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I've been so dead for months but I've been revived by neuv :(

— “hands off! i’m taken!”

for the first time in your drunken daze, you don't recognise your own husband.

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 983 wc, fluff, (attempts at) humour, mentions/reference of alcohol consumption

A/N : neuvillette is in pain (emotional) while you are in pain the morning after (literal).

it’s not often neuvillette finds free time amongst the seemingly endless piles of papers on his desk. when he does get some free-time, he always makes sure to treat you out to the places you most recently show interest in. however, these evenings out more often than not result in you having one too many drinks. (“it’s a rare evening date!” you would tut, waving a finger at him while your free hand holds the wine glass.)

he worries for you and your health after all, and he most definitely doesn't want you to experience these so-called "hangovers" you bemoan about as he coddles you through it all the mornings after.

and so what better way to help prevent such a tragedy than by putting a stop to it prematurely?

“hands off! i’m taken!”

…or so he thought.

regardless, that doesn’t change the fact neuvillette now stands in the middle of one of the (now quite humid) private rooms in the upper floor of hotel debord, clutching his stinging hand close to his chest while staring at your huffing form in a mixture of hurt and shock. he blinks once, twice, thrice as he slowly begins to process your words — or, lack of.

“pardon?”

“i said,” you stress, narrowing your gaze at him as you begin to sit up, “hands off! i’ll have you know i’m happily married to the loveliest, most beautifulest man in teyvat and i don’t need some… some meddlesome old creep trying to get in between that.”

were this quite literally any other day besides one you were drunk on, neuvillette would be jumping for joy over the moon (metaphorical… probably) and documenting this moment in his diary he keeps safe and secured in a locked drawer under his desk, positively cooing and sighing in pure adoration at your adorable self.

(he also doesn’t have the heart to tell you beautifulest isn’t exactly a real word, but he’s flattered all the same. and it makes you that much more adorable in his eyes.)

alas, this isn’t any other day. no, instead it is a day which marks his drunk spouse being unable to identify their own husband, and your intoxicated words render him silent. 

now, don’t get him wrong, he’s glad you are, for a lack of better words, raring to defend your marital status and honour when intoxicated. however…

‘meddlesome old creep’? is that how he appears? he thought he looked quite dashing this evening, what with the way you sang his praises after he got himself dressed and questioned if you were actually married to one another.

then again, he supposes it’s still accurate to say you’re still questioning whether or not he is your husband. just not in the joking manner you initially did.

seeing how you’ve begun to grow a little restless with his prolonged silence, neuvillette awkwardly clears his throat and begins in what he hopes is a tone which masks the minor betrayal your words caused. “i’m glad you feel that way about our marriage, mon cœur, but—”

“stop!” neuvillette’s mouth instantly ceases movement. “how… how dare you, a stranger, call me that! just who… who do you think you are? my husband?”

“actually, i am.”

you blink at him. “you’re what?”

“i am your husband. neuvillette.” in all honesty, he doesn’t know why he’s nervous. perhaps it’s your scrutinising gaze causing him to sweat, taking him back to the first days when he could finally put a name to the emotions you brought out from within him — ones which have never weakened, but only seem to grow stronger as the days pass by. his hands clam up, and he’s glad you can’t see him wiping his palms against the fabric of his clothes from where you sit. even when you’re drunk, you tend to remember the most random moments. more often than not, they end up being in some relation to him.

(neuvillette laments the times where you only remembered his brief loss of composure.)

after a few more agonising seconds of staring, you speak up once more. “you’re lying.”

there are many things neuvillette wishes to say in response — such as showing your wedding rings, pulling out the small polaroid of you both nestled within his inner coat pocket, recalling the first day you met, the first day you talked, the first “thank you” you ever said to him, the first—

quickly, he snaps himself out of this spiral. just in the nick of time too, for you open your mouth to say something else. “my neuvillette is cute and lovely and pretty and everything a person could only dream to have.”

is he not cute right now? is he not lovely and pretty right now? is he not everything a person could only dream to have right now? what makes the him through your drunken lens so different to the him in your memories?

against his better judgement, he decides to ask the big question.

“then… may i ask what i am?”

“a liar.” and, as if to rub salt in the wound, you add, “i don’t like liars.”

neuvillette feels as though he could cry.

(when you awoke to a pounding headache the next morning, the last thing you expected was your husband brooding on the edge of the bed, his back facing you as he mumbled something along the lines of, “i would lie for you… not to you…” though it was a little hard to tell amidst the incessant pitter-patter of rain against the window.

despite racking your brain in an effort to figure out what caused him to be in such a state in the first place, the only things you remembered from last night were him wiping his hands on his clothes, as well as him looking as though someone slapped him across the face.

yeah. perhaps it is best you don’t tell him that.)

mon cœur = my heart, which can be read as my sweetheart/other half/life, etc.

if you enjoyed this, then reblogs with/or comments are greatly appreciated !! <33

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— "𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙙𝙞𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪?" ♥

:feat~ childe, dottore, scaramouche x gn!reader:

⤷ established relationship, modern!au ⤷ violence, overprotective ...comfort(?)

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open!) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis

art by @/code_tesseract on twitter! ✩

“Why do you refuse? Tell me.”

CHILDE’s heart drops when he sees you.

It’s only a small bruise below your eye, but he can already feel his blood boiling as he dashes over to you, embracing you in a tight hug until you manage: “Taglia- can’t breathe…”

“Tell me. Who did this to you?” He pulls back hesitantly at your words, albeit only slightly. You’re still pressed up against him, warm figure in his arms.

“Taglia, it’s nothing you need to concern yourself over.” Despite his questioning, you merely glance away, ignoring his pleas with a dismissive response each time. It’s clear that you don’t want to get him involved, but he does, because just seeing how you’ve been hurt, no matter how lightly, makes him pissed.

But he can tell, begrudgingly, that you don’t need his help, or rather, don’t want it. So he’ll respect your wishes, at least while he’s in your presence. With a long sigh, he loosely shrugs his shoulders, giving you one more tight hug before asking if you want anything - ice, bandages, food, whatever. Of course you insist you’re fine, because that’s the kind of person you are… and while it’s slightly problematic at times, but being stubborn is an endearing trait of yours - after all, if you always showed no resistance, how boring would that be?

So as soon as you turn in for the night, claiming that you’re tired, he just smiles and nods along, a plan already in mind.

You said you were out with friends.

When he called you at 10:04 pm, you responded.

There was background noise.

There was someone’s voice, telling you to get off your phone.

Oh, now he knows who it was.

And that someone will surely not live to see tomorrow. ♥

DOTTORE seems indifferent at first, not bothering to spare you a glance up from his countless research papers.

Then there’s a flash of red in the corner of vision, and that’s when he whips his head up, piercing red gaze immediately landing on your figure. It’s not much, just a small amount of bleeding, but his mind already races. He’s a peculiar boyfriend, to say the least, and his personality is one that changes constantly, so much so that you’re not sure if you have one lover or thirty. For the time being, he’ll tend to your wound, but archons know he’s already calculating his plans on how to make the one who did this regret it.

“Ouch… Dottore, the bandage is too tight.” You wince from where you’re sitting on his office chair, arm held up so he can see. The male seems to jolt, glancing up at you while his enraged expression melts, just the slightest. He doesn’t apologize, but does redo the bandages, looser this time, before looking back up at you for your approval.

“...Darling. Who did this to you?”

His tone seems gentle enough, like he’s trying not to scare you. But his gaze is clear, the way his crimson eyes are cold and how his features are twisted furiously.

“Dottore, I’m fine.” And just like that, you withdraw your hand, your warmth, and hurriedly move to your room.

…What?

You’re not dismissive like that.

You always tell him everything. Because he can solve everything.

Yet, now you’re keeping secrets from him?

It’s all their fault. Whoever they are.

"So if I kill them, won’t that resolve everything?" ♥

SCARAMOUCHE merely scowls, glancing at you, brows furrowed.

“What happened to you?” His voice is mixed into a scoff as he stares at you up and down, expression only worsening, for some inexplicable reason. He’s leaning against the countertop in the kitchen, looking rather… well, there’s only some slight bruising on you, but his eyes hold so much… distaste. 

“It’s nothing.” You push aside the male, heading towards your room. Scaramouche doesn’t follow after you, only intensifying his glare as he watches you shut the door without another word, letting out a little ‘tch’. 

But as soon as you’ve disappeared behind the door, the wooden counter he’s holding onto splinters under his choking grip, small shards crumbling onto the floor. Crimson blood drips from his fingers, the fragments digging into his sin, but all he can hear is the overpowering rush of his own rage.

Nothing? You think this is nothing?

You are his, and everyone knows that.

He has made it clear.

Yet, someone dares do this to you?

Perhaps it's an act to save face, an act to protect his pride, but more so, it’s an action to hurt the one who dared to hurt you, whether you want him involved or not.

The next words that come out of his mouth are fractured whispers, violet gaze focusing on the red streaming from his hand.

“You won’t have to worry, love. I already know you too well.”

“You want me to take care of this, right? To get rid of the imbecile who dared to lay a hand on you?”

“Haha, very well. It seems that tonight will be one of bloodshed.” ♥

(a/n) ...was originally going to add pantalone to this too... but then gave up. please send help

— "𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲, 𝗯𝗲 𝗺𝘆 𝗯𝗼𝘆𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱!!" ♥

:feat~ xiao, kazuha, heizou, scaramouche x gn!reader:

⤷ synopsis: ah, poor reader's crush won't notice them!! the solution? ask your guy friend to pretend to be your partner, and perhaps that'll get them jealous... except-!? ⤷ cw: fluff, highschool!au, possesive + overprotectiveness, ykyk the whole package

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open!) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123

"C'mon, just for one week...?"

"Have you finally gone mad?"

XIAO's words come out as more of a scoff, if anything. You can see the way that his expression forms a scowl that he's less than pleased at your suggestion. "You want me to fake date you for a week?"

Sheepish, you nod. "...Please?"

"Because you want your 'crush' to get jealous?" You don't get why he's put that in quotations, but you nod along, slightly confused. Xiao's expression only darkens, for some inexplicable reason. What, have you done something to offend him?

Desperate, you recall your last resort. "Well," you begin, voice unsteady as you try to sound as nonchalant as possible. With a shrug, you sigh. "If you're not willing, I can always find someone e-"

"I'll do it."

Ah, there was the Xiao you knew. Aloof, yes. Cold, yes. But not willing to admit he was inferior to anyone - especially when it regarded you.

So there, your plan was complete. Act like Xiao was your boyfriend, and then maybe they would finally notice you… except, why do you get the feeling that Xiao was forgetting his purpose?

It’s not anything major, not by a long shot, but you find it strange how he’s suddenly grown so clingy, as if pretending to be your partner somehow enhanced the relationship between the two of you. He walks you to every one of your classes, and insists on coming over to your house for study sessions, and while you don’t particularly dislike it, it is awkward, seeing him act so intimate even with no eyes watching.

But… this was all normal, right? He was just normalizing himself with his role, so there was nothing to concern yourself over. That’s what you chided to yourself whenever these moments occurred again and again, until one day, you accidentally brush hands with the male while trying to pass him some papers, and he practically jumps away from your touch. He doesn’t apologize afterwards, but you can see how he’s more cautious around you, sometimes catching his gaze lingering on you for far too long while a sheepish red creeps over his cheeks… and the way he glances at his own hand so gingerly is something peculiar all together.

However, none of that prepared you when the next week, the last day of the promised agreement, Xiao asks to talk to you. Alone.

“Xiao, what’s up?” He hasn’t spoken yet, and the silence is suffocating.

“Can we… not pretend any longer?”

And for a moment, everything seems to stop. Time itself halts as the only thing you can hear is your own shallow inhale and exhale. His voice cuts through the moment. “I’m tired of pretending, wanting something that isn’t mine. Something that I can never have.”

“Something… that can never be yours…?” It’s hard to speak, like something is in your throat, but you manage to.

“Yes. You.”

Ah, how could you not return his words when he gazes into your eyes with such adoration?

“...Xiao, it’s not entirely impossible.”

And the words that come out of your mouth aren’t lies, because you’ve felt the butterflies too. You wouldn’t think, a week prior, that you would’ve fallen for someone as distant as him, but the way he treated you so gently swayed your resolve. In a way, this outcome was inevitable.

Ha, but to think that Xiao, born from one of Liyue’s elite families, would confess to you like this, with such a flustered expression, eyes clouded with love? 

“Ah… then, if that’s the case, you’ll allow me this, won’t you?” 

There’s a hint of something strange in his tone, yet it’s left undeciphered as the male swiftly leans forward, one hand making its way behind you and keeping you steady as his lips meet yours. He’s pressed against you, close enough that you can feel his own heartbeats along yours, beating just as quickly. When he pulls away, one shaky hand manages to grab yours, grasp surprisingly strong.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’ll have to kiss you again.” ♥

"...Ah? Sorry, I think I heard something different. Could you repeat that?"

You don't think KAZUHA has ever looked more perplexed as he stares at you, eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar as he tries his best to process your words. "So you..." His voice cracks, and he coughs into his fist. "You want me to be your fake boyfriend?"

"Just for one week..." You nod at his words, feeling a little awkward at your request. It wasn't too outlandish, was it? From the way Kazuha seems completely frozen, one would assume so... but it was a simple plan, even if it didn't work, it was worth trying, right?

It takes the white haired male a whole ten seconds to respond, which is already unusual in and of itself. He nods hesitantly, “I…I suppose I could.”

It surprises you how good of an actor he is, holding your hand without a second thought, inviting you out after school, waiting for you to pack up after classes and always following you to your next… sometimes you wonder if it’s even an act at all.

His touch seems too sincere, gaze too warm… and by the third day, your crush fades. Is it too hopeful to wish for something more in your relationship with Kazuha? Was it really so shameful? He treated you too tenderly to ignore, even if it was all just pretend… you wanted it to be real.

And maybe such thoughts were given an answer when, on a whim of carelessness, a small, folded up piece of paper fell from the male’s pocket as he waved goodbye, walking out of the classroom. Curious, you retrieved the paper, figuring you could give it back to him later… but you couldn’t resist just one peek. If it was really that private, he would’ve taken greater measures in ensuring its safety, wouldn’t he?

Ah, but what was written on the paper…well, to put it simply…

It was a poem, addressed to you. Professing his love, his adoration, his infatuation.

Words you were not meant to see, but ones you witnessed.

And when he comes to pick you up after class, wearing his usual serene smile, it’s almost as if you’re seeing him for the first time.

His crimson eyes seem to glitter when he spots you amongst the crowd, his entire expression brightening as he excitedly half-runs over with a slight flush on his cheeks. “There you are!” And just like always, he latches his hand upon yours, his grip comfortably tight.

Have his hands always been so warm?

“Dove, is something wrong?” The look of concern in his eyes is almost overwhelming. Something that can’t all just be a farce.

“Sorry.” Then, amidst the bustling crowd, you lean forward and give him a light peck on the cheek, pulling away as you watch his features grow slack with shock, cheeks reddening as he lightly squeezes your hand.

“W- Oh, does this mean…” His voice has gained a hopeful edge as a smile graces his lips. “C’mon dove, you missed. Here, let me show you how…”

And then he embraces you tightly, and you can feel his bashful warmth spreading into your body as his soft lips meet yours in the mere span of seconds, engulfing you with a sense of affection that you had never felt before.

“K-Kazuha… I…” It’s hard to get words out, with how loud your heart is beating in your ears - but there’s no need to, as the male shushes you with a smile playing on his lips.

“There’s no need to explain, I already understand. Besides, I was getting tired of playing pretend all the same.” ♥

"Haha, never expected to hear those words from you..."

HEIZOU looks rather calm, which is odd, about the entire situation, laughing quietly to himself before turning to you with a rather smug expression. "What, you want me to be your 'boyfriend' for a week?"

"Mhm..." You do suppose he's likely heard of stranger requests before, given the part-time detective work he does.

"Hmm..." Even though it seems like he's already made up his mind, he still playfully puffs out his cheeks, squinting his eyes at the distance as if that'll help his decision making skills in any way. "What'd I get in return, though?"

"...Eh? Uhm..." While Heizou was one of the more eccentric people you were acquainted with, you hadn't expected that he'd ask for something in return. "...A kiss?"

You were joking, but somehow, that made the male perk up. "Sure, sounds like a fair trade to me."

Well… if he was satisfied, then all was fine, right?

Except, with the promise of a kiss in tow, why does he seem so much more… full of vigor? That wasn’t natural, was it?

It’s easy to dismiss things you don’t see, but not when it’s clearly witnessed. Every little action he did, accompanied with a smirk, would be followed with a smug little something along the lines of, “I can’t wait for the kiss,” or “Your kiss will make this all worth it~!” And even whenever he loosely held your hand, he would glance at you and make a puckering motion with his lips.

At that point, calling his actions “normal” would just be lying to yourself.

“So, how’d it go?” Heizou glances up at you with tentative emerald eyes as you near him, something in his gaze that you can’t quite describe.

“All they said was ‘congrats on finding a partner.’” You sigh, slumping as you stand next to him, sliding down the wall before sitting on the floor, knees hugged to your chest. “I think they're dating someone else… ah, how could this be? I’ve had a crush on them for years, yet…”  Another long sigh escapes your lips.

At the edge of your vision, you can see a certain male staring at you with a faint smile on his face, growing subtly wider with each word that leaves your mouth.

“Heh, seems like my love has run fresh out of fortune~!” His voice lilts, and you can hear the smirk residing in hsi tone as you flinch at the use of a petname. “Aw, it’s really too bad, isn’t it…” He’d almost look convincing if he wiped the jeering grin off his face.

“What are you…” Your voice trails off as Heizou sits on the ground next to you, mimicking your posture while placing his hand over yours.

“You promised me a kiss, didn’t you?”

Curses. That, you did.

“...Ah, were you serious about that?” You laugh awkwardly, but his expression doesn’t change.

“Were you not?” He counters instantaneously, his smug expression not budging an inch. “I never knew you were so unfaithful in keeping promises… I can’t help but feel disappointed.”

Then he pouts, eyes glimmering as he gives you the puppy eyes, albeit a little cursed. And just like that, you can feel your resolve shatter, crumpling like a piece of wet paper mache. An odd metaphor, but it seemed to fit the current predicament. With a groan of… embarrassment? Exasperation? You finally agree, grumbling, “Ah, let’s just get this over with.”

“Ready when you are~!”

Awkwardly… hesitantly, you lean forward, give him a light peck on the cheek, and retract as fast as humanly possible. Heizou only laughs at your antics, “You call that a kiss?”

“What, do you have any complaints?” You can’t help the snarky edge that makes its way into your voice.

“Perhaps a few.” The male smirks, scooching closer to you so that the two of you are uncomfortably close. “Why don’t I show you what a true kiss looks like?”

He doesn’t wait for your answer, he doesn’t have to - he just swiftly moves in, one hand on your chin as he moves your mouth onto his. You can feel the sneer against your lips as he engulfs you into one kiss, then another. It seems like an eternity before he pulls away, and when he does, your left panting, face flushed with red. 

“Hah… I-” Archons, why did he look so handsome right now? With his slightly dishiveled burgundy hair that framed his face so immaculately, the way his spring eyes glimmered with the slightest hint of mischief, and the way the corners of his mouth turned upwards with a satisfied air.

“No need to thank me for my services, but if you’d like to repay me…” He recovers quicker than you do, his smile not flickering from his face, not even once. 

“Why don’t you repay me with a date?” ♥

"Hahaha- oh. Wait, you aren't joking? Ugh, who do you take me for?"

The instant SCARAMOUCHE realizes you aren't jesting, his smile drops, and it's replaced with a look of absolute denial... or maybe it's repulsion?

Either way, he looks displeased, and his gaze towards you is one as if he's glaring at an annoyingly loud fly. Or maybe a worm, like he always likes to say to people he particularly dislikes, cursing "lowly worms" under his breath when he passes them in the hallways.

"Are you crazy? Delusional? Oh, I get it, you ate something weird." He lifts his eyebrow at you, frown deepening with every word. When he notices that you don't admit to any of them, his eyes go wide. "...You're being serious."

“Yes…?” The way he’s acting makes you nervous. “C’mon, please? Just for one week…”

“...How unfortunate… the way you’re acting so desperate is kind of disgusting… but if you insist…” Scaramouche glowers, but eventually loosens his expression. "Let's make it quick."

He's a bit of a strange boyfriend, to say the least, barely holds your hand, and when he does, it's only when people are around. He's not exactly polite in his affection either, whenever he's latched onto you, he'll stick his tongue out at anyone and all who passes by you two, giving any sort of strange look.

He may or may not tone his antics down if you ask him too, but likely not. Why should he give a shit about what you think, or what others think? He's stronger - if they want a fight, he'll give it to them.

And when your crush eventually never returns the jealousy you were wishing for, it's disappointing, to say the least, but the only words Scaramouche have to say about it are: "They didn't deserve you anyway, the fool."

...Wait, was he the one that sounded jealous, now?

Perhaps you were hearing things.

Except...

"Hey, the week's over, isn't it?" Scaramouche sounds disinterested, but the way his gaze is fixated on you says otherwise. "Our little 'dating scheme' is finally over." You note the slightest hint of remorse in his voice.

"So it is." You don't glance up at him, continuing to scroll through your homefeed.

"Does that mean we're dating for real now?"

"...What?"

He lets out a sound that's a mix between a laugh and a scoff. "You tell me."

"Aren't we, now that we aren't faking it anymore?" ♥

(a/n) oops i made heizou's part too long and scara's too short whoopsies