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NOTES. I have been fantasising about this for a while. No explicit infidelity but boy, will some of these men certainly try.
Childe
This man does NOT care in the slightest. If anything, heâs excited by it.
Childe finds the whole situation entertaining in a way that's almost endearing if it weren't so utterly disrespectful. He doesn't see your wedding ring as a stop sign. For him, it makes things more interesting because now there's an added layer of complexity, an actual obstacle. And Childe has never backed down from a challenge in his life.
Heâll send you lots and lots and lots of gifts. Intricate bouquets of flowers, expensive jewellery, and little notes with cheeky messages that make your face burn. It's infuriating because he's not even subtle about it. He knows you know. You know he knows. And somehow that makes it worse, or better, depending on how you look at it. Childe is utterly shameless, so good luck reeling him back.Â
When your spouse is around, Childe shifts into a different gear entirely. He becomes aggressively polite in a way that's more insulting than rudeness. He'll compliment your spouse's choice in you with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. And Childe is petty, so heâll be extra condescending to your partner: âWow, they must have been feeling pretty generous when they chose you, huh?â Your spouse is sitting there fuming, but what are they gonna do? Challenge a Fatui Harbinger? Lol, good luck.
Childe will touch your shoulder when passing by. He'll remember small details about you that your spouse has forgotten. He'll show up at your favorite places and act surprised to see you, like the universe just keeps throwing you together. And through it all, that infuriating smile never wavers, because Childe knows exactly what he's doing and he's having far too much fun to care about the consequences.
"Hey gorgeous, married life treating you right? Because I could do better."
Lohen
Married? That's hilarious. Lohen finds out you're married and his first reaction is genuine, unrestrained laughter. Like you've just told him the best joke he's heard in weeks. A challenge. An actual obstacle. This is the most fun he's had in ages. He doesn't see your wedding ring as a boundary; he sees it as the opening move in a game he's about to play.
He shows up everywhere after that. And there is absolutely no subtlety in it. He does not even pretend to try that he is not courting you. He'll find you during your day with that sharp grin, pull you into dangerous situations for the sheer thrill of it, and act genuinely hurt when you try to push him away. "Come on, where's your sense of adventure?" He reads people too easily to miss how conflicted you are, and that just makes it more entertaining to him. Aw, did you just blush when he pulled you close? Thatâs just more ammunition for him to continue.
When your spouse is around, Lohen doesn't bother with politeness. He's openly dismissive in that sharp way of his, looking at them like they're a minor obstacle. He'll call out the weaknesses in their stance, mock their choices, make it abundantly clear he thinks they're beneath him. "You picked them?" he'll say to you, gesturing at your spouse with barely concealed disdain. "That's disappointing."
He challenges your spouse to duels constantly, Actual calls to prove themselves. "Come on, show me what you've got. Or are you too scared?" There's no pretense of friendliness, just that chaotic grin and the very real threat underneath it. He wants to test them, wants to prove he's stronger, faster, better in every way. And when your spouse declines or hesitates, Lohen laughs like they've just confirmed what he already knew. That they're not worthy of you.
And if they accept? Yeah, that fight is anything but clean. Surely, you donât mind if he hurts them only a little bit, right? Theyâll recover⌠in a couple weeks. You can spend that time with him!
"Married to someone that dull? Lucky for you I'm around to make things interesting."
Pantalone
Your marriage is a curiosity to him, nothing more.Â
Pantalone hears you're married and it barely registers as information worth filing away. He's made it abundantly clear through his entire existence that social conventions are for people who can't afford to ignore them. He has money, taste, and a level of charm that makes your marital status seem almost quaint by comparison. Why would he care about a contract that costs nothing and binds you to someone ordinary when he can offer you everything?
He pursues you methodically, the way he pursues everything worth having. Invitations arrive on expensive paperâto galas, private auctions, exclusive dinners at restaurants. He sends you jewelry that's clearly meant to be worn, flowers that bloom in impossible colors, bottles of wine older than most towns. Each gift is calculated to make you feel like you belong in his world, because in Pantalone's mind, you already do.
When you decline his invitations, he smiles like you've said something amusing. "Oh, a pity. I was so looking forward to it." He pauses, studying you with that sharp gaze. "Though I suspect you'll change your mind eventually. People usually do when they realize what they're missing."
When he meets your spouse, there's no acknowledgment of the relationship at all. He treats them like furniture. Polite enough, but utterly unremarkable. He'll talk past them, direct his attention entirely to you, and make it abundantly clear through sheer indifference that your spouse's existence is beneath consideration. He isnât cruel, per se, but the stone cold apathy is shocking. But I mean, what else did you expect from the Regrator?
He'll invite you to exclusive events, knowing full well you're married. He'll compliment you in ways that are technically innocent but absolutely not. He'll make you feel like the most interesting person in every room while your spouse fades into background noise. And he does it all with such practiced elegance that it's hard to even be angry about it. And Pantalone doesn't acknowledge obstacles he doesn't consider obstacles.
"Darling, there's an exhibition opening tomorrow. Quite exclusive. Pity you felt obligated to refuse."
Varka
The moment he finds out you're married, Varka accepts it with genuine respect that comes from someone with actual principles. Itâs to be expected of course, from the Grandmaster of the Knights. He backs off immediatelyâno flirting, no lingering touches, nothing that crosses a line. He means it too. His sense of responsibility is too strong to entertain anything else. You're off-limits. He respects that.
Except he's absolutely terrible at actually following through on it.
He'll catch himself mid-conversation laughing at something you said, and the laugh is too warm, too genuine, like you've just said the funniest thing he's heard in weeks. He volunteers for patrols he doesn't need to go on if he knows you'll be there. He flexes his muscles without thinking about itâlifting heavy things with one hand, rolling up his sleeves when you walk by, that casual display of strength that he tells himself has nothing to do with you being present. He's just proud of his physique. It has nothing to do with wanting you to notice. Definitely not. And yeah, so what if Varka tries to be the funniest person in the room whenever you walk in? Heâs just naturally charming, thatâs all.
When your spouse is around, Varka shifts into his easygoing charm. He's genuinely friendly, treats them like any other person he gets along with, makes jokes and offers drinks like there's no tension at all. But then you'll say something, and for just a moment his eyes linger on you a little too long. He'll compliment you in a way that sounds casual but carries weight underneath it. He catches himself doing it and looks away quickly, uncomfortable with his own slip-up.
You notice it every time. The way his shoulders straighten when you walk into a room. How he unconsciously positions himself so he can see you better. The split second where his mask drops and you catch something genuine underneath before he remembers himself and shifts back into friendly, easygoing Varka. He's trying so hard to be respectful, and that effort itself is what makes it obvious that he's fighting something. You see the conflict, the way he's wrestling with his own nature, and somehow that makes it worse.
It's not intentional. That's the thing about Varkaâhis pride in himself, his easy confidence, his strengthâit all comes out around you whether he wants it to or not. He's trying to be respectful. He really is. But his nature keeps betraying him in small, unguarded moments.
"That's great, really. You picked someone solid. Still, if you ever need anything, I'm around."
Zhongli
Being the God of contracts, he accepts your marriage to be a fact set in stone. But that doesnât necessarily mean that stone canât be moved, is it?
Zhongli will curb his overt courting rituals, like asking you out to dinner or kissing your hand upon greeting. But his more gentleman-ly side is always evident when it comes to you. He walks you home in the evenings. And sure, heâll keep a respectful distance but all it takes is one particularly strong gust of wind or a merchantâs cart veering too close to you for his hand to come up to your side and pull you near him. Heâs so kind about it too that you arenât sure if this is meant to be anything at all.
He invites you over for tea (alone, just with him). Zhongli knows exactly how you make your tea, the amount of sugar you like, and the type of brew he should prepare. And so what if the tea takes four hours to make? You and him are just having polite conversation. Itâs not as though your spouse knows the way you take your tea either, so this is really just a way for you to relax!!
When your partner is around, Zhongli simply smiles. Heâs seen many relationships in his time, and to be frank with you, he does not exactly see what is so special about your partner lol. Nevertheless, he would not cross any lines, but he is just an extra bit nicer, a tad bit more courteous, his words just a little sweeter with you when they are around. He really wants to show your partner what true devotion looks like.Â
âMarried? I see. Well, contracts can be renegotiated, given the right circumstances. Until then, consider me a reminder of what else might have been possible.â
Varka is of course very much a responsible man, but only when other people are around. He will 1000% pass out in the woods somewhere after drinking alone if left unattended and thatâs after he finds some terrifying creature to fight first
'I love you' but Varka whose introduction line includes the title "Protector of Mondstadt".
'I love you' but Varka who gave up his destiny of being a celebrated hero and fulfilling his dreams to go on an expedition to keep his nation safe.
'I love you' but Varka who just keeps on talking about protecting Mondstadt in general.
'I love you' but Varka whose storyquest was all about comming home.
'I love you' but Varka who carried god fragments in his body and was willing to be dissolved into the leylines for Mondstadt.
'I love you' but Varka who said his power is every person standing behind him.
'I love you' but Varka who anchored his very soul to the letters sent by his loved ones.
'I love you' but Varka who has strong wolf symbolisms and imagery, aka the animal known for its loyalty and strong social bonds.
'I love you' but Varka who has repeatedly taken in and looked after kids of all ages like it's the norm.
'I love you' but Varka whose special state/talent is named after a German specific epoch of literature (Sturm und Drang).
'I love you' but Varka whose whole reason for wanting to be a knight is so he can protect those he loves and who (and I quote) "love him in return"
'I love you' but Varka who offers his own tent to the wounded so they can stay comfortable.
'I love you' but Varka who upon being asked why she squanders his own strength like that replies with the statement that he has found something more precious to defend.
'I love you' but Varka whose Fallen voicelines is him asking us to look after Mondstadt for him.
'I love you' but Varka whose final constellation is literally named Beloved Mondstadt steadfast you shall stand. And in the German translation is called My Beloved Mondstadt, as steadfast as ever.
'I love you' but Varka who loves Mondstadt more than anything else in the world.
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Thought this little thing up when I saw mewnbuns post about accepting a blorboâs silliest proposal after theyâd proposed a few times in the past.
Varka x reader (sfw)
word count: 2164
cw: none that I can think of. mentions of alcohol because wellâŚitâs Varka. Reader has some reservations about marriage.
((Be gentle with me, Iâm not used to writing him;; divider here))
Varka doesnât get blackout drunk often. Sure, heâll get pretty tipsy, but the events of last night are a little more than just blurry.Â
Thankfully, youâre an angel. Waterâs been placed on the bedside table for him and a pack of pills that will soothe the throbbing in his temples sits beside it. His hand pats at the table, feeling for the pills as he groans, briefly overshadowing the humming coming from the kitchen.Â
Itâs a song from the Angelâs Share during last nightâs entertainment; he can clearly manage to remember that at least. Memories bubble up slow and thick like mud, but in his hunt for the medicine, he catches streaks of black on his palm. Flipping his hand over with the pill pack finally acquired, he sits up and reads a single word.Â
Yes.
Yes?Â
Yes.Â
âYesâ what, exactly?Â
He looks at his other hand just in case the other says No in bold letters, as if it couldâve been some sort of weird drinking game heâd played last night. Thereâs no sign of any other words though, and all he can glean is that you mustâve written it given the fact that itâs on his right hand.Â
His nose catches the scent of food as he perks up. Sausage, and maybe bacon too by the sizzling pops he hears. Eggs, and gods above, he hopes coffee is in the mix too, his body in desperate need for caffeine.
The summer sun beams through the window over his bed, leaving him to believe itâs much later than a Grand Master should be rising, but although a few windows are open, he doesnât hear knocking or the stern calls of his name and title from anyone outside his small house tucked in a corner of Mondstadt. Â
Soft footsteps pad on softer wood, aged for years and lived on for more time than even heâs been alive. You peek in from the doorway of the bedroom, your eyes meeting his own as he finishes downing his medicine.Â
âMorning, Dove,â he grins, the pun making you snort as you walk in to sit on the bed, your boyfriend curling his body around yours as an arm wraps around your middle, thicker than a whopperflower vine and needier too.
âDove is a new one. Is that a me only thing, or do you go around calling just anyone sweet bird names?â you ask wryly, watching his face light up. The laugh from him dies as quickly as it comes, more of a bark than anything. He taps his chin in thought, dramatic even this early in the day.
His voice is softens now, flirty as he nudges himself somehow closer. You can smell the sweet scent of Windrest flowers lingering on him from the bedsheets, something new, you note before your attention goes to him again as he speaks. âOnly you. Unless you hate it, in which case Iâll toss it in the old junk drawer in my head and find a better one,â Varka drawls, looking up at you for a breath. âMind tellinâ me what the deal is with my hand though?âÂ
âOh no, I think Iâll let you figure it out yourself. Maybe breakfast will help jog that memory of yours,â you say, a hand to your chin as if lost in thought, âIf you donât remember by lunch Iâll send word to Jean that your âterrible illnessâ has miraculously disappeared, and that youâre raring to go back to the stack of paperwork you only half finished last night,â you muse, cocking a brow at him.Â
âCâmon! Not even a hint?â He pouts, though itâs not as charming as he thinks it is. Or maybe it is, and you just wonât let it show. Hungover, still maybe a quarter asleep Varka isnât as good at reading you as he usually is. Still, youâre merciless in his eyes as you shake your head while pulling his green comforter up on his hip, just high enough to make him decent. Youâd dragged him home in the early hours of the morning, both of you giggling like teenagers as you stumbled into the house and he promptly stripped, a trail of clothes having made it from the living room, down the hallway, and eventually all the way up to the bed which still has a stray sock hanging on the bedpost.Â
âOh câmon you old wolf, I know you got it in ya,â you tease, watching his expression and anticipating the perfect moment where his ocean blue eyes will register the remembrance of events that led to such a simple word marked on him. âWell, itâll come to you. Eventually. Now unhand me before the eggs burn,â you chide, your hands prying his arm off, and of course the only reason he lets you go without complaint is because of the kiss you give him after you hop off the bed.Â
Once youâre out of the room, you look at your own hand with Varkaâs messy scrawl. A simple âI doâ makes you both smile and stirs a small pot of frustration in your chest.
 Meanwhile, Varkaâs sat up in bed, staring at the word âyesâ like itâs an adversary. Surely bards wonât be able to write prose about the great Knight of Boreas getting so drunk he forgot playing what he assumes was a word game. Barbatos might though, just to tease him.Â
He retraces his steps so to speak, from the beginning. Youâd met him at the bar early in the evening - check. He tried asking Diluc for the second time this week if heâd be interested in working with the knights and got rejected again - also check. He was letting you slip him a tankard full of water while that new bard was playing, even though youâd told him it was dandelion wine and he pretended to believe you, as goes the ritual for a night out together. Thatâs where he starts pushing through the haze until it clicks like pieces of a puzzle heâd scattered himself.
A few hours prior
âArenât you a sight? Iâd look at you all night ân day if I could,â Varka had slurred, his head laying on the bar table. Your thumb brushes his bangs back, letting you see the crinkly lines near his eyes that his smile causes, little temporary veins of happiness you definitely have kissed before.
âOh really? I think you might already do that,â youâd said, amused at how completely smitten he looks when he gets like this. Sure, sober Varka is equally lovestruck the moment you enter the room, but he melts like a puddle when he drinks with you much to his embarrassment, especially on the occasion that he does something too bold trying to impress you.Â
âYeah, but I wanna look more. Will you marry me this time? I can look at you at home every day if youâd just move in with me. You liked my bed the other night,â he adds, sulking and trying to continue those thoughts as if heâs a lawyer building a case, all while his finger inches across the table to tap at your own.Â
Your left ring finger is empty, though if given the choice, he wouldâve had the ring in his jacket pocket taking up that space in a heartbeat. âIf ya marry me, Iâll carry ya every day just like you ask me to sometimes, and- and! Iâll quit drinking!â He scrambles, leaning on his chair almost too close your way as he tries to give a most serious expression, all while hiccuping softly.Â
You canât help but laugh at the last part, because as insistent as he seems about it, youâd never ask him to do that. Itâs part of him in the way that his job is, and truly he isnât so bad at self control that youâd need him to stop either. You can see heâs torn, because making you laugh is one of his favorite things, but also you havenât given him an answer, and he may be starting to rethink the âno drinkingâ thing.Â
Heâd proposed a few times in the past, the first time scaring you, though not because it wasnât a good proposal. It was perfect in execution, you could tell heâd planned it extensively, and you did love him almost too much at times. The nagging fear from that same love caused you to take a step back the moment heâd asked, and the tears and apology that followed from you still make his chest ache when he remembers it. Something in your mind screams caution at giving yourself away like that, even though you know youâd be even happier than you are currently if you could be with him all the time.Â
 âItâs not that I donât want to, I just donât know if Iâd like to get married right now,â youâd sniffled, and of course he understood. It prompted a discussion afterward, and the consensus was that it wasn't a complete rejection. You also told him you wouldnât mind him trying again, as long as he didnât mind you turning him down again if you still had reservations.Â
Heâd then asked in a handful of other ways. Once while you were mid battle, the high of it making him blurt it out in the moment. Youâd have said yes if it werenât for you taking a hit after being distracted from the sheer bluntness of the moment. One bloody nose and sprained wrist later and heâd sworn heâd never propose during a fight again.
The rest of the proposals ranged from overly romantic to tender and sometimes silly, and after each one you deliberated on marriage and all its parts. Of course, that was after youâd followed every ânot right nowâ with a slew of âI love youâs and kisses on his cheeks as if to soften the blow. For Varka, it worked like a charm, and each proposal somehow whittled down that fear inside you, chipping it away after all the times heâd accepted that ânoâ without question and bounced back, continuing to love you through it.
This time, not in the heat of the moment, but in the silence between you in an otherwise clamoring bar, youâd decide itâs time to stop running from it.Â
âVarka, I-,â Before you could say yes though, you notice heâs dozing, his eyes still watching you as if youâre the most interesting thing in the world even when youâre stuck in your own head.Â
You sigh before asking Diluc for a marker and write your answer on his palm, hoping heâll remember this conversation in the morning.Â
And now he does in fact remember. He also remembers your breath on his ear as you said it to him despite how far off in outer space heâd been. âYes Varka, I will marry you,â youâd whispered, and heâd stirred from his dozing just long enough to scribble down âI doâ on your hand as if it were binding even without the ring and ceremony.Â
Youâre plating the food now as you hear a hard thump and the smacking of bare feet making their way down the hall. It takes great pains for Varka to catch himself before he smacks face first into the door, though he leans oh so casually against the wall once heâs righted himself.Â
âSoâŚthat was a yes?â he asks, holding his hand up. Heâs almost desperate. Okay he is kind of desperate. Heâs hoping this ink on his skin is proof of your agreement that you can in fact live the rest of your lives together, even if thatâs what heâd intended to do with you if you hadnât wanted to marry officially.Â
Heâs thinking about you both old and wrinkled and arguing over how much meat he puts on the grocery list, or even before that, adding an extra room in the house for Razor to stay over in when he feels like it. Weddings, and maybe babies, and anniversaries, and him getting to call you mine all over again proudly and loudly to people just because he canâŚall those things rush through his head as he looks at you like youâre his purpose as much as knighthood is. Heâll be known for his title as grandmaster only half the time if he can help it. The other half will be him as your husband, plain and simple and loving you.
âYes. Very much yes, and I do,â you say, lifting your own hand to show him the words he wrote, and although thereâs still dwindling nerves on the matter, you think it might be more anticipation than dread as you hand him the green velvet ring box from his jacket pocket. His hands have never been so shaky as they are when heâs slipping the ring on your finger, though once itâs on, snug and perfect, it very rarely comes off.Â
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