Here’s some more headcanons of the characters’ guilty pleasure, but with our favorite sweet summer bois this time: Razor and Venti! This set of headcanons are rather ambiguous, so they could be taken into either a romantic or platonic context! Take them however you will B)
Side note: I have quite the busy week ahead of me so I’m going to be rather inactive outside of the occasional reblog or two. I have two more posts queued up to make up for the inactivity tho!
Keywords: SFW; spoiler-free; gender-neutral reader; ambiguous relationship; Razor x Reader; Venti x Reader
Razor
- Even in the oddest hours of the night, Razor deftly prowled the woods with purpose, with reason. More often than not, he foregoes his sleep without much of a second thought— or a second opinion. There was always something: something to hunt, something that alarmed him, something he had to ward off. You find that his sleeping patterns, much like many other things about him, were quite too much of an enigma to even try and understanding. Razor’s eyes never gave anything away, and his total impassiveness told you even less about the true state of his body.
- But Razor was nothing if not self-sufficient, and he was acutely aware of his own capabilities— even if those capabilities took him through a long, winding route around Wolvendom’s perimeter until the sunrise sends him scurrying back to the outside of your home, waiting and waiting and waiting until you finally step out. ( It was always quite concerning, stepping out into the new light of the lively Mondstadtian morning, only to hear the unmistakable timbre of Razor’s voice as he called out your name in a low rasp. )
- You were no stranger to the tired look in his eyes, or the unsteadiness in his feet as he struggled to keep himself awake; every time you meet him in those sweet hours of the morning, you easily recognize the sleepiness bleeding into his unconscious habits: the way he rubs his eyes more often, or the way there are long silences between his replies, his sentences abruptly trailing off.
- You always offer him an understanding smile, just as warm and just as real as the sun in the sky.
- You lead him to a tree on a cliff that faced the sea. He loves to breathe in the cool morning air and look out at the peaceful sea as he’s slowly lulled to sleep. He loved nothing more than to lay his head on your lap, sighing softly when he realizes that his body is finally allowed to relax for the first time in hours. ( Just like this, laying on soft grass and listening to the whistling breeze, Razor falls asleep faster than he’d like to admit. )
- It was only because of meeting you that Razor ever bothered to look up at the sky when it was about to erupt into daybreak, finally having a reason to look forward to the sunrise.
Venti
- All of Mondstadt has probably been audience to Venti’s performances at one point, even if he had to chase them down like children playing a game. Venti always sung without a care in the world, playing his lyre, stringing notes together until it is nothing but song— you never needed understand the intricacies of the bard’s music to appreciate its beauty, such was Venti’s charm.
- Venti found inspiration in the most unusual of things: taking to his pen and paper, scribbling away with a look that was thoughtful yet tranquil. He loved to write songs about the things you talked about, the feelings you shared, the stories you told. He lives for the knowing smile, the gleam in your eyes when you realize why the song seemed so familiar.
- The first time he heard you sing, he spent days upon days slaving over the same song— he sought perfection, but he couldn’t quite bride the gap. He finds himself reciting the song’s verses again and again and again, until it’s stuck in your head, too. Absentmindedly, you sing the verses while you ran errands with Venti, paying no mind until Venti suddenly gasps. ( It was one of very few moments where Venti, the endlessly passionate bard, was utterly speechless. )
- Afterwards, Venti grew to love singing together with you. His favorite songs were always the ones you sang together. Venti, playing his lyre as his smile grows wider and wider with each word you sung. And the songs you write together were the ones he never tires of performing. Over and over, he would dedicate those songs to you, envisioning fond memories every time he hears the first notes resounding from his lyre.
- When you both sit under a Sunsettia tree, singing his songs, drunk on laughter and the sweet smell of ripe fruit, Venti remembers the true essence of being a bard: he never needed gratification from an audience— not when he had his lyre, not when he had you, singing the kinds of songs he would remember for the rest of his life.