niyoon

22yo

[magicalbats]

A Little Gamble (Lohen x Reader)

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 16,020

Warnings: Afab!reader, not gender neutral, superior/subordinate dynamic, graphic violence, dead bodies, sex around dead bodies, sadomasochism, rough sex, kissing, choking, spitting in mouth, tit slapping, piv, unprotected sex, creampie

A/N: Wow. I can't believe I actually managed to finish this. I started writing it immediately after his character trailer dropped and its now a few days into his banner being out, but! Better late than never. Please enjoy! 😭

⭐

Playing the role of damsel in distress is not for the faint of heart, you were very quickly coming to learn. 

Even less so when it was at the request — no, the behest of the fifth company’s vice-captain. 

‘You’re the only one I can trust to do this,’ he’d said, days ago in the Favonious Keep, as reasonable as you’d ever seen him. Sane and in his right mind. Or something like it, at least. ‘I need someone who’s familiar enough with the way I do things to know when it’s time to get out of my way and keep their head down. Sadly that criteria makes for a very short list.’

‘But,’ you’d tried to implore him. ‘Why me? Surely there must be someone else that could do the job just as well, if not better.’ 

‘Ah, come on. Don’t sell yourself so short. I picked you for a reason, you know.’

‘Which is?’ You pressed, helplessly floundering. 

‘Heh. That’s easy. You look just like someone who’d go and get themselves caught by the enemy.’ He’d said with a delighted little giggle for good measure, as if the thought tickled him to no end. ‘They won’t stop to question how they managed to capture you, and then they’ll think they’re sitting nice and pretty with a hostage they can use for leverage. Just imagine the looks on their faces when they realize I don't plan on negotiating to get you back.’ 

You’d pictured it with him and promptly decided you didn’t like it. Not one bit. If you somehow survived this ordeal you were sure to end up with lifelong nightmares that would haunt you well into the future, grinning fiends lurking around every corner of your subconscious with the sharp glint of a knife in hand. It was too much to ask someone to shoulder this responsibility. 

But you’d had little to no choice in the matter, partially because he was your superior and partially because you were scared shitless of vice-captain Lohen. He was not somebody you wanted to cross if you could help it. In that sense you counted yourself incredibly lucky to have found yourself standing behind him at the front lines rather than on the opposing side, and you planned to keep it that way. 

And now, now you were almost starting to wish you’d never joined the Knights of Favonius in the first place so that you wouldn’t have had to deal with any of it. Leading the simple, uncomplicated life of a civilian sounded real nice right about now.  

“Hey, stop squirming! Stupid bitch. Don’t make me tell you again.”

Grimacing at that loudly barked command as much as the bedraggled man’s hot breath on your face, you whimper a quiet sound of apology. Your reaction wasn’t even close to being feigned which made it that much more believable, and likely why Lohen had gone out of his way to pick you from the bunch. Not quite a wide eyed, guileless new recruit but not a jaded senior officer either. You were something in between, still malleable to his machinations and just gullible enough to go along with this hairbrained scheme. 

“S - sorry,” you murmur, nearly out of breath from trying to keep up with the treasure hoarder dragging you along by the scruff of the neck. His hand was a heavy weight on your body, rough and grimy with dirt. If he would just slow down a little bit. 

“Zip it! We’re almost there. And boy, have I got a surprise for you later.” 

You could only imagine. You’d already caught him eyeing up the swell of your tits underneath the plate armor across your chest more than once, gauging his interest and your usefulness to him. 

And if that wasn’t damning enough in and of itself, he now makes a show of roughly clearing his throat as he reaches down with the other hand to give himself a brief, deliberately pointed squeeze through the front of his pants. Bile promptly rises in the back of your throat, threatening to expunge everything in your stomach in a violent projection, but you just barely manage to keep it held at bay.

Blessed Anemo Archon! You sorely hoped Lohen was somewhere close by like he’d said he would be. 

Much to your relief, though, the slimy bastard is quick to drop his hand, and you soon see why when he drags you around a final outcropping of rock. Directly in front of you, dug right into the side of the cliff face, sits a cave. Entirely benign and unobtrusive. There are no recognizable signs that this is anything more than a naturally formed crevice that may have been used as a wolf den at one point. 

You understand, then, why Lohen had run into so much trouble trying to find their hideout on his own. It was so deeply nestled within the narrow twists and turns of Brightcrown Canyon that it was probably difficult to find even if you had some idea where to look, nearly impossible if you didn’t. 

Muttering something that sounds like ‘watch your head’, the man pulls you right up to that entrance and shoves you forward in a stooped position. Looking straight into the black abyss like that, unable to tell what might be staring back, strikes an old, ancient nerve in you, making it suddenly hard to draw a full breath. Panic grips you but you don’t get the chance to protest. One moment you’re standing in the open air hills of Mondstadt’s craggy western landscape and the next you’re being shoved into total darkness. 

The oxygen is immediately stifling and you gasp, unable to tell which way is even up anymore. Effectively blind, you take another stumbling step only to nearly break your ankle when it rolls on a loose rock. Half collapsing against the interior wall, you wheeze and try to force your eyesight to adjust to the pitch black but it’s no use. That blasted oaf was blocking out any of the light trying to come in from the entrance! 

“Alright, alright. Go on then. Straight down.” He prods and cajoles, coming up behind you. “There’s nowhere else for you to go, so you may as well just get on with it. I’m not carrying ya’.” 

Sniffing rather indignantly at that, you carefully move to straighten up as much as the low ceiling will allow. Even at your height you’re forced to hunch or risk knocking yourself out on a low hanging dip of the rock, so you could only imagine how back breaking this must be for the much taller treasure hoarder. He seems to be well acquainted with this tunnel though, his shuffling footsteps sure at your heels while yours were halting, uncertain. 

But he’d told you the truth about forward being the only way to go and, using the wall to guide you, you soon find yourself running smack dab into an old wooden door. Literally. 

“Yeow!” 

The guy behind you bursts out laughing, his voice booming and echoing off the tight interior of the cave. You seethe, in hurt as much as anger, while your fingers positively itch for the sword you didn’t have strapped at your waist anymore. The one smart thing he’d done was disarm you when he so rudely accosted you off of the supply route further down at the base of the mountains, but you would be taking it back from him soon enough. Hopefully. 

As long as Lohen kept up his end of the bargain this shouldn’t take long at all. In and out. Easy. 

Or so he’d said. 

“What a dumb broad.” The treasure hoarder finally grumbles as he reaches around you to feel for a door handle that must be there. 

Finding it, he gives the door a hard shove and swings it open into an unexpectedly spacious chamber. You know this because the rough cut room is dotted with blazing torches that absolutely sear your retinas after being submerged in total darkness. But when the starbursts in your eyes slowly begin to clear, you instantly recognize it for what it is. A subterranean monument from the old civilization, or perhaps even older than that. A shrine of some sort, to worship a god or a king. Maybe both. It must have gotten buried in a landslide at some point, making it completely undetectable from the outside. You could only guess they’d found it by pure chance. 

In the same moment that this thought flits through your mind, you realize that the two of you are very much not alone. 

“That you, Jan? What’d you bring us today?” 

“Looks like a juicy, succulent pig to me.” 

The handful of men at the bottom of the crumbling set of wooden stairs — hardly more than a glorified ladder, if you were being honest — absolutely whoop it up at your expense, cackling amongst themselves like hyenas. Your face grows uncomfortably warm with the sting of humiliation but you focus on doing a quick head count instead of giving them the reaction they wanted. 

Seven all together if you counted the bozo behind you. That wasn’t too terrible. You’d seen Lohen take down worse than the likes of them with even greater odds stacked against him. Surely he wouldn’t have any problem at all dealing with them. 

Except this was an awfully tight space to be fighting in, now that you were really looking at it.  

And oh, was that a musket you saw leaning against the far wall behind the ratty looking group? 

You suddenly have some second, third and even fourth thoughts about this, but before you can try to backpedal the one evidently called Jan gives you a hard nudge towards the stairs (ladder). The urge to whip around and slam your fist into his nose almost gets the better of you until vice-captain Lohen’s earlier words materialize out of your memory like a vengeful specter rearing its ugly head. 

‘You look just like someone who’d go and get themselves caught by the enemy.’ 

Right. A damsel in distress. Someone who was easily captured and wouldn’t put up much of a fight, if any. And you’d already come this far. 

Clammy from nerves and sweat, you reluctantly move to shimmy down the groaning steps (ladder) to stand on the barren ground. The small congregation of men wastes no time inching towards you, clearly interested in this new plaything their friend has brought back to the hideout. Like a pack of dogs with a helpless rabbit. You try not to pay them much mind though as you take quick stock of these new surroundings. 

They’d made quite the cozy little base for themselves here. The stone carved monument was still partially covered in heavy rocksheet, leaving only the bottom half visible, but the rest of the space had been cleared out and thoroughly claimed. Moth eaten cots dotted the various corners to indicate where individual ownership had been established with what you guessed was a shared common area smack dab in the middle of it all. There’s a low fire burning under a simmering pot near the center, and when you curiously follow the rising smoke up you discover a thick crack in the ceiling. It was hard to say where it might lead but it must connect back up to the surface eventually given the subtle draft you can just make out, wafting against your skin. It looked like the way back through the tunnel you’d just come in from really was the only feasible exit or entrance. 

Not good. Even for as fiercely reckless as Lohen was, these were not favorable conditions for a fight. This manmade dugout was not only littered with a whole litany of unnecessary obstructions — a card table, wooden chairs, a laundry line from which hung someone’s old patched up pants, a tin wash basin, a straw training dummy that had clearly seen better days — but the treasure hoarders also had the home advantage here. This probably wasn’t going to be easy for him. 

“Hey, you listening or what?” 

That gruffly asked question brings your attention back around with a snap. A mild pang of gut wrenching surprise curls through your body when you realize that they’ve got you surrounded now, practically frothing at the mouth and smacking their chops. Apparently they didn’t know how to tell when a girl wasn’t interested. 

“Sorry, what did you say?” 

Clicking his tongue in annoyance, one of the men reaches out to rudely flick at the hem of your skirt, flashing a greater strip of your thighs to your attentively watching audience. You squeak a small sound of alarm and quickly shove the material back down, hoping to maintain at least some of your remaining dignity. 

“Don’t be like that.” The handsy one grins, obviously finding humor in it. “We just wanted to know if you’d like to have some fun with us or not. Seems to me a pretty young thing like you might appreciate getting her rocks off a bit. At least while we have nothing better to do with our time anyway.”

Oh, you could think of about twenty other, far more important things you’d rather be doing right now instead of this. 

“As much as I appreciate the offer - -“ 

One of the others, this one with a jagged scar bisecting half of his cheek to leave the skin partially sunken and pinched, reaches out to rather unceremoniously grab a handful of your ass. You yelp and whirl around, backing up a step to put some much needed distance between you and him. But that just sends you tripping into the first guy who eagerly winds his arms around you like it had been an open invitation for him to do so. 

Your pulse jackhammers out of control. It wasn’t difficult to imagine them escalating things until a fight broke out over you, ripping you to shreds in the process, and you valiantly squirm in his hold in an attempt to get free.  

“H - hey! Stop that!” 

“Sorry, baby, but we’re not offering.” He coos against the side of your head while his fingers sink deep into the cushiony love handles at your waist. “I’m afraid that wasn’t a question so much as it was … a friendly suggestion, you could say.” 

“You can have her when I’m finished.” The nearly forgotten Jan announces as he steps into the ravenous circle they’ve formed around you. “I found her so I get priority. Even had to go to the trouble of wrestling her useless little toothpick away to get her to cooperate so I’d say I’ve more than earned it.”

You watch, teeth gnashing, as he slides your confiscated sword out of his belt and tosses it off to the side with a dull thunk in the long dead grass. He’d come to regret that in due time if you had anything to say about it. 

The man holding you to the front of him just shrugs though. “Eh, she’s got more than one hole, doesn’t she? I don’t see any reason why we can’t all share.” 

“Theo.” Jan clenches his fists tight, growling. “Don’t be such a selfish prick. You know how we operate. Whoever brings it back gets to keep it unless otherwise stated. She’s mine.” 

“Is that so? I don’t think I see your name written anywhere.” 

Jan’s mouth flies open to really lay into the other man now, but a different one reaches for you instead. “Ah, give it a rest you two! At least take her damn clothes off while you’re bickering amongst yourselves!” 

Your iron chest plate is ruthlessly snagged, nearly pulling you right up off your feet when he gives it a vicious tug. But the straps are reinforced leather, some of the best Mondstadt has to offer, and they barely even budge. All he succeeds in doing is bruising your ribs and shoulderblades. 

A low, bestial snarl slips out of him seconds before he lunges at you with both hands poised as if to tear into a crabs shell and rip it apart at the seams. You have only a split second to realize what he planned to do to your meager armor, reeling back in terror. Unfortunately everything quickly devolves into chaos after that. 

In your panicked jerking you must slam the back of your head into the face that’s directly behind you, because he lets loose a startled, utterly enraged snarl. Theo’s hands jolt where they rest on your body, aggressively tightening as he pivots to throw you down on the ground and slam the air out of you in the process. The one with the facial scar tries to follow after you but Jan lurches to grab hold of his massive shoulders to pull him off. Everyone is shouting, stomping, shoving at each other. You fearfully glance up from your spot underneath them, trying desperately to figure out how you were going to get out of this mess. Your sword was sat almost a full yard from where you were. Forgotten, but not even close to being in arms reach. 

You’ve just started to brace yourself to make a desperate bid for it when someone descends upon you like a vulture claiming a carcass. A wholly undignified squawk bursts out of you as you’re forced over onto your back, getting a good look at the blood that gushes out of Theo’s clearly broken nose, and you gasp at the sight. The idea that you’d rammed him that hard hadn’t so much as crossed your mind, but it was already too late for apologies. He’s grabbing for the vulnerable line of your unprotected neck with pure malice flashing in his eyes before you can even get your arms up. 

And that’s when vice-captain Lohen makes his grand appearance. 

The crappy door to the rudely formed room flies open so hard that it doesn’t just slam against the wall. It flies right off the makeshift hinges to go crashing to the ground in a heap of shattered, splintered pieces. That manages to startle everyone into momentary stillness, seven gaping faces turned up towards the entryway. Eight, if you included yourself. 

Staring in horrified, transfixed wonder, you track the blur of motion that can only be Lohen as he bypasses the stairs (ladder) completely, preferring to drop straight down to ground level instead. The whipping tail of his half-cape is the only thing you truly make out in the rush, but you’d recognize it anywhere. You’d watched that same ominous flicker lead you straight into enemy lines more than you could count. 

But you hadn’t grasped just how truly frightening it was to be standing right in the middle of his oncoming war path like this. Even knowing you were on the same side as him isn’t nearly enough to suppress the frightened chill that washes over you when you watch him land in a crouch, seamlessly straighten up, and whip a dagger from his hand all in the same fluid motion. 

For a horrible split second you have no idea what he was even aiming at. 

And then the man on top of you jerks to the side, carried by the momentum of the blade slamming into his shoulder. He cries out, fumbling in a disoriented clamor to recover from the blow as his boots frantically kick at the ground. 

Which is precisely when all hell breaks loose. 

With the destructive suddenness of a massive, churning wave smashing over the shoreline, everyone is moving. Someone tries to rush the vice-captain in a barrage of fists. Another one tries to go for the musket you’d spotted earlier. At some point the simmering pot is knocked over, crashing to the floor and sizzling. The stink of something burning quickly dominates the air. 

You impulsively lurch into motion, scrambling to reach your sword as one of the men shouts, “drop your weapons, we have one of your knights!” 

But Lohen simply doesn’t care. 

The man who’d foolishly tried to take him head on goes down like a sack of bricks. It happens so fast that you’re not even quite sure what had felled him where he’d stood, but there was no mistaking the rattling, wet wheeze the body makes on the ground. He was done for. 

One of the other treasure hoarders almost goes flying face first into the dirt when he trips right over you in his mad dash for the shattered doorway. It’s a futile endeavor, though, and you glance up just in time to see Lohen course correct his trajectory, veering straight towards the attempted escapee. 

His polearm appears suddenly in his hand as if it had materialized there, like it was a natural extension of his arm that simply belonged to him as much as his fingers do. The upper half of his svelte body twists, right shoulder pulling back, back, back. Then he throws it, leaning the entirety of his weight into the effort, and the spear zips through the air almost too fast to keep track of. 

Thunk! 

A heart wrenching shriek immediately follows that fleshy, potato-sack sound, drawing your shellshocked attention towards the man now sitting awkwardly splayed out on the cave floor. With Lohen’s spear sticking straight up out of his gut. All it takes is that one single look for you to know it had pierced him straight through and he was as good as pinned there now. Just like the butterflies and other specimens Sucrose had once shown you from her collection. 

You come very close to regurgitating every last bit of your stomach contents with that thought. 

Someone screams. “What the fuck!?” 

Struggling to focus on anything other than the dying man lying some few feet away from where you were crouched, you crane your head back around to look for your sword. Still right where you’d last seen it, miraculously. You suck in a deep breath and start to crawl for it, eager to get your hands on something — anything that you could use to defend yourself with. 

You don’t quite make it though, letting out a fresh squawk of rising panic when someone frantically fumbles to grab hold of you. Those groping fingers quickly find purchase under the filigreed edges of your chestplate and they yank, hauling you upright just in time to see Lohen on the opposite side of the room calmly turn towards you. 

“Soldier.” He says by way of greeting, perfectly at ease despite all of the chaos. No, that wasn’t an accurate assessment at all. He was having the time of his life right now. 

“V - vice-captain.”

“Are you crazy or something! What the fuck is wrong with you? Huh!” Theo bellows behind you, almost shattering your eardrum in the process. You had half a mind to chide him for interrupting this very touching reunion between you and your superior, but you quickly abandon the urge to be snarky when he lifts a trembling blade up to your throat. “We’ve got one of your own here, you stupid bastard! Don’t you care what happens to her? You came to get her back, didn’t you?” 

“Wellll,” playfully drawing that one word out, Lohen allows his gaze to wander away from you to shiftily take in everything else going on around him. 

He’d already killed two. Just five more to go. The one back against the far wall was still fumbling to get the firearm locked and loaded, nearly dropping the gun in his rush. Another was picking up an old, half rusted axe. 

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say I don’t want her back, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to start making deals with the likes of you just to accomplish that. Sorry, soldier. I hope you won’t hold it against me.” 

You swallow so hard you nearly gag. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

“Heh. Good girl ~”

“Then I’ll just kill her and get it over with! Is that what you want? I didn’t take the Knights of Favonius for such a heartless lot!” The man behind you tries again, growing increasingly more sporadic as he waves his hunting knife around in the air. He gets a little too close to your face more times than you feel comfortable with, and you helplessly peer past him to look towards the vice-captain for help. 

For the span of a single heartbeat, your eyes meet his as if you were the only two people in the room, some silent yet meaningful communication passing between you and him. You’re unsure what, exactly, is being conveyed, but luckily he seems to get the message loud and clear. 

“Better make sure you duck, sweetheart.” Lohen says at length, the intonation a sultry purr. “It would be such a shame if that pretty little head of yours were to find itself removed from your shoulders, you know.”

Somehow, despite everything else going on around you, you still find the grace to blush. Pretty? 

He doesn’t give you a chance to really question it, though, and you jolt when he slips into an all too familiar position. Braced to pounce, to leap, to hurl himself headlong at his enemies. The limber twist of his upper body quickly clues you in that he was about to throw something else, and the way he puts his whole center mass into it would seem to suggest he was playing for keeps this time. This was going to be a devastating blow, even more so than the last one. 

You have only a split second to make the decision.

The musket abruptly goes off with a deafening bang, the flash from the muzzle blinding you.  

Luckily you don’t really need to see as you throw your weight forward with such force that Theo stumbles behind you, struggling to maintain his hold with an injured shoulder. Planning to use you as a human shield, if you had to guess. 

But in lurching after you to reestablish the press of your body against his, he just succeeds in positioning himself directly in Lohen’s sights. 

Thwunk! 

Another mindless animal shriek. 

The sudden rush of warm, wet fluid that immediately follows, washing over the side of your face, has you jerking your neck around in search of the source. For a horrible split second you’re convinced that it was your blood spraying out. 

It’s not, though. It was coming from Theo’s ruined eyeball in a pulsing rush of viscera and jelly-like vitreous, oozing out around the shaft of the arrow embedded deep within the membrane. 

Much too late to do you any good, you realize what just happened. The vice-captain must have shot him with the miniature crossbow strapped to his wrist, the motion of throwing something a mere feint. He easily could have missed and hit you instead though. What a cocky move. But you wisely keep that thought to yourself as you watch the man spasm, convulse, and finally let his grasping hands fall away when he staggers back a disoriented step. Judging by the rapidly deteriorating motor functions you could only assume that the arrowhead had sunk in deep enough to pierce his brain. 

Quickly turning from the gore, you glance up just in time to see Lohen darting towards the one with the musket. Pivoting on your heel, you run in the opposite direction with your sights set on your sword. 

“You!” Jan roars somewhere behind you, furious. “It was a trap! You led him here!”

You can sense someone stomping after you, feel the shift in the air when hands reach out to grab and to twist, to rip. But you’re finally close enough now and you dive for the blade, tumbling head over heels before sliding across the dirt with the scabbard clutched in a painful death grip. 

With one smooth motion and a satisfying shreeee you draw your sword, brandishing it in front of you to stop Jan’s aggressive approach in its tracks. 

“No.” You hiss up at him from your spot crouched on the ground. “You led him here all on your own. No one made you abduct me off of the road! That was all you, big guy, and now you’re going to reap what you’ve sewn.” 

Jan’s face twists up in pure, unfiltered rage as he glares down at you, his hands balled in shaking fists. Another dying shriek rises up somewhere behind him, but you keep your attention locked on the slimy bastard. You trusted Lohen to take care of this mess on his own, just like he’d said he would. In fact, you trust him implicitly. You’d already wagered this bet on him with your very life on the line, and now that gamble was paying off. 

Slowly rising to your feet, you nudge the tip of your sword at the center of Jan’s chest, threatening to run him through if he doesn’t cooperate. “Hands up. Keep them where I can see.”

He seems to think about it, no doubt weighing his odds of taking you, but the unmistakable crack! of a limb snapping on the opposite side of the cave seems to quickly make up his mind for him. Issuing some awful hacking sound in the back of his throat, he spits a vulgar wad on the ground and lifts his arms.

“Goddamned minx. You’re feistier than you look.” 

You can’t help the vicious smile that cuts across your mouth at that. “Why do you think the vice-captain chose me to be his bait?” 

Jan barks a mirthless laugh at your audacity, but the sound is quickly swallowed up by another series of snap, crackle, pops as more arms are broken, shoulders dislocated, and at least one neck is mercilessly wrenched into a decapitated lull, given the odd little, lifeless groan that quickly follows the loud crack. The treasure hoarder standing before you goes still as granite, his face noticeably paling at the continuing sounds of struggle and devastation. You feel marginally queasy yourself, yet you stand tall and firm. As was your duty. 

But the noise quickly starts to lull as the remaining treasure hoarders are promptly dispatched, and you flick your gaze past Jan in search of your vice-captain. You find him skulking into a tent from which came the sound of hysterical, mindless sniveling. Someone who had tried to hide but was much too scared, too traumatized by the noises he heard coming from outside the imagined safety of his refuge to stifle the breathless sobs. Even without being able to see him, you can tell that the panic was wracking his body in great big, heaving shudders, hyperventilating quicker when the footsteps grow closer to his hiding spot. 

You almost feel bad for him, even though you knew he would not have harbored any similar sympathy for you if the roles had been reversed, and you wrench your eyes away from the terrible sight so you won’t have to watch.  

A violent rustle of movement immediately starts up, the ensuing struggle making the tent shake from the inside. The old tarp trembles with frantic abandon as the gasping wails rise in pitch, begging, pleading for mercy. Lohen says nothing, though, only the faintest sound of his thready, tittering laughter curling through the stagnant air of the cave like an insidious waft of perfume. Invisible to the naked eye and yet unmistakable at the same time. Something that would stick with you long after you'd left this place. 

For an uncomfortable stretch of moments you and Jan just stare at one another while his friend — or, at least, his co-conspirator — was unmistakably being slaughtered. You have no way of knowing what exactly Lohen does to finally put him out of his misery but, at last, the screams fade to resounding silence with a single, wheezing sigh. 

A minute later, he emerges from the still tent. 

You glance his way again and nearly have to do a double take. He looked like a demon straight out of a nightmare, covered in a congealing wash of blood so dark it was of the deepest, blackest mahogany. And he was grinning from ear to ear like the smile had been carved out of his face with a slashing, sharply serrated blade. You’d never seen anything like it before. 

But, to be fair, you were usually standing some distance behind him, not directly in his line of sight like this. 

Reminding yourself that the two of you were playing for the same team, you do your best to offer up a welcoming smile as he crosses the cave floor to join you and Jan, who suddenly seemed much less sure of himself now. 

“Nice work, vice-captain! We did it. Your plan worked.” You announce with a hopeful, upward lilt that you prayed wouldn’t betray your fear. “Sorry I couldn’t be of more help, but at least I was able to stop this one from getting in your way. We can take him back to headquarters and - -“ 

Stepping right up behind the defenseless man, Lohen throws his arms up around his neck and swipes his right hand across the vulnerable line of Jan’s throat. A deluge of blood, so fresh it still looked bright red, sprays out of the fleshy, gaping laceration to absolutely drench you in it. 

You just stand there, staring in slackjawed disbelief while Jan gurgles some unseemly, horribly thick sound, jerking frantically in place now as his hands fly up to his slit jugular. Fingers grasping, squeezing, desperately trying to stem the flow. But it’s no use. That crimson tide just keeps spurting out around his hands, dripping through his fingers. 

He can’t breathe, you dully realize, when his eyes wildly start to roll back in his head, mouth wide and gaping like a beached fish. Even when he raggedly sucks in big, gulping breaths that should have filled his lungs straight to capacity he just continues to suffocate right before your very eyes, choking on his own blood. 

Finally, Lohen releases him with a showman’s flourish, clearly quite satisfied with the way things have turned out. But you impulsively toss your sword aside and follow him down when he instantly collapses in an awkward splay of limbs. The startings of Jan’s death throes have him convulsing uncontrollably even as you try to gather him to you but this, too, is no use. He’s gone before you can even fully settle there on your knees and you’re just left stupidly holding a fast cooling corpse in your lap. 

All you can do is sit there for a terribly long moment, stunned into inaction. There was blood everywhere. Carnage everywhere. And you had nothing to show for it now. 

You couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe that this was what all of your bravery and hard work had amounted to. A pile of the broken, mangled dead surrounding you every which way you looked. It was inconceivable. You’d wanted to make him pay for the way he’d treated you, sure, but … not like this. 

You’d had the situation under control, dammit. He was cooperating. Unarmed. 

“Aww, come on, princess. What’s wrong? Why the long face, huh?” 

You give a great start at the sound of Lohen’s voice, sickly sweet and smooth as velvet, snapping your head up to find him crouched in front of you, just on the other side of Jan’s body. Balanced on his toes, elbows braced against the bends of his knees, he tips his head to one side almost inquisitively. Not at all unlike a curious predator sizing up his next kill. 

The knife dangling from his right hand still drips blood onto the dirt underneath him to the sound of a dull little plap. plap. plap. 

“We took care of the problem, didn’t we?” He goes on, evidently perfectly content within this charnel house he’s made of the cave. “This particular band of fools won’t be bothering anyone else thanks to us. You should be happy about that. It’s what we set out to do, after all. Isn’t it?” 

He pauses then. Looks you over more closely. 

And a small knit of confusion slowly forms between his brows. “Are you sad that I killed him?” 

You jolt as if he’d electrocuted you with the static touch of a phantom hand. Abruptly coming back to your senses, you hurry to shove the fresh corpse away from you in plain revulsion before swiping your hands over your stained skirt to rid them of filth. Not that it does you much good.

“No. No, of course not.” 

“Well, that’s good to hear. Seriously, what do you think he and his buddies planned to do with you? It wasn’t going to be anything nice, I can tell you that much. And they wouldn’t have shed any tears over it if you were the one lying here, dead as a dormouse, so don’t waste any of yours on the likes of these crooks. But that still begs the question, doesn’t it? Why does it seem like you’re upset with me then?” 

The first time you attempt to speak nothing comes out, not even a peep. You have to work to swallow around what feels very much like a boulder lodged in your constricting throat before you can try again. 

“That’s all true, of course. But,” you helplessly croak. “Shouldn’t we have taken him back to the keep? For questioning, at least, or … or trial, or something? There could be more of them that we don’t know about.” 

“I’m afraid that’s not my job, sweetheart. And neither is it yours. You’re a member of the ranged company, not the sitting council of the church. Don’t forget that.” 

That very nearly succeeds in leaving you gobsmacked. “What do you think that makes you, Lohen? You’re our … vice-captain.” 

A not entirely mirthless laugh slips out of him. “Do you really need to ask? I think you know exactly what I am. You’ve stood side by side with me on plenty a battlefield now, haven’t you?”

Pausing, Lohen gives the sharp knife in his hand a casual flip to make it somersault through the air. Up and then straight back down into his waiting hand, where he foolishly catches it by the pointy end. Not exactly smart, in your estimation, but thankfully he doesn’t slice a finger off with that cute little trick of his. Somehow you got the sense that that would’ve just sent you straight off the deep end. 

“Oh, but don’t look at me like that, honeybun. You know perfectly well what the answer is. Even if I generally do my level best to keep this side of me locked up tight behind closed doors where polite society won’t have to see it, there’s still no mistaking what I am. Is there? The executioner’s blade of the Knights of Favonius. The Grandmaster’s attack dog. And glad for it, I might add.” 

Giving you a cheeky little grin, he seamlessly flips the knife again. But this time he catches it properly by the handle before reaching out to calmly press the bloodstained razor’s edge across your throat. 

The image of Jan’s jugular splitting open in one clean slice flashes through your mind, every bit as horrible as it was the first time. Your stomach sickeningly roils in reply, once again threatening to send every last bit of frothing foam flying from your mouth, and yet you just can’t seem to bring yourself to cower or back down. 

Rather, you stand firm and call his bluff. Barely even flinching at the press of cool, deadly metal against your neck, which seems to earn you some small increase in his estimation of you, given the way his brows animatedly lift in response. 

“You’re not scared? Not even a little bit?” 

“I’m terrified, actually.” You murmur, trying to keep your throat as still as possible. “It’s just … if I really am your honeybun, as you like to say, then I don’t imagine you would kill me like this. That means one of these things must not be true. Which is it, vice-captain?”

“Hah! That’s a good answer. I like it. In fact, I like it a lot! Oooh, and how very right you are!” Cackling that raspy, shuddering laugh, Lohen withdraws his weapon and gives it a quick magician’s flick to make it disappear down the sleeve of his coat. Poof. Gone. Just like magic. 

He even lifts his hands in the air as if to show you he isn’t armed now, even though you know that to be a load of shit, but his smile only grows when you simply refuse to be cowed by him. 

“Hehehe. Yes, yes, that’s exactly it. I won’t kill you. Not like this. You’re better than that, aren’t you, princess? You deserve more than a measly little switchblade sticking out of your throat. No, you need something bigger. Better. Bleeding out here on the floor just doesn’t really suit you, does it?” 

At your stilted nod, Lohen reaches across the short space again. But this time he curls the palm of his hand over your cheek to cradle it, smearing the blood that was already there and adding more to the mess with his glove. The unexpected tenderness in that gesture manages to surprise you more than it would have if he’d simply slapped you across the face, and you find yourself holding the air in your lungs while he looks you over. If you didn’t know any better, you might have thought he was checking you for injuries but that’s not quite it. 

He also isn’t truly being aggressive with you either, as strange as that sounds even in your own mind. Not really, anyway. His sporadic, almost twitchy demeanor would seem to suggest otherwise but, as you look at him looking at you, a vague epiphany of understanding starts to dawn. He really wasn’t going to kill you. You now knew that for a fact.

Not because he couldn’t or wouldn’t do it, but because he was having way too much fun to end the game so soon. 

And that’s exactly what it was staring back at you. Excitement. The eager, almost boyish thrill of a good time had and the hope for many more to come. He’d had a blast today. Here. With you. Fighting in such tight, cramped quarters, breaking bones, running people through with his spear. And now teasing you like this, taunting you in pursuit of the reaction he was looking for. It’s all just good, harmless fun from his perspective. 

Of course he isn’t going to hurt you. 

He wanted to keep playing with you. 

That realization smacks you across the face like a wet rag and you shudder, vibrating so fiercely there on the floor with him that you feel like you just might slip your mortal coil all together. This situation was nearly impossible to wrap your head around. It’s so ass backwards and twisted, but when your mouth warbles open — to say what, you do not know — Lohen doesn’t even hesitate to seize the opportunity you’ve just given him. 

Decisively swooping in like a diving bird of prey, he seals his mouth over yours with enough force, enough driving intensity, to make your teeth clack together. A startled yelp bursts from your throat but he’s quick to swallow it up, chasing after you when you try to pull away. All you want is a chance to recover from that blow, just to take a second to breathe, and he simply doesn’t let you. 

You groan against him, weak and faltering, as the hot, wet warmth of his mouth seems to overwhelm you in the blink of an eye. The taste of him, the smell of him, the stench of blood and sweat, and guts. It’s all too much. You feel sick. You’re too hot. 

There’s something musky right under the surface as well, something that you would all too readily attribute to the questionable bathing habits of the treasure hoarders, but which you can’t quite convince yourself wasn’t him. The stink of testosterone, you think. Undeniably masculine and yet cloying, further betraying his arousal and sealing your fate all in one fell swoop. It does something irreversible to your brain, makes your protests die out on your tongue. 

Sighing a heated sound through his nose when he feels you start to relent, Lohen tips his head to deepen the kiss. Mouthing at you so insistently, so hungrily, that it feels like he’s trying to work out how he can swallow you whole. That probably would have been rather alarming in just about any other situation, with just about any other man, but it only seems to pull you further under his intoxicating spell. 

Especially when he nips at your bottom lip where he briefly latches on, worrying the delicate flesh between his teeth for a prolonged moment. You whimper into his mouth as he tugs, slightly stretching the pliant skin before letting it snap back into place. Your lips already feel raw and kiss-swollen but he only gives you a mere second of reprieve, and then he’s right back on top of you again. 

This time, however, when he spears his tongue up at the now tender center of your lips you can’t quite manage to hold your line of defense. He invades your mouth in a sudden rush of spongy flesh and spit, and you can even taste the distant twinge of iron where he must have broken the skin. 

Gasping around the intrusion, you blindly reach up to grab ahold of his narrow shoulders, fitfully yanking and pulling at him. But, still, he doesn’t stop. He just rewards you for your efforts by simply kissing you even harder. Deeper. Almost frenzied. 

Your head positively swims with the delirious thought that he’d probably crawl right inside of you if only he could. But instead he has to make do with merely plunging his tongue towards the far back of your throat, licking at the inside of your mouth in a way that was somehow sensual and disconcerting in equal measure. It feels like he’s flicking directly at your tonsils and you gag on the sensation, shoving at him with renewed insistence now. 

When that doesn’t work either, when he just continues to meet every single push and pull you give him, tit for tat, you drag your hands higher to viciously yank at the back of his hair. Your valiant attempts to dislodge him just seem to get Lohen even more excited, however, and he rattles off a low, faltering moan at the tug to his scalp. 

This really was getting you nowhere fast. You’d have to try a different approach, something he wouldn’t like. 

Unfortunately you couldn’t even begin to guess at what that might be. 

And you don’t get the chance to puzzle it out, either, because the hand that had once so tenderly cradled your cheek now slides back to grab a biting fistful of your hair. His fingers tightly close around the root, giving his wrist a sharp twist for good measure. Then he’s yanking your neck back with a sharp snap that mercilessly tears your lips from his. 

Crying out at the loss, you owlishly blink up at the ceiling through the rising sting of tears. It’s a staggering relief to finally be able to pull in a big, gasping mouthful of fresh air again, even for being short-lived as it is. But he’s as relentless as ever and he quickly leans right back up into your space where he drags the flat of his tongue over the pounding pulse in your throat. The sensation has you trembling against him while Lohen gradually works his way lower, inch by inch, until he reaches the base of your neck. Here, his fangs come out to bite, and you mewl a harried little sound at the feeling of teeth scraping so dangerously close to your windpipe. 

You hardly trusted him after what you’d just seen him to do to Jan’s. 

“Ahh - haaa, vice-captain … is this really the — nngh, right time or place for this?” 

“I don’t see why not.” He murmurs around the flesh caught between his teeth, the words thick and muffled with you. “Don’t tell me, mmnhgn, you’ve got stage fright or something? Is that it, honeybun? You don’t like having an audience?” 

You grimace at the reminder of what laid scattered around you but he’s already starting to work his way back up, issuing hot, breathy little giggles into your neck while he goes. 

“Even putting that aside, I — ooughn. I can’t imagine I look very appealing right now. I’m all … all covered in blood and who knows what else, Lohen.”

He gives his head a slow, disbelieving shake as he nuzzles into the edge of your jaw. Almost reminding you of a cat in that moment. Not a particularly big one, but no less deadly for it. 

“Is that seriously supposed to be a bad thing? Ahh, and here I thought you knew me better than that.” Sighing a dreamy, wistful sound, Lohen brings his unoccupied hand up to cradle your opposite cheek, nudging your attention towards him until you have no choice but to look him in the face once more. 

And what you see staring back at you makes your gut twist itself into knots. In building, reluctant excitement as much as in dread. 

Grinning that serrated edge smile, his eyes flashing with a pulse of inner hellfire, Lohen moves in so close to you that the tip of his nose lightly brushes the end of yours. It probably would have sent you into cardiac arrest to have that look directed right at you in almost any other situation, under any other circumstances. But there in that cave, crouched on the ground with him … 

“Gods. You’ve never looked more beautiful than you do right now and you don’t even realize it. Like some kind of work of art or something.”

He gives his lips a slow, savory lick, making you squirm at how much he resembled a half starved wolf with that gesture. “Y - you don’t mean that.” 

Slowly shaking his head again, Lohen giggles a low, vibrating sound of amusement. “Oh, you have no idea ~”

With that the vice-captain starts to angle his mouth towards yours again, his eyelashes fluttering slightly in anticipation, but you’re quick to bring one of your hands down. Palm slapping against the front of his throat, you try to shove him back. He just keeps coming though, laughing a vaguely choked off sound when the pressure pushes in on his windpipe. It’s obvious he likes it. The suggestion of losing his ability to breathe, the threat of having his neck grabbed and squeezed, crushed. 

Your blithe attempt to stave him off doesn’t so much as slow him down, his mouth crashing into yours in another voracious, insatiable kiss. The hand on your face drops to do the same to your throat, except he only curls his gloved, bloody fingers around the nape, allowing his thumb to do all the work. He finds your jugular with it, lightly caressing over the bobbing line of your neck when you roughly swallow before gradually pressing up on it and sinking the pad into flesh. 

“Do it like that.” He murmurs against your lips when you make some small, gurgling sound in the back of your pinched throat. “It’s harder to strangle someone than you might think. Your hand will get tired fast. Push up on the neck instead. You could even lean into it if you were on top and just let your weight do all the work for you. Easy.” 

Swaying slightly in his hold, you suck in a rough, shallow breath of air. It’s all you can manage like this, and it’s not nearly enough to fill your aching lungs. “Are you … going to let me be on top?” 

“Hah! Maybe. Is that what you want? Would you like that, princess? You wanna’ climb on top and ride me? I’ve seen you on a horse, you know. You’re not too shabby from the looks of it.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut against that mental image, hating the deep, low squeeze of your cunt almost as much as you loved the feeling of it. The worst part was that you weren’t even necessarily opposed to this happening. Not the kisses, not the hand gently choking you, not him. You just sorely wished he’d picked a better place to do this at. Preferably someplace with less dead bodies. 

Because the vice-captain was certainly handsome and lovely to look at in the same way that a tropical, brightly colored plant from Natlan was pretty. Deadly to the touch. Dripping in poison. Even if you found him plenty attractive (and you did) you knew better than to touch, to invite his venom deep inside of you. 

But there you were, not only touching him but drinking from his mouth as if plagued by a great thirst. Readily swallowing his malignant offering down like a condemned prisoner who would eat anything at all just to stay alive. 

You’re so caught up in him that you don’t even think to fight it when his tongue rudely invades your mouth again, poking and prodding, exploring the dark nooks and crannies of you as if he could spend all day doing this and little else. He’s in no hurry, no rush to get to the climax. Clearly, Lohen would rather enjoy it. Savor it. Take his time to ensure he extracted every last drop of pleasure from his thrumming bloodlust, the thrill of the hunt indistinguishable from his physical arousal. 

And he is aroused, you realize in no uncertain terms when he nudges himself closer to you, practically clamoring over Jan’s forgotten body just to accomplish that. 

All but sitting in your lap now, his knees braced on the ground and bracketing yours, Lohen leans into you so heavily that you almost unbalance and tip over. The flush line of his svelte frame against yours is hot and hard, and that’s when you feel it. The weighty press of his rigid cock digging into your hip. His front placket seems to barely contain its enthusiastically twitching length which he not-so-subtly grinds against you to feel the rush of friction where he really wanted it. But still, he does not throw you down and mount you like a wild beast. 

He could, if he really wanted to. Easily. Just as easily as those treasure hoarders had manhandled and manipulated you to their machinations, but Lohen isn’t like them. It doesn’t even really make sense in your punchdrunk mind and it probably never would, yet you still knew it to be true. 

It wasn’t violent subjugation he sought, nor was it necessarily male-typical, brutish dominance either. 

No, he wanted you to meet him head on, as equals. Or something close to it. See who came out the winner fair and square. Just like one of the many impromptu sparring matches he’d subjected you and all the rest of the fifth company to. 

Except naked. 

And instead of swords, you would be clashing it out with —

The thought alone is almost enough to do you in right then and there, and you tremble at the sensation of his cock digging in at your side, panting into his mouth now. 

Blindly fumbling, you readjust the position of the hand on his neck to better mimic his, pushing up towards his jaw. You notice the difference immediately as his hungry invasion of your mouth turns stilted, sloppy. His lips flutter against yours and drop open as if in pure, unfiltered ecstasy before he starts to languidly tip his head back. Like he just couldn’t get enough of the feeling. 

“Oooughhn, that’s it, honeybun. Exactly like that.” He hisses, once he has enough room to do so. “You wanna’ choke me out a little bit? Be my guest. Go on.” 

Emboldened by this false sense of victory over him, you scramble to gather your resolve as you push on his neck with more force. The pressure tilts his face further back until he’s left groaning softly up at the ceiling, the limited amount of oxygen he’s able to pull in rattling about inside his hitching chest. You stop only long enough to steal a brief glance at his lap where you’re not the least bit surprised to see the aggressive tent in the material. Although they were not nearly as tight as Captain Kaeya’s, his trousers didn’t normally leave much to the imagination. Or so you’d thought prior to this. 

Now, however, you can see he’s packing an impressive girth that his slight stature did not belie in the slightest. It’s more than enough to make the fabric bulge out and form a truly enticing imprint around it that lets you see his cock had settled more towards the left when it started to fill out. Your mouth waters at the sight, fingers itching to reach out and grab it. To free it from those polite confines and guide it into your body. 

You don’t get the chance to follow through on that impulse though. 

“Mmm. See something you like, sweetheart?” 

Attention darting up, you look into Lohen’s grinning face again. “M - maybe. I’m not disinterested, at least.” 

That earns you another discordant, breathy laugh. “Ooh, don’t start getting shy on me now. It’s okay. You can look aaalll you want. I don’t mind. Really. In fact, I encourage it.”

A befuddled little laugh slips out of you at that proclamation. “A bit full of yourself there eh, vice-captain?” 

“Hmm, not without good reason, I’d say.” His devilishly dancing eyes narrow slightly, turning mischievous now as he deliberately rolls his hips into you. “And anyway you’d better admire it while still you can. Something tells me you’re going to be the one full of it soon enough.” 

You shudder aggressively in response, unable to catch or to stop it before it’s wracking you straight down to your very core. That hadn’t just been a threat, but a promise too. Neatly wrapped up together with pretty paper and a poison dipped bow on top. And you knew Lohen well enough to know he typically upheld both his promises and his threats with equal intensity. 

And he must see that falter in your demeanor because he snickers a devious, knowing sound. It was just the reaction he’d been hoping for, in all likelihood, and you’d given it to him on a silver platter. You’re not particularly surprised by it, though, when he was so adept at recognizing another person's openings and weak spots. And now he knew yours. 

A slave to your baser instincts and desires, just as he was slave to his own. A match made in hell, perhaps. 

It truly isn’t any wonder, then, that you don’t even attempt to slap him away when Lohen shifts against you, ignoring the hand on his throat when he reaches up to slip long fingers inside the gilt edge of your iron wrought chestplate. Feeling around within the space in between, he quickly locates the reinforced buckle on one of the straps to give it a good solid yank. His efforts are much more successful than the treasure hoarder’s had been, his familiarity with Favonian armor serving him well even though he rarely wore the stuff himself. 

You feel that first corded belt start to loosen and your heart rate seems to exponentially swell. Excited and scared, nervous, and maybe just a little bit shy at the prospect of him seeing you naked. But you were also oh so very eager to feel him moving against you without the troublesome impediment of clothes in the way, and you quickly jump into action too. Knowing he wanted it as much as you bolsters your courage by no small margin, giving you the encouraging push you’d needed to let your hands freely roam. 

Fingers smoothing a path down his neck, you drag your palm lower, lower and lower still until you can feel his stomach flexing just under your touch. He sucks in a faltering breath, no doubt realizing your intention, but he doesn’t try to stop you. True to his word, even in this. He just tugs at the inner latching of your chestplate with more ferocity until it finally gives to loosen around you with a nearly silent slither of the leather bands. 

The metalwork carapace hangs from your shoulders now but he’s quick to snag at it, yanking it up over your head without much aplomb. He tosses it off to the side to the sound of a loud clatter, the strange hue of his eyes flashing an eager glint when he goes up on his knees in front of you. That puts the center of his pants even closer to you and you tip your head back, watching him watching you, as your hand finishes its journey to slide across that faintly twitching bulge on a slow, downward drag. 

Stiffening, Lohen sucks in a sharp inhale at the contact and his hips slouch into an almost lazy nudge as if he were offering himself up to you for further perusal. At the same time he reaches up to start yanking at the buttons and clasps, all the hidden little hooks on his outer jacket, the waistcoat underneath. His own straps are undone, the decorative brooch on his chest unpinned and thrown carelessly off to the side with nary a second thought. You’re able to make out the dull clatter of some weapon or another more than once as his layers are quickly discarded, one after the next, but you don’t have much interest in that right now. 

You’re far too mesmerized by the weight in his pants to worry about what kind of knives and daggers he might have on his person, feeling another deep, responding clench in your pussy when you grip him through the material. Your mouth starts to water at a rate that was, frankly, alarming. You wouldn’t have expected this from someone of his height and build, although that certainly explained in part where some of his self assured confidence came from. 

But you must not be sufficiently meeting the challenge he’s presented you with because, stripped to just the final layer of his royal blue shirt and white slacks now, Lohen rumbles an impatient sound as he reaches down to snag your wrist. Roughly shoving your palm into himself and grinding it in for good measure, he fixes you with a sharp little smile that’s more teeth than anything else. 

“There’s no need to be gentle with me, princess. I’m a big boy. I can take whatever you want to dish out. Promise ~”  

You don’t doubt that for even a moment, your fingers trembling around his girth when he hunches over you, bringing the upper half of his body close. Even for as lithe as he is you can tell exactly how powerful he really was in the distribution of his muscle mass, the way he fills out the shirt that clings and stretches with him. He’s nowhere near as big and bulging as the Grandmaster, but he doesn’t really need to be. A wilting wallflower he was not despite the misleadingly svelte appearance of his body. 

In fact, he’s perfectly solid when he descends upon you with a vengeance, grabbing your face between his hands and yanking you up into a hard, demanding kiss. This, too, is more teeth than tongues and lips, but you rise to meet the attack head on and nip him right back, much to his groaning delight. 

Working blind now, you fumble to find the belt around his narrow waist and tug at it, every now and again feeling the hard imprint of him brush your knuckles. You just barely manage to get the buckle unclasped before Lohen rumbles a hungry sound, leaning his sturdy weight into you even when you try to push back against him. The two of you stay locked in battling wills like that for a prolonged moment and then — 

He finally shoves at you hard enough to send you toppling backwards onto the ground, following right after you to all but crush you against the hard rock. It punches the air out of your lungs to leave you briefly winded, gasping, but you’re almost too busy kissing him to notice it. 

All at once hands are flying everywhere, tugging at everything, clawing at each other as if you were really fighting it out. Except you knew good and well that this was not how he would attack you if he was being serious, which you were admittedly quite glad for. That certainty stops any fear from taking root in your mind when he roughly grabs at the belt around your waist and pulls so hard your hips momentarily leave the floor. You yelp a harried sound but he just swallows it right up, once again plunging his tongue deep into your mouth with the same ferocity he wields his spear with. 

It might have been easy to mistake his intentions for something they weren’t if you were just a little less familiar with his way of doing things, if you hadn’t already looked into his eyes and seen the truth for what it is. You felt confident he wouldn’t kill you, not here, not today. Not intentionally or otherwise. So there is no bloom of terror in your heaving chest while he aggressively works to wrestle you further below him. 

And you don’t make it easy for him either. You had a feeling that would have ruined his fun and he wouldn’t have appreciated it much anyway. A too easy victory was the source of much of Lohen’s daily boredoms, after all, so you make sure to put up a good fight for him. 

Finally managing to yank your arm out from the tight press of your bodies, your hand shoots up to hook under his chin again. But this time when you apply pressure you do so straight into his jaw and he’s forced to tip his head back or risk chomping down on his own tongue. Rattling a labored, tittering laugh, he lets you shove his neck back without much fuss even as his hands continue to grab at you, pulling on clothes and appreciatively feeling you up at the same time. 

You take that short moment of respite to catch your breath a little bit, wheezing under him as if you’d just run ten miles straight. Lohen is quick to shrug out of your hold though and he swoops right back in to grab a handful of your shirt. One hard yank is all it takes to have the delicate hooks giving way, leaving you to gape at him in disbelief, but it was already much too late. What’s done is done, and all you can do is seethe a quiet sound when he starts to force the sleeves down your twisting arms. 

“Nnghn. Was that really necessary, vice-captain?” 

“Sure was ~” He chirps right back, utterly unconcerned about it. 

Suppressing the urge to reach back up and do the same to his shirt, you instead let him manhandle your top off, eager to be rid of the stifling material. It was filthy anyway, between all of the blood and the dirt you’d accumulated from rolling around on the ground, and you aren’t sad to see it go. 

Luckily Lohen gets that off and tossed aside quickly enough before then setting his sights on the silky brassiere that cradles your breasts. He makes even quicker work of the flimsy garment, barely allowing himself enough time to get the cups shoved out of his way before he swoops in to capture one of the stiff nipples in his mouth. 

Your back dramatically bows against the unforgivingly hard ground as you keen a sound that is somehow half startled and half tinged with ecstasy at the same time. Abandoning your endeavor of tugging at his slouching pants, you let your hands fly up to take desperate hold of his hair. He just groans a hot, muffled sound into the meat of your tit though, slowly driving his pelvis into you while he does it so you can feel his seeking cock where it digs into your stomach. 

“Oh! God!”

Faintly humming his agreement, Lohen takes a moment to simply suckle at you, drawing the sensitive teat towards the back of his throat. Then, once he seems to be satisfied with the swollen bud, he carefully brings his teeth down on it to lightly worry the flesh. That has you squirming underneath him, as aroused by the sensation as you were nervous about him biting you in earnest, but he does not. 

He just comes up off your chest with a loud, wet pop another heartbeat later to leave the nipple coated in spit and stiffly coiled. The waft of air that immediately assaults you all at once has you shuddering wildly enough to make him readjust the way he’s got you pinned to the cave floor, settling his hips more squarely on top of yours. 

“Oooh. A bit sensitive, are we?” Crooning slyly, Lohen walks two of his gloved fingers up your middle to softly tease the wet, pebbled peak, making it pebble into an even tighter point. At your responding hiss, he adjusts his hand to take the meaty bud between thumb and forefinger, tweaking it now to the accompaniment of a rather sultry laugh. 

“These are cute.” He goes on, grinning. “You should let me pierce them for you. I bet you’d look stunning with some pretty jewelry in your tits.” 

He pinches down a little harder, as if to test your tolerance for pain, and you wince at the imagined sting of a needle. “I - I don’t know about that, Lohen. Do you even know how to pierce someone?” 

“Wellll …” 

Realizing the unsavory double entendres of what you’d just said, you reach up to smack his shoulder with a huff. As if you’d really needed that reminder of the carnage you’d watched him dish out when you were surrounded by the evidence of it.

He just gives another devious little giggle though, quickly pushing up onto his knees to hover over you. Abandoning your chest now, he lifts his hands to work over the buttons on his shirt with lightning quick precision to leave it hanging half open, showing off an enticing strip of his tight stomach. He then directs his hands lower down and you quickly realize what he’s doing, watching in rapt fascination as he loosens the fastens of his slacks with familiar efficiency. It would have taken you a good moment of fumbling to get them undone but he seems to have it taken care of in only a matter of seconds. 

And when he finally reaches inside to free himself, you just can’t seem to help the tiny, threadbare gasp that catches in your throat at the sight of him. It’s perfect in your estimation; sinfully smooth and silky with a delectably fleshy hood that gathers over the tip but which readily glides back when he fists that rigid length and draws his hand down. You don’t miss the little wet click that sounds in time with the motion, pressing your thighs together in a fierce squeeze as your own excitement ratchets up another dizzying notch. 

Somehow or another you can’t quite shake the confounding impression that he looked like he’d been made just for you. Like he would fill you up exactly right, like he’d hit every single pleasure inducing nerve along the way. It was almost overwhelming in its potency. 

And you’re suddenly very aware of just how drenched your cunt actually is as you not so subtly squirm underneath him, there on the ground. 

Which catches Lohen’s attention, of course, his razor edged grin widening. Still lazily caressing himself with one hand, he reaches out with the other to grab under your knee and wrench it wide, forcing you into an unladylike sprawl before going back in to snag at the skirt of your uniform. 

“Let me see you too, honeybun. That’s only fair, isn’t it?” He murmurs, shoving the bulk of the material out of his way to expose your modest bloomers to his raking gaze. 

You’re almost struck by the urge to cover yourself back up, more than a little self conscious about doing this here of all places. But it’s as if your pussy has a mind of its own and you instead nudge your hips at him in offering, mewling a breathless little sound when he doesn’t hesitate to take you up on that invitation. 

Gloved hand smoothing over the center seam, Lohen allows himself a moment to just rub over you, admiring the way your body twitches into the pressure rather than trying to shirk away from it. That doesn’t hold his attention for very long, though, and he soon releases his hold on his cock so he can grab at your bottoms with both hands and yank them down your legs. 

Some brief twisting on your part is required to get them untangled and tossed away, but he wastes no time descending upon you again, palming at the soft pudge along your inner thighs to press them into another wide spread. All at once you can feel everything now, from the exposed, puffy slit of your cunt, the excess of excited slick that wets the coarse hair there and the cool waft of air against your most sensitive spot. It makes you tremble wildly even as you crane your head up to peer down the length of your own body, taking in the lurid spread he’s got you pinned in. 

You almost couldn’t believe that you were letting him do this to you, right here, right now, but burn everything, you’re so glad you were. You couldn’t recall there ever being a time when you’d felt quite so damn needy. 

“Ooohho, my, oh my, princess. What a pretty little pussy you’ve got there. Looks good enough that I could just eat it up.” 

Squeezing your eyes shut in a failed attempt to block that out, you let slip a quiet, seething hiss through your clenched teeth. “Fuck, Lohen. Just get on with it. I — I don’t want to wait anymore. Stop teasing me.” 

“Hah! And who’s to say I’m just teasing you, huh?” Ever so slowly he starts to drag the palms of his hands up over the meat of your thighs, your waist, your ribs and then your tits before he finally wraps them around your neck in a loose hold. He gradually leans over you while he does it, coming back down again to put his face close to yours where he takes a moment to simply nuzzle at your nose, your lips. 

“Maybe I really do just want to eat you out. I could make it sooo good for you, too.” Lohen continues, purring at you, while his shuddering breath dances across your skin. “I get the sense that a lot of women would kill for the chance to have their pussy ate but you'd rather get fucked, wouldn’t you? Want me to take you hard and fast, don’t you, princess? Is that it?” 

You find yourself nodding along with what he’s saying before you even have the conscious thought to do so. He was right, and there was no sense in denying it. Not when you were already effectively naked from the waist down, laid out underneath him in a tense, halting sprawl. 

And now that he’s pressed flush against you once more, you take the opportunity to curl your legs up around his narrow hips and pull him in even tighter, ankles crossing over the small of his back. 

He chuckles a raspy, creaky sound at that, driving his hips forward to grind that throbbing length into your sopping wet core even as he continues to softly pet over your throat at the same time. The hellfire in his eyes has taken on a strangely sultry gleam now, hazy crimson pupils blown so wide they seem to almost drown out the surrounding blue-gray iris. If you didn’t know any better you might have mistaken him for a deadly, sadomasochistic incubus in that moment. 

Gods, and was that really that far from the truth? 

“Give it to me, Lohen.” You murmur, your kissed raw lips brushing his with every urgently uttered word. “Give me your cock. Show me what it’s like to really be bested by you. Claim your victory.”

A terrible shudder works through him at that plea, loosing a threadbare moan as his eyelashes flutter and then slip shut. It appears to affect him a great deal, to hear you welcoming your own end at his hands like this, but that hardly even seems to give him pause. 

Slipping one of his hands from around your neck, he reaches down to squeeze into the tight, hot space between his body and yours. Your chest hitches at the indelicate swipe of his seeking cockhead while he blindly directs it where it needs to go, feeling for your entrance, and when he finds it in the next heartbeat you all but choke on the pressure he exerts. Shoving himself into the delicate give of your pussy has your inner sleeve readily stretching to accommodate him, too eager and too wet to deny him access to your guts even if you’d wanted to. And you really, really don’t want to. 

You cling to him with desperate abandon, heaving against Lohen’s mouth, the line of his neck, at the sensation of being invaded, subjugated, claimed in this manner. The sharp sear of penetration brings reflexive tears to your eyes, teeth gnashing while you try to bite back an overwhelmed, gasping sob. It’s nearly impossible, though, when your estimation of him had been right on the mora. He does fill you up just right. His width, his length, the girth that forces your interior walls to relent the more he pushes inside, slowly feeding himself into your hungry cunt. 

His hand comes back up then, no longer needed between your legs when he was already sunk half of the way inside. Grunting a stuttering sound as he worms his fingers beneath your head, closing them around a tight fistful of your hair so that he can yank your neck back at a vulnerable angle, he descends upon your mouth like a ravenous beast. Kissing you, biting, licking, sucking on your poor abused bottom lip until the taste of fresh blood springs up anew. 

He’s relentless, insatiable in the way he lays claim to your body, and you quickly find that you enjoy every second of it. Lohen feels good moving on top of you, inside you, his presence smothering you in a near suffocating shroud. It’s hard to breathe like this, with him all but crushing you into the ground and his cock impaling you straight up the middle, but you come alive under him in a way you can’t quite recall ever experiencing before. 

And when he at last settles against your pelvis, wedged within you as far as he can conceivably go, you mewl an intoxicated sound into his mouth which he greedily swallows. Your hands are in his hair, nails raking down his back, yanking on him and frantically grasping him to you as if he could possibly get any closer than he already is. 

But Lohen takes it all in stride, giving your tongue one last, forceful suck before he eases back just enough to issue a heady, faltering groan into the cramped space. His gaze fixes on you, dreamy and distant, head tilting to the side as his lips twitch into a languid smirk. Just drinking in your pinched, inebriated expression. 

“Don’t tap out on me too soon, sweetheart. I’m not ready to be done with you just yet.” 

He starts to move then, experimentally testing the give of your clinging grip on him at first. But when he’s met with little to no resistance, he rapidly starts to pick up the pace. His powerful body flexes over yours, such a sharp contrast against your soft, cushiony frame and every bit as thrilling as all the rest. The sound of skin slapping against skin quickly rises in the stifling air around you, bouncing off the cave walls to reflect back at you on an endless loop. It rattles around inside your brain, adding on to the swelling cacophony of lurid noises as your breathless exclamations join his masculine grunts to create a single, singing symphony. 

There is absolutely nothing you can do to brace against the deep, toe-curlingy full strokes of his plunging cock though. It seems to gut you repeatedly, sucker punching the air right out of your aching lungs, each and every time he slams his hips down onto you. Your pussy positively spasms around it, dripping, drooling, squelching softly in excess. All you can do is desperately hold on for the ride, arching up to meet his next thrust with another frantic wail of ecstasy. 

He soon pushes himself away though, lifting the top half of his body to hover over you instead of laying out on top like he had been. Centering the brunt of his weight on the hand still wrapped around your throat, Lohen pushes in on your neck to tip your head back and cut off the airflow. An unseemly, gurgling noise slips from your mouth as you start to choke, watching as if from some far off, distant, dreamy place when he drags his hooded attention down to admire the energetic bounce of your tits. 

“Shit. Just look at these. I didn’t even realize you were hiding such a luscious body underneath that boring armor until now. Mmnnggghhn. You really should let me pierce them, you know.” He says, casual despite the rumbling growl in his voice. Despite the quick, hard jabs of his cock pistoning into you. 

Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth in a deviously impish look, he reaches out with his opposite hand and mercilessly slaps the jiggling meat of one tit. 

You jolt at the sharp sting of pain, making some helpless, sobbing noise under the hand on your throat, writhing on his cock. It makes your pussy clamp around him in a vice grip, hard enough to make him feel somehow even bigger inside you, and he hisses a wounded little groan at the tight squeeze. 

Narrow chest stuttering slightly, Lohen lets his head lull back as if in blissful anguish for a drawn out moment even while his hips continue to drive against you. 

“Goddamn. You’re taking me so good. Mmnghn! That’s it, honeybun. Keep squeezing. Just. Like. That.” 

Bringing his head back up, he delivers another hard swat to the first tit and then one to the second, turning the delicate flesh hot under his attention. You whimper a delirious noise when your eyes start to roll back but he’s quick to let up the pressure on your neck, allowing the air to rush down your abused windpipe and expand your screaming lungs to capacity. While you gasp and cough, sucking in mouthful after mouthful, he smooths his palm over the tender flesh of your breast before giving it a too tight pinch. Fingers sinking deep into the malleable flesh, he gives it an almost condescending jiggle, as if drawing your attention to the size and the shape, the weight of it. As if you didn’t already know perfectly well. 

Then he releases you, retracts his hand, and gives your chest another smack. And this time you squeal a harried sound when he catches the nipple just right, making it throb in hurt. 

“V - vice-captain! Please!” 

“Heheheee, you like that? You love it? Do you want more?” 

“Ughhnn, yes … yes! Give me more, sir, I want it!” 

The grin that overtakes his mouth practically splits his face in half. 

So excited, so amped up on fast pumping endorphins and adrenaline that it makes him tremble on top of you, Lohen leans down to press down on your sore throat once again. Your airway is cut off, your head is forced back, lips quivering open in a perfect little ‘o’ while you try to gasp for breath. 

And with nary an ounce of hesitation or shame, he spits right into your mouth with startling accuracy. 

Your eyes go wide, staring up at him in affronted surprise, but you can’t get enough air down your throat to snap at him for doing something so disgusting. And the worst part is you don’t even hate it as much as you really wished you did. The urges of your body seem to have completely overridden your higher functioning mind, reducing you to little more than a hot, wet, weeping hole that begs for release. Aching for it, straining for it. 

You can think of nothing else while Lohen shifts on top of you, slightly changing the angle at which his cock spears up into your guts, relentless as ever. He appreciatively drags his gaze over your body, the hand wrapped around your throat, the bra pushed up over your tits to give them room to bounce, the spread of your thighs where his hips wedge them apart. Taking it all in, admiring the mess he’s made of you. 

Between the blood, the dirt, sweat and saliva, the tears and the flood of arousal from your cunt, that’s exactly what you were. Irrevocably and in no uncertain terms. 

It’s clear even through the reeling haze hanging over your head he likes it, though, and you beautifully arch for him, angling your pelvis to better accept the continuous plunge of his cock. He groans, eyes briefly sliding closed as if he, too, was overwhelmed by the rush of everything, the intense surge of pleasure. 

Then Lohen leans back, releasing your neck to once again leave you sucking in a ragged gasp of air. But this reprieve he’s given you is painfully short lived, and you soon find yourself yelping a startled shriek of pain when he smacks both of your tits at the same time. 

“O - ooughh!” 

Laughing at the way you lurch and twist underneath him, he quickly grabs two big handfuls of your breasts and pinches them so tightly it forces the nipples up and out between the clench of his fingers. Everything starts to spin around you nauseatingly fast, hissing at the aches and the pains, wheezing when you suddenly realize how close you were actually getting to the edge. The rough treatment from him just seems to stoke your simmering core to hotter and hotter temperatures, making you thrum from the inside out for him. Further heightening your sensitivity and emphasizing how good it felt to have his rigid length carving out a perfectly Lohen-shaped space within you. And it was overwhelming in the best possible way. 

“Come on, princess! Cum for me. Show me how pretty you look shaking on my cock. Who’s making you cream? Huh?” 

“Nghn, y - yoouuu! It’s you, Lohen! All you! Only you!”

As if to reward you, to show you he’s pleased with your answer, he adjusts his hands to pinch at your stiff nipples, mercilessly rolling them between the warm pads of his leather gloves now. “And who does this tight little pussy belong to, sweetheart? Speak up. Tell me who owns it!”  

“You do! I - I … — oohhh god! It belongs tuh - to the vice-captain of the … of the fifth company, sir!” 

Snarling a vicious sound of victory, Lohen abruptly releases your tits to leave them throbbing in the aftermath. He descends upon you, covering you with his body, as his hands come up to cradle either side of your sweaty face. Ever so tenderly — shockingly so, given all of the rough treatment leading up to this moment — he turns your face up at him so he can claim your mouth in another searing kiss. 

Caged in like that, his pelvis still drilling into yours, one sharp plap! plap! plap! after another, all you can do is shake underneath him. 

And you do. The tempo he sets in this new position is slower paced, but no less hard. That forceful, demanding plunge of his cock sliding deep into your pussy has you shuddering so fitfully, rocking uncontrollably, that you tip right over into an earth shattering orgasm before you can even fully comprehend it’s happening. One wild vibration of the pulled taut nerves leads you right into the next, only to immediately devolve into a mindless tremor of spasms when release grips you fast. So abrupt it’s as if someone just pulled the rug right out from under you. 

Your whole body seems to convulse around him, shrieking your ecstasy into Lohen’s mouth but this, too, he just swallows right up, muffling the hysteric noise. His breathing is harsh and ragged where his nose is pressed up tight against yours but even then he won’t stop kissing you. Fucking you. Riding you through your own release and straight into his another moment later. 

It’s not nearly as explosive as yours is, but even in the cresting euphoria of your doped out stupor you’re still keenly aware of the red hot, pulsing rush of gooey warmth that shoots deep inside of you. Somehow or another it adds something to the experience, highlighting your swooning reverie to the point of making you feel truly delirious. Like he really had ended you there on the cave floor and brought you back to life, all in the same fell swoop. 

But you just continue to cling to him throughout it, even after your pussy has stopped contracting and you’ve started to come down from that buzzing high. One fractured piece of you at a time, you fit back into your body again only to find yourself suddenly aware of so many different things at once. 

The first is that you really were quite sore after that unexpected exchange of blows. It was to be expected, of course, but the warm afterglow would only dull the many aches for so long. You were sure to be in a fair amount of pain come morning. 

The second is that Lohen is still sprawled out on top of you, his cock sitting wedged in the mess he’d made between your thighs. He was growing soft now but he seemed reluctant to pull out just yet. Or to even so much as stir, for that matter. 

The third and final thing is how very hard the ground is against your back and with that thought comes a budding spark of mute horror. 

You’d gotten so caught up in him and the way he made you feel that you had almost forgotten where you were. The treasure hoarder hideout. The bodies he’d left scattered around the area as if they were nothing more than crumpled up sheets of paper that had been tossed aside. 

In the name of Barbatos, what was wrong with you? 

“L - Lohen,” you stammer, struggling to find some semblance of your voice again, but even just that timid little squeak is enough to bring his head up to look at you. 

“Hm? What’s wrong, honeybun? You seem a bit nervous.” Grinning a slow, satiated smile, he very much resembles a caricature of the cat that ate the canary when he reaches up to wipe a smudge of — something off your cheek. “Don’t start overthinking it now. You had fun, didn’t you? I know I did.” 

You’re sure he did, but … “But isn’t this wrong? The dead - -“

You start to turn your head as if in fretful search of one of the corpses, but Lohen is quick to squeeze the pudge of your cheeks and yank you back around. Forcing you to keep your eyes on him, his expression oddly stoic. Not quite serious, per se, just … apathetic, you think. 

“Are dead, sweetheart. There’s nothing more to it than that. You don’t owe them any amount of respect or consideration. They didn’t have any for you when they were alive, did they?” 

Biting at your sore lip, you give a slow shake of your head. He was right, of course. The world was better off without them and you were glad that they would no longer be terrorizing Mondstadt, or anywhere else for that matter. 

It’s just. 

“Aww, what’s the matter? Do you feel like a bad girl for having sex with me in front of a bunch of dead guys?” 

You cringe at that, bringing a hand up to cover your face. The way he could speak so crassly about something like this should probably be a bit more alarming than it actually is, but this was Lohen you were dealing with here. 

“I don’t know if I’d put it like that, but … yeah? Kind of? The church has always taught us to - -“

“Eh, church smurch! What do they know anyway?” Waving that off with a careless flick of his hand, Lohen finally pushes himself up to kneel between the spread of your legs. His cock slips out with the movement, leaving behind a sticky, churned up mess, but he’s quick to grab at your arms and haul you up to sit with him, entirely unperturbed by the tiny squeak you let out at the manhandling. 

“How about this,” he says, as if he were leveling with you over something as mundane as where to eat dinner at that night. The only indicator that he isn’t having a quiet laugh at your expense, mocking you, is the utterly sincere, mischievous twinkle in his narrowed eyes as he tips his head towards you. “I’ll help you get cleaned up as best I can out here then we’ll go home. Get some food in us. Catch a quick bath. We can even stop at an apothecary on the way and pick up some contraceptives, if you’d like. But understand that I’m not about to let you off the hook that easily. I told you already, didn’t I? That sweet little pussy of yours looks good enough to eat and I plan to do just that.” 

You hardly even believe what you’re hearing. “But — Lohen —!” 

“Ah, ah! No buts, now. Unless you want me to eat that too, of course.” 

Noising some wordless exclamation of embarrassed fluster, you give his shoulder a quick shove but all you succeed in doing is making him laugh. 

“You’re so easy to tease, honeybun. It really is adorable. But, listen,” he says, grabbing your hand and then refusing to let it go even when you give your arm a tug. “I’ll do my best to make it up to you so that this isn’t the only thing you think about when you picture us having sex. In fact, I’ll try to make round two even better. Then you won’t feel like a bad girl anymore, right?” 

You just stare at him in utterly perplexed silence for a drawn out moment. For him to think of it like that, in this particular framing, was already strange enough. 

More odd, however, is that he would even care whether or not you felt good or bad in the first place. You wouldn’t have thought such notions concerned him all that much, given. Well. Everything about him. And yet … 

Slowly, a tentative smile creeps across your face. “Are you trying to say you want me to not feel so guilty about what we just did? Does that mean you’re going to listen to my confession, vice-captain?” 

“Ooh, I’ll do a lot more than listen, honeybun. I’ll even help you repent and ask Lord Barbatos for his forgiveness, if you’d like. Bad girls do belong on their knees, after all ~”

⭐

Crossposted: here

[eepylohen]

i just got praised by one of my fav lohen's fics (one of my big 3 basically) author and i cried a little......... im so happy

[yikimiki]

you know what’s fucking insane? Making dark content creators revive their trauma just to explain to you why they write what they write; making dark content creators feel guilty about writing about problematic tropes as if they agree with it; making dark content creators a victim of your self-righteous, self-congratulatory anger just because you actively engage in content you’re not fond of instead of ignoring it. please log off

[yikimiki]

you don’t walk out of a horror movie thinking that the director supports killing people. you don’t read books about true crime or even crime solving mysteries and think that the author approves whatever the hell happens in there. dark content exists not only in real life but in fiction, and it’s not because writers want to experiment with it in fictional and controlled environments that they’re promoting those behaviors. this is bonkers to me. completely off the wall. if you cannot engage in a story without having to see blatant and stereotypical good vs evil and the bad guys losing, then I’m sorry for you. what the fuck.

also, warnings are there for a reason. if you read the warnings and still choose to engage in that story, knowing that there are triggering topics for you, it’s not the author’s fault. Simple as that. Their responsibility is to put proper tags on their works, and it’s on the reader if they wish to proceed or not. No one is holding you at gunpoint and making you read anything.

also. block tags and keywords. Filter your searches. and if you’re under the age of eighteen, go do your homework or something.

[yikimiki]

also, probably the most controversial opinion to come out of this post: your fave anime boy isn’t real. And this is coming from neurodivergent girl who has a blog solely to write reader inserts. They’re a bunch of lines and traits that someone imagined. They’re not hurting, they’re not real people. You can put them in whichever context you want and it doesn’t matter. So if you’re putting the fictitious feelings of an anime character in front of actual people just writing for fun... I cannot stress this enough: log off.

[kinichiwa]

red means I love you ft. LOHEN

synopsis: every attempt to leave is a reason for you to stay; or: unable to bear the thought of losing you, Lohen decides to offer the promise of his vitality for your everlasting “love.”

before you read: lohen x gn!reader, cw: yandere & suicidal themes, manipulation & guilt-tripping, mentions of guns, mentions of blood but not gorey, overall unhealthy depiction of relationships. **note: I don't think lohen would actually do something like this, but i just couldn’t resist after seeing him put a gun to his head in his trailer…

wc: 1.1k

thank u to @akamigi for the idea <3

“I don’t think this is going to work, Lohen.”

You can barely look at the man in your living room. The last time you had ever felt this apprehensive about something, it had been five minutes before your practical examination with the Knights of Favonius. Back then, your throat had felt dry, indicative of your nervous yet nonetheless hopeful anticipation.

This time, you taste bile, and its acidity makes you grimace with the same disgust flooding through your chest.

Lohen doesn’t look up when you approach him, lounging ever so casually on the couch as he scrapes dried blood from his spear. You frown at the way the flakes settle into your white carpet; it all serves to remind you of the innumerable deaths caused by his hands. 

His collection of other weapons — his signature dagger, a mini crossbow, a musket you never knew he used, and a silver revolver — are still settled by his thigh. It’s a lot of weapons that he has. The thought that Lohen intentionally swaps between them to kill most efficiently makes you grimace again.

“Mhm, what’s not workin’ out?” 

Lohen’s reply comes easily. It carries an easygoing amusement that makes your heart constrict in guilt. But you know you cannot afford to be soft with him anymore — there’s a sense of resolution in your chest about the fact that you’re going to leave him tonight.

“Lohen.”

His name comes out sharper this time, and the vice captain finally turns to look at you. He raises a confused eyebrow, shrugging at your sudden firm tone.

“I don’t think our relationship is going to work out anymore,” you muster out, trying to sound more resolute about the decision. Even so, there’s a hint of shakiness in your tone, and you know for sure that your boyfriend can sense your ambivalence.

Lohen gives you a delayed, lopsided grin, fingers pausing at the tip of his spear. You can tell he’s not quite sure if you’re messing around with him or not.

“Heh, you’re funny! Did Varka put ya up to this so he can get back at me? Tell the old man to try harder.”

Silence fills the room, and you wince at his disbelieving words. That’s when Lohen realizes that you are, in fact, not messing around with him for the sake of Varka.

That you really, truly, want to leave him.

“Look,” you sigh, working up the courage to explain your feelings. “I know Jean and Varka make these executive decisions, and I know you’re perfect for these kinds of tasks, but I can’t help but feel weird when you’re mercilessly killing every soul you see during your missions. It’s one thing to fulfill the Grand Master’s requirements, but it’s another to flaunt the genuine joy you felt when you murdered every single guard at that underground auction.”

You’re rambling now, trying to force all the words out before you must witness the disappointment that you’re sure is plastered on Lohen’s face.

“Don’t you see we’re not the right fit for each other? We have vastly different goals within the knights, and it seems to me that your only goal is to obsessively seek more power–”

You cut yourself off, unnerved by the lack of reaction from Lohen. When you dare to look at him, there’s a blank, frozen expression on his face. You don’t like how you’re unable to read him. You don’t like how his usual easygoing smirk has vanished, replaced by a clenched jaw.

Most of all, you don’t like how his crimson eyes are flat and dead.

When you were younger, you loved reading in Favonius Library. The romance novels you often indulged in would always describe a character’s anger or disappointment with things like “a shadow fell across his face,” or “her expression darkened.” In the past, you had laughed at the absurdity — how cliché and inaccurate! However, right now you think those sentences perfectly describe the terrifying expression on Lohen’s face.

You curse, suddenly feeling an immense, suffocating guilt wash over you. He hasn’t moved an inch or said a word, yet that blank expression on its own wrenches an apology from your heart.

“Fuck. Lohen, I’m sorry.”

He tilts his head back slightly, looking down at you through his lashes. The way his bangs fall across his forehead messily makes him look younger, yet also a little more unhinged.

“Hah…you want to leave me?”

Lohen’s voice comes out shaky and brittle — strained, so unlike the effortless manner in which he usually addresses you. It feels as if he might cry, yet not a single tear streams down his face. You think it’s a result of the numbness he’s used to feeling.

Lohen pushes himself off the couch, grabbing the revolver he still hadn’t cleaned. It’s a rusty red from his previous victims at that underground auction; now, you think it’s about to be painted with your blood, too.

He doesn’t point the gun at your head.

Instead, Lohen presses the cold barrel firmly against his temple, eyes wide and manic. He’s smiling so unnaturally that it petrifies you into staying frozen on that bloody carpet you previously couldn’t stand.

“No.”

“No, no, no. You can’t. Please don’t. Please don’t leave me.”

Desperation seeps through his words as he steps closer and closer to you, fingers shaking around the handle of the revolver. 

“I’ll kill myself if you leave me. I’ll blow my brains out right here. I will, I really will.”

Lohen tilts his head against the gun, pressing the barrel even deeper into his temple. The cold metal bites into his pale skin, but he doesn’t care.

“Hate me with all your heart. Curse my name. Despise the very air I breathe. I don’t care. But please, just do it while you stay by my side.”

Dread seeps into your skin as his finger tightens against the trigger. His words are coming out fast and uneven, and you barely have time to process what he’s doing. His eyes are bloodshot, and the utter desperation in his words makes your heart drop cold.

You’re too scared to leave him.

Lohen knows that this is manipulation, but he doesn’t care.

If he cannot have your pure, unadulterated love, then Lohen will settle for your devotion born of necessity. He will take your guilt, your pity, and your obligation, and he will weave them into a rope that keeps you bound to him forever.

[hitomisuzuya]

a letter from lohen. lohen x fem!reader. smut. cunnilingus/facesitting. slight spoilers for lohen story quest under the cut.

my dear, dear bunny,

i know my solitary confinement is only for a few days, but it feels like an eternity has passed. i can't tell you how utterly boring it is just sitting here, doing mundane things like staring out the window, and wondering if it's going to rain today or not.

they are even making me catch up on all the mission reports i haven't done yet! can you believe that? and i am actually doing them because it's so so so boring.

on the upside, i have taken up the little hobby of making candy. i believe i have perfected a chewing gum long lasting flavor. i have made you a few pieces of candy that i think you'll really enjoy. i also made some no bake fudge. it was easier than i thought it would be.

and here i thought fudge was supposed to be complicated to make. and hard to perfect.

there are no monsters for me to fight. no traps to set for varka. no you. i really don't like only hearing your voice through the door. i hate not being able to get my hands on you when i want.

i got your care package. i can't tell you how often i bring that piece of paper you sprayed with your perfume to my nose, and inhale your scent. please, do wear that perfume when i get out of confinement.

my dear bunny, i also need to tell you something. i have an itch. an itch that only you can scratch once i get out.

i want you to sit on my face, and grind that pretty pussy of yours on my tongue. i think the couch in varka's office sounds like the perfect place.

i can just feel it now. your thighs squeezing around my head, your pussy drooling on my face while i lap at your hole. your thighs spasming if i suck your cute little clit a certain way. you don't know what that does to me.

please, grind your cunt on my mouth as much as you want. squeeze your thighs around my head while you whimper. don't worry when i make you feel boneless, bunny.

i will simply grab onto your hips, and help you ride my tongue. i encourage you to play with your tits if you are feeling extra good. the sight of pinching your nipples while i tongue fuck your clit makes me even harder.

ugh, time is going to pass by so slow. i just want to taste you cumming on my mouth. feel you tremble from orgasm. hear your sweet little voice cry for me while you cum.

nights have been very long without you.

yours always,

lohen

---

DO NOT plagiarize/translate/repost on tumblr or any other site without my permission.

[gloomy-eden-deactivated20251127]

Okay but it's fun being a horny freak online

[miraeofficial]

(writing this during my period hehe. TW: lohen ragebaiting reader)

Imagine Lohen testing the period cramp simulator you ordered just to appease his bloodthirsty curiosity on how "terrible" and "painful" the actual period cramps are.

When the belt was finally attached to his hips, your lover entrusted you to control the intensity of the device as much as you pleased, as long as the pain was enjoyable.

So you started with baby steps, beginning with level one. Just a mild pulsating sensation, and that's about it. Lohen doesn't seem fazed, just bored. Giving you a look that said, "Is that all you've got?" while his head was cocked to the side and his smirk was taunting.

Encouraged (while also annoyed) by his unimpressed reaction, you slightly increased the intensity to level two. This time the pulsating sensation became more pronounced, but still bearable. Yet, your lover remained unfazed, his eyes still challenging you to push further.

He shakes his head, as if to say, "That's still not enough."

Your irritation was beginning to show now that you weren't also satisfied enough by his unaffected demeanor and wanted more of a reaction from him. You ramped up the intensity to its highest level, where the pulsations become almost overwhelming.

Your face contorted in a mix of anticipation and amusement at his unyielding stoicism. Surprisingly, Lohen hesitantly squirmed in his seat, a slight grimace crossing his features as he finally showed a crack in his cool facade. Finally!

The belt around his waist draws out a vibration enough to hear, seeing as the simulator motioned into waves. It was a small victory, but enough to satisfy your need for a reaction from him.

"How was it?"

Lohen looks at you, his face grimaced. "Babe, are period cramps really this painful?"

You let out an indignant huff, nodding. "Well, yeah—"

"Because," he drawled, leaning back despite the device making his abdomen twitch, "it really felt like having an upset stomach."

What the fuck did he say?

"Huh?"

Lohen, oblivious to the danger he had just stepped into, lifted a shoulder in a careless shrug.

"You know. Like when you eat something questionable and spend the next hour contemplating your life choices." He flashed you a crooked grin. "Unpleasant, certainly, but I wouldn't exactly classify it as the legendary agony you've all described."

He followed his sentence with an amused laugh; you didn't join in with his amusement. You just stared at him with a look that may quantify as an invitation for murder.

"Lohen."

"Yes, babe?"

"You mean to tell me..." You stared at him in disbelief, clutching the controller tighter. "You just compared my monthly suffering to food poisoning?"

His grin widened, somehow. "I'm saying," he corrected with infuriating confidence, "that perhaps you lot have a tendency to dramatize—"

Oh, you’re not listening to his bullshit anymore.

You launched the controller at his head. "YOU MOTHERFUCKER!" you screeched.

Lohen yelped and barely managed to catch it with one hand. "Wha—Hey?!"

"I swear I'm going to kill you!" You ran after your lover, who was now sprinting away in fear. For the first time, this is the only time Lohen feared death, no less from his lover.

"Lohen!" you shrieked, chasing after him through the hallway. "GET BACK HERE!"

Lohen nearly tripped over his own feet trying to put distance between himself and your rapidly approaching figure. Despite the simulator still strapped around his hips and set to maximum intensity, self-preservation apparently outweighed pain.

Now, he reached a dead end. Slowly, he turned his body to face you, with his arms innocently raised, and a pleading look in his eyes. But the belt buzzed violently, causing him to finally wince. He must have accidentally pressed the button to increase the intensity further.

"Oh, gods," he hissed, grabbing his abdomen for half a second before remembering you were trying to murder him. "Could we perhaps discuss this like civilized adults—?!"

"To hell with your civilized discussion!"

"Hey, hey, kids! What's the commotion here, eh?"

A booming voice abruptly cut through the chaos. Both of you froze, then turned your curious gazes to the familiar voice. Honestly, Lohen thought it was an angel coming to save him from his impending doom, but to his dismay, standing a few feet away was Varka.

Meanwhile, the Grand Master carefully took in the scene before him. Lohen, disheveled and pale, was clutching a mysterious controller while wearing some strange contraption around his waist. …Is that a period cramp simulator? Then you, breathing heavily with murder in your eyes.

Varka sighed. Must he be punished with unrowdy behavior even during his rare moments of peace? He slowly turned toward Lohen. "What did you say?"

Lohen straightened. "...I may have implied that period cramps aren't quite as devastating as they're often described."

The room went quiet.

Varka blinked once, and he gazed at you, who was also looking back at him with anticipation. Then he let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "...Son."

Lohen frowned. "What?"

"Whatever you did," Varka said, voice carrying the exhausted wisdom of a man who had clearly witnessed too many foolish decisions throughout his life, "you deserved it."

"What?"

He ignored Lohen's confused look as he turned to you, gently patting your shoulder. "Whatever you're trying to do, continue," he said, his tone filled with encouragement.

"Grand Master?!"

Your smile went wicked after receiving the green light of the Grand Master himself. "Gladly, Grand Master."

Varka looked at Lohen one last time, giving a mock shrug. "Could've saved yourself a lot of trouble if you just kept your mouth shut,"

[if-loves]

for what's to come

// yandere lohen

syn: Lohen has rules, and you've made the mistake of ignoring the most important one.

wc: 1666

warnings: yandere content, probably ooc lohen, self-deprecating thoughts, gn! reader

notes: fitting word count for the devil reincarnate who possessed me to write a second fic. did this instead of studying for my exam tomorrow chat am i cooked

likes & rbs appreciated!

masterlist

There are rules to life with Lohen, you've come to know.

Through much trial and error, you've learned that Lohen is actually quite lenient — you can try to poison him with the poisons he keeps in the cabinets, and all he'll do is laugh; you can try to stab him in his sleep with a knife you've hidden under your pillow, but he'll always be awake to stop it from reaching his heart. In this regard, Lohen encourages these acts, because it means that the fire raging within you that made him fall for you in the first place is still well and alive.

The only rule that exists outside of this leniency is the one that says, you must not leave this house, no matter what.

You like to think that you were always good at following rules. All but Lohen's, of course. And that is your first, and most grievous mistake.

You've been concocting a plan to escape for as long as he's kidnapped you. The passage of time has long become something of the distant past, and the only way to tell time is through a glimpse of the sunlight or lack thereof through the curtains, or when Lohen tells you it's time for bed. A way to make you depedent on him, no doubt.

He's spoken of an expedition to Nod-Krai, departing soon. How soon, he's smart enough to not say, but you've been biding your time. Sixteen days since he's said that, you've counted with each day you've woken up, and he has started to pack his clothing and essentials. You know it, because you've been helping him, all while he laments the inability of bringing you along.

Internally, you can only smile with relief for what's to come.

Once you leave and make it out of Mondstadt, you'll set yourself on a path to Fontaine. You've heard that the laws there are far stricter, and punishment is meted out with efficiency. Perhaps if you can hide there, Lohen won't be able to kidnap you as easily as he did, assuming he'll be able to find you at all.

The house is emptier now, his boxes of belongings long transported to the carts. You can't help the smile on your face as you prepare breakfast for you and him. This will be the last time you do such a thing.

"So happy to see me go already?" Lohen's voice purrs into your ear, making you flinch. He laughs, a crude sound, as his hand snakes around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder. "At least wait until I'm out of the door."

"There's no reason for me to show you respect when you haven't shown me any in the first place." You hiss back, wishing you could slam his stupid face into the open fire. What a wonderful sight that would be, you think wistfully.

"You break my heart, my love." Lohen sighs, fingers trailing over your clothes. An uncomfortable shivers runs down your spine, and you know Lohen felt it from the way he presses himself impossibly closer into your back.

"As if you had any heart to begin with," you scoff, closing the open fire and wiggling out of his grip to place the food on the table. He hums, pulling out a chair and beckoning you to take a seat. You take the seat reluctantly, reminding yourself that if you suffer just a little longer, you'll be free again.

"Oh?" Lohen murmurs to himself, a contemplative looking crossing his face, but just as quickly as it appears, his expression is back to the same irritatingly cocky smile he always dons.

Breakfast is a quiet affair, for the most part. Lohen attemps to play the part of doting husband, feeding you with a lazy grin, while you have no choice but to comply. He makes an offhanded comment abour how you haven't tried to poison him lately, but you pay it no mind. The only thing he wants out of you is a reaction, and you refuse to give it to him.

When he leaves, he takes a long and demanding kiss from you that leaves you dizzy and numb, bidding you farewell and a command disguised as a playful nudge that says behave.

All alone in the house, you start packing your own essentials, shoving the few clothes you don't despise and medicine and mora you may need into a random bag you found in the closet. You sheath a knife and stuff it in, before causing chaos within the house. Maybe if you can make it look like someone else kidnapped you, Lohen would be too busy searching for them instead of you.

In the chaos of the house you've grown to despise, you wait for night to fall, the bag held tight to your chest. Freedom was within reach, after god knows how long it's been…

Tears well up in your eyes just thinking of it. Has Barbatos finally heard your pleas? After all, it's ironic to be held captive in a nation that prides itself on freedom. You miss seeing the dandelions, the starry sky from Starsnatch Cliff, feeling the breeze from the wind. All of these little pieces of happiness, ripped away from you all because of the greed of one man who claims to be a knight.

You sneer at the thought as you wipe away your tears. It's been long enough, you think. Lohen would've already arrived back by now, but you're still all alone. Standing up, you approach the door tentatively, almost afraid that Lohen would be waiting behind it all so he can play a cruel joke on you.

To your relief, no one stands behind it. Chewing on the bottom of your lip, you step outside as quietly as you can, closing the door behind you. Your surroundings are undoubtedly still Mondstadt, but you plan to change that soon.

The exit is sparsely guarded, allowing for an easy escape from the city walls. Seeing the greenery, despite the dimness of the night, sends a new wave of tears to your eyes. Fresh air, the dandelions swaying, the gentle breeze of the wind… this, is home.

Sentimentality outweighs your urgency as you decide to make your way to Starsnatch Cliff first, as a final goodbye. The path is the same as you remember, and there's a lightness to your step you haven't felt in forever.

The walk is nothing of note, but this sense of normalcy is what you've missed most. There's no Lohen breathing down your neck, forcing you into activities you don't want to do. You don't need to keep living on edge, afraid of what he may do to you, living by his rules in a house you've only known as a cage. Your life… is finally beginning to be yours again.

You've always enjoyed sitting on the cliff, admiring the countless stars in the night sky. There's something therapeutic about it, seeing the clouds shift while the stars sparkle in their unreachable sky. You wish you could be a star, too.

But you're only a human. And no human as insignificant as you will ever get the eminence it takes to sit amongst the stars.

These self-deprecating thoughts harshly tug you back into reality. Your time is running out, and you need fo move quick. Who knows if the expedition team could be making a detour for something they've forgotten, and you simply can't take that risk.

You wipe the remaining tears in your eyes as you stand, and along with your tears you wipe away any thoughts of worthlessness that may linger. You can drown in a tub of self-pity once you've managed to get to Fontaine.

With a deep breath, you take in the sight again for the last time. Maybe in another life, this cliff would be all that you know.

Whispering your own goodbyes, you turn around, ready to truly start your journey, when you walk into a person. Your mouth instinctively opens to apologise, but the familiar uniform makes your mouth dry and the blood drain from your face.

"Did you have fun? Admiring the sky for the last time, I mean." Lohen's voice is scathing despite the chill emitting from his body. You can hardly bring yourself to meet his eyes, but his hand forces it anyway.

His eyes swirl with too many and too little emotions all at once, but his grip on your chin tells you enough about his real feelings. The red in his eyes glow in the darkness, a warning and a death sentence all the same. All of a sudden, you regret even thinking of this foolish plan.

"How does it feel, for the plan you've thought of so meticulously, to be torn to shreds before it could even be fully realised?" Lohen's other hand grips your wrist so harshly you fear he may break it. "Answer me."

No words form nor leave your tongue despite his demand, your mind long gone the moment you saw him. What was there for you to say, really? Even if you tried to assure him that you were going to go back, the sheer mess inside wasn't going to do you any favours. And even if you were truly going to go back, there's no way that Lohen would go easy on you. You broke the most important rule — never, ever, leave the house.

"Nothing to say?" Lohen murmurs, annoyance laced in his words. You can vaguely feel the sharp bite of ice creep up your arm, but your body has started to go numb.

Please, Barbatos, allow me the dignity of death before I fall back into his arms once again.

"That's fine. You'll need to save your voice for what I am going to do to you." Lohen leans in close, his warm breath on your ear. "Because you have made a very, very grievous mistake."

The gentleness of the wind only seems to mock you.

[peachuuuux]

lohen pilled

[4crystalline-stars4]

Their Reactions to Your Death (Pt 1)

Scenarios where Flins, Illuga, Durin, and Lohen react to Fem!Reader's death.

All four of these guys have a strong relation to death, so I felt inspired to write angst. I'm not quite satisfied with the ending to Lohen's part so I might tweak it in the future, but for now, my brain is too fried. I was originally going to write a scenario of Lohen coming back from the expedition to find Reader had died while he was away based on this yume artwork, but Hoyo handed me his SQ on a silver platter, so that plan changed.

WARNING:

⚠️Contains pure angst. Some parts are bittersweet while others are more angsty. You have been warned.

⚠️If you haven't done Lohen's story quest or read his character stories, his part contains mild spoilers.

⚠️ Lohen's part also contains descriptions of violence. I tried not to be too graphic, but you have been warned.

If anyone is interested, here is the music I listened to while writing each part:

Flins (Grief Spreading Like Haze by HOYO-MiX)

Illuga (ashes of memories by METAHESH)

Durin (ウィアートル by rionos [from the movie Maquia: When the Promised Flower Blooms])

Lohen (I can't forget you by rxdlxst)

🕯️Flins🕯️

From the moment Flins accepted you as his lover, he knew your time together would be short. You were an ordinary human whose lifespan would only last a handful of decades, while he was a centuries-old fae who would live for many centuries more. He would outlive you, plain and simple. The cost of having your love, your laughter, and your presence in his life would be a lifetime of quiet grief, but it was a price Flins was willing to pay because he loved you. He would rather share a few brilliant and warm decades with you than not know what it’s like to be loved by you at all. His only request was that if your love endured into your twilight years, when your time came, you would choose the Final Night Cemetery as your resting place. That way, you would remain close to him, and Flins could tend your grave as he did all the others at the cemetery.

The decades he spent with you were some of the warmest and sweetest in all his hundreds of years of existence. You showed Flins the joys of coming home to someone waiting for his return, of finding companionship and solace in someone who accepted him, of having a place to belong and given a reason to live on beyond his duties as a Ratnik. You changed his life in positive ways, and Flins would forever be grateful for these gifts you have given him.

However, time harbored no mercy. As the years passed by, Flins noticed changes in you. Your youthful features faded and you grew weaker, often complaining about joint pain or other ailments that bothered you. The hands he had kissed more times than he could count formed wrinkles, as did your lovely face. You were aging, and the realization made him quietly despair. He could feel your time together counting down year by year, your life slipping away like grains of sand in an hourglass that he was helpless to prevent from falling.

As you grew older and became an old lady, you joked that you were no longer the pretty girl he had married, but Flins disagreed. In his eyes, you were as beautiful as the day he met you. What he loved about you was not your looks, but your character. The person who chose to spend her life with a solitary fae who lived beside a graveyard and fought monsters for a living. No lovely face could match the beautiful radiance of a person’s soul, and to him, you shone as bright as a light in the dark.

But that light was on the verge of flickering out.

As he watched you grow older and weaker, Flins wanted to spend every second he could with you. He hoped to have a few more years with you. If not that, then just a few months longer before time inevitably took you away from him. Just a little more time was all he wanted…

The day the last grain of sand fell, Flins was prepared. He knew this day would come and had braced for it for years, so your passing didn’t hit him like an ice-cold blade, nor did it send his world crashing down. It just settled over him like a leaden blanket.

Flins was used to a life of loneliness and solitude. Although he found a place to belong among the Lightkeepers, he never truly felt like a genuine part of them. A fae masquerading as a human could never truly fit in among humans. Yet, you had accepted him and given Flins a place to belong. He had known you for less time than he had been alive, but you reshaped his idea of normal. His new idea of normal meant coming home to his wife, telling her jokes, holding her in his arms, sharing kisses, and being told he is loved. Now, an oppressive, empty silence greeted him each time he came home, and there was no one to give him affection or receive his. The isolation he knew so intimately was back, and although the solitude was familiar, it felt unwelcome since it highlighted the void within him that your presence had once filled.

As per your promise, you were laid to rest at the Final Night Cemetery. Flins tended your grave frequently, clearing away moss and dead leaves, and placing your favorite flowers. It would be diligently maintained for centuries to come, so your name engraved onto the stone would still be legible.

With your death came the difficult task of sorting through your belongings, but Flins couldn’t bring himself to get rid of anything. He collected what he could, keeping some of your favorite clothes, storing away jewelry he had once gifted you, and even holding on to the chipped cup you always drank from. He hoarded things that were once yours because they were all he had left of you. They were a reminder that you had been alive and shared this space with him, so Flins stored them away for safekeeping until he could bring himself to part with them.

He also had a collection of every letter and note you ever sent him stored away in a box. It was like a small time capsule spanning the length of your life together, so whenever his longing for you grew too strong, Flins would retrieve the letters and read through them. It didn’t matter if the letter was about business matters or a personal message. Just being able to see your handwriting and get a glimpse of your thoughts was like holding a piece of you in his hands.

Aside from the letter, the box also contained little gifts and trinkets he acquired from you. There was the broken antique pocket watch you gave him on his birthday. It had fallen out of his pocket and shattered beyond repair the night he rushed to save you from a Wild Hunt attack. Flins didn’t have the heart to throw it away since it was a gift from you that you had painstakingly saved up to buy.

There was also a seashell you found on the shore during one of your beach dates. That date was especially memorable for Flins since you had asked him to teach you how to waltz. He still fondly recalled how sheepish you looked every time you accidentally stepped on his feet.

A simple golden ring with a deep blue sapphire rested inside the box, as well. It was the engagement ring he got you shortly after you asked him to marry you. It was a day Flins would never forget. After your proposal, Flins had warned you that he could not give you a family, wealth, or an ordinary life. He was not an ordinary man, after all. When you said that none of that mattered since all you needed was him, he was touched to his core. For a mortal to want to spend the rest of her life with him was a humbling concept, for he would be a part of your entire life, while you would only be a short but impactful chapter in his. Despite knowing the consequences, he accepted, wanting to cling to your warm and gentle love for as long as possible.

All these items were of no use, but Flins kept everything since they possessed immeasurable value to him. These were mementos, memories of your time together and the love you once shared, so Flins didn’t want to get rid of them. He would hold onto them and the memories they carried until his own end came one day.

Flins kept a sketchbook inside the box, as well. Having learned what a good artist he was, you sometimes made requests for him to draw you things, so he did using this sketchbook. However, aside from your requests, there were also his personal sketches in there. Drawings of you that he made in secret to capture your essence in a particular moment for him to look back on later. Since time eroded his memory of your face, Flins looked back on these sketches to recall the details of your visage. The book contained drawings of you at various stages of your life, from your youth to your older years, and each one was as beautiful as the next in his eyes. Looking at them made him feel grateful that you chose to spend your life with him and reaffirmed his conviction to honor your memory.

Flins continued to wear the ring from your marriage long after your passing. Whenever visitors to Paha Isle saw him carrying a bouquet of your favorite flowers and inquired where he was going, he replied that he was going to see his wife and invited them to come along to meet you. The sight of your grave stopped the nosy visitors from asking too many questions for fear of picking at his old wounds, just as Flins intended. However, if the visitor expressed curiosity about you, then he shared your story with them while gazing at your name engraved into the tombstone with softness and longing in his eyes.

In the decades following your passing, a new folk tale emerged in Nod-Krai. Nobody knew where it came from or when it first appeared, but it was a bittersweet story about a kind human whose love filled the longtime emptiness inside a lonely lantern fae, even though their union was not meant to last.

🟡Illuga🟡

Illuga knew you were a capable and skilled Ratnik. He’s seen firsthand how you held your own against the Wild Hunt monsters, and you contributed a lot to the team with suggestions for how to improve his plans and taking care of the others. He admired your determination to face the horrific abyssal threat to protect the innocents since he harbored the same desire. However, it was precisely because he understood the frustration of sitting on the sidelines while watching your comrades risk life and limb on the battlefield that he couldn’t bring himself to tell you to quit the Nightmare Orioles.

Illuga wanted more than anything for you to be safe and happy. He wanted to come home after a difficult mission and be greeted by the sight of your gentle smile and warm embrace to soothe the chill and exhaustion shrouding his very being. You sometimes compared him to the sun due to his warm and bright personality, but to Illuga, you were the real ray of sunlight. You were his light in the dark, his home, his joy in a bleak world wrought with death and heartache. You gave him tentative hope that he could build a future with you and start a family again despite having lost everything once before.

Illuga had largely moved on from the traumatic experiences that haunted him for most of his early life, but he could never forget the loss of his parents, his home, his childhood, and countless comrades among the Lightkeepers. Although his nightmares of those times had lessened, they occasionally returned and even mocked him with images of your death, causing him to wake up in a cold sweat and desperately search for you to make sure you were okay. The sight of you sleeping peacefully beside him soothed the panic and frantic beating of his heart, reassuring Illuga that you were safe and sound in bed with him.

He was painfully aware of how easy it was to lose those he cared about to the Wild Hunt, which is why he hated taking you along on missions. The mere thought of losing you scared Illuga more than he could put into words. Although he knew you were a capable Ratnik, it didn’t eliminate the danger to your life every time you fought the Hunt, and every time you geared up to head into battle, Illuga had to resist the urge to tell you to stay home where it was safe. Not because he doubted your abilities, but because he feared that the happiness he finally attained after years of terror would disappear if something happened to you.

When news of a sudden Wild Hunt attack reached Piramida, there was little time to prepare. The wave of monsters was huge, so it was all hands on deck. Dread and worry settled deep in Illuga’s stomach as they usually did whenever he had to take you along on dangerous missions, but he forced himself to trust in your abilities and told you to be careful and stick close to him so he could protect you if necessary.

The battle itself was chaotic. The horde of enemies seemed endless, and communications with other squads were sporadic, with some ceasing to respond entirely. It took all Illuga had to direct his squad to fight back the monsters while ensuring his teammates came out alive, even if injured. Somewhere in the chaos of the fight, he lost track of you, but Illuga couldn’t afford to abandon his post to look for you. Too many lives hinged on him as the leader, so all he could do was keep an eye out for you and pray you were alright.

Eventually, the Lightkeepers were able to defeat the wave of Wild Hunt and secured victory, but the aftermath was gruesome. Many Ratniki were injured, and many others had lost their lives. Illuga did his best to tend to the heavily wounded until the medics arrived, but his thoughts kept drifting back to you and your whereabouts. He hadn’t seen you at all ever since you got separated from him, and the worry about your wellbeing ate him alive from the inside.

As soon as he was able, Illuga went off into the ravaged battlefield to look for you. He was exhausted and wounded, but he pushed himself on in a desperate search to make sure you were alright. He could not rest until he saw with his own eyes that you were okay. While scanning the bloodied ground littered with corpses of other Lightkeepers, he prayed that you were not among them and that you were resting or tending to the injured elsewhere.

His prayers crumbled into dust when he spotted your figure collapsed on the ground in the far corner of the field.

The sight halted his thoughts and made his blood run cold, but Illuga’s feet moved before his mind could catch up with reality. All he could think was “No, no, no,” while racing towards you and calling out your name. The possibility of you being dead was one he didn’t want to acknowledge, but when you didn’t stir or let out any signs of life at the sound of your name, the deathly stillness of your body formed a knot of dread in his stomach.

When Illuga finally knelt by your side, he saw ugly gashes tearing through your neck and torso. You lay in a pool of dark red blood—your blood, he realized with a sickened feeling, but he reached for you anyway, desperate to make sure you had some sign of life in you. A part of him knew that there was no way to survive injuries like yours, but Illuga refused to accept the reality of you being gone. It wasn’t until he felt your non-existent pulse and saw the far-away look in your cloudy eyes that something in him broke.

Illuga didn’t cry or scream. He just gently gathered you into his arms and cradled you against his chest while sitting in oppressive silence and blankly staring at your corpse.

---

In the days following the battle, you were buried alongside the other Ratniki who had lost their lives in that tragic fight. A funeral was held for all the fallen, followed by a feast in an attempt to cheer up those who lived to see another day. For once, you were not there to help Illuga with the cooking preparations or keep him company during the somber meal. Not that he had any appetite.

Illuga felt hollow inside, like a husk of his former self. He still kept himself together in public and acted like a responsible leader since life didn’t stop moving just because he lost his beloved. There were many things that still needed attention, like providing medical aid to the injured, securing the battlegrounds, keeping an eye out for more Wild Hunt activity, and much more. Illuga didn’t have the luxury to mourn you, but he found time to visit your grave nearly every day.

He brought flowers for the other fallen as well, but he lingered in front of your grave. To an onlooker, he appeared to be lost in thought, but deep inside, Illuga warred with feelings of guilt and self-loathing as he stared at the letters comprising your name carved into the tombstone.

He had failed you.

Illuga had promised both to you and himself that he would protect you, that he would do all he could to see you smile for another day, but he hadn’t kept his word. He should have been by your side during the battle to make sure you were safe. He should have looked for you sooner. If only he were stronger, then maybe he could have reached you in time before you—

Such ‘should haves’ and ‘what ifs’ haunted his waking thoughts during the day. At night, these thoughts manifested in the form of nightmares. It had been a while since Illuga had been tormented by dreams where he watched those he cared about die in front of his eyes and heard the horrifying whispers of the Hunt blaming him for failing to save them. Now, he saw you in those dreams, helpless to stop a monster from mauling you even as his hand desperately reached for you. Illuga would wake up from his own screams of your name, and find himself in a cold sweat with his arm outstretched towards your side of the bed. Where you once lay beside him at night was now only empty space, making the bed seem colder and bigger without you.

Illuga struggled to fall asleep after such nightmares, too tormented by the gruesome visions and feelings of guilt to get any rest, so he usually rose early when that happened. He was used to rising before you to make breakfast so you would wake up to a spread of your favorite dishes. It brought Illuga joy to see your eyes light up in delight and hear your praises when you tasted his cooking. Seeing you happy while enjoying something he made was all he wanted.

It wasn’t until he sat at the dining table that Illuga realized he had set out two plates out of habit instead of one. He looked across the table laden with your favorite foods towards the chair you usually occupied when eating together, but you were not there. You will never sit there again, never taste his cooking and tell him how delicious it was with a smile on your face, never be in his arms again.

The longing and anguish of this lonely reality finally hit Illuga hard, and he buried his face in his hands and wept. His shoulders shook with quiet sobs as he mourned your loss, and he stayed like that until the food had long grown cold.

Your death changed Illuga. The Lightkeepers who knew him said that Illuga turned cold after your passing. He didn’t become harsh or cruel, but simply less joyous. Like the life was sucked out of him. His kindness didn’t waver, but the warmth he once offered to those around him dimmed. But how could he have anything to give when it felt like his own world was plunged into darkness? Illuga went through the motions of life, leading, fighting, eating, and sleeping, but all of it felt as hollow as the void in his chest that had formed when you died.

He had once foolishly allowed himself to accept you into his heart and dream of starting a family with you. Not just the family he had among the Lightkeepers, but a real one where it was you and him happily living together in a world without the Wild Hunt. That naive dream had shattered into pieces, with only the ache of your absence serving as a memory of what could have been.

Eventually, Illuga will move on from your loss as he did with all the others. It will be a long and painful journey, but he understood that he couldn’t let the anguish of your loss diminish his will to fight and protect those who lived and would be born one day. He would work to become a bright fire that chases away the darkness of the Abyss, the warm sunlight that envelops and heals those lost in the coldness of despair; however, he would not let anyone get too close to him again. The pain of losing those he loved over and over wore away at him, so he resolved to keep others at a distance for fear of hurting again.

The nightmares where he watches you and his family die never let him forget that he is too weak to protect those he loves, so if he can’t protect what matters most to him, then he does not deserve to have it at all.

🩷Durin🩷

Durin first met you during a bard’s performance at the central plaza. Like him, you stood alone on the outskirts of the crowd, looking like you didn’t fit in among the audience. Perhaps sensing a kindred spirit in you, or perhaps enchanted by your beauty, Durin made the brave decision to approach you and try to make friends so you wouldn’t look so alone. That was how he and you became fast friends.

It wasn’t until later that Durin found out you were afflicted with an incurable illness that kept you bedridden for most of your life, so as a result, you had few friends in Mondstadt. He knew very well how lonely it was to be isolated from the world, watching others from the sidelines and being unable to join in the fun, which is why Durin resolved to be the best friend he could be for you, so you wouldn’t feel lonely ever again.

He introduced you to Klee, who invited you to go fish blasting, which resulted in all three of you sitting in the detention room while getting scolded by Jean. Durin took you to The Cat’s Tail, where you got to try one of Diona’s drinks and where he taught you how to play TCG until the cats chased him out. He bought you flowers from Flora’s shop to liven up your home, accompanied you every time you left the city to ensure you were safe, and helped you carry groceries after shopping.

Days with you were simple but fun, and Durin caught himself looking forward to spending time with you. In fact, he often thought of you when you weren’t together, and his chest filled with both warmth and nervousness whenever he saw you, which was accompanied by a wagging of his tail. Being around you made Durin’s heart flutter in a strange way, especially when you smiled at him, and he wanted to explore that feeling to know what it was.

Those happy days came to an abrupt end when your illness took a turn for the worse. You grew too weak to leave the house, so Durin came over to keep you company nearly every day. On days when you felt better, he read books with you, taught you how to make origami, and told you about his day. Durin shared everything he could with you because he wanted you to feel like you were a part of his world, even if you couldn’t experience the activities together.

On days when your illness worsened, and you lay delirious in bed, Durin did his best to take care of you. He helped you eat, changed the wet cloth on your forehead when your fever ran high, and ran to get Barbara when you had difficulty breathing. Seeing you so weakened filled Durin with anxiety and worry about your health, but he held out hope that you would get better. He desperately wanted you to recover so you could go back to having fun together, which is why, during one of your lucid days, he made a promise with you. He promised to go to the next Windblume Festival with you. It would be his first time attending Windblume, and it would be your first time going there with a friend. It seemed like the perfect opportunity for both of you to experience the true magic of a festival together. His gentle smile widened when you agreed, and his wings gave a small flutter of excitement as he imagined what attending Windblume with you would be like. You were still sick, but Durin wanted to believe that by the time the festival rolled around, you would recover.

However, the days when your health worsened increased in frequency until you hardly responded to him anymore. Durin still tried to wear a smile around you so as not to worry you, but deep down, he was wracked with panic and fear. He didn’t want to lose you. Ever since he met you, he had discovered a new type of happiness and affection he’s never felt before. You made his heart flutter, but also made his chest feel all warm and fuzzy inside. You didn’t shy away from his draconic traits but called them beautiful. You showed him kindness and acceptance when others looked at him with wariness, so it was small wonder that you took up a very special place in his heart. The thought of losing the warmth and light that you introduced into his life filled him with cold dread.

Durin feared losing you, so he did all he could to search for a cure. He scoured Mondstadt’s library with Lisa’s help for any records of your illness, and even asked Albedo and Alice for help. However, there were limits to what medicine, alchemy, and magic could do against incurable illnesses, so despite his efforts, Durin was left with no option except to watch you slowly waste away. Being unable to help you filled him with frustration at his own helplessness, but also anxiety and guilt since your illness made you suffer while all he could do was fetch Barbara to ease your symptoms. A part of him sensed that you might never recover, but the thought was so sad that he didn’t want to dwell on it.

The culmination of his worst fears came on the night when Barbara left your room with a grim look on her face. She told Durin that you didn’t have much time left and might not even make it until morning. The words embedded in Durin’s heart like shards of glass. He didn’t want to believe that Barbara’s prognosis could be true, but as he entered your room and checked on your condition, the pallor in your face and your shallow breaths all pointed to that cruel reality.

That night, Durin stayed by your bedside. He held your hand in both of his and urged you to hold on and stay with him. There were still so many things you didn’t get to see and do. You were supposed to finish that fairytale you started together, see how he improved at cooking your favorite dish, and go to the Windblume Festival together like you promised. However, no matter how much he talked, you didn’t seem to hear him. Even when he called your name, you didn’t open your eyes to look at him.

Your unresponsiveness broke something in Durin. A sob wrenched from him, and he pressed your hand against his cheek, which had grown wet with tears. His voice cracked with emotion as he begged you not to leave him alone. He had come to care for you so much, had hoped to learn how to be human from you, and wished to forge so many more memories with you. He had just made his first real friend in Mondstadt; you couldn’t leave him just like that. Please don’t leave him alone, please don’t die…

Durin stayed like that until he felt your hand grow limp in his and your breaths fall quiet. The stillness radiating from you filled Durin with dread. He called your name and gently shook you by the shoulder, hoping that you would respond with something, even a cough or a flutter of your eyes. However, you were completely still.

In a panic, Durin called on Albedo for help, but when the alchemist arrived, he somberly told Durin that there was nothing he could do. You had departed this world. The reality of your death sent a surge of grief crashing over Durin, and he spent the night crying by your bedside and holding your hand until all warmth left it. Albedo stayed with Durin and consoled him, while the latter grieved the loss of a friend and his first love.

The days that followed your passing were like a blur for Durin. He was filled with grief and anguish, but also an emptiness that felt like a bottomless chasm that couldn’t be filled. He suspected that you had once filled that space, but now that you were gone, so was that part of him.

Your funeral passed by quietly. There weren’t many in attendance since you didn’t get to make many friends, but Durin made paper versions of you and him holding hands, which he placed beside your grave. He later added Klee, Albedo, Jean, and a few other townsfolk you had been on good terms with to prove that you were known and remembered by many others.

Much like what he did for his mother, Durin also wrote you letters. He wanted you to know how his life was going, even if you were no longer able to see it for yourself. Even if you were unlikely to ever read them, it brought him solace to at least pretend you could; to imagine that his words and feelings could reach you, wherever you were.

His story with you didn’t have a happy ending, but maybe he could forge one with pen and paper, much like his mother did for the original Durin…

---

Dear ___,

Lots happened in the past few weeks. I finally learned how to cook meat. It still came out overcooked and a little charred around the edges, but at least it’s edible now! Maybe after more practice, I can try making that dish you really liked. I’ll try as many times as it takes until it comes out right.

Last week, I finished reading Beauty and the Beast. It reminded me a little bit of us and how you accepted me despite my horns and wings. You always treated me as a good friend and an actual person instead of a wicked dragon, which made me happy.

To me, you have always been a kind and gentle person like the Beauty from the fairytale, which is why I want to write a story with you as the protagonist. I’m still figuring out the details, but it will be a story about a lonely dragon that befriends a kind human girl. They go on many adventures together, explore the world, and go to a festival where they play games and watch fireworks.

…I know you never got to go to Windblume with a friend or do any of those things you told me you wanted to do. I don’t have the power to create magical stories like my mom, but I want to give you a life where you can do all those things you wished you could, even if it’s just in a fictional story. I was born from a similar wish once, so I now understand what my mother felt when writing Simulanka. I’m not a good storyteller like her yet, but I’ll work hard to build a world that you would have loved to live in.

I miss you. I wish I could see you again and tell you that I really like you, but I think you probably knew. Even if I never see you again, I hope that you are doing well, wherever you are, and that you’re happy. That’s the most important thing.

Your friend,

Durin

🔷Lohen🔷

Your parents disapproved of your relationship with Lohen. Being the only daughter of a wealthy merchant, they believed you deserved better than a young knight, but Lohen reassured them that he would do all he could to keep you safe and happy. He would protect you with his life, shielding you from harm the same way he shielded his men during battle. It was not a promise he made lightly.

True to his word, Lohen kept track of any suspicious individuals around your person, thwarted the plans of anyone who was a threat to you or your family, and occasionally served as your bodyguard when you left Dornman Port. His capabilities were undeniable, which assuaged your parents, but even he was only human. There was a limit to how much he could do by himself.

Lohen thought he had completely eliminated a group of bandits that had taken up residence at Dornman Port, but there were a few stragglers he had missed. He only found out about them when your parents came to the Knights of Favonius in distress with a letter from the bandits demanding a ransom. They had taken you captive and wanted to exchange your life for a hefty sum of your parents’ money.

The scheme was laughably simple-minded, but the knowledge that you were kidnapped under his protection ate away at Lohen. Not only had he missed a few criminals, but they had laid a hand on his woman in a moment of his carelessness and were now holding her hostage. Lohen knew all too well the feelings of powerlessness and fear that came with being kidnapped, so he itched to rush to your rescue and get you back to spare you further suffering.

When the knights were discussing a plan of action for your rescue, Lohen volunteered to go on a solo mission. He reasoned that a group of knights would draw too much attention and put the bandits on alert, which could potentially put you at greater risk. A single knight will appear less of a threat and make them liable to underestimating their opponent, plus it would make infiltrating their hideout easier. As it so happens, Lohen was well-suited for such a mission.

Convinced by the explanation, Varka gave Lohen the green light to head out first while he assembled reinforcements to help with capturing the crooks. Wasting no time, Lohen set out for the bandits’ hideout in the woods, having already tracked one of them there before. It took him only a few minutes to get to the rundown house.

Spotting a couple of grunts patrolling the perimeter, a manic gleam lit up Lohen’s eyes as he made quick work of them before silently entering the building. Just a little more, and you will soon be back in his arms, most likely fussing over his injuries the way you usually did, while he laughed without a care in the world. Ah, but maybe you will be shaken up from being kidnapped? In that case, he may need to make a plan for how to soothe you.

As Lohen advanced deeper into the hideout, sticking to shadowed corners and avoiding creaky floorboards, he thought about what he should do after saving you. Perhaps he should sneak you out of your house after you reunite with your parents and take you to The Cat’s Tail? You could pet the cats while he ordered you a warm meal since he knew how much you liked animals. If the cats don’t do the trick, then maybe he could distract you with some kisses and harmless pranks before taking you stargazing at Starsnatch Cliff—

“What do you mean she’s dead?”

The sound of an agitated voice on the other side of a door snapped Lohen out of his fantasies.

…What?

Lohen’s focus immediately sharpened on the conversation happening in the small room just beyond the decaying door. Peering through a crack in the old wood, he counted four men gathered around a familiar figure. There you were, sitting limply on the floor with a burly bandit crudely holding you by the hair. Blood dripped from your temple, marring one side of your face dark red and matting strands of hair to your cheek.

The sight made Lohen’s blood run cold.

The burly man appeared distressed. “It wasn’t on purpose!” he protested. “She was just struggling too much and almost got me in the eye, so I gave her a good whack to knock her out! I didn’t think it would kill her!”

“How are we supposed to get the money now?! Goddamnit! You complete moron!”

By then, Lohen had tuned out the scuffle happening between the bandits. For once, his sharp mind had gone completely blank as the words “She’s dead” and the sight of your limp body registered in his brain.

You were dead. That bandit had killed you.

He was too late.

As realization sank in, for a brief instant, a sharp, piercing anguish lanced through Lohen that almost made him stumble. However, it was quickly overshadowed by overwhelming fury.

His body moved before his mind could catch up. In a blur of movement, Lohen kicked down the door, startling the bandits gathered around your lifeless body. However, he gave them no time to react before charging at them with his dagger drawn and crossbow at the ready. The room filled with the bandits’ screams and the wet sounds of blood spraying the walls and innards spilling across the floor. Lohen’s attacks were quick, sharp, and packed with enough power to shatter bone. Usually, he prioritized efficiency, but this time, it was all about venting his emotions and getting revenge.

In less than a minute, Lohen took down three of the crooks, however the burly one—your killer—had escaped the room in the chaos. Lohen wouldn’t let him get away, even if it cost him his life. He had that bandit’s image burned into his memory and could hear the thuds of his footsteps retreating towards the house’s exit, but he didn’t give chase immediately. Instead, he approached you and turned your body over to check for signs of life.

No pulse. No breathing. No reaction when he cupped your cheek and left a smear of red where his thumb brushed along the skin.

Just stillness and silence.

Lohen’s hand curled into a fist, the leather creaking with the force of his grip as he slowly stood. He gazed at your body for a long moment, his expression one of cold, murderous anger, while his eyes carried a heavy sadness, before he picked up his lance and bolted out of the room to hunt down your killer.

The man could not outrun or outsmart the Vice Captain of the Fifth Company. Lohen easily caught up to him. A part of him wished to brutally smash the cowering man’s head in, but he refrained and settled for torturing him for information on their operations, networks, and how they kidnapped you. Once the bandit spilled everything, only then did Lohen end his life.

With the bandits all eliminated, Lohen made his way back to the room you were in, his footfalls heavy, but the weight pressing down on his chest was heavier still. He had gotten his revenge and killed the bandits, but it didn’t make him feel better. All he felt was grief since nothing he did would ever bring you back.

With great care, he scooped you up into his arms and felt his heart lurch at the way your head lolled to the side lifelessly. As he carried you out of the house, a single tear cut through the blood splattered across his cheek, leaving behind a smudged trail.

When the Knights of Favonius arrived with reinforcements, they bore witness to Lohen emerging from the rundown building, drenched in blood and carrying your lifeless form in his arms. He appeared calm, but many knights stepped aside in unease at the vacant look in their Vice Captain’s eyes. There was no smug smirk of victory or the usual manic gleam in his eyes. There was only emptiness.

Lohen carried you all the way back to Dornman Port. He said nothing when your parents stared in horror at your corpse, nor tried to defend himself when they berated him in a grief-stricken frenzy for letting their daughter die. He simply bowed his head and stared at the ground, letting their barbed words wash over him because he knew he deserved it. He had made a promise to protect you, but your limp form in his arms was physical proof of his failure to keep it.

The following days passed by in a blur. There was a report to make about the information he got out of the bandit and another stronghold to eliminate, Jean and Varka lectured him about his conduct during your rescue, your funeral came and went… life moved on, even though you were gone, but the world felt devoid of all color.

On quieter days, Lohen visited your grave with a stalk of your favorite flower. He stood in front of it in pensive silence, though whenever someone came to talk to him, he would give them his usual laidback smile and casual response. Lohen never showed what he felt regarding your death, didn’t let others see how it hurt him, since doing so would be showing a weakness. So, he carried himself with the same laidback ease as if nothing was wrong. However, those who knew him could tell that he was quieter and less rebellious now. Your passing had a significant impact on Lohen, even if he tried to hide it.

For instance, Lohen no longer sought fights for the thrill of battle and the victorious feeling of being alive. He still searched for strong opponents to grow stronger, but each injury he received reminded him that while he was alive, you were no longer in this world to help him patch up his wounds.

He also threw himself into his work. Lohen needed to feel like he wasn’t useless, that he wasn’t so careless as to have let his lover be kidnapped and killed. He trained, patrolled the streets, sniffed out monsters and crooks, and dealt with them before they could pose a threat, and even wrote his own reports. If he had taken such preventative measures earlier, then you would be alive right now and scolding him for getting injured during his monster cleanup operations, but now every injury he sustained was his punishment for not being better.

Your death left a mark on Lohen. It was something he could never quite get over, no matter how many years passed since he believed that you wouldn’t have gotten kidnapped and subsequently killed if he had been more vigilant and prudent in eliminating threats. All he could do to try to make up for his failure was to grow stronger and become better. It wouldn’t bring you back—nothing ever will—but Lohen could never feel content returning to his old way of life while knowing it had contributed to you losing your life. So, he resolved to improve and become better, to be the man he believed you deserved to have from the start.

Maybe if he did that, then his world would regain some of the colors you took with you when you died…

[clovisq]

since requests are open and lohen brainrot is on...can we get a scenario where while lohen jokes around and teases reader a lot almost sadistically with reader just sighing at his antics things change when other knigts also began to laugh or "joke" around with reader that causes them to become withdrawn and embarrassed? And lohen's reaction ofc

idk what to title this. sorry..

a/n: sorry this took me so long to write, I haven’t had the motivation to write anything these weeks. and I also apologize if this might be a bit ooc. I haven’t read up on his lore even tho he’s out now…😖nonetheless, I still hope u enjoy this even if it’s not exactly that scenario word for word!

the knights had all decided to go out for a celebratory drink in honor of another successful expedition. the atmosphere was lively and loud, even the usually more reserved knights were going all out tonight.

you weren’t a big fan of getting drunk, so you decided to go a bit lighter with the alcohol this evening. typical kind of drink where the fruitiness hid the subtle taste of alcohol. other knights would tease you for getting a drink like that when they were all getting the heavier ones. even lohen made a few remarks here and there about it. it’s not even like he has the right to make fun of you, as he himself doesn’t drink either.

…you ignored him and tried to enjoy your drink anyway.

something wasn’t right. as soon as the drink touched your tongue, you were hit with a sudden burning spice you didn’t ask for in your order. your spice tolerance wasn’t that high, so it felt like your entire mouth was on fire just from a mere sip.

the thing was, you had never really told anyone about your spice intolerance. it was a silly little thing that felt too mundane to ever bring up in conversation.

all except one particular blue-haired person…

…the same person who was shamelessly laughing at your reaction despite how you were surrounded by many of your colleagues.

“you should’ve seen your own face! it was so red I thought you were going to explode. but I know you wouldn’t actually explode. you’re made of tougher stuff than that, aren’t you, silly thing?”

his smirk only served to make you even angrier. at this point, you couldn’t tell if the heat was from the spice or the sheer rage you felt seeing how amused he was. this wasn’t anything to be laughing at!

but then, he offered to help you find relief for the spice. …is he seriously trying to play white knight over a problem he caused? whatever, your mouth hurts too much to protest so you just follow him into whatever shady corner he’s going to.

he doesn’t even say anything. he just sticks out his tongue, showing you the cooling mint he has on it. you knew of that brand. it was very good at helping relieve spice, and he was currently using it as a reason to put his lips on yours.

“you’re so shameless! anyone could walk by and see you trying to… trying to so blatantly flirt!”

you stuttered accusations all while looking around to see if there really was anyone nearby.

“hmm? flirt? I wouldn’t call it that. im just trying to help you, can’t you see? you look like you’re in so much pain… and i just so happen to have the cure on my tongue…”

he clicks his tongue, pondering whether or not he should retract his offer just to taunt you further.

“or, is it that you would prefer having your fellow knights see you like this, all red and panting from a little bit of spice? it wasn’t even a lot, you know? but it’s funny how one speck of crushed jueyun peppers can have you looking like this.”

…you eventually swallowed your pride (and the mint too( ˘ω˘ )) because the embarrassment of being seen like this was far greater than whatever irritation you felt.

you thought things would be back to normal after that.

turns out, the next day while everyone was training, some of the knights decided to bring up last nights events.

they were all having a good laugh as they remembered how red your face was (thankfully they didn’t notice what was happening in that dark corner) and teasing you about your spice intolerance. some of them even suggested that they nickname you “tomato”, for how your face was matching the shade of one last night.

safe to say, you made some crappy excuse about a stomachache or something just so you could run away from all of their laughter and teasing. it was an excuse probably nobody believed, though nobody pried further either.

“oh? what do we have here? I thought you liked hanging out with the knights. you told me once that they were good company.”

lohen managed to sneak up on you while you weren’t paying attention, casually leaning on the wall next to you.

“shut up! it’s all your fault they’re laughing at me anyway! cant you leave me alone and find someone else to bother?”

a small huff escaped your lips, and you turned your face the other direction. in truth, you actually didn’t mind his presence at all. in fact it was likely the opposite. you enjoyed his presence. perhaps a bit too much. not that you’d easily admit it though, his ego was already big enough.

“really now? you wound me. I came to check up on you, to make sure everything was well. you said you had a stomachache, didn’t you?”

he made a dramatically sad expression, leaning in even closer towards you.

“yeah. and now you’re trying to give me a headache while I have a stomachache.”

you groaned and sighed. you made sure to keep your tone flat and unenthusiastic. that didn’t seem to push him away though. your lack of reaction only seemed to egg him on further.

instead of saying words, he decides to place a sudden kiss on your lips. it was very tender and soft compared to what he usually liked doing, and that made you stiffen with shock. it wasn’t unpleasant. it was actually… nice to receive such foreign tenderness from him.

he seems to notice your enjoyment, a small laugh escaping him.

“does that make up for things yet? or do you require more?”

before he could say anything else, you were already pulling him back in.

he supposes that was his answer.

[sugarplum-muse]

Im suppose to be writing but I have to get this off my chest

NSFW! MINORS, DNI!

Lohen is suffering from a big rush of adrenaline.

His hands shake, breath uneven and mind still reeling. He can surmise its probably from the near death experience. But he isn't scared.

No.

He's shaking. His head throbs, his heart is beating away painfully in his chest, so much so that he has to clutch the spot to reel himself in; in a sick, fastening way, it feels good. The rush of battle always gets him going, but not usually to this extent.

Not in the way where hes unable to stand up from where hes been bounded; there's no physical restraints holding him in his place, but the mental head fog is making his vision dazed. His mind is a muddled mess, but he bares his teeth at you, smiling widely in the complete ire on your face.

You're supposed to be furious with him. You are furious at him. Your hand yanks his hair with intent to tear it clean off his scalp. The handle of your blade is at the back of his throat, itching to cut his body free. It'd be a mercy to it, severing the pretty thing from the messed up brain Lohen racks senseless every day.

You hate him. You hate him. You hate him so much that it burns the back of your throat when the words try to claw out. You hate him so much that your eyes sting at the sight of him. Your hands itch, they ache raw at how much restraint it takes to stop from ending this damnation that is a man.

But behind all of that is fear—fear of losing him by your own hand, or by any other. If you nudged the sharp edge of your blade any closer, he'd be done for. So why can't you?

You hate him—you should hate him more. You want to hate him more. You want to hurt him more.

What residual affection could you possibly hold for this man?

You look at him with complete contempt. Even with his hair cut uneven by your blade, blood showing through the whites of his clothing, and that disturbing smitten look that twists his enchanting features into something ominous and unsettling, your heart throbs in your chest. You hate him. You hate him so much you want to cry.

You press your boot on his thigh, pressing heavily on the wound you inflicted at the start of your fight.

Well, at the start of when he ambused you in the goddamn woods. You noticed his eyes glinting in darkness, light catching on the edge of his spear as he aimed to kill you.

You try not think about what his kisses felt like. How good waking up next him him felt. How you liked to stare at him while he slept, rays of sunshine warming his dull toned features.

"I hate you," you tell him. Ignore the mornings you two spent around Nod Krai's market place. Evenings you two sat on your aching knees doodling side by side with Klee. Nights huddled at the base of dragon spine, one comforter shared between the two of you, a sad fire as your only life lines.

You don't ignore his hard on at your words. You ignore the way you press your boot on it, and step. He cries out, head knocking down and hiding his mirthful expression from you. You ignore why you're indulging him. What it says about you, even when you hate him—when you're supposed to hate him more than this.

"You ruined my life." You knick the skin of his neck, clench his hair with your hands and drag his head back up to force him to see the scorn you carry for him. Try not to think about the promises you two made. "I really—" your voice cracks. You press down hard, sword, hand, and boot. "I really fucking hate you, 'Lo."

You don't know why you call him by old nickname. Try to understand how he gasps and bucks underneath you, ruining his own pants and any esteem you might've had left for him.

You pulled your foot away from him, unwilling to help him ride out the last bits of his orgasm. You pull away completely, repulsivity washing throughout your entire body. To your horror, you find none of it is directed at him, but instead yourself.

What's wrong with you? Why do you keep coming back to him? Why do you continue to let him reel you in and play with you like this?

He pants, a hand going to the ground between his thighs as he's forced to keep himself up without the weight of your leg. His brows are bent in a way that feels taunting towards you, but his eyes are filled with the same devotion you remember. "I know you do," he exhales messily, a wicked smile on his face.

"But I know you," Lohen trembles, adrenaline still pulsing through him. You're unsure if that's what causes him to drop his weight back onto you, pressing into your thigh. He looks up at you with reverence. "And it's not enough, is it?"

You stare at him, something close to indignation growing in the pit of your stomach. You're frozen, much like he is paralyzed.

You know him. You know what he's about to say—what's going to pass his mouth. You've heard him say the words before, felt the fresh pain each time he said it. You dread it. But you're stuck.

Your ears buzz, trying drown out the words before he said them. "You need me, don't you?"

You wince, the words causing physical pain.

You should kill him now.

It's what he wanted, isn't it? Isn't that the reason he keeps taunting you, goading you into this repetitive cycle?

But you can't. You hate him, but you can't. You loathed him, imagined him dead, cursed every breath he took, looked away with every glance he stole of you and found you already staring back. Resented how you yearned for him, and how he never cared to ache quite as hard.

Quiet fear drills it's way into your heart. You struggle to back away from him. Your sword breaks across his back with your ungainly motions, and he shivers like you gifted him something precious.

You want to tell him he's wrong, but your voice is failing you. Your entire body fails you as you struggle, scared of the man in front of you and the brute of what he makes you feel towards him.

"I hate you," you breathe, because it's all you have. "I hate you," the words echo. Your throat closes, but you refuse to cry in front of him again. "I hate you, Lohen. Does that make you happy? Do you feel good, now that you've hurt me in the worse way possible? That you turned my love into a weapon against me?" You sniffle. You're completely pathetic. "I hate you."

He's unmoved when tears finally patter down your face. You must've missed when he found his weapon, using it as a crutch to stand on his wounded leg.

You see him take the same stance he does before every fight; you've seared it into your memory.

You force yourself to rub your tears away and do the same. You know by now comes next. You force your heart away behind the wall he manages to keep crumbling, readying yourself. His voice is unnervingly excited, as if the two of you are living in two different moments.

"Then prove it." He urges, cruel delight edged in his features.

You force yourself to move seconds after he does. This time, you promise to yourself, I'll kill him.

What the fuck. Where is the porn

[seeking-yandere-dreams]

Being Yan!Lohen's Darling means constantly walking on eggshells.

Lohen is a stalker through and through, he knows everything about you, to the point where he genuinely believes that he knows you better than you know yourself. The files that he has on you could take up a whole shelf and he'd still need room for his daily "observing [Name]" reports.

He knows your measurements, your phenotypes, family tree, history, likes and dislikes, relationships, health records, list of childhood nicknames; anything and everything you could possibly think of (and more, probably) is written down and organised.

Every action and microexpression gets hyperanylised for the sake of learning about you and consideration on how to use that knowledge to his advantage.

But because of this, Lohen gets paranoid a lot. You not waving at him while on your lunch break when he walked past you? Clearly you are not impressed by him and he needs to do better to get your undivided attention. Some Knight - whose name he never bothered to remember - talked to you and you laughed? The rotten bastard is trying to steal you from him.

He knows that he's not exactly the first person to come to mind when someone imagines the idea of a "knight in shining armour," even when compared to his boring and normal coworkers. What if he's not enough for you? What if someone else comes along and sweeps you off your feet before he can?

His mounting insecurities and paranoia that you're going to leave him cause him to lose his cool and he yakes you for himself. You can't possibly leave him for another man if you're kept under lock and key in his home. He hasn't even fully prepared for your "move in" yet, but his impulses got the better of him this time. But no matter, you can wait handcuffed to his bed for a few days while he finishes your bedroom.

You'd think that being kidnapped would help alleviate some of his paranoia, but it really doesn't. He's still critical of every little thing you do and say. You could have gotten out of bed in order to use the bathroom or get some water and he'd wake up, see that you were gone, hear a noise, get afraid that someone broke in to take you away, see you return to bed and start accusing you of trying to run away.

You would have to constantly "prove yourself" to him and he'd still be there, overthinking everything and making things worse for the both of you.

[eepylohen]

a little entertainment

lohen x reader

summary: lohen got punished with the quietest post in camp, where nothing ever happens. he would have died of boredom — if you hadn't already been there. now he's starting to think varka did him a favor. 

topics: russian roulette, lohen being a freak & down really bad, reader is lightkeeper, sexual tension, a little bit nsfw (mentions of masturbation & sexual thoughts, masochism, gunplay)

english is not my first language. please tell me if i got something wrong. thank you!

"This is so fucking boring," Lohen groaned, lying on his back and rubbing his face with one hand. With the other he toyed with his knife, hoping that eventually his body would betray him and not let him catch the sharp edge in time, letting it sink into his flesh. The worst thing Varka could have done to him was station him somewhere where absolutely nothing happens. "Talk to me, nightingale."

The watch duty he'd been given as punishment for a certain tiny violation took place at the position closest to the camp. It was the last line of defense, meaning the chance of anything happening here was exactly zero — especially on a warm, quiet night like this one. Normally at this hour he'd have free time; he'd be wreaking havoc in enemy camps. But instead… well.

The only consolation was you. You and Lohen had known each other for a few years, ever since the Knights of Favonius and the Lightkeepers had signed their alliance treaty. What you knew about him was that he was a goddamn freak, a killing machine, and for some reason — terribly fond of you. Perhaps because you personally went out of your way to avoid him whenever possible, so the more you showed your distaste, the harder he tried to get closer to you. Like a moth to a flame.

Lohen loved to tease you because you had a saintly patience, and that made him terribly excited at the thought of the day you'd finally lose your footing. He wanted to see you furious so badly that sometimes, before falling asleep, he'd fantasize about how you might react. Completely shamelessly, he'd slide his hand into his trousers thinking about you slapping him in frustration, then finish on his own fingers while imagining your trembling breath and perhaps tears on your flushed cheeks.

Tonight he'd probably sin again, staining your image in his filthy mind — but for now, he needed to whine a little to finally get your attention.

While he was practically writhing with boredom, you sat calmly reading snezhnayan literature. You loved when this particular watch shift came around; it was one of the rare moments when you could truly rest and do things you otherwise never had time for. The watchtower sat in a perfectly quiet spot — not too far from the forest and not too far from camp, but still remote enough that no one would catch you slacking. Hardly anyone ever checked on you here. Although absorbed in your book, you remained alert enough that in case of danger you could react quickly and warn your companions.

At least, that's usually how it went. Today you had to put up with Lohen.

"You should have behaved like a proper knight," you replied, trying to hide your amusement. It worked on Lohen immediately — he lifted his eyes to look at the corners of your mouth turning up, and a smile spread automatically across his face as well.

"Are you saying I'm not honorable?" He sat up and rested his elbow on his knee, propping his cheek against his palm, looking at you with that usual intensity of his. With a sigh, you closed your book. So much for relaxing.

"I didn't say that, Lohen," you replied, rolling your eyes. Still, you knew perfectly well that Lohen shouldn't be judged solely on his… fighting style. Against all appearances, he was an excellent knight who always looked out for the safety of his companions and the people around him. "You could just be decent sometimes."

Lohen snorted and straightened up. He glanced at the star-filled sky for a moment — and even that long, it wasn't nearly as interesting as you. He turned his gaze back to you, but you didn't return his attention.

"No fun at all," he sighed, feeling the crushing boredom settle back into his bones. He really wasn't made for sitting in one place, let alone staying quiet. You had absolutely no idea how to keep him occupied enough to leave you in peace — until, out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the gun at his belt, and suddenly an idea came to you.

A risky idea.

But a little entertainment never hurt anyone, right?

"Can I see your gun?" you asked, looking at him seriously.

Lohen perked up immediately, genuinely surprised by your question, before a thrilled smirk spread across his face. He reached for the weapon at once, twirling it casually the way he often did.

"Do you want to shoot me?" Lohen moved a little closer, placing the gun in your hands — and naturally used the opportunity to hold them for even just a moment. You were so focused on examining the weapon that you didn't even notice him gently rubbing your skin with his thumb, until you pulled your hands back to take a closer look at the pistol yourself. "I'd think carefully about that if I were you. To me, that's practically a marriage proposal, nightingale."

You didn't answer, too absorbed in your own thoughts as you popped the magazine out and spilled the rounds.

Not a single drop of romance in you, was there? He sighed.

"Do you want to play a game with me?" you asked, looking at him.

Lohen's eyes widened, and his heart beat a little faster.

The worst thing you could do to him was ask him that while holding his own gun. He swallowed, his eyes trembling with excitement and arousal.

"What kind of game?"

"Snezhnayan roulette," you answered calmly.

You stood up, and so did he — like an obedient little dog.

"This really is a marriage proposal."

"What?"

"I mean — Fuck, yes. I want to play," he laughed, a little too pleased with himself. "I just never expected that you would ever… suggest something like this."

You laughed, shaking your head.

It was true — this was probably out of character for you. You had always kept your distance from things like this, considering them utterly stupid and dangerous. But you did live in Nordkrai, didn't you? Sometimes everyone needed a little adrenaline in their life.

You tossed the round into the air, and Lohen's gaze locked onto it. A moment later you snapped it into the magazine, spun the cylinder, and leveled the gun at him.

Lohen's heart was pounding so uncontrollably fast at the sight that he could swear he was about to faint. Even in his own fantasies, it had never crossed his mind to imagine something so beautiful.

"I don't need to explain the rules, do I?" you asked, tossing him the gun. As you stepped back, he caught you with his free hand, pulling you by the waist and drawing you closer. You rolled your eyes, your hands instinctively pressing against his chest to push him away at least a little.

But Lohen was far stronger. You'd always known that. And maybe that's why it was foolish of you to openly display your distaste for him instead of pretending to be fond of him — you wouldn't want him as your enemy in any lifetime.

Slowly, he dragged the gun along your neck up to your temple. Completely sure of himself, he watched your reaction, then raised an eyebrow, slightly puzzled as to why you still weren't trembling in his arms.

Although Lohen had fantasized about you countless times, he had just realized it had never occurred to him to imagine himself hurting you. Apart from sexual degradation and sadistic scenarios, he had never thought about seriously wounding you. While you could kick him, torture him, press your boot to his throat, or even run a knife through him — it was never mutual.

If he'd never desired your fear, why did he now feel disappointed that you weren't gazing up at him pleadingly, like a little doe caught by a cruel hunter?

Your eyes held only irritation, and your body — smaller and more delicate than his, especially within his arms — remained steady. He felt only your discomfort at the closeness between you. Nothing more.

His smile twisted back into a manic curl, and his eyes seemed to brighten.

"Hm. Since you proposed the game yourself, I should have expected you wouldn't fold immediately," he laughed — and, taking advantage of the brief distraction his sudden words caused, pressed the trigger while shifting the angle of the barrel so that in the worst case he'd startle you, not hit you.

Click.

Empty chamber. You yanked the gun from his hand and kicked him while he was focused on the shot. Lohen snickered, feeling warmth pool low in his abdomen, and crossed his arms.

"Your turn, pretty thing." He stepped closer — with that goddamn smile of his — close enough for the muzzle to touch his chest when you aimed at him.

That goddamn freak…

He didn't break eye contact for a single moment, staring at you as though you were the best thing that had ever happened to him. His fingers gently wrapped around yours at the trigger, encouraging you to fire — but the whole thing felt so frighteningly intimate that you couldn't move. Heat flooded through you and you swallowed heavily, yet you showed no sign of hesitation, only… a need to stay like this a little longer.

If Lohen weren't clearly deriving such enormous pleasure from the situation, you might have felt — just for a moment — as though you were the one in control. But of course he had no intention of allowing that. It was unnerving, the way Lohen could give the impression of being the hunter even when he was the one in danger.

"How long are you going to make me wait before you pull the trigger, nightingale?"

Click.

Empty chamber. Either you'd misheard, or something like a stifled groan had escaped Lohen's lips. You pressed the gun back into his hands and rolled your eyes.

"You're too impatient. Don't you know the whole point is the tension?" you replied, crossing your arms, while Lohen circled around you, laughing with delight as he caught you from behind with an arm around your shoulders.

You were starting to regret ever coming up with this idea, because so far Lohen was making effective use of your little game as an excuse to put his hands all over you. This time, instead of pushing him away, you stayed unmoved.

Lohen clearly didn't like that — using the barrel under your chin, he tilted your face toward his. You felt his breath against your cheek, which produced an odd tightening in your stomach. Another thing you absolutely couldn't stand about the vice-captain was that he was devastatingly attractive.

Unfortunately, he ruined it all the moment he opened his mouth.

"And what am I doing right now?" he replied, pressing the muzzle beneath your chin.

"But when I—"

Click.

Empty chamber, again. He'd interrupted you mid-sentence so you wouldn't notice him shifting the barrel. You didn't even flinch when he fired. Lohen raised an eyebrow, and just as he was about to say something, you snatched the gun from his hand and spun sharply to face him, his hands settling on your hips with the movement.

You grabbed him by the choker and pressed the muzzle to his temple. He licked his lips, visibly delighted by your rough initiative. It was exactly as he had always dreamed — without realizing it, you were losing your patience, your irritation no doubt deepened by the fact that this whole thing had been your idea to begin with.

You had never been this close, face to face. A faint flush bloomed on Lohen's cheeks as you stared him down with an intense, annoyed gaze. The expression on his face was almost blissful, wistful even.

"Nightingale—"

Click.

Empty chamber. You stepped back and handed him the gun, waiting for his turn.

That was the fourth of six. Not good. Maybe he really should have listened to your advice about building tension, because now that they were nearing the end, he assumed you'd give up any moment. He smiled with a quiet exhale, spinning the gun around his finger.

"Shall we play again after this?"

"We haven't even finished this round," you replied, rolling your eyes — but a smile tugged involuntarily at your lips. "Unless you're surrendering, Lohen?"

He shook his head and tapped the muzzle against his own temple before aiming at you from a distance. Throughout the whole game he'd tried to appear relaxed when his turn came, but every time he made absolutely sure he would never fire a bullet into you. Up close, that was significantly harder — which was exactly why he kept throwing you off balance, so you wouldn't notice him shifting the barrel's angle. And if he ever felt the familiar vibration of a real shot, that was why he kept his hands on you: to pull you safely against him.

You, however, were taking the game entirely seriously, aiming at him without mercy every time — and fuck — that was so unbearably hot that if he weren't trying to stay alert, he'd already have a very obvious problem in his trousers.

"No, sweetheart."

He aimed. From your perspective it might look like he was pointing straight at you — but as an experienced sharpshooter, he knew perfectly well he'd miss.

Click.

Empty chamber.

Lohen smiled. He tossed the gun back to you, expecting to hear you surrender any moment — and yet the corners of your mouth lifted. He furrowed his brow as you raised the pistol and aimed.

"Any last words, Lohen?" you threatened playfully, and he laughed.

"Death at your hands is a pleasure, my lady," he replied with equal theatricality, crossing his arms.

You pulled your hand back, and he clapped gleefully.

"I suppose that means I win, hm? Then as my prize I demand your—"

He didn't finish.

You turned the muzzle to your own temple, and the trigger gave way under your fingers.

Click—!

Lohen lunged at you and pinned you beneath him as you both went down to the ground. The gun hit the floor with a loud clang beside you as you stared up at him in shock.

"What the fuck?" he asked, looking at you in a way he never had before. You had long since memorized every expression of his — but this one you were seeing for the first time.

Over all these years you had come to know Lohen fairly well. You knew about his past, his mentor, his career as a traveler, his early days in the Knights of Favonius. You knew he had a weakness for poisons, that he was a battle maniac, that he loved testing his subordinates. You also knew that even though he had no close friends in your company, as a knight and a model vice-captain, he made sure they always came back in one piece — even at his own expense.

But through all of it he had never lost his edge; he was always spirited, carefree, forever craving the next rush of adrenaline. He loved when someone challenged him and didn't hold back around him — though few such people existed, and they usually ended up thoroughly beaten.

This time, Lohen looked pale. His breath seemed unsteady, and his eyes — for the first time — held none of that wild curiosity, none of that ecstasy at the approach of some unknown sensation.

You felt something prick at your chest and almost immediately regretted what you'd done. But you had to shake off the shock and quickly turn the situation around.

You reached for the gun. His face had already softened somewhat, so you smiled at him and pressed the muzzle to his lips, like a gentle kiss, before he could say a word.

Click.

The sixth chamber was empty.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

You burst out laughing. God — even though you genuinely felt a pang of guilt, his reaction made every bit of it worth it. You had finally gotten back at him. After all those years of his teasing, you'd returned the favor with interest.

"Remember how I tossed the round?" you asked, opening the magazine, then reaching into your pocket to produce the stray bullet. "You were so focused on it that you didn't notice when I caught it, I closed the magazine back up without loading it. That's the whole trick. A magician from Fontaine taught it to me years ago."

Lohen appeared to understand now. In his excitement, he'd lost enough of his edge not to notice the difference in the gun's weight. And every time suspicion flickered in him at your nonchalant behavior, you had redirected his attention just in time. You had played it perfectly. He let out an amused snort, feeling his heart race all over again — because fuck, that had been extraordinary. You'd played him, frightened him half to death, and had the audacity to laugh at him on top of it all. You were perfect.

Which didn't change the fact that he had absolutely no intention of letting you get away with it.

"Clever, nightingale," he smiled broadly, taking the gun from you. He straightened up and settled himself comfortably across your hips, reaching into his pocket. You looked at him with sudden unease. "You really had me fooled."

To your dismay, Lohen produced a round and loaded it without hesitation. You immediately pressed your hands to his thighs to push him off, but he caught your wrists in one hand and pinned them to the ground, leaning over you.

Oh, fuck.

"Allow me to return the favor," he said, dragging the gun along your chest and up to your lips — which reminded you that just moments ago you had pressed the same muzzle to his. He knew it too, drawing a quiet, strange pleasure from that indirect contact, while privately wishing it were the other way around. "Now I'd like to have a little fun with you."

[akamigi]

I just KNOW yan!Lohen will threaten to shoot himself in the head in front of you if you ever bring up the topic of leaving him...

[orang3rinds]

A Softer Type of Life

♡ lohen x reader

⤹ sfw, oneshot, lohen's idea of domesticity is a little skewed at the end, may be ooc im still getting a handle on his character, kind of an analysis?, not beta read

(1.8k words)

cross-posted on ao3

For a man like Lohen, routine is a nightmare.

Perhaps the life of the expedition had changed him irreversibly— waking up in the wilderness every morning, never knowing for sure if he'd eat that night, sleeping with a hand around his dagger just in case a stray monster managed to wander past the night watch… perhaps it had been his childhood kidnapping that made him into this— a nocked arrow quivering against the bowstring. Always itching to be fired straight into the heart of the enemy, unable to stay in one place without a trained hand holding him back.

Or perhaps he had simply always been this way.

In any case, the original statement remains true. Lohen cannot stand a daily routine.

As his fellow knights grew accustomed to life in Mondstadt again, welcoming back their old habits, Lohen was forced to watch them grow far too comfortable. The same knights that he would go on morning patrols with through the wilderness now spent their mornings off casually watering plants and laughing with friends in the street. The same knights that would previously spend their nights polishing up their weapons in preparation for the next battle were now heading to the bar after their shifts, casually and jovially downing drink after drink without any concern over who would watch over them in their drunken stupor.

Lohen couldn't understand the desire for such simple things. These new routines of theirs only encouraged complacency— not to mention, they were also unbelievably restricting. Why spend time on things like sweeping leaves off your neighbor's porch, or catching a child's lost cat, when you could be spending that time getting stronger? Did his comrades not feel that itch under their skin when they sat too still? Could they not feel themselves splitting apart at the seams without something new? Were they really so content to remain exactly as they are? To remain so slow and weak and powerless and mortal?

Trying to understand it made Lohen's head spin. Those at the top of the food chain controlled everything beneath— If Lohen himself were nothing more than a rabbit, he would fight every day to claw his way up to the top with the wolves. He couldn't think to comprehend how someone could remain happy knowing that one day, they'd be eaten by a larger predator, and there would be nothing at all they could do about it.

Yet perhaps the most confusing of all was you.

You, who has never picked up a weapon in your life. He asked you about why, once— while watching you flit around your home to and fro as if cleaning the dust from your windows would be of any real benefit to you.

"I just never felt the need to, I suppose." You had looked at him a little curiously, but given him a smile when you answered nonetheless. Lohen found himself at a loss on what to say in return to that. It was absurd. Even as a young child, Lohen had been around weapons. His first toy was a handmade wooden bow from his parents— and even now, he never left his home without at least one dagger tucked up his sleeve.

But you were perfectly happy never to touch a weapon in your life. You were the very epitome of everything Lohen despised about himself. Slow. Weak. Powerless. Mortal.

And yet, for some reason he was unable to place, Lohen couldn't bring himself to hate you for it.

Instead, he found himself drawn into your presence like a moth to a flame. After his late night trips into monster camps he would end up at your door after every injury without fail, leaving puddles of blood on your porch step. You welcomed him in every time, your hands as gentle as the breeze as you ushered him into the warmth of your home.

"We've got to stop meeting like this," He'd joke, lightheaded from the blood loss— and you'd laugh in that way that reminded Lohen of the bells that chime around the city during Windblume. It was easy, in the dark of night, to ignore how his heart fluttered at the sound. It was less easy to ignore in the morning, while he helped you to scrub his bloodstains off of your porch.

But he had to wonder— When you touched him so carefully, to wipe the blood from his face with a damp cloth, to disinfect his numerous wounds— did it count as holding a weapon?

Lohen liked to think that it did. Perhaps it made him feel safer with the concept of your weakness; by having him around, you basically had a weapon on hand. A dangerous, volatile weapon, who was likely to cut the hands of whoever were to wield him, but a weapon nonetheless.

It certainly makes him feel safer now, standing at your doorstep out of uniform with a basket of fresh fruit in one hand and a dagger tucked into his other sleeve. Returning to your home feels a bit like returning a sword to its sheath— tucked away neatly so it can't cut anyone, while still remaining on the body of its owner in case of an emergency. While indulging in your weakness, Lohen is also keeping you safe at the same time. His presence alone is akin to that of a weapon, after all of the training he has gone through to twist himself into one.

Lohen tosses the thought of you owning him like a weapon around in his mind a bit, and finds rather quickly that the idea isn't entirely unpleasant to him.

"Lohen!" The door creaks a little when you push it open, and theres flour dusted across your cheeks. Your eyes don't even scan him for weapons before you're welcoming him inside, a grin tugging at your lips like it belongs there. "Come in, come in! I'm just baking right now, I'll put this down and we can chat!"

The knight can only shake his head, raising up the little basket of fruits he brought along with him. You brighten at the sight, and Lohen is a bit dazed by the fact that you hadn't even noticed that he was holding something. If someone had come to your door with a knife, would you have still opened it? Worse, still— would you have even been able to fight back?

Lohen can't ponder that thought for too long before you're approaching, keeping your powder-covered hands away as to not stain his clothes.

"Ehh, don't worry about that," Lohen finally said, his response feeling just a bit too late to be natural. "I'll help out. We can use some of the stuff I brought."

"Alright, alright. But you can't complain when I put you to work!" You laugh, and Lohen is once again reminded of the Windblume bells. "Why'd you bring this over, anyway? Some special occasion I'm forgetting?"

"Hm? Oh— Just consider it a… 'friendship fee'. They were a gift from my team, and they'd just rot at my place."

The lie slips out easily. In truth, Lohen had seen them for sale on the way to your home, and thought immediately of how you'd smile at the sight of such a gift. You seem somewhat content with his explanation, however, scoffing under your breath about how you don't need any kind of payment for your friendship.

Somehow, the word 'friendship' feels incredibly flimsy when Lohen thinks about you, but he makes no effort to correct himself in the moment.

"What're you making, anyway?" Lohen finally asks, clearing his throat a little as he sets the basket down on your counter.

"Apple pie!" You brush against his side as you eye up the fruits in the basket, carefully plucking out the ones that you deemed acceptable. Your touch feels hot against his side, even through his shirt. Lohen has to take a shaky breath in, the burn of your touch more delicious than any other pain he's ever felt. "Lucky you brought extra, I was worried I wouldn't have enough."

You set the handful of apples down in front of him one at a time, making a neat little row across the counter. Right next to them, you place down one of your kitchen knives. You carelessly leave the blade pointed at yourself, and Lohen can't stop himself from reaching over and pointing it towards himself instead when you aren't paying attention.

"Here, cut these up for me? With the both of us working, it should be a lot faster!" You turn away after that, busying yourself with finishing up the batter for what it likely the pie crust.

Seeing you so domestic was… almost frightening. Whether you realized it or not, this life you lived was unbearably fragile. One wrong move and this world you've built would come crumbling down into a heap. You'd be left defenseless, your simple routine of dusting windows so the sun shines through and baking on weekends for no reason in particular completely useless at leaving you prepared for such an outcome.

Lohen swallows hard, his throat suddenly feeling tight as he picks up the blade you left for him. It was hard to imagine himself ever living in such a fragile, gentle world with you. You turned your back away from him like you hadn't just given him a knife, trusting him wholly not to run the blade through your chest. He never would, of course, but there was no way you could ever truly know that.

His grip tightens around the knife in his hand, the sensation both familiar and foreign.

Out of the two of you, it was clear that you were the weaker party. You couldn't fight, you didn't own weapons, and you were overwhelmingly trusting of him. Perhaps to a fault.

So why was it that Lohen still felt that it was him? Why was it that his hands felt so useless when he saw your smile? Why was it your face he saw in his mind every time he lost a battle?

In an act of uncharacteristic obedience, Lohen turns away from your form and begins cutting up the apple you placed in front of him. He isn't sure when he became so invested in this domestic routine of yours, but imagining a life without it makes his stomach roll uncomfortably.

Lohen has trained himself into a weapon— but for you, he finds that the idea of living in a domestic routine suddenly doesn't sound too terrible. If you asked, he would gladly cut up apples for you while you baked. He would scrub his blood off your porch. He would fight off any monster that dared to look your way.

And this soft life you lived… Lohen would just have to become twice as strong to protect it in your stead.

No matter what.

[lepus-miles]

gonna be thinking about sitting between lohen's legs, like... starting out just sitting there, facing away while he pats your head. some light scritches, maybe. just something chill and soothing, plopped happy on the floor in front of him while he sits at his desk. leaning into his thigh, closing your eyes.

buuuuut of course you both get bored sitting there like that eventually. you start kissing along his thigh, feeling him getting hard against the back of your neck, feeling the heat growing. his fingertips stiffen as they scratch your scalp, tightening just a bit in your hair until he's pulling you back to look up at him. maybe he says some kind of filth to tell you what's on his mind, or maybe all you need is to exchange a look.

he lets you got and you turn around, kissing up from his knee again along side of his upper boot and the inseam of his pants, then kiss and mouth at him through the fabric. slow, annoyingly gentle, just to drive him that little bit more wild,,,

el. elvira. eleanor. ellular device. beef ellington, even. how could you do this to me

i don't think i've yammered so you could not possibly know this but the level of batshit insane rabid i get over giving oral over clothes is. concernjng. im going to DIE so naturally let me elaborate and kill us both

you go slow, annoyingly gentle, and he lets you do it, wants to see where you'll take it, just out of curiosity. he'll take over if he gets bored or feels like you're too cocky, of course, but for now, he threads his fingers in your hair, and he watches. watches as your tongue laves over him where he's straining against his pants, watches as you start to drool a little, darkening the fabric.

on your end, since he doesn't make any move to pull himself out of his clothes, you keep going as you are; feeling the heat of his cock against your tongue, even through the layers of fabric, quickly getting soaked from your enthusiasm. you can feel the shape so clearly against your mouth, too. you can feel every time it twitches, and you haven't even moved your mouth up to the tip yet, but the fabric there starts to darken, too; your head spins realizing oh fuck, thats precum...

jUST.... JUST...........!!!!!! the idea of having your mouth on his dick through his pants and it getting soaked from drool and pre im gonna fucking die. thanks for coming to my ted talk thank you for murdering me el