cackling of electricity fills the room, and you’re not hit with the expected wave of pain- instead, you fall forward as the chains that held you are snapped by the blast of electricity. There’s no strength left in you to stand up or keep your balance, and so you sprawl face first into the ground, right at Baal’s feet. The archon kneels, her hand moving some hair out of your face, and all you can do is use the little strength you have left to move your eyes up towards her.

“You’re an interesting one. Your reactions are amusing- with some disciplining, perhaps I could even remove all that annoying attitude of yours. You’re too beautiful for me to just discard without trying to get some use out of you first.” her eyes remain empty pools of nothingness, her stare cold as always; but the way the corners of her mouth curl up makes your stomach twist. Now more than ever, you can see it- how she perceives you as a thing, a small thing, a delicate little thing- rather than a human. 

There’s a choked noise that leaves your throat when she lifts your head off the ground by your hair. It hurts, of course, but it’s nothing compared to the wounds on your body from the previous battle or the way she commanded electro over your body; if anything, your reaction is more out of shock than pain. Her other hand circles around your neck, and you expect her to squeeze; even though she just said she wouldn’t kill you, it feels like too much of a fluke to expect to survive an encounter with her. But she doesn’t; the hand around your neck doesn’t cut your air off, doesn’t press into your artery, doesn’t send a fatal shock of electricity through your body. She just holds her hand there for a second, looking at you the same way one would look at an item in a shop when trying to decide if it’s worth the price or not.

“Hmm… As expected, you’d look even better in a collar. I’ll have to see to have one made.” she finally lets go of your hair, and your face immediately falls to the ground, your body too weak to even prevent that. The Raiden Shogun takes a few steps back to admire you; body sprawled on the ground, manacles still attached to your wrists with some links oft he chains still dangling from there. You’re covered in mud, dirt, and blood- some yours, some from other soldiers- and your hair is frizzled from the electricity. If she were to leave you in the dungeon, you’d surely die in a few hours: but that’s not something she will allow. 

“Be quiet.” he orders you, although his words are more to fill the silence than anything. He knows you’ll do what he wants no matter what- you’re too conditioned to disobey him. Even now, he doesn’t have to hold down your wrists: you just lay in his bed, blinking at him in a way that doesn’t betray a single emotion. He doesn’t need to hold you down, but he still pins your wrists above your head- you don’t make a noise, even though he’s sure the pressure on your already-bruised skin must hurt. Maybe the pain is something you’ve learnt to tune out; it seems like you’ve learnt to ignore most of what happens to you nowadays. 

“Fuck… It’s your fault I’m always so eager now. Whore.” he keeps spitting out foul words, snarling and rolling his eyes as he all but tears your clothes off your body. He knows that he’ll also find it a bother tomorrow, when you’re listlessly sitting naked in bed because he destroyed your outfit once again, but there’s something too tender about undressing you the correct way, something that he feels alienated from. You don’t even react to his cutting words anymore; but it’s too weird if he doesn’t talk. It’s too silent. 

Maybe the most twisted part of it all is that he can’t bring himself to feel true regret. What point is there in shame now? He’s taken a human from their day to day life and brought their joyful existence to a halt, isolated them and broken them. He’s violated their body more times than he can count; enough so for them to stop fighting. Deep down, the part of him that’s still in love is torn into two. One part of him despairs and screams, because this is so wrong- it’s wrong and he should be punished, there’s no excuse for this, he’s a horrible person, he’s ruined their life. But then there’s a part of him unable to overcome the absolute bliss of it all: he does love you, after all- and even if he knows your submission isn’t born from affection, his heart speeds up all the same at the way you don’t even move away when he smashes his lips into yours.

Your clothes are torn off too easily. Xiao doesn’t dress you in any complex outfits, nor ones with many layers, mostly because he’s the one who has to dress you most of the time. It has the added benefit that when he inevitably tears the clothes, it’s not too much of a bother to replace them. Your bare skin is left on display, and he can almost picture the way you used to cry and sob, trying to cover yourself before. It’s all gone now- you just lay there.

There’s been more tales of men taking their lovers by force than he can count: the stories were more common in the past. Xiao used to think humans were brutes for the way they’d do anything to get what they wanted- they were selfish and idiotic, or so he thought. Now he couldn’t help but wonder about it all: after all, he’d fallen down to those same behaviours. He’d never imagined that taking something from someone else by force would be pleasant, but somehow, he finds himself missing the way you’d fight back- finds himself missing the way you’d sob and beg, as opposed to the blank silence you offer now.

“Make some noise or something. It’s too quiet.” he huffs as he gets his own clothes off. Things are too different now- before, he’d barely have a chance to shove his pants down to fuck you. He’d bee to busy holding you down, or covering your mouth: of course, that problem was lost to time as your will eroded. He feels almost silly for coveting something like skin-to-skin contact, to have his bare body entirely against yours: but who is he to deny himself a small comfort? He hasn’t denied himself anything else from you, as far as things go. 

“... You told me to be quiet.” his eyes widen at the reply. It’s not that you’ve stopped talking entirely, but you certainly speak way less than you used to. Perhaps because you used to curse him and beg to be let go, and now that those words have proven to be useless, you have very little to say. 

“Don’t fucking act smart.” he’s not about to treat you kindly just because you spoke. He knows how to make you make noise, even now that you’re a hollow shell. You can shut your own emotions and feelings out, but you can’t shut your own biological responses. His hand moves to your chest and roughly pinches one nipple, before lowering his mouth to the other.

He doesn’t have much experience with other humans- but he’s had you enough times to know what makes you moan, even if you don’t want to. He knows that your pain perception has blurred- perhaps because you’re a natural masochist, or more likely because he’s already made your body associate pain with sex. Whatever the reason is, it’s still something he can use to his advantage. His teeth lightly graze your nipple, his hand roughly toying with the other, and he can hear your breathing grow heavy.

“Ngh-” it’s hard for you to hold back your noises: you’re jaded to it all, too far into your own despair to truly feel the same horrible way you did the first time. But no matter how numb you may be to your situation, the pulsing of disgust and pleasure at Xiao’s actions never fades away; your nerves are on fire, your body already aware of what’s to come, and the all-consuming shame of getting any enjoyment from being violated that comes with it all once again covers your entire being.

Xiao lets go of your nipple with a wet ‘pop’, not wasting any time to put his mouth to work again. Your body is already littered with hickeys and bite marks, as if he challenges himself to bite harder and all over each time to draw a reaction, and he has no qualms in going over the dark, purplish blemishes again. He suckles and nibbles at the skin, sometimes biting down hard enough you vaguely wonder if he’ll draw blood. It’s half a sexual act and half actual pain, actual biting and violence to your body- the fact that it sends sharp jolts of arousal pile onto your shame. 

“Shit- you’re already moaning. You like it, don’t you? Slut.” Xiao doesn’t comment on the fact he’s as worked up as you are, if not more. His mouth lavishes your neck and chest and all you can do is lay there and let it happen; there’s nothing to gain from struggling other than to prolong the whole thing. You don’t want that. “I’m going to- shit- if you’re already broken, I’m going  to keep using you until you can’t even be used like this anymore-”

He shoves two fingers into your mouth. You don’t do much- he’s the one who forces them in, rubbing them against your tongue in a way that almost makes you gag, but doesn’t quite get to. He doesn’t even bother trying to order you to suck on his digits, mostly because it’s not something that’ll bring him pleasure- you know very well why he’s doing it. Once he considers his fingers are coated well enough, he doesn’t waste any time in taking them out of your mouth and lowering his hand to your entrance.

“If you tense up, I’m not going to stop for you. Your choice if it hurts or not.” he grunts as a warning, and shoves his fingers in. Even though he said to not do so, you can’t help but flinch and tense up: your body has become used to this sort of thing, but not enough so to arouse you to the point where insertion could be comfortable. You are, after all, being held against your will by an Adeptus- even if your will has been whittled down to nothing, and even if Xiao has unknowingly created an association for your body to find pleasure in his unwanted ministrations, you still don’t want this. The lubrication of your own saliva makes things easier, and you know you have to relax, because he’ll get tired of prepping you eventually, and he will keep going even if you’re not ready.

He fucks you with his hand without much gentleness. His fingers make scissoring motions inside of you, the obscene squelching noises filling the room. Some moans and mewls spill from your mind, your body bringing you pleasure even in this sort of situation; it’s enough for Xiao to almost snap and fuck you right then and there. But he can hold back just a little bit more. Even if he’s impatient and he doesn’t care to not hurt you, after all he’s done, he still doesn’t need to cause an injury. He’s bad at taking care of others, after all; he’d rather at least make sure he can shove his cock in you without tearing you in half. 

Still, there’s only so much he can take. The hand that had been pinning your wrists down for no reason other than because he was used to doing so finally lets go of the bruised and tender skin, and he’s quick to spit in his own hand before jerking himself off to the rhythm his other hand has set inside of you. It’s almost shocking how insatiable he has become ever since forcing you into his life; his libido is ridiculous, inhuman for sure. It’s truly no wonder you broke so quickly: Xiao isn’t gentle, and his assaults come often with the tides of his mood. 

It’s not easy to zone out while being touched the way he touches you, but it’s something you’ve learnt to do. Your body is there in the bed, but your mind is elsewhere: floating somewhere above, thinking of anything but the situation. What will you eat tomorrow? Will it rain? You wonder if it’ll be windy in the evening. Useless and empty thoughts flod your mind, your brain’s attempt to shield itself from the reality it’s in- but it’s not really effective. Nothing can really block out the white-hot jolts of pleasure when Xiao’s hand finds that spot inside of you that makes you keen, and no amount of distractions can drown out the bitter shame that overwhelms your every second of awareness.

He doesn’t give any warning when he shoves himself in.

He knows it hurts. He knows it by the pained, soundless way your mouth opens and eyes widen. Knows it by the way you’re sinfully tight around him- that your body doesn’t want this. But there you lay, mouth open, hands curled into tight fists, the picture of pain and shame- and you don’t fight back. It’s enough to make his blood rush, and his hands are on your hips as he pistons in and out of you, setting a punishing pace right away.

“Fuck- even though I’ve used you so much, you still feel- shit- brand new-” he can’t help but start speaking whatever comes to mind when he’s so deep into it all. Xiao is known to be composed and serious, not a man to ever mess around. The only moment his serenity and posture seem to melt is when he’s with you- when he indulges in you, like a forbidden drug that he’s taken for himself to take whenever he pleases. 

It’s like all thoughts melt from his mind. There’s very few moments when Xiao truly feels at peace- and perhaps it’d be too odd to refer to this state as a peaceful one, his hormones raging and body on fire as he thrusts into the helpless human below him- but it’s the closest he can get to drowning out the eternal pain of his karmic debt, the closest he can get to feeling free from his past. Because at the moment, nothing matters: not his debt to the geo archon, not his past, not his karma. Nothing matters, including the immorality of his actions. All that matters is that his beloved human is below him, alive, safe from the exterior, entirely his- all that matters is that you’re warm, that you’re whimpering below him as he fucks into you with no mercy.

He doesn’t speak to fill in the silence now, mostly because your mind is entirely melted, moans and incoherent babbles spilling from your lips. It shouldn’t be so easy to drive you into this state, but if he’s done anything to you aside from stripping away your humanity, it’s that he’s trained your body into melting under his touch. He’s so caught up in his own heat that he misses the tears that stream down your face: surely it’s just another biological response, a natural way for your brain to cope with the barrage of stimuli and emotions that swirl inside you into an incomprehensible mess. It’s not as if it’d make much of a difference to notice the tears: it wouldn’t be the first time you cry when he beds you, but it could be the last. Your psyche can only take so much before it breaks, and as things are going, you’re on your last strings, hanging over an abyss of eternal numbness you could easily fall into at the slightest push.

Those things are inconsequential to Xiao. He cannot help you- he can’t, he doesn’t want to, not really- but he can continue to break you. With a grunt, he lifts your legs and is quick to press your knees to your chest, the angle allowing him to thrust in deeper. He’s not very vocal, but your whimpers and cut off moans mixed in with the lewd noise of skin slapping skin and the squelching of your entrance and your juices intermingling with his are enough to fill the room. A particularly loud keen from you followed by the way you tighten around him makes Xiao unable to hold back a grunt as you come around him- but it’s not enough, not quite enough.

Your first orgasm has you far more incoherent than before, your shame and pleasure overtaking your entire body. Everything feels burning hot and yet not enough, your entrance overstimulated but given no break. Your moans turn into hiccups and sobs, not particularly because you’re sad or miserable (because you are, you’re fucking miserable, but there’s no point in crying over that anymore), but rather from the overstimulation that seems to turn your brain into slush. 

If you could form any coherent thought, perhaps you’d be relieved in the midst of your emotions- because by now, you know that Xiao tends to come soon after you. His stamina is inhuman, as is expected of the guardian yaksha, but for whatever reason, usually he’s quick to orgasm after you. Usually- because it’s not a given. There’s been times when he’s made you go for hours, orgasm after orgasm, until the point you’re a drooling, crying mess, completely incoherent and separated from your own thoughts. But as he shudders and grunts a muffled ‘fuck’, you can at least know that’s not the case today.

He comes inside, letting to of your legs to bury his face in the crook of your neck and bite as he fills you up. All you can do is whimper, feeling him pump you full of his seed. You’re both panting, sweaty bodies attached and together: as your sex-addled mind finally comes down, you find yourself grossed out by the contact. Not that you push him away. Feeling gross and uncomfortable is just a staple of your life now- it’s something you have to live with.

“... What a slut. Usually, whores moan like that to put on a show- but with you, it’s all genuine, isn’t it? Disgusting.” finally, after catching his breath, Xiao huffs some more insults your way. Whore, slut, whatever name he decides to pick to blame his insatiable sexual appetite on you- as if it’s your fault that he’s so ridiculously attached to you that he’s done all this. And even though he’s the one who accuses you of perversion, he doesn’t even try to hide the way his pupils dilate as he pulls out and some of his cum spills from your abused entrance- his words are just words. He knows he’s depraved one between you two. 

“I’m surprised you splurged today, though. This wine is nice.” you take a drink from the bottle he handed you; it’s not as sweet as the one made in Dawn Winery, but it’s not bad by any means. It’s far better than the cheap stuff, that’s for sure- even if there’s a certain bitter aftertaste, you can overlook that in favour of the sweet, flowery notes of the drink.

“Isn’t it? It’s from Fontaine! Ah, well- not the expensive brands, mind you, but it’s still a foreign delicacy.” you notice him put the bottle down; it’s empty already, and it shouldn’t surprise you that he’s drank so fast, but it’s always a bit shocking. “Come on, finish up! It’d be bad if we stayed out too late and you caught a cold.”

“Come on… ‘s not that cold.” the slurring in your words catches you off guard, mostly because you don’t feel that drunk, but he just giggles at it. You roll your eyes, taking another gulp from the bottle. “Besides, you’re the one who wanted to drink outside… ‘M not sure why, but you were the one who asked.”

“Aw, can you blame me for wanting some alone time alone with my dearest friend?” he pokes your cheek, grinning as you brush his hand away. “Whenever we’re in the bar, your coworkers are always bothering you, it’s no fun at all!”

“The adventurer’s guild always sticks together… ‘S easy to become pals when you’re risking your life together!” the alcohol has definitely hit you now; it’d usually take more than this to render you so giddy, but maybe Fontaine booze is just more potent. Besides, you’re always happy to talk about your coworkers- being an adventurer has made you learn to treasure your friends, with how often injuries and casualties occur. 

“Ahaha… You’re always off doing dangerous things, so I have to drag you off with me whenever I can!” he laughs, but his tone is slightly strained- not that you notice in your drunken stupor. “Mmm...  Doesn’t it make you worried to think the people you care for are always out there, putting their lives on the line for money and treasure?”

“I mean- well… It’s just part of the job! Haha… I mean, the best jobs are the most- um, what was the word? They’re the most… Rewarding, yeah!” you stumble over your words, and if you were perhaps not so intoxicated it’d worry you that one single bottle would render you so drunk, but it’s hard to think as things are. “Well, ‘s not like I’ve never been in danger either…. But I’ve survived so far~ so it’s all ok!”

“... I’d be scared if the people I loved the most was in danger every day.” Venti’s tone is much more serious, the change noticeable even to you in your stupor: you blink curiously at him. His eyes are still right on you, but there’s something in his gaze that you can’t quite pinpoint. “I mean- Mondstadt is supposed to be a safe place, you know? A city of freedom, without violence… And somehow you’ve managed to get into a job that puts you in danger every day.”

“Uh… It’s not that bad, c’mon… Just some adventure and- and some… Treasure hunting.” seeing Venti get serious is something unusual for you: usually he’s a drinking buddy, and sometimes you two hang out after you’re done with work, but… He’s never come to you for any serious issue. 

“Have you ever lost someone you really care for, then?” Venti’s face is suddenly close to yours; when did he get so close? You try to lean back to make some space between him and you, but your back hits the trunk of the tree with a thud, and you hiss at the sudden pain. Venti doesn’t laugh at this (it bites at you that he would usually make fun of you for something so so silly)- instead he puts one hand to the side of your head, almost caging you in. “Have you? Have you held the person you loved the most as they died?”

“I- what…? Venti- you’re being really weird…” even though the shock of the situation is sobering, your brain still feels fuzzy, and it’s starting to feel like your mouth is stuffed with wool; you should push him off, he’s stepping out of line, this isn’t funny anymore- but your entire body feels sluggish and tired. 

“You haven’t… You don’t understand how losing someone like that feels… And that’s why you don’t understand how badly I don’t want that to happen again.” Venti’s eyes are empty when he speaks: it feels like the youthful, playful aura he always has with him has faded into nothing, leaving behind a jaded and serious man that barely seems to fit the image of him you’ve built up over the years of knowing him. “I can’t let you die.”

“Venti-?!” his name comes out more incoherent than you expected; by now there’s an alarm blaring in your brain that this couldn’t possibly be normal, that there’s no way some alcohol could render you into this. It’d be unthinkable to consider he’d spike your drink- it’d be ridiculous, but… With the way he’s acting, you don’t even know what to think.

“Ahaha… I thought once I let him go, that I’d be fine, but… Now I have to worry about you, too-!” he seems frustrated, as if there’s some internal conflict you can’t even begin to understand raging in his mind. Perhaps there is: he’s never talked about his past or his troubles before, so you wouldn’t know. “Why… Why, when I’ve created such a peaceful land… Why did you have to chose to get in danger and worry me like this…?”

His face is too close. You can smell the alcohol on his breath, but instead of being flustered due to his close presence, your blood runs cold. Maybe it’s the drink making him act like this: maybe his drink was also drugged, maybe he’s just out of it. But that doesn’t mean you have to take all of this in at a leisure pace, because even if it’s just some drug-addled ramblings that he’s spitting out, it’s still terrifying. In a spurt of adrenaline, you stand up, even though you can hardly feel your limbs: you have to get away, that’s what your gut is telling you. Venti is harmless, he’s always been so, and yet there’s an emanating sense of danger from his odd words that you can’t brush off. 

“Come on, now… Surely you didn’t think I’d just let you run away, right? Ehe.” you hear his voice as you take hurried steps- his little trademark laugh is terrifying when his tone is so flat. You want to reply that you are running away, that you’re getting out of here and he better apologize tomorrow when he sobers up- but you can’t. The numbness in your limbs seems to spread at increasing speeds, and being unable to feel your legs makes you trip over a root, your arms far too weakened to even brace yourself.

You tumble to the ground face first, the rough dirt scratching your face harshly, your body reeling from the hit. There’s a cracking noise from your right ankle, and the slight tingling sensation that emanates from it from the otherwise entirely numb limb seems to indicate you’re injured. You are in pain; but it’s not pain like you know it, not the slash of a sword or the burning of fire. It’s numbness and discomfort bundled into one, your brain refusing to register the injuries from your fall but still aware they’re there, your mind going into overdrive and yet unable to form coherent thoughts. 

“Venti- what… what’s going on?!” do the words you say make sense? You don’t know anymore. Your senses are amplified and hindered at the same time, the grass pressing into your face barely something you can register, and yet Venti’s soft footfalls echoing in your ears. He kneels in front of you, lifting your face off the ground with one hand- his face is still serious, the empty look in his eyes bearing down into you.

“Hey, do you know? For a long time, I just wanted the citizens of Mondstadt to be happy and free. I thought I’d be happy drinking and singing in peace.” his words swim around your head, barely connecting- you don’t understand a word he’s saying, but something tells you even if you were sober, you wouldn’t be able to make sense of it all. “But then… Haah, when it comes to you… You made me want to be a little bit selfish, you know?”

He peers into your eyes, as if trying to gauge how you’re taking in the situation, but he sighs once he takes a good look. You’re too far gone: your eyes are hazy and unfocused, your cheeks tinted red. It’s not the alcohol- of course he knows that much. Booze would never be enough to render you helpless. He’s very much aware of his own limitations, of how his small body makes him weaker than most, especially weaker than a seasoned adventurer like you. But there’s no way you can fight back like this- rendered completely weak. You aren’t understanding anything he’s saying and that much is clear to him.

“Ven… ti…?” that’s as much as you can manage to say, the numbness extending to your face. You aren’t going to die from this; at least it feels like it. This isn’t poison as far as you can tell, but it’s certainly something meant to knock you out. Venti just tuts at your weak remark, and brings down a hand to caress your hair, as if you were some sort of animal or pet.

“Ah, I guess I should be a bit more clear, since you’re kinda out of it… I’m saying I love you!” the cheer in his tone returns out of nowhere, far too sudden to be natural, but it doesn’t sound forced: it’s almost like it’s just something he can turn on and off. The sudden confession makes your eyes widen- you’d almost thought he was going to kill you, with the drugging and bringing you to a secluded place, but a confession…? Venti’s been many things to you: a friend, a drinking buddy, and now someone who’s betrayed you horribly. But you’ve never thought of him as a potential lover. “It’s ok, you don’t have to answer me right now! Ehe, I bet you can’t even talk to well, right? Those Fontaine drugs really work fast…”

Ah. You knew he’d drugged you- of course had, it was obvious, but for him to just admit it… Made it all too real. There’s fear bubbling up in your gut, but the bitter taste of betrayal overpowers it all- with your body damn near paralyzed, you don’t even notice you’re crying until the feeling of tears flowing from your eyes finally registers. Venti doesn’t seem to be too concerned, but he wipes your tears off anyways, and the fact you can’t even push his hand away just adds to your grief.

“Why… would you…?” you need to know why- why would he do this? You don’t want to believe that he’d planned this from the very beginning; you don’t want to believe that every single evening spent drinking with him, that every time he invited you to Angel’s Share because he was performing there- that every single time you met up with him, that he was planning this. The thought that when you were having fun and enjoying time with him he’d be plotting to do this is mortifying: was he ever truly your friend? Or was he always just planning to do this to you from the start?

“I told you, didn’t I? You don’t understand how it feels to have the person you love the most die. I can’t… Go through that again. Not if I can prevent it.” his voice trembles slightly when he says this. His hand moves from your face to your arms, and your breath hitches as he traces the scars there- scars from adventuring, from hilichruls and ruin guards. He runs them over with his fingers, as if though he wished he could undo them. “If I let the person I love the most die when I can prevent it so easily.... I don’t know if I could ever do that.”

“I can’t just tell you to stop getting into danger… That’s just the kind of person you are, right? You could’ve gone into any job… But you didn’t even join the knights, you just became an adventurer- off to go into places where nobody other than the wind would know if something horrible happened…”

His hand stops rubbing your scars and moves back to your face. He holds you gently, in the same way one would hold a precious gem. It’s taking most of what little energy you have to keep your eyes open- all you can do is gaze into his. There’s an indescribable darkness swirling behind his eyes, something far more complex than anything you could chalk up to just being crazy or mad. It’s obvious this isn’t just him being drunk: perhaps this is the most real he’s ever been with you. Tears stream down your face, and you’re without the ability to even try and control them.

“You know… This is the city of freedom. This is a place where everyone’s free.” his thumb caresses your cheek rhythmically, as one would a cat or another small animal. You hate the fact that it’s somehow soothing- perhaps it’d been too long since you were last held by someone in a romantic sense, if being caressed by a man who’s just drugged you is enough to make your brain calm down. “... Birds are meant to fly free, aren’t they? But tell me… If you found the most precious songbird in the world, would you let it fly right into the fire and let it die…? Or wouldn’t you rather cage it, to keep it safe forever…?”

There’s something you want to say- anything, say anything, beg for him to stop, ask him what he means, ask why he’s doing all this. There’s a thousand things you want to say, that you need to say, but there’s nothing you can do: your body is far from responsive, entirely numb and cold- even the odd feeling of the ankle, which is surely twisted, has faded into a vague pulsing you can hardly register. The only warmth you’re getting is from Venti’s hands on your face, and even then, that’s starting to fade into nothingness. Your eyes struggle to stay open, but you don’t want to think what he’ll do once you’re finally out of it, and yet there’s nothing you can do to keep yourself awake for longer.

“It’s ok, you can close your eyes. I promise… I’m not going to let you get hurt anymore.” his words are sweet- far too sweet, cloying compared to the bitter aftertaste left in your mouth, to the fuzzy coldness enveloping your body.