Jerico Development had been torturing and humiliating houseless residents by playing the Barney theme song day and night for at least several days outside a vacant property. They stopped the music after public demands that they end the hostile practice.
A/n: sooo, tumblr bullied me and deleted what I originally had, and lets just say I had been working on it since at least 1pm, it’s 6pm now... It was also one of my favorites in terms of what I’ve written... so yes I’m bitter, but nonetheless you said angst, here I am to deliver :0 enjoy bestieee!! <3
Summary: venti had fallen head over heels for you, that much was obvious. sadly though he’d fallen for a bad apple.
Parings: Venti/Fem! Reader, Scaramouche/Fem! Reader (I added Scara because I can and I simp too hard for him)
Warnings: toxic relationships, angst, murder (mentioned), aged up venti and reader, implied smut/virginity loss
Word count: 807
Requested by @mintydump
You had spun so many lies, at this point, Venti was entirely sure that your whole story was falsely fabricated, to fit a mold he dreamed of.
I’m from another land, you probably haven't heard of it.
That was a lie. You were from Inazuma. You grew up there, up until leaving abruptly.
You’re the first person to take my innocence, I’m happy it was you.
Another lie. Someone had been before him, he learned. A man who went by, Scaramouche. He was a fellow harbinger of yours, your true love, you taunted.
My family abandoned me, that’s why I left home.
Also a lie. You had murdered them, for some unknown reason to Venti. He could not understand why. Family was important, clearly not to you.
And now, wherever he went, he could feel eyes of pity, disgust, disappointment. He saw and felt it all. They couldn’t understand why. Why did he still visit you in your cell? Even after all had been revealed, that you were a spy for the fatui, the seventh harbinger... Why did Venti still go to see you?
He should’ve never peered over your shoulder that night, he should’ve never read the contents you were writing. But he had, and he wished he could return to before he had, to save him the pain and heartbreak. He wished Jean hadn’t told him that there had been more letters found in your sleeping quarters, sent from Scaramouche to you and vice versa, containing details of your mission, etc.
Venti wished you truly loved him, instead of that man. Anyone but that man would've been acceptable... What did he have that Venti didn’t? Was he your true love? He couldn’t have been, right... You had said you loved Venti more times in a single day than you had ever said in the hundreds of letters to your lover.
Why did you love him? How could you love that awful, awful man? Why did Venti still love you, was the real question...
“Do you still feel the butterflies?” You would ask when he would come to visit, almost like clockwork. A chilling smirk would be on your beautiful face, but he would never respond. Venti knew you would just subject him to even more abuse, more malice, but nonetheless, he’d sit and listen like always. Take it like a champ, maybe he was easy, weak...
But by his silence, you got your answer, every time.
“Good, it brings great pleasure to my heart to hear that; you’ll die with those butterflies.” You taunted.
Jean was disgusted by it all, how could you be so cruel to Venti? Sweet, gentle Venti... She was more disturbed by the fact that Venti allowed his heart to still be persuaded by you, despite all that had been revealed; you were a spy, the fatui’s seventh harbinger nonetheless.
“I could never have loved you. You’re too easy, not my type.” You would say, Venti would agree, but still, he loved you. On the rare occasion, he would reply, saying how, “You don’t have a heart, if you did, you wouldn’t be so evil.”
It was no secret you loved to torment and taunt him, Ventit was sure that was one of the main reasons you were still holding on; to taunt, torture and degrade him.
So, a smirk would grace your beautiful face and you would chuckle. “Just because I didn’t love you doesn’t mean I don’t have a heart, my heart lies with another, not you.” Scaramouche, he assumed.
Still he would sit at that stool every day and watch, listen to how pathetic he was and that he was stupid for believing your words were true, even after all this time. From the naked eye, you looked awful; clothes disheveled, but your eyes remained cold, that smirk was planted on your lips; such beautiful lips that would spew the most disturbing and disgusting words he’d ever heard.
It didn’t matter to him, not as much as it should have. You were still the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. He’d lived a long life, but never had he met someone so wrongly beautiful, so evil and cruel, with the prettiest face.
So yes, he was long past the shock of it all, but he still felt the heartache and pain. Because he really did love you. In his thousands of years of living, he allowed himself to fall in love once; he’d fallen for you, unfortunately for him.
It was no secret, he loved apples. The sweetness that lingered on his lips long into the day. But now? He rather enjoyed the bitterness of a bad apple; the deep shiny red ones that although looked normal on the outside, tasted disgusting and bitter on the inside...