Chapter Text
“The color of your eyes is like the sky in my hometown.”
Venti laughs, gentle, like a chime in the wind. “That one doesn’t work on a bard.”
The conversation moves along, back to the topic of the Holy Lyre, but you can’t help yourself wondering. Just what does work on a bard then? You don’t get your chance for a while, what with the whole situation with Dvalin and La Signora stealing Venti’s gnosis, but on a cloudless night under the tree at Windrise, you find the Anemo Archon.
“Venti.” You blink in surprise at the god. He’s perched on a gnarled root a bit off the ground, braids aglow and a half eaten apple in hand.
He seems to light up brighter than his braids upon noticing you. “Ah, it’s you!” He exclaims. He reaches behind his cape and produces another apple. “Care for one?” Without waiting for an answer, the bard tosses it to you, and you fumble to catch it.
Venti hops down from the large tree root and down to ground level. “You know, apples are my favorite,” he muses as he crunches on the bite of an apple. “Best when they’re ripe; sweet and juicy.” Some of the juice makes his lips glisten.
You hold up the apple in front of you so half of it covers Venti’s face while closing one eye.
“Apples are sweet and all, but I think you’re sweeter,” you say, tilting the apple in your hand. “I’d even go as far to say you’re the apple of my eye.”
Venti only stares at you in response. Then, he throws his head back and laughs. “What an interesting turn of phrase,” he giggles. “Mind if I steal that for a line of poetry?”
Your mouth creases into a frown. Okay, bad choice of words. Does it not translate well? You made a mental note to try and avoid metaphors from your own world in the future, lest it go over his head again.
Regardless of Venti’s interpretation of your attempt at flirting, he takes a seat on the soft, flowy grass and you sit beside him. “You should be off in dreamland by now,” Venti says as you run your fingers through the grass, interrupting the flow.
“I could say the same about you,” you respond “No gnosis means you’re basically mortal, doesn’t it?”
Venti only shrugs nonchalantly. “Fair enough.”
The conversation dies, with the only sound filling the silence being the occasional crunch as Venti eats his apple.
“I don’t like to sleep,” you whisper under another crunch from Venti. Venti stops eating.
“I slept for five hundred years and lost the only person close to me…” You manage a smile, but it comes out more like a grimace. “I think I’ve slept enough.”
Venti’s eyes soften and lift away from his apple, and there’s a sadness in them, directed at you. Instead of a spoken response, the bard pulls out his lyre and begins plucking the strings in a gentle melody.
His eyes move up from his lyre to glance at you. . “Go on. Close your eyes.”
Your eyebrows scrunch. “Why?”
Venti laugh-scoffs as if it’s obvious. “I’m playing you a lullaby so you can sleep. Don’t worry about me making a peep!”
You open your mouth to protest, but Venti silences you with a legato. “I’ll still be here when you wake. I promise.”
Reluctantly, you fold an arm under your head and close your eyes. Venti takes your actions as a sign to begin his lullaby.
You hadn’t expected the tune to be so… comforting. It’s light and gentle, like dandelion puffs floating in the wind. The grass beneath you seems to become plush and the ground softens. Venti’s tunes float on the crisp, fresh breeze, lulling you to sleep.
The sound of birdsong is what wakes you up. Sunlight makes you screw your eyes shut. As your mind starts to come to, you become aware of something weighted resting in your hair. No, running through your hair. Before you can startle awake, your ears pick up a familiar voice, humming.
You don’t recognize the tune, but the voice is Venti’s, and you can feel his dainty hand gently running through your hair spread out on the grass.
His humming overflows with a feeling, , so much overflowing it makes your chest tighten, but above all, it’s fond.
You lay there, patiently basking in his affection. When his hand stops petting your head do you finally stir, and you see a flash of embarrassment on his face.
“Ah, did my humming wake you?” Venti asks, chuckling, his look of embarrassment quickly replaced by one of playfulness. I guess I won’t mention it then….
You ruffle your hair, bits of grass flying to and fro. “It was the birds.” You blink sleepily up at him, legs crossed up on a rock. “How lucky am I to have you be the first thing I see in the morning.”
Venti’s cheeks don’t even go pink. “I take it you slept well, then?”
You sigh and try to remember your dreams, decidedly ignoring Venti’s disregard for your comment. You remember a vague nightmare, nothing unusual, but it’s foggy. Gentle lyre music overwrites the memory.
“Yeah, your song helped,” you realize.
Venti stands and reaches one arm in the air as he stretches with a groan. He holds his hand out to you and helps you up. “Care for a nightcap then?”
You blink. “It’s morning.”
“Noon, actually,” Venti clarifies, as if that makes it any better. Still, he doesn’t budge. “Angel’s Share is always open, you know.”
Begrudgingly, you sigh and roll your eyes before taking Venti’s hand. Before you know it, wind whips up making leaves, grass, and your hair fly everywhere, and you shut your eyes against the sudden gust.When you open them, you and Venti are in the alleyway behind the tavern.
“Being an archon has it perks, don’t you think?” Venti giggles, turning around the corner out of the alley, holding the door open for you.
The door swings open with a dull creak. Inside is not as lively as usual, and you can only make out the sound of maybe three other people inside, idly chatting. You expect to hear Charles at the bar, so you startle when you hear someone else speak instead.
“Oh, joy,” you hear Diluc say from inside the tavern. “I hope you don’t expect more free drinks, you drunken bard.”
“Master Diluc, you wound me,” Venti whines, hand over his heart. As you walk in, Venti catches you with his other hand on your shoulder. “My friend here is paying!”
I am? Diluc raises an eyebrow at you. You give a helpless look “Ah… sure,” you sigh in defeat. “I guess I am.”
“That’s the spirit!” Venti chirps. “Now, I could go for some spirits.” He hops up onto his usual stool and drums his fingers on the counter. “Your finest dandelion wine, Master Diluc.”
Diluc turns his back on you two and uncorks a wine bottle with a fancy illustration of a dandelion on the label. He pours it elegantly into Venti’s glass. You slide onto the stool beside the bard and watch as he downs the wine like a shot and exhales joyously.
“Will you be ordering something?” Diluc asks.
“Uhh, just some wolfhook juice for now,” you say. “I don’t know how Venti can stand to drink this early.”
Diluc nods silently and cleans a glass for you. Diluc slides you the glass a moment later, filled with a bubbling ,deep violet color. It’s sweet with a bitter aftertaste, but at least there’s no burning sensation. You can smell the headiness of the dandelion wine in the atmosphere. Venti sips his third pouring of dandelion wine. If you didn’t know better, alcohol was akin to water for him.
Diluc shoots you a look and you can immediately tell what he’s trying to telepathically tell you. Just how in Teyvat can he drink so much in such little time?
Venti uncorks a fourth bottle of wine and is about to pour it into his glass when he decides against it with a shrug, Instead, h eputs the bottle to his lips and tilts his head back and chugs away. Your eyes grow wider and wider with every passing second, watching in awe as his throat bobs, not even stopping to breathe. The wine bottle is half gone when he pauses, catching your staring.
“Eh? Want some?” He shakes the bottle at you, liquid sloshing.
You weakly point to your half-finished wolfhook juice. “N- no, I’m good.” Venti shrugs and gulps down the rest of the bottle in the blink of an eye.
“That bard is going to drain you dry of all your mora at this rate,” Diluc points out. You realize, as Venti goes reaching for another bottle of dandelion wine, that Diluc is right.
It’s not until the sun begins to set and other customers start to pour in do you finally decide to not go into debt. You watch as Venti uncorks his tenth bottle before snatching it away and taking a swig yourself.
“Okay, that’s it,” you sigh, as the wine lingers on your tongue. “Don’t you do performances?”
Venti spins on the stool with his lyre apparating in his hand after he turns back around.. “Does my most loyal disciple demand a song? Worry not, you won’t have to wait for long.” Venti hops off his stool with far more balance than you thought possible given how much wine he’s had and meanders over to the stage.
“Hey, I didn’t say you could use my stage!” Diluc calls after the bard, but Venti is already plucking the strings and drawing the attention of customers to his playing. Diluc pinches the bridge of nose and goes back to serving an adventurer two stools down from you, pointedly ignoring both you and the bard.
Venti takes off his hat and places it upside down on the edge of the stage before he continues. The melody is far different from the lullaby he played you the night before. This one is upbeat and the way it sings through the air makes a few patrons get up and dance, as if Venti’s music alone is capable of changing the atmosphere. A few mora makes its way into his hat and Venti dumps it out onto the counter, earning him another glass of wine.
You lean on your elbow and rest your cheek in your hand, staring at the bard fondly. “You should let me hear you sing more. Your voice is truly angelic.”
Venti appears to contemplate as he drinks his wine and wipes his upper lip like it’s the most refreshing drink in Teyvat. “Join me in song,” he says with a bright chuckle. “Two voices sound better than one.”
You play with the ends of your hair hanging in your face. “Oh, I don’t know, Venti,” you mumble. “I’m not familiar with any Mondstadt songs, and-”
“Nonsense!” Venti interrupts you, tugging you up and onto the stage with him before you can pull away. “Just follow my lead! It’s not too difficult a deed.”
Venti starts a new song, one folksy and you find yourself; it’s one you’ve heard Beidou and her crew together on the Crux. You clap your hands in time to the beat and Venti’s grin grows wider as you join him in song.
The dancing has little rhythm to it, a dizzy mess of stomping, clapping, feet clomping hard on the wooden floors makes up the dance of the drunken patrons as Venti is begged for an encore. He refreshes himself with another drink, and suddenly you find yourself being twirled around and dipped by the tipsy bard, laughing all the while.
Venti’s sea colored eyes twinkle in the low golden glow of the tavern’s lights and your heart jumps in your throat. “If you wanted to sweep me off my feet, Venti, you could have just asked,” you giggle.
The bard doesn’t miss a beat. You spin in a circle once more and find your back pressed against his chest, arms wrapped around you. “Then may I have this dance?”
As you untangle yourself from him, he outstretches his hand to you, Venti hands off his lyre to another nearby bard and pulls you close. He crosses you under his arms and twists you fluidly into his chest. You catch him eyeing you with…. something in his eyes over his shoulder. You can’t help but feel like dancing with him feels natural. You catch Venti’s leg over your hip and he leans back dramatically with a mirthful laugh. You dip him as he does so, his loose braids falling back. The blue tips are faintly shimmering, and the dim candlelight catches and shines in his hair like a golden halo. In the soft luminescence of the tavern, the smell of woodsy alcohol, and Venti’s eyes sparkling, every other patron fades away until it feels as if you two are the only ones there.
You pull Venti back up and he seizes the lead, sending you spinning to the end of his arm before winding you back into an embrace. With your chests close together, you can feel the rise and fall of his heavy breathing. His breath is warm against your neck, emitting the smell of dandelion wine, though it wasn’t completely unpleasant. His rousing dance with you earned Venti a hat full of mora, the gold coins sparkling in the ambiance.
“How stirring,” Kaeya purrs from a table, wine glass raised in amusement. “You two dance like you were made for each other.”
Venti just throws his head back and laughs, braids swaying. Your hands rest on the bard’s shoulders. “My heart beats in time with yours,” you breathe. You can feel it thumping against your chest as you take Venti’s hand and slide it up to where your heart lies. “Can’t you feel how hard it beats…? For you?”
His cheeks are the faintest tinge of pink, but for the life of you you can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or the peachy colored lighting. Venti scrunches his eyebrows at you and brushes the back of his hand against your cheek.
“You’re quite warm,” he notes, inspecting you for a moment. Then, he tears away and looks over his shoulder.. “Master Diluc, a glass of water, would you?”
Before you can quip back, Venti sits you down on a stool back at the bar and puts the cup of cold water in your hands. “Just stay seated here. With me looking out for you, there’s no need to fear!”
Venti spins off and collects his lyre from the other bard and resumes his playing. The atmosphere has gone back to being rowdy and lively, your short-lived one-off with Venti feeling like a dream. You slump in your seat and sip your ice water. The ice cubes in the water are round, like the kind in scotch. When one melts down enough, you crush it like a weak pebble between your teeth and grind your teeth in frustration until it’s nothing. All the while, watching Venti stir up excitement in the increasingly drunk customers.
The mora he earned from your dance is long gone, having been spent on a round for every patron in a moment of drunken stupor on Venti’s part. He’s holding a funnel in his mouth and expertly drinking all the wine other patrons pour in, chanting ‘chug, chug, chug!’. Not a single drop spills out, and when he stands upright, he just wipes his mouth and shakes himself steady. The bar is filled with uproarious cheers. When you roll your eyes and go to take a sip of your water, you find the ice cubes have completely melted.
Venti stumbles onto the stage with another bard and the two begin a duet. Venti’s taken to playing his flute, and the other bard is sporting a cittern. A traveler you’ve never seen before drops a handful of mora into Venti’s hat and beckons him forward to plant a kiss on his cheek. You grind your teeth together, and suddenly you’re holding the bottle of dandelion wine Venti forgot about and your mouth tingles.
“Huh,” Diluc makes a noise of mild surprise behind the counter. You feel his eyes on you.
You look over your shoulder and squint at him with a scalding look. “What.”
Diluc is hardly fazed by your glare. “I took you for a lightweight.”
You glance at the bottle of dandelion wine in your hand. There’s barely enough left for a sip. You grumble and finish it off and set it back down on the counter.
“Do you have any maple wine?” Although dandelion wine was good, it was too earthy for your tastes. You can almost taste the sweetness of maple wine on your tongue, balanced by the sharpness of a lemon slice on the rim and a pleasant, musky roughness depending on how long it’s been aged in the barrel.
You can practically feel Diluc raise an eyebrow at you. “Can your pockets afford it?”
You huff, and Diluc takes that for his answer. You don’t get your glass of maple wine. Lucky for you, Kaeya leaves the tavern early and leaves you the rest of his dark red wine. You find you despise the taste quickly: woodsy, bitter and dry. Yet another stranger approaches Venti to fawn over his braids, twirling them in her fingers, and suddenly it tastes wonderful. The wine’s only redeeming quality is its subtle black cherry flavor that goes well with the deep grape.
“This is disgusting,” you grumble to Diluc. His eyes lingered on Venti for a while longer as he watched the bard descend further into drunkenness.
“Unfortunately, that is Kaeya’s primary wine of choice,” Diluc responds. He sets a dried glass upside down on the rack. “I ,too, find it repulsive.”
You knock back your final sip of the wine with a groan and a shake of your head. “You find every type of alcohol repulsive,” you retort.
Diluc makes a low noise of agreement. Your eyes fall half shut as you lean back on the edge of the counter and cross your arms. Even with your head pleasantly buzzing, something still simmers under your skin every time Venti basks in the touchy attention of someone you don’t know.
You’re in the middle of contemplating just leaving and going to find Paimon for a sticky honey roast, when an out-of-tune note being plucked snaps you out of your thoughts. You look up to see Venti’s singing partner practically blackout drunk on the stage.
Venti laughs a drunken, bubbly laugh. You roll your eyes and get up, the ground swaying slightly under your feet. Nimrod is seated where Kaeya was, and joins Venti in laughter, throwing his hand holding a glass of wine into the air. The liquid goes flying, and successfully drenches you. The pleasant buzz is gone now.
You smell like if burnt caramel could be made into an alcohol. Whatever Nimrod had in his glass smells worse than what Kaeya’s tasted like. Your coldest, most seething glare fixes onto the drunkard.
“You’re done,” you tell Venti sternly as you walk up to him, hands firmly on your hips.
Venti snorts to mask a giggle. “You’re all wet.” He sniffs the air. “Did someone pour yellow tail on you?”
You hook your hands under the bard’s armpits and hoist him up off the floor instead of answering. It’s an awkward angle, and Venti does the opposite of helping as he thrashes in your arms.
“Wh- hey!” He protests. “It’s rude to interrupt a bard’s performance!”
His shoes squeak on the wooden floorboards as you drag him over to Diluc so he can help you. “I wouldn’t call that a performance.”
Venti just huffs and folds his arms, making things more complicated for you.
“Diluc.”
The bartender hoists Venti up by the waist with both hands as if the archon is a ragdoll. “Put him on my back. I can carry him like that,” you sigh.
“This’s extremely undig-fied,” Venti slurs as Diluc fixes him piggyback style on your back.
You scrunch your face in a glare, even though he can’t see you. “Would you prefer I carry you like a sack of potatoes?” Venti goes quiet. “I thought as such.” You adjust Venti on your back and grab him under the knees as his arms loop loosely around your neck.
Grabbing Venti’s mora-filled hat, you head out of the tavern, leaving disgruntled drunkards jeering in your wake. “Where’re we goin’?” Venti asks, chin resting on your shoulder.
“Master Jean was kind enough to give me knights’ quarters,” you respond. “She said the room had been empty for a while anyways.”
“Soundproof?”
You roll your eyes. “Why, planning on another drunken performance?”
Venti laughs softly, followed by a snort, but offers no other sort of answer. He’s lighter than you had expected him to be, and, despite the dizzying stench of alcohol on the both of you, it’s a relatively easy walk As you approach the headquarters, the two knights standing guard eye the both of you suspiciously, but you go in regardless of their prolonged stares.
Going up the stairs proves to be a challenge, but unlocking the door to your quarters more so. You silently apologize as you change the way you’re holding Venti from holding behind his knees to grasping his ass with one hand to unlock the doorknob, but the bard is barely lucid to really care.
You turn your back to the bed and let him fall onto the mattress. “You reek,” you say as you unabashedly start to undress.
“Wha- aah!” Venti yelps as your clothes fall to the floor. You feel warm under your skin knowing he’s right there, and — if you were being truthful — a little hurt he wasn’t looking.
“Relax,” you huff. “I’m drawing us a hot bath, so get out of those clothes.”
Without waiting for an answer, you walk into the bathroom and shut the door. You turn the faucets to the perfect temperature of ‘boil a lobster’ and throw in some bath salts. Hopefully this’ll sober him up. A bit.
“Venti, are you undressed yet?” You call through the door.
“Ah- um-” he stammers. “It would appear I require your help.”
The door creaks open and you see Venti sitting upright on the bed, hands behind his back struggling to undo the ties on his corset... His legs are pale and bare, white tights scrunched up on the floor as if he’d pulled them off in a hurry. You notice his teal cape on the floor mixed with your clothes, and It takes everything in you to avoid looking at his crotch once you notice his shorts are on the floor as well.
“Turn- turn around,” you clear your throat. Venti obliges and you untie the silky black strings with ease. The leather corset loosens and Venti slips out of it, followed by attempting to unbutton his frilly white top, which you end up helping with too.
The bathroom is filled with a slight steam with the faint smell of lemon and lavender., Venti seems to perk up a little once you two walk into the threshold. The tub is more than big enough for two and you hold his hands to keep him steady as he climbs in after you.
“Feel better?” You tease, stroking his flushed cheek.
Venti’s eyes are closed as he sinks into the hot, bubbly water. “Mmm…” he just sighs. You take that as a yes.
In the low light of the bathroom, Venti looks more angelic than ever. His eyelashes are long and curled at the tips, and his middle-set cheekbones give him a youthful look. He’s half-sunk into the tub in bliss, and the tips of his gradient braids dip into the water and spread out. You could stare at him for forever and still never commit every perfect little detail to memory.
“Can I undo your braids?” You ask suddenly.
Venti blinks his eyes open and reflexively touches a braid. “...Why?”
You poke at the suds floating on the surface. “Dunno. Wanna brush your hair, I guess.”
Venti smiles that gentle smile and slowly pulls off the thin hair ties on each braid. “I hope you know how to braid them back when you’re done.”
Reaching for your boar-bristle brush, you chuckle softly. “Don’t worry, I know how.” In that split second while reaching for the hairbrush, you can feel Venti’s eyes glued to your chest and the way water droplets glide down your skin to your hip bones just peeking out of the water. When you look back, he’s as innocent as ever.
Venti turns around and flops his back against your chest. You go stiff in shock for a moment.
“Ack, sit up!” You say. “I can’t brush your hair like this.”
The bard giggles bubbly. “You’re just comfy. You’d make a nice pillow.” You can’t tell if that’s creepy or flattering, but nonetheless it makes your heart flutter.
“Just… sit up right.”
Venti shrugs his shoulders and scoots up. His hair is still stuck in braids, having been braided for so long they don’t just come undone. You gently run your fingers through the fine strands of hair, falling past his shoulders in voluminous waves.
“Your hair is so soft…” you whisper. “Like the finest spun silk.” The way his dark blue, almost black, hair seamlessly fades into a bright aquamarine at the ends is mesmerizing. You call on the times you’ve seen it glow, and find yourself wondering if you could get it to do that.
“It’s the wind,” Venti mumbles back. You make a noise of confusion. “The wind. It keeps it soft like this.”
You can easily picture the wind making his braids billow about as he kicks up a current to glide on. The thought brings a smile on your face. You cup your hands and scoop water into them and pour it onto his hair gently. Repeating this a few times until his hair is fully wet, you squirt out a dollop of soap and lather it in his hair.
Venti’s nose twitches. “Mmm, is that…”
“It’s apple-scented,” you confirm. “I thought you’d like it.” Even under the alcohol, Venti always smelled sweet, like cecilias. Apples seemed to be a fitting addition.
Venti hums in approval. “I do.”
You work the shampoo into his hair and take joy in the little moans he makes as you massage his scalp— more so than you probably should. You scratch your nails gently down the base of his head as you tilt his head this way to get the soap in everywhere, trying to be as gentle with it as you possibly could.
With hair as soft and silky as his, your fingers practically glide through it as you run your hands through the wavy locks trying to weed out any tangles. Cupping your hands with bathwater, you rinse the shampoo out until his hair is free of any remnant suds. You grab the boar-bristle hair brush off the edge of the tub and take it to his hair. Even though you knew how smooth it was, it still surprises you how easily the brush parts through his hair.
“You should wear your hair down sometime,” you mutter as you comb through the inky waterfall. “It’s really pretty.” Venti makes an absent hum. “... You’re really pretty,” you add under your breath.
The Anemo Archon hears you though, and your arms fly up in shock as he slips under the water, sending droplets in the air. “Venti?” You gasp, reaching into the water and ruffling his hair where he disappeared between your legs somewhere..
He pops back up to the surface right in front of you, hair plastered to his face.. “You keep saying such outlandish things. Stop.”
You set the hairbrush down harder than you mean to. “No ,you drunken idiot! I’ve been trying to get some sort of reaction out of you this whole day! For a while, in fact.”
Venti sweeps the wet hair out of his eyes. “Didn’t I tell you those kinds of things don’t work on us bards?” He looks almost amused now.
“We- well, yes, but you can’t possibly be immune to every sort of compliment,” you scoff. “I’ve just been telling you what I think. I really do think you’re pretty, hair down or not. I really do find you sweet like apples, and your voice angelic.”
You tuck a loose strand of hair behind his ear as you inch closer to make your point clear to him. Your cheeks are hot, and you know it’s more than just the temperature of the bath. Venti’s eyes are round with anticipation, hanging onto your every word.
“Air to fire, Venti, you set me ablaze and if I can’t breathe you in I think I’ll positively die.My heart beats so fast around you I feel like it’ll jump right out, and I swear there’s some invisible force pulling me to you. If you can reciprocate even a fraction of my affections for you, I’ll be satisfied.”
Flawless, sable hair falls back in Venti’s face as he tilts his head at you. His smile reaches his cheekbones, turning his widened eyes into crescents.. “I like you, too,” he states softly.
You furrow your eyebrows together and splash water at him. “‘I like you, too’? Really? I thought you were more romantic than that.”
Venti puts a hand to his temple melodramatically. “My head’s still foggy, let me be,” he gripes. He swipes his hand over his forehead, pushing his hair out of his face again. You start to realize why his hair was always braided. “I’ll show you instead.”
The bard leans forward, one hand on the floor of the tub as one snakes up your bare thigh. He scoots closer, with his peach-pink lips a hair's breadth away from yours, and before you know it, you’re finally kissing him. Although Venti fell a bit short, you have no problem with the way he toys at your bottom lip playfully, hand pawing at the soft of your thigh.
“Gods above, even your kissing is adorable,” you breathe out when the two of you finally part.
Venti’s grin is infectious. “I can do more than kiss,” he snickers, emphasizing it by thumbing your plush leg.
“No,” you scold him. “You’re still tipsy.” Venti pouts, but you don’t show any signs of budging, so he relents. “Besides, the water is getting cold.”
You stand without shame and blink down at Venti staring at you unabashedly as water drips down your bare body. “You can look, but you can’t touch,” you tease.
“As your god, you’re supposed to devote all of yourself to me,” Venti cheekily retorts.
You grab your towel and run it down your spine back and forth. “I’ll tell you what; when you act like a god, I’ll treat you like one. For now, my body is godless.”
“Cruel,” Venti grumbles. He dries off rather fast with his Anemo powers, whipping up winds without warning and sending things flying up and falling back to the floor “Ehe. Whoops.”
You sigh at the mess, yet you chose to ignore it with just a steely look. “I have clothes you can borrow.”
Your pajamas end up looking oversized on him, making him look smaller than he is. You hold back a squeal from how cute he looks wearing your clothes, not to mention the streak of possessiveness that shoots through you at the sight. Venti falls stomach-first onto the double bed with a tired moan.
“Your bed is so soft it’s like a puffy cloud,” he muffles into the mattress. “I could sleep jus’ like this.”
“Leave room for me or you’re sleeping in the chair,” you huff, pushing him over onto his back. He barely moves, laying like a pile of bones.
“I’ll stop covering your tab.”
He moves.
Moonlight paints the room a pale silver, casting a shadow of the windowpane onto the off-white sheets. You lift the blankets up and Venti rolls over next to you with doe-like eyes.
“Two millennia and I’ve never actually shared a bed with somebody before,” Venti confesses with a chuckle “Do you think I’m the type to snore?”
Heads laying on your own pillows, you run the back of your hand over his round cheek, drowning in his sparkling eyes. “As long as you don’t drool, I don’t care,” you say. His ombre hair is spilled out over the pearly pillow in a cascade.
Venti’s sleepy smile is a work of art, eyes beginning to flutter with sleep as they reflect the silver moonlight. “Do I hol’ you, or do you hol’ me?” He mumbles, cheek smushed against the pillow.
You roll over onto your back and pat your abdomen as an invitation. Venti scoots over and clings to you gently, propping one leg up over your body and nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck as you drape an arm over his shoulder and squeeze him closer to you.
“Mmm…” Venti murmurs into you, “you’re soft.” He buries his face into your chest like it’s a pillow and lets out a contented sigh.
Your arms reached out to pry him off your chest, but the archon was already out like a light, lips parted slightly and still clinging to you like a koala. As subtly as you could, you entwined your fingers into Venti’s, heart swelling as he subconsciously squeezed your hand back. You watch as his pretty eyelashes flutter when your free hand comes to the back of his head, stroking his silky, fluffy hair.
The tips of his hair tickle your bare neck, the ends still damp from the bath. You softly brush his hair back with your fingers, finding yourself picking up a rhythm in lightly running your hand through his hair. With Venti a comforting weight on you, like a weighted blanket, your eyelids grow heavy. For the first time in what feels like forever, your sleep is undisturbed.