[ ⓘ nurse's office ] welcome to medicineren's archives!
this writing blog will be used as an archive for my works and as a testing ground for my writing skills. (there will be self posting as well), mostly sfw but can be nsfw. im currently interested in honkai: star rail, so expect mainly hsr works. there will be infrequent posts as i have a busy life! hypersharing blade yume :) just here for fun
i've always wondered how people write words above 5k...I'm currently only at 5k wordcount of my upcoming Kafka x reader fic (will be released after my exams which ends on July) like 20k wordcounts?? 50k word counts?? i need to lock in
a/n: the last fic for this month before i get busy with exams!
Blade isn't the type to hold hands in public or make grand gestures, but he is always there. If you’re walking through a crowded area, he’ll subtly position himself between you and the crowd, or he’ll stand just a step behind you.
Blade loves sitting on a balcony or a high ledge with you, watching the stars or the sunset. He knows he has seen centuries of them, but seeing them through your eyes makes them feel new again. There's always a tug at the corner of lips when he sees you point at the stars, counting them or trying to name them all.
Blade learns everything about you without you saying a word. He’ll notice the exact moment your eyes grow tired or when you’re feeling cold. He won't ask "Are you okay?" instead, he’ll simply drape his heavy, dark coat over your shoulders or hand you a drink before you even realize you're thirsty.
Does Blade sleep with you? Yes, but it’s not always "cuddly" in a traditional way. He is a restless sleeper. If you are with him, he finds he can actually rest. He might not sleep deeply, but he will drift in a state of semi consciousness, lulled by the sound of your breathing or the warmth of your body near his.
Blade often sleeps with his arm draped heavily over your waist or pulls you close to his chest. He needs to feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat to drown out any noise in his own mind. Sometimes, he won't sleep at all. He’ll lie there in the dark, watching the rise and fall of your chest.
Blade has large, calloused hands meant for gripping a sword. When he holds your hand, he is incredibly careful, as if he’s afraid he might accidentally break something as precious as you.
Blade hates almost everyone calling him nicknames, but if you call him something sweet, he won't correct you. He might huff or give a tiny, almost invisible smirk, but he secretly loves the way it sounds coming from your lips.
Blade finds a strange peace in your hair. Whether he’s brushing it for you or just letting his fingers wander through it while you talk, it’s a grounding sensation. If you’re leaning against him, he might rest his chin on the top of your head, just breathing in the scent of your hair.
If you want to talk about your day, Blade will listen attentively. He might not have much to say in response, but he remembers every tiny detail. If you mentioned a specific flower or a type of tea a week ago, he might quietly leave it near you without a word of explanation.
There is a very specific, rare expression Blade gets when he knows he’s won an argument or successfully teased you. It’s not a full grin, it’s just a slight, lopsided lift of one side of his mouth. It’s his way of saying, 'You're easy to read,' and it’s incredibly smug.
Blade knows exactly how much his presence affects you. If he notices you getting flustered, he might lean in just a little too close to your ear, or let his hand linger on your waist just a second longer than necessary. He’ll watch your reaction with a quiet, amused intensity, enjoying the fact that he can make you lose your cool.
Blade's "tsk" or his huff of breath is often a mask. If he "tsks" when you do something cute, it’s rarely because he’s annoyed, it’s because he’s trying to hide the fact that his heart just skipped a beat.
If Blade is feeling particularly soft ( which is rare and very special ), he won't just pat you. He’ll let his hand linger. He might run his fingers through your hair or use his thumb to trace the line of your jaw after he’s patted your head. It’s a slow, deliberate movement that turns a simple "good job" into a silent confession of affection.
If you fall asleep on Blade's shoulder, he will stay frozen in that exact position for as long as it takes for you to wake up. He won't move a muscle because he doesn't want to disturb your rest.
Blade likes to interlock his fingers with yours. His hands are a bit larger than yours, so your hand feels slightly swallowed by it, which makes you feel incredibly safe.
Blade can be petty, but he can't stay petty if you are physically touching him. If you lean into his space, wrap your arms around his waist, or nuzzle into his neck, his "cold" exterior will melt almost instantly. He'll try to keep the grumpy face for a few seconds, but he'll eventually sigh, wrap his arms around you, and mutter, "…You're infuriating."
a/n: the last fic for this month before i get busy with exams!
Blade isn't the type to hold hands in public or make grand gestures, but he is always there. If you’re walking through a crowded area, he’ll subtly position himself between you and the crowd, or he’ll stand just a step behind you.
Blade loves sitting on a balcony or a high ledge with you, watching the stars or the sunset. He knows he has seen centuries of them, but seeing them through your eyes makes them feel new again. There's always a tug at the corner of lips when he sees you point at the stars, counting them or trying to name them all.
Blade learns everything about you without you saying a word. He’ll notice the exact moment your eyes grow tired or when you’re feeling cold. He won't ask "Are you okay?" instead, he’ll simply drape his heavy, dark coat over your shoulders or hand you a drink before you even realize you're thirsty.
Does Blade sleep with you? Yes, but it’s not always "cuddly" in a traditional way. He is a restless sleeper. If you are with him, he finds he can actually rest. He might not sleep deeply, but he will drift in a state of semi consciousness, lulled by the sound of your breathing or the warmth of your body near his.
Blade often sleeps with his arm draped heavily over your waist or pulls you close to his chest. He needs to feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat to drown out any noise in his own mind. Sometimes, he won't sleep at all. He’ll lie there in the dark, watching the rise and fall of your chest.
Blade has large, calloused hands meant for gripping a sword. When he holds your hand, he is incredibly careful, as if he’s afraid he might accidentally break something as precious as you.
Blade hates almost everyone calling him nicknames, but if you call him something sweet, he won't correct you. He might huff or give a tiny, almost invisible smirk, but he secretly loves the way it sounds coming from your lips.
Blade finds a strange peace in your hair. Whether he’s brushing it for you or just letting his fingers wander through it while you talk, it’s a grounding sensation. If you’re leaning against him, he might rest his chin on the top of your head, just breathing in the scent of your hair.
If you want to talk about your day, Blade will listen attentively. He might not have much to say in response, but he remembers every tiny detail. If you mentioned a specific flower or a type of tea a week ago, he might quietly leave it near you without a word of explanation.
There is a very specific, rare expression Blade gets when he knows he’s won an argument or successfully teased you. It’s not a full grin, it’s just a slight, lopsided lift of one side of his mouth. It’s his way of saying, 'You're easy to read,' and it’s incredibly smug.
Blade knows exactly how much his presence affects you. If he notices you getting flustered, he might lean in just a little too close to your ear, or let his hand linger on your waist just a second longer than necessary. He’ll watch your reaction with a quiet, amused intensity, enjoying the fact that he can make you lose your cool.
Blade's "tsk" or his huff of breath is often a mask. If he "tsks" when you do something cute, it’s rarely because he’s annoyed, it’s because he’s trying to hide the fact that his heart just skipped a beat.
If Blade is feeling particularly soft ( which is rare and very special ), he won't just pat you. He’ll let his hand linger. He might run his fingers through your hair or use his thumb to trace the line of your jaw after he’s patted your head. It’s a slow, deliberate movement that turns a simple "good job" into a silent confession of affection.
If you fall asleep on Blade's shoulder, he will stay frozen in that exact position for as long as it takes for you to wake up. He won't move a muscle because he doesn't want to disturb your rest.
Blade likes to interlock his fingers with yours. His hands are a bit larger than yours, so your hand feels slightly swallowed by it, which makes you feel incredibly safe.
Blade can be petty, but he can't stay petty if you are physically touching him. If you lean into his space, wrap your arms around his waist, or nuzzle into his neck, his "cold" exterior will melt almost instantly. He'll try to keep the grumpy face for a few seconds, but he'll eventually sigh, wrap his arms around you, and mutter, "…You're infuriating."
summary: as a nurse at the church of favonius, there isn’t often much to keep you busy. that is, until the knights from nod-krai return. you expect to get fewer patients since the city now has more fortification…but suddenly, you begin to notice a strange pattern among your ‘patients’.
warnings: mentioned death/wounds, suggestive, briefly described panic attacks
a/n: I had to look up different parts of church for this one lolol,, anyways please enjoy !! I’m honestly really proud of this one :) tysm for the support on my last lohen fic !! this one is partly inspired by lovelynss’s murderer lohen fic (absolutely peak go read that next !!) also I wrote this in 2 hours I was locked IN dude
wc: 1.5k
As a nurse at the Church of Favonius, your days aren’t typically too busy. Most times, you wander around the grounds of the city, cleaning off the graves behind the church when the dust lingering on them piles too high for your liking. Sometimes you’d catch that creep Albert lurking outside the narthex, searching for Barbara as usual, and each time you’d scare him off with the threat of telling your fellow sisters. But that was the height of the excitement throughout each of your days.
Until the Grand Master returned. With him, not only did he bring back a wave of exhausted knights, but also a sense of renewed security that was felt all over Mondstadt. Now more than ever, the citizens of Mondstadt City felt safe within its high stone walls, protected by the knowledge of having their knights back.
With the Knights’ return, you anticipated having fewer patients than usual. If there was more security around the city, then surely there would be fewer injuries and casualties, no?
You had no idea how wrong you were.
A handful of days had passed since the Knight’s return, and the city’s excitement had died down for the most part.
That was when you found the first one.
You arrived at the Church earlier than any of your sisters that morning, simply out of curiosity for what the day would bring. Stepping inside your healer’s room tucked away in the basement, you were instantly greeted by the sight of a man, slumped over the table, bleeding out.
Two red dots left on his neck. A bite mark.
Your heart stopped as you stumbled backwards, screaming for help from anyone who’d hear you. Someone came soon enough - a sister or a knight; you had no idea. Your vision was too blurry to tell.
They’d closed off the Church grounds for the day. You spent it curled up in your bed at home, terrified of anything that moved. That was undoubtedly a vampire’s bite - you had no idea they were even real. You tried to calm your nerves by telling yourself there was no way they existed, that the man could’ve simply been bitten by a snake or a spider.
But those thoughts didn’t last long, since the next week, it happened again.
With shaky hands, you stepped inside your healing room, closing your eyes as if bracing for impact. For some odd reason, the door had been propped open with a stone, leaving it open to prying eyes. To your relief, however, there was nobody inside, no traces of blood or vampires or anything else that made your gut twist.
With a relieved sigh, you closed the door behind you, ready to heal whatever amateur knights got scratched up during their training.
THUD.
Something landed behind you. You wanted nothing more than to disappear in this moment. Turning as slowly as you could, you saw it - not a man this time, but an old lady’s body collapsed on the ground, those same bite marks on her neck that you’d seen present on the first man’s. Whoever (or whatever) did this to her must’ve shoved her body between the door and the wall…that explained the propped-open door.
You didn’t even hear yourself scream for help this time. Your ears were ringing too loudly to pick up any other sound.
It took another two weeks before you were willing to set foot in that cursed Church again. You simply couldn’t leave the people of Mondstadt City waiting - the knights-in-training needed your healing, no matter how badly you wanted to avoid those oh-so-familiar pews.
After stubbornly avoiding the Church all day, you finally relented and arrived late at night. This was, undoubtedly, one of the worst decisions you could’ve made. The Church was immensely creepier in the dark, at night, without anyone around. Why did you decide to come here again? With a deep breath, you began to complete the paperwork assigned to you by Jean while sitting on the Church benches. There was no way you were doing paperwork in your healer’s room alone after what happened last time.
Any slight noise that reached your ears made you jump like a frightened cat. You tried your best to focus and tune everything else out, paying close attention to the pen scratching across the endless pages you’ve been assigned.
Until you hear footsteps. You don’t dare to turn and look behind you, convinced the noise is simply a trick of your mind.
Someone snickers behind you. And to your terror, that laugh is a familiar one.
Vice Captain of the Fifth Company. The one who had returned alongside the Grand Master’s men. Lohen.
No, no way. It can’t be him. He’s a human, you know he is. He’s battle-hungry and a little deranged, but he would never…
A gloved hand lands on your shoulder. This time you can’t help the yelp that escapes from you. Sure enough, you whip around and meet the half-lidded eyes of Lohen, standing behind you with a smirk on his lips.
And there, in the glint of the moonlight shining through the Church’s sacred stained glass windows, you see them. Two bright fangs peeking from underneath his lips.
With your heart pounding, you hurriedly back up against the pillar behind you, watching with wide eyes as Lohen leaps over the bench you were just sitting on, the grin never leaving his face. You glance around, looking for anything you can defend yourself with, to no avail.
“V-Vice Captain-? What are you…” Your voice wobbles as every part of you wills it not to. A wide, crazed grin spreads across Lohen’s lips, showing off his pearly fangs.
“Oops, looks like you’ve found me out,” Lohen giggles, striding towards you with a burning flame in his eyes.
“Oh, I just adore this part! The part when my prey tries to scurry away like a terrified little bunny…the part before I strike!” He emphasizes that last word with a flash of his fangs, and damn it all, your heart won’t stop racing. This time, you don’t know if it’s from fear or something else.
To be honest, you’d always admired Lohen. Not only was he virtually fearless, but come on, you had to admit the man had caught your eye before. He was attractive, but you’d never admit it to anyone. But now that he was standing this close, it was getting harder to ignore those pesky feelings of yours.
Lohen crouches down, one hand resting on the pillar behind you. You can smell the metallic scent of blood on his lips - there’s no doubt what he is now. Maybe it’s the way he lingers much too close to you, or maybe it’s the fact that his scent is messing with your head, but you honestly aren’t that afraid anymore. Perhaps you’ve been waiting for a chance to be this close to him all along. Plus, he wouldn’t kill you, would he? You two have had amicable exchanges before; there’s no reason for him to harbor foul wishes towards you.
“Oh? You don’t smell of fear now. Getting comfortable, hmm?” He hums, his free hand going to your shoulder. “You look cute like this. Cuter than when you were afraid.”
“Lohen…” Your eyes follow his as you languidly mumble his name. It seems that’s all it takes for him to lose control, as he surges forward, his fangs brushing your neck. He pauses there, breathing you in with shaky breaths.
“Archons, I’ve been waiting for this…don’t worry, bunny, I won’t kill you off. I’ve got the antidote you need riiiiight here in my vial…so just relax.”
Those are Lohen’s final words before his fangs sink into the side of your neck.
The feeling of having him this close, with his hot breath against your skin…it’s almost too much to handle. Lohen makes low, quiet noises against you as you begin to feel weaker and weaker. But he’d already reassured you, so there’s no need to worry about any pain, right? You can sit back and enjoy the ecstasy he’s blessed you with.
“Nighty-night,” Lohen hums, satisfied after he pulls away from you, licking your blood from his lips.
Then everything goes dark.
*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*
Sleepily blinking your eyes open, you glance around the room and notice you’re in your very own healing bay, with Barbara standing over you worriedly.
“Oh! You’re awake!” she exclaims, her Hydro powers dissipating as her focus turns to you. “Goodness, you had us all so worried!”
“…what happened, Barbara-?” Your voice is quiet and a tad raspy. Barbara’s eyebrows knit with a mix of lingering worry and sudden relief.
She glances around for a moment before answering. “Vice Captain Lohen brought us to you this morning! He told us you were attacked by that awful creature - you know, the one that’s been sneaking around Mondstadt City and biting people?”
So Lohen really did save you…huh. He wasn’t lying about the antidote.
“…tell him I say thank you.” You manage a weak smile at Barbara.
“Of course! You wouldn’t be with us if it weren’t for him…oh! And he left you something.” She turns to your nightstand and hands you a small plushie…of Lohen. A bit crude, but adorable nonetheless. There’s a note attached, which reads, “Get well soon, from Lohen ♡”
a/n: reupload because I accidentally deleted it and my internet went out...I'm still getting used to tumblr
A = Aftercare (What they're like after sex)
He isn't the type to jump up and get dressed. After the intensity fades, he becomes incredibly still. He craves skin to skin contact not necessarily for cuddling, but for the grounding sensation of your heartbeat against his.
He might lay there in a heavy, contemplative silence, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as he processes the fact that, for a few moments, he’d pull you into his chest, holding you with a grip that is firm and protective.
He’d silently clean you up with a damp cloth, his movements efficient but unexpectedly tender, as if he is handling something precious and fragile.
B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Blade's favourite body part of him is his hands. They are the tools of his existence calloused, scarred, and strong. In intimacy, he is hyper aware of them, using them to feel the texture of his partner. He likes his fingers as well. He won’t admit the fact that you always looked cute when you sucked on fingers. He likes using his fingers on you.
Blade’s favourite body part of you is everything but he does prefer your neck and thighs more, specifically, the pulse point on your neck. He is fascinated by the fragility of life. Seeing a pulse thrumming under the skin reminds him that you are alive, a stark contrast to his own stagnant immortality. He likes watching your throat move as you breathe heavily or gasp.
He likes leaving bite marks all over your body, especially on your thighs. The soft feeling of your skin on his hands gets him off.
C = Cum (Anything to do with cum)
He finds a grim, intense pleasure in the sight of it. There is something about the visual of the white, messiness of it whether it’s smeared across your skin or pooling out of you, he finds it incredibly satisfying to look at. He finds a dark pleasure in simply watching the mess it leaves behind.
D = Dirty Secret (A dirty secret of theirs)
His most guarded desire is the craving to be undone by you. He secretly yearns to surrender his agency to your hands. He doesn't care if you are rough and demanding, pinning him down and taking what you want with force, or if you are gentle and slow, treating him with a tenderness that makes him ache.
The secret isn't the intensity itself, it's the fact that he wants you to be the one deciding how he feels. He wants to be your plaything, pushed to his limits and left completely at your command.
E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)
Blade is surprisingly experienced. He has a natural, seasoned instinct for how to move and how to handle a partner due to muscle memory as Yingxing.
F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying)
He is incredibly selfless in this regard. He finds peace in your pleasure, so he is happy to take whatever position you prefer, as long as he can feel the weight of you. However, his personal preference is being pinned down by you. He loves the feeling of your hands pinning his wrists or your body pressing him into the bed, forcing him to yield to your will.
G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)
Almost non-existent. Blade is not a funny lover. He is serious, brooding, and intensely focused. There might be a rare, low, raspy chuckle if you do something particularly unexpected or if you manage to actually make him lose his composure.
H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)
He keeps it trimmed and tidy for you. It isn't completely gone, but he keeps the hair there short and well maintained, so it’s a neat, small bush that doesn't get in the way.
I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)
Surprisingly, he is a secret romantic who expresses it through physical closeness rather than words. He uses intimacy to find a rare sense of peace, seeking your warmth to quiet the noise in his head. His cold exterior softens, pressing his body against yours to feel as close as possible. He approaches you with a quiet, hungry desperation, as if he's trying to soak up every bit of your presence before it disappears.
J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)
He does it infrequently and purely for release. It is rarely about pleasure and more about the venting of tension or the management of physical urges. He often does it in solitude, staring at nothing, using the sensation to briefly drown out the voices of his past. Sometimes he does it whenever he feels restless, thinking of you and you're not near him.
K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)
He is drawn to sensations that force him to focus on the present moment. This includes power dynamics where he can surrender control, such as being pinned down or commanded.
He has a high tolerance for intensity, enjoying breathplay, choking. He also has a taste for semi public settings while he hates the performative nature of PDA, he finds the thrill of a dark alleyway or a secluded corner incredible. The risk of being caught ( which will never happen ) adds a layer of adrenaline that makes the experience feel more visceral.
L = Location (Favourite places to do the deed)
He dislikes loud, bright, or social places. His favorite locations are anywhere private, dim, and quiet. A dark corner of a room, a quiet, shadowed chamber, a dark alleyway or anywhere where the noise of the world is muffled. He needs the environment to match his internal state: hushed, heavy, and isolated from the rest of the world.
M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)
He doesn't have a list of things that get him going. However, his primary motivation is teasing. He is incredibly susceptible to a partner who knows how to play with his composure. Whether it is a lingering gaze, a slow, deliberate touch in a place that shouldn't be touched, or whispered words that challenge his stoicism, he is easily driven to arousal when you make him wait for it.
He thrives on the tension of being teased, the more you push his boundaries and play with his patience, the more intense his eventual surrender becomes. He finds himself becoming increasingly aroused not just by the physical sensation, but by the sheer frustration of trying to remain stoic while you intentionally unravel him. He wants to be pushed, he wants you to provoke that hunger in him until his composure finally snaps.
N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
He has a strict boundary when it comes to you. He will never be the source of your pain. He is willing to explore almost any sensation or dynamic, but he will never intentionally hurt you. This also extends to his preference for privacy.
He has no interest in the performative nature of PDA or the vulnerability of being seen by others. While he might find the thrill of a dark, secluded alleyway intoxicating, he wants his intimacy to remain a private, sacred thing shared only between the two of you. He needs to know that when he lets his guard down and shows you his true, unraveled self, no one else is watching.
O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)
He is surprisingly skilled. He likes both giving and receiving but he prefers giving. There is something about the act of worshiping a partner focusing entirely on their pleasure and the way their body reacts that allows him to quiet the Mara. It is a selfless, meditative act for him. He is patient, thorough, and uses his hands as much as his mouth, treating it with the same intensity he treats a duel.
When he is receiving, the dynamic shifts from service to total surrender. He becomes quiet and still, his eyes fixed on you as he allows you to take control. He finds a deep, grounding satisfaction in the sensation of your warmth and the rhythmic, intense pressure of your mouth. He tries to maintain his composure, but the pleasure is often too much to keep silent, he will let out small, accidental whimpers low, broken sounds that betray just how much you are affecting him and how much he is enjoying the feeling of being undone.
P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)
He starts with a slow, agonizingly measured tempo. He takes his time with every thrust, pausing frequently to prolong the tension and let the sensation of fullness sink in. It is a form of sweet torture, meant to drive you to the brink of madness through sheer slowness.
Once he feels you yield and your body relaxes around him, the pace shifts entirely. It’s a seamless escalation the gentle, lingering touches gradually sharpen into a faster, more intense drive that stays careful and precise, increasing the heat without ever crossing into being truly painful.
Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)
He doesn't crave them, but he will never turn one down. If there is a moment of intense tension or a brief window of privacy, he will take it. For him, a quickie isn't about being rushed, it's about the sudden, sharp necessity of needing you immediately. But he does prefer proper sex over quickies.
R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)
He isn't one for silly risks or experimental gimmicks, but he is game for psychological risks. He will experiment with power dynamics letting you take control, letting you bind him, letting you test his limits, or letting you dictate the terms because the risk of losing himself in you is the only thing that makes him feel truly alive. He's content to experiment with anything as long as it doesn't hurt you physically and mentally.
S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)
His endurance is practically limitless due to his immortal body; he can keep going long after a normal man would have collapsed. He is relentless, capable of driving you through multiple rounds until you are completely overstimulated, breathless, and whining for him to stop or slow down.
However, he isn't a machine. After several rounds, he can get a bit sloppy, become more uninhibited and messy as fatigue finally begins to catch up with his mind, even if his body refuses to quit.
T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)
He doesn't own any, however, he is not a hater. If you bring a toy into the bedroom, he will accept it with a quiet, curious gaze. He views them as tools and as a man who has spent his life mastering the blade, he understands the utility of a well made tool. If a toy helps you reach a higher peak, or if it helps him achieve that sense of sensory overload he craves, he will use it with the same intense, focused precision he applies to everything else. He is a willing participant in whatever helps the moment feel more real.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
He can be incredibly unfair with his teasing, using his control and patience to drive you to the brink of madness. He knows exactly how to linger, how to pull away just when you need him most, and how to use his hands or mouth to keep you in a state of constant, aching anticipation. He finds a dark sort of satisfaction in watching you unravel under his deliberate, slow movements.
However, he is just as susceptible to it. He secretly loves it when you tease him back. He is highly responsive to being teased whether it's through light touches or verbal provocations and he finds it incredibly grounding when you take the lead and push his boundaries, forcing him to struggle to keep his composure.
V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)
He is primarily quiet and controlled. His most common sounds are heavy, rhythmic breathing and grunts that vibrate in his chest during moments of thrusting or pleasure. His composure cracks only when the sensation becomes overwhelming. In those moments, he will let out small, accidental whimpers soft, broken, and involuntary sounds that betray how much he has lost control.
W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)
He has a strange, quiet fascination with scent. He might bury his face in the crook of your neck or your hair just to inhale the scent of your skin. If you use a signature perfume or scent, he will try to figure out what perfume or scent you used by smelling the subtle ingredients used in the perfume or scent.
Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)
He has a relatively low sex drive, as his mind is often consumed by his own internal battles. Sex is not a constant, restless need for him.
Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
He is rarely a deep sleeper. His mind is often too restless to allow for true slumber. He spends most of his time in a state of watchful, quiet wakefulness.
But after the heat of intimacy, he allows himself a rare moment of surrender. He won't necessarily fall into a heavy sleep, but he will settle into a soft, peaceful rest beside you.
summary: when sparring with Lohen gets a little more personal than you expected…. (￣∀￣)
wc 1k
warnings: none, fluff, kissing, lohen being a psycho as usual. written pre-lohen release so possible ooc? gn!reader
a/n: my first time writing this kind of thing,, gulps please enjoy !! i couldn’t stop thinking of lohen so i wrote this :)
The harsh sound of weapons clanging echoed through the forest, mixed with heavy breaths and occasional laughs from the knight across from you. The forest’s wildlife had already scampered off long ago, as if they feared the very atmosphere spawned from your sparring match. The air hummed with energy, electric with anticipation - though maybe that was just Lohen’s doing.
It was more than evident that Lohen enjoyed this immensely.
Since the day you’d joined the Knights of Favonius, he’d desperately wanted nothing more than to spar with you. And now he got his chance - during training, when you finally agreed to take him up on it. Perhaps you were fed up with his constant asking, or perhaps you were genuinely a tad curious. On the outside, Lohen received the acceptance with a mild grin. On the inside, he was positively ecstatic.
“I’ll admit,” Lohen begins before he swings his polearm, “you’re quite impressive!” His voice is rife with emotion, more so than usual. Small beads of sweat trailed down his forehead as he kept up with you. The look on his face was pure manic, excitement mixed with passion. Maybe he was a little too into this…
You block his attack and manage to send his weapon flying out of his hands. It was unusual for Lohen to be so distracted; a part of you wondered if it was intentional. After all, he had seemed to be planning this for quite some time. The grin on his face widened as he stepped back, but not quickly enough. You plant your weapon in the dirt and instantly nudge him down by the shoulders, resulting in you leaned over him while he’s pinned down underneath you.
His teeth sink into his lower lip overzealously as his eyes narrow. A deep crimson hue spreads over his cheeks.
He loves this. And he isn’t the least bit inclined to hide it.
“Ohoho, seems like you’ve won…wanna go another round?” Lohen stares up at you with those familiar battle-crazed eyes, the ends of his ears flushing a pretty scarlet shade. His voice is hushed, lowered only for the two of you to hear.
“I knew it,” you begin, leaning minutely closer to him, “you didn’t just want to train. You’ve been plotting, haven’t you, Lohen?”
Lohen snickers, reaching for his knife. You catch his wrist, pinning it above his head. He isn’t opposed to that, either. “Hehe. You caught me. I’ve been found out!”
“What do you think the others would say if they saw you like this? The Vice Captain of the 5th Company, surrendering this easily?” You tease, grabbing the dagger that Lohen had just dropped to his side. His eyes follow your fingers as they wrap around the knife’s handle, that familiar flame of thirst sparking within his eyes.
“The Grand Master wouldn’t care! He knows I break the rules alllll the time, and he still keeps me around!” Lohen giggles, gesturing wildly with his free hand. That hand isn’t free for long, though, as it soon joins the other above his head. He nudges at your calf with his boot - the only real way he can get to you without his hands free - as a way to keep your attention on him for as long as possible.
“But what would the Knights think? They already think you’re crazy, maybe a little deluded - you want to add lustful to that list?”
Lohen grins. “They already think that, too. They’ve seen us training together…and I’ve heard them talking a lot,” he pauses, eyes flicking to yours, yet he doesn’t finish his thought.
One of your hands has the Vice Captain’s wrists pinned while the other traces his blade across his jaw. He lets out a small deranged laugh, running his tongue over his lips desirously. There’s a silent agreement between you two that you won’t actually cause any significant harm to him, even without voicing it verbally. He trusts you, and you trust him, even without saying it to each other.
So, you nick his cheek with the knife. Just a tiiiiny bit, enough to draw a drop or two of blood. Lohen makes a low sound, savoring the feeling you’ve given him.
You set aside the knife, and with two gloved fingers, wipe the blood across his cheek. He mumbles something under his breath, something about a ‘reward’.
“You’re so cute like this, Lohen,” you tease, leaning a shred closer, “we should do this more often. This…’training’.”
He smiles at your words - not his usual crazed one, but a genuine gentle tilt of his lips. You’ve never seen that look on his face before, and it’s absolutely adorable.
Things still between the two of you for just a moment, and it seems that both of you you want the same thing deep down.
You softly place a hand on the side of his face, lean in slowly, and place a kiss on his lips. Lohen gasps, then readjusts to return the affection. He snickers under his breath when you let his wrists free and he wraps his arms around the back of your neck.
Every part of him is warm and soft, especially his lips. Not to mention you can practically hear his heart pounding out of his chest. It’s endearing, honestly; you’ve never seen him let his guard down like this.
Lohen’s hand fists in your hair as he makes another soft noise, his other hand placed on your back, between your shoulders. One of your own arms holds you up while the other hand rests on his cheek, stroking his skin back and forth with your thumb.
When the two of you finally break apart and sit up, Lohen’s cheeks are flushed (as are yours) and his chest is heaving. Nobody’s ever kissed him like that, and to call him overwhelmed would be an understatement. But he attempts to brush it off with his typical confidence.
“W…wow! That was, uh, something else…” he trails off, his voice slightly wobbly. Before he has the chance to say anything else, you slip your arms around him and pull him into a gentle hug. His chin rests on his shoulder as his arms slowly wind around you, returning the hug.
“…yeah, you were right. We really should do this more often.”
do not repost / use for ai !! likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated !! :)
Summary: Blade x GN!reader where he feels restless so he pulls you into an alleyway to lose himself in you.
a/n : hello! first ever fic on here and i start with this… here's a small contribution to the blade x reader nation. this was very self indulgent if you couldn't tell. possible ooc? im trying to get the hang of writing blade :)
The air in the city was thick, humid, and far too loud for Blade’s liking at all. The constant chatter of the crowds and the glow of the neon lights felt like needles pressing against his temples. It's annoying. He's been trying to focus but his restlessness was a physical ache, a craving for something he didn't know. He needed a distraction, something to tether his drifting soul back to the present. As his mind searched through the haze of his irritation, there was only one presence that could offer the solace he craved.
You.
As if drawn by some invisible thread of fate, he realized you were nearby. Without a single word, Blade reached out, his hand encased in the dark, sleek fabric of his black glove. His fingers curled around your wrist with a suddenness that made your heart leap, his grip firm but lacking its usual lethality.
"Hm?" A soft sound escaped your lips as you felt the sudden pressure around your wrist. Startled by the unexpected contact, you turned around to face the stranger who had abruptly interrupted your thoughts, your eyes slightly widening in mild surprise as they landed on the unmistakable, brooding silhouette of Blade. Before you could even draw enough breath to form a single word or ask what he wanted, he moved. There was no hesitation in his actions, only a quiet, driving intent that seemed to bypass the need for conversation entirely.
You found yourself swept along in the silent wake of his presence, the vibrant world around you dissolving into a dizzying blur of neon streaks and muffled noise as he pulled you toward the edges of the light. His long, dark blue hair swayed as he moved, the crimson tips catching the dying glimmers of the city's glow like fading embers before he ducked your head down as he led you into the deep, swallowing shadows of a narrow, secluded alleyway.
Blade didn't speak. He moved closer, his tall frame looming over you. With a movement that was surprisingly fluid, he guided you backward. His touch was uncharacteristically gentle. He stepped forward and you stepped back. The momentum of his advance continued until the sudden, biting chill of the damp brick wall pressed firmly against your spine, the rough texture grounding you in the moment. He pinned you within the small sanctuary he had carved out of the darkness.
The alleyway was a suffocatingly tight space, a narrow vein of shadow carved between the towering buildings of the city. Caught completely off guard by the suddenness of his movement and the overwhelming presence of him, you found yourself looking up. "Blade?" You whispered, your voice sounding soft in the heavy quiet of the gloom. You tilted your head to the side, searching his face for a sign. "Is…something wrong?"
The question was tentative, laced with a gentle concern that seemed to pierce through his brooding exterior. He didn't reply immediately, instead he loomed over you and for a moment, he stared down at you with those piercing red eyes, looking restless. The usual cold indifference in his gaze was replaced by a quiet hunger, a craving for something that wasn't blood. When he finally leaned in, his movements were devoid of his usual nature. His lips met yours with softness. It was a slow, dragging kiss, tasting of desperation and a silent plea for grounding.
As his hands wandered, you expected his calloused, heavy touch, but he was unnervingly careful. His gloved hand slid up to cup your jaw, his thumb tracing your cheekbone with a delicacy that seemed at odds with the scars hidden beneath his sleeves. He touched you as if you were made of spun glass, as if he were terrified that his very existence, his curse, his immortality, the Mara swirling within him might somehow bruise or break you.
His gloved hand, which had been tracing your jawline with such reverence, slid down the column of your throat. His thumb pressed against the pulse point at the base of your neck, feeling the frantic, rhythmic thrum of your heart. He seemed to linger there, his gaze dropping to follow the movement of his own hand. He was watching the way you reacted to him, a silent observer of the vitality he so desperately lacked.
Then, his hand drifted lower. He pulled back just a fraction, his forehead resting against yours. His breath was shallow, and for a fleeting second, the brooding swordsman looked vulnerable. "Stay quiet," he murmured, his voice a low rasp that vibrated against your skin. His hand drifted down to your waist, pulling you a fraction closer, his touch still so light it was almost a question. The sensation of his lips returning to yours was enough to make your knees buckle.
One moment, his grip on your waist was firm, his fingers digging slightly into the fabric of your coat, grounding you so you wouldn't slide down the wall. The next, his touch became a searing caress, his palm sliding beneath the hem of your shirt, finding the warmth of your skin. His touch was hot feverish, almost as if he were trying to leech the warmth from your body to soothe the eternal chill of his own. He had to admit you looked ethereal even in the dark gloom of this alleyway.
As you leaned into him, your senses reeling from the sheer gentleness of it, you felt his hand shift. His bandaged fingers slid into the hair at the back of your head, tangling between your hair. He didn't grab or pull, instead, he cradled your skull, his palm cold and steady against your scalp. The way he held you as if you were a precious relic he had stumbled upon in a wasteland sent a shiver through your entire frame. It was a terrifying kind of intimacy. Blade let out a low, almost imperceptible hum against your mouth, a sound of relief.
The restlessness that had driven him to pull you into this alley seemed to settle, replaced by a heavy, melancholic heat. He tilted your head back slightly, deepening the kiss even more, his fingers remained tangled in your hair, keeping you close, keeping you there. In the cramped darkness, the only thing that existed was the scent of him something metallic and old, like rain on steel and the overwhelming, tender weight of his presence. He seemed to be searching for something in the taste of your lips. "Blade—"
The sound of your voice, a mere breath of a whisper, seemed to ripple through him like a stone dropped into a still pool. At the mention of his name, the rhythm of the kiss faltered for a heartbeat. Blade pulled back just enough to look at you, his face still inches from yours. In the dim, filtered light of the alley, his crimson eyes seemed to glow with a haunted intensity. There was a flicker of something pain, perhaps, or a deep seated longing that crossed his features before he could mask it with his usual stoicism. To hear his name spoken so softly, with such intimacy.
"…Hm," he grunted softly, a low vibration in his chest. It was his way of acknowledging you, a way of saying he heard you without having to find the words he often lacked. He didn't pull away, though. Instead, he leaned back in, his nose brushing against yours, his breath warm against your lips. The hand at the back of your head tightened ever so slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to ensure you couldn't drift away from him.
"Don't…" he started, his voice cracking slightly before he steadied it. He trailed off, unable to finish the thought at all. "Don't call me that so sweetly," he wanted to say. "Don't look at me that way."
Instead, he simply closed the distance again. This time, the kiss was deeper, more desperate. It was no longer just a gentle exploration; it was a silent, bruising confession. He pressed his body more firmly against yours, the hard lines of his muscular frame a stark contrast to your touch, as if he were trying to merge his fractured existence with your steady, living warmth.
Blade’s hands slid down to your waist, his grip was firm, the leather of his gloves cool against your skin. With a sudden, swift motion, he lifted you, pulling you upward until your thighs instinctively wrapped around his waist to maintain your balance. The sudden change in height brought you face to face, your breath mingling in the small gap between you. Blade didn't kiss you immediately. Instead, he held you there, his strong arms supporting your weight with ease, his gaze locked onto yours. His cheeks were stained with a visible flush, the heat radiating from his skin as he stared into your eyes with an intensity that was almost overwhelming.
He looked cute.
He looked as if he were seeing something he couldn't quite comprehend or perhaps something he feared to want or desire. The usual coldness of his crimson eyes had thawed into something raw and vulnerable. He seemed mesmerized, his chest rising and falling in an uneven rhythm that told you exactly how much this moment was affecting him. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. The way he held you tense yet tender, as if you were the most fragile thing in existence spoke volumes.
"You…" he began, his voice a low, rough rumble that vibrated through your own chest. He stalled, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his expression. It was a rare sight, the immortal swordsman rendered momentarily speechless by the simple act of looking at you. His grip on your waist tightened slightly, a silent, desperate plea for you not to pull away. You gulped, unable to look away from those red eyes that were usually so sharp and piercing, so focused, were now so gentle.
Looking into his eyes felt like staring directly into the heart of a dying star. There was a gravitational pull to that crimson gaze. "Stay still," Blade murmured against your lips. As he leaned in again, the very nature of his touch shifted. It was still soft, still careful, but there was an underlying desperation to it now a silent, frantic demand. His lips moved against yours with a slow, dragging heat that made your head spin and your pulse hammer in your ears. Every time he pulled back just a millimeter, it was only to catch a frantic breath before diving back in, his kisses becoming more feverish.
The way he held you, your legs locked around his waist, your bodies crushed together in the dark made it clear that the gentleness was a thin, fraying veil, a delicate layer of restraint draped over a much more violent, carnal desire that simmered just beneath his skin. You could feel it in the way his chest heaved against yours, the heat radiating from his body like a furnace, and the way his fingers occasionally twitched against your skin, as if he were fighting the urge to grip you with a desperate intensity. He wanted to drown in the sensation of your body pressed against his.
His hips tilted upward, a slow, heavy movement that was a silent, devastating promise of what was to come. He began to grind against you, a rhythmic, agonizingly slow pressure that sought to erase every millimeter of air between your skin and his.
“Please…" The word was barely a breath, a broken, pathetic sound that escaped his throat, unbidden and raw. He didn't even seem to realize that he had said it. His forehead slumped against your shoulder, his breath coming in jagged, uneven hitches that felt like he was drowning.
"In here?" You whispered, the question leaving your lips in a trembling breath, but as you gazed into his crimson eyes, you had your answers from them. There was a subtle tug at the corner of his lips.
