SYNOPSIS | why would lohen need a choker, when you can just wrap your hand around his neck?
NOTE | wrote this in one sitting while at the laundry shop listening to this song lol, this is set before the expedition btw
1,334| WARNINGS: lohen.
“that looks a little too tight.”
lohen hums mindlessly, lifting his head up to look at you with an eyebrow raised in confusion. he was just about to let sleep invade his senses, but for you, he'd spend every waking moment drinking in your words.
you sit on your desk, seemingly still focused on writing your report. your hand flies across the pages in a speed that makes lohen almost wish it was him you were working on. a shame, really, that you chose to pour all your undivided attention into paperwork. being a captain must be hard, or an acting captain, in your position.
surely, adorno can still handle some paperwork without breaking a bone, right?
“what is?”
“that thing.” you spare him a look, and he musters the resistance to look pleased upon your divine gaze.
overdramatic and down bad, that he is.
“what thing?”
the sigh that escaped you brought a grin to his face, pushing his arm to sit up from the couch. “come on, don't leave a guy like me hanging. we both know your mind flows like the wind. i can't possibly guess what goes and what stays in your mind. hopefully, me.”
he considers it an achievement and pats himself on the back when you snort at his theatrics.
“that horrid thing around your neck.”
“the choker, you mean?” lohen plays with the aforementioned object, pinching the fabric between two fingers. evidently the fabric did not stretch at all when he pulled just a little, proving your earlier statement. “it's comfy!”
“in what way?” you quirk a brow in confusion. “i hardly believe being choked by a fabric no less can be described as comfortable.”
“i like to be a little breathless!” he chirps.
“masochistic thing you are.”
lohen laughs delightfully, now pushing himself to his height and approaching your desk with a pep to his step. a voice at the back of your mind screams at you; this was the consequences of speaking out loud! maybe you should've kept your mouth shut if you wanted to get your piled up work done by the end of the day, but it's too late for regrets–for the biggest regret of your life now sits his pretty little butt at the corner of your desk with an eager (evil) smile.
“you can feel around it if you want!”
what a freak, you thought.
although wrapping your dextrous fingers around his throat to shut him up does sound… appealing, for the lack of better words. there's probably a lot of better words for it, you just prefer to describe it that way, really.
and lohen has a lot of appealing traits, sadomasochism aside not included.
“just say you want me to choke the life out of you.”
“don't tease me with a good time, my captain!”
his pale complexion flushes at the thought and you shudder at what kind of imagery his mind is capable of creating. surely, his deadly creative brain can come up with a lot. his collection of poison will tell you so.
“you're a freak.”
“you like me freaky, admit it. my freaky brings color to your boring reality.” he lowers his upper body to your height, resting all his weight on an arm. “come on, you can give it a tug. i won't bite.”
he will, in every way possible, you're sure of it.
something comes to your mind, an idea that sounds so inappropriate for someone like the two of you, the acting captain and vice captain of the fifth company. before you can even stop yourself, your eyes glimpse at the offending fabric for a millisecond,. a mistake, for you suddenly feel the room become chilly. you immediately tear your gaze away, praying to the sevens that he wasn't paying attention and caught the way your eyes dilated for just a tiny bit.
you knew better though, he definitely saw through it.
“who is the world of fashion even thought of tailoring something that constricts normal human functions?” the hand you use to write resumes its work in an effort to ignore his intense stare. sharp eyes piercing the paper with stellar focus the same way your spear impaled the monster you fought a thousand times before.
but it was meaningless to try and divert your attention, when this menace literally thrives on whatever you give him.
a finger appears in your vision–the lack of urge to smack it away disappointed you, how weak have you become?–lifting your chin up so you are forced to look straight into mischievous teal-crimson eyes, twinkling with too much mirth.
lohen's not gonna let you get away with this at all, isn't he?
“i insist, my dear captain.”
the sound of a thread snapping broke your composure.
try as you might, you knew you wouldn't back down in a fight when it comes to lohen. perhaps he had forgotten that you were as conniving as he is? and possibly more than he is? there was no one who could match his energy other than you, despite the obvious difference in your attitudes. you wouldn't let your vice captain get the upper hand, when you are the one in charge of things. it has been a while since you've reminded him who has the authority between your ranks.
perhaps, you can treat this as a warrant for discipline.
“since you're giving me your utmost permission, vice captain lohen.”
lohen felt the frisson course through his nerves when your voice toned deeper. he's over the moon when your wonderful hand raises itself to his neck, thrilled to the bone he can feel his whole body shake with anticipation.
it's hot, too hot, just the sight of your hand near his skin got him excited. it rivals the adrenaline he gets when he's about to engage in a fight. it shows in the way his cheeks flushed uncontrollably and a small gasp involuntarily escaped from the back of his throat when your skin touched his–almost sounding like a whimper.
except, you didn't just tug at the fabric around his neck.
lohen jolted when he felt your fingers wrap around his neck, pushing the palm against the bulge of his adam's apple and applying pressure around the base of his neck. when you're certain you've got a good grip around him, you tug him lower with no restraint, never mind the strength you were currently applying around his neck. your lips are near touching, and he swears the only oxygen he needs is the one coming out from your mouth.
he can handle a little squeeze, won't he?
“fuck.”
the word slipped out like honey from his curved lips, eyes blown wide.
“i think you could handle something more, hm, tighter, yes?”
he's feeling light headed and it wasn't even just from the way you squeezed your lovely fingers around his neck. you were staring at him like a predator, sharp eyes filled with so much more than you've ever expressed before. you've never been this carefree (sexy) and, archons, he is loving every second of it. he can stay like this all day. after all, every breath he breathes is for you.
“we should include underwater training in our program next, yes? you're breathless, a little too soon for my liking.”
you sound too casual in such an untimely position, like you don't have your fingers wrapped around him like a tool. lohen struggles to nod against your grip when your fingers press against a particular spot at the side of his neck. a loud whimper echoed across the office. he couldn't care less for underwater training, when he can just have your hand just like this.
“yes, captain.”
the sound was throaty, rough, and all that is not his usual confident voice.
“good, we will discuss it further once i'm done with you.”
“huh?”
if he wasn't relying his weight on your desk, he would be on his knees right now at the sight of your sinister smile.
startled, you look up from your book to see qifrey standing from the doorway of your bedroom; lips jutting and eyebrows furrowed, staring at the blob of brushbuddy resting on your stomach.
the corner of your lips twitch, resisting the urge to grin at his demise.
“what's wrong, love?”
he rolls his eyes, arms crossed in faux annoyance.
“calling me ‘love' when you have another in your arms? oh, the tragedy!”
“oh my god, you are so dramatic.”
finally, he drops the act and smiles softly at you, approaching the bed while taking his cloak off. he places the cloak on a hook stuck to the wall, before taking a seat on his side of the bed.
he reached toward puffpuff, a finger scratching against it's cheek.
“look at you taking my rightful place,” puffpuff glares up at him. “would you be so kind and rest somewhere else? i would love to have my lover back, please.”
watching with fond eyes, your heart flutters at the term of endearment.
puffpuff ignores the man, rolling its eyes and crawling up to your collarbone, where it snuggles its little head and curls up to rest. not before sticking it's tongue out at qifrey.
“oh, you fiend.”
“it's just like you, that's so adorable!”
qifrey raises an eyebrow, “oh? would you rather sleep cuddling something so small that you might crush it in your sleep? ooor would you rather cuddle me instead and be warm and cozy for the rest of the night?”
“look, it's white and fluffy!”
he sighs, before relenting at your teasing.
“you do have a point.”
“and it has your sass! it just doesn't filter it the way you do.”
“you think i'm sassy?”
resting the book at the bedside table, your hand brushes through his hair, cupping his cheek with the other to pucker his lips together.
“i think you're the sassiest. you just don't say it out loud.”
he's about to say something to refute, when you lean up to press a soft but fleeting kiss against his lips, rendering him speechless and flushed. his lips pursed, the sudden affection relinquishing whatever sassy comeback he was about to giveaway.
“i can't kiss puffpuff the way i do to you, though.”
“you've kissed puffpuff before!? now that's just betrayal at its finest!”
your sudden laughter startles the brushbuddy on your chest, waking it up in the process. it glares at you, before scurrying off somewhere.
“it's just a little peck on the top of it's head!”
SYNOPSIS | love with qifrey is like having him right beside you, your hands touching. love with qifrey is something unspoken. the affection is there, like he wakes up every morning just to show you so. his eyes cannot hide the way he looks at you as if you're his everything. and yet, love with qifrey is also a curse.
NOTE | i love qifrey i swear pls get the seed + soil + root + silver tree joke pls laugh
1,921 | WARNINGS | angsty but sweet as fuck
love was the budding plague that worsens the seed growing in qifrey's heart.
everyone can see qifrey's fondness for you from the moment the two of you met at a secluded alcove in the great hall. it wasn't hard to tell or see how his mind orbits around you. there was something about the atmosphere the two of you shared. some kind of unspoken connection that can't be put into words. nor do the two for you dare to speak a word about it.
his only eye follows every movement you make.
he follows your trail, hand itching to hold yours in his, to fit all the crevices of your fingers into his. to feel the warmth of your hands.
he did it once. god, did it feel so good to have your hands in his.
it was a spur of the moment decision.
you had fallen asleep hunched over the library table, book left open and your head rested above your arm. he was too scared to wake you up from your slumber, anxious and worried for your already lack of sleep from staying up to study.
your other hand, outstretched across the table, was too inviting to resist.
his finger twitches at the sight of your open palm. the voices inside his head scream at him to turn around, ignore the desire building up from within him, slowly digging the silver roots deeper.
love will be his demise, the longer he desires for it. for a touch of your love.
before he could even get a sense of control over his thoughts, he had already intertwined your fingers with each other. his heart pounds against his chest loudly.
the headaches were particularly painful the following days.
no, he had never told you about it.
and so will the love he has for you die along with his hope, silver roots wrapped around his broken heart that's never ever uttered a single word of love for you. it feels like heartbreak, but how can his heart break if there was no beginning in the first place? when there was no confession, no exchange of ‘i love you's.
the word love builds up like vile in his throat.
but he will be damned if he doesn't show you in some kind of way.
“aren't they adorable!?” tettia quietly coos at the two adults, watching qifrey scoop up another serving of dinner for you without your say so.
“i want something like that when i grow up!”
“they're not together like that, though.” richeh trails off, a thought spiraling on her mind. “master qifrey himself said so.”
“and yet his actions don't match his words.” agott watched on as well, noting the particular way qifrey looks at you.
like you are his world, the very magic in his eye.
“wait, are they not… together?” coco tilts her head. “i assumed they were together. they seem to be so close.”
“unfortunately, master qifrey himself said so.” tettia slumps against the table with a pout. “if that's not what love looks like, then what does it look like?”
“aren't you a little too young to think of love?”
startled, the four girls turn to face you. tettia waves her hand in front of her frantically, “n-no! that's not what i meant!”
“oh ho?” qifrey comes from behind you, cheshire smile plastered on his face. “who is the lucky boy, may i ask?”
“there's no boy!” tettia whines, turning to richeh. “help me out here!”
“coco has a boy.” the girl gasped.
“no i do not!”
“who's tartah then?”
dinner was noisy that night with the girls continuing their playful banter. qifrey watched on with a fond smile, his hand unknowingly reaching out for yours. when his fingers touched yours in the slightest did he snap back to his senses, playing it off by scratching the back of his head.
he doesn't know if you felt it too, but if you did, he's relieved you did not say a word about it.
after dinner, the girls went about their rooms, bidding the two adults goodnight.
“oh, you don't have to do that.”
qifrey steps beside you at the sink, watching you cast a water spell to clean up the dishes.
“it's no problem, dear. you had a long afternoon of teaching already and you cooked dinner. at least let me help clean around.”
dear.
it felt so natural to have you call him by that nickname. like he is that word to you, dear. too domestic, no question asked. there was something about the air around you when he's within your proximity. you radiate so much peace that even he can feel it. it's an infectious thing.
and that's the problem itself.
it feels too good, too peaceful with you, that he fears the roots will take its place once again. he says nothing about everything he feels, because he knows you like the back of his hand.
he knows you love him too.
and it was the reciprocal feelings that he cannot speak about. it's risky, it's painful. oh so painful, that even if he wants to have you for himself, then the silverwood will have him in exchange.
if love is peace, why does it hurt him so?
“qifrey?”
his name sounds so sweet coming from your mouth.
“yes?”
it was then that he noticed the sudden proximity between the two of you. he could feel your warmth from this distance. he can sense the way you shudder when his breath fans along your face. he can feel the way your fingers twitch at his touch, though he wonders when had he taken your hand in his to hold? he can see your eyes so clearly, the swirling pool of color within those crystals mesmerizing, almost hypnotic in a way only magic can tell.
love is, in some way, a magical thing.
“you're beautiful.”
he hears the way your breath falters, your eyes dilating in response to his words. he traces the skin on your cheek with a delicate touch, searching your eyes for some form of misgiving towards his affection.
all of the sudden, fear gathers at the back of his throat, like a fish bone stuck to his throat stubbornly refusing to come off.
this shouldn't have happened.
he wasn't supposed to be this close to you. wasn't supposed to touch you so freely and desire to have more of you. to have you whole to himself. it shouldn't be this easy to have you succumb to his warmth, a faux comfort that hides the true horror within his heart and missing eye.
“i'm sorry, my star, i did not–” he frowns, truly questioning his feeble attempt to resist his desire.
you're too close, oh, so close.
perhaps he should erase your memory of this night?
the thought of taking something away from you, your memories, suffocates him so. but before he could lament his predicament, your hand held his palm against your cheek, a smile so sweet and gentle contrasting the swirling storm in him.
“you don't have to say anything.”
your words were final, like a stubborn stone wedge into the soil or a sword struck deep into the ground. only someone with immense strength can challenge you and qifrey was but a man powerless against all that you are.
“you don't have to tell me how you feel about me.”
your nose nuzzles into his palm, and god did his heart almost leap out of his chest and into your hands. you look at him from his palm, your lips pressed against his skin with a smile.
oh, he's about to faint.
“you don't have to say it out loud. i know what you feel about this. about us.”
“you deserve better than this.” he shook his head in denial. “you deserve someone who can proudly call you the object of their affection. not… this silence.”
he tears his gaze away from your probing ones. he can tell that just by looking at you, he's buying himself his own pot of soil.
“you mustn't chain yourself with a man who cannot even proclaim their affection towards you. what i am is a coward.”
“what you are is my qifrey.”
his heart skipped a beat, or perhaps was it the roots of silverwood piercing his heart?
“you can't just say things like that.” it almost sounded like a whine, and you giggle at how precious he looks right now. with his cheeks flushed and restless eye, looking anywhere but you.
why can't you show some mercy on this man's heart?
“you may have your reasons to keep me at arms length.” he grimaces at the intention of your words, “but i'm already at peace that you still share a part of your life with me. that i still get to stand beside you.”
you gently tug him down, pressing your forehead against his in a nuzzle.
“this… what we share between us may take forever to be spoken out loud,” you place a finger right at his lips, watching his breath grow heavier from the touch. “but i am willing to stand by you for a lifetime and more.”
you lean to kiss the finger atop of his lips, fully pulling back to see his bewildered and already reddening face.
“my dear, you look like you're about to explode.”
“you can't just do that and expect me to remain calm!”
your giggle echoes through the quiet kitchen. qifrey might be a little delirious, he could have sworn he heard the chimes of fairies favoring every sound you make with those extremely tempting lips of yours.
what do they taste like?
“fret not.” your hand caresses his cheeks, “no unspoken words can push me away from you.”
“i don't want to hurt you.” he tries to look the other way, but with your hand tilting his gaze back to you has him melting on the spot. his futile attempt to avoid your intense look has him weak on the knees.
what kind of magic did you cast on him?
“no pain exists when i am within your presence.”
“my dear…”
“shh.”
you pull him a little closer, resting your head just above his collarbone. he's trembling, whether from the promising position the two of you are in or from his fears, you don't mind. not when he's this close to you. the closest he's ever been to you. you'd do anything to preserve this moment.
“you don't have to tell me everything.”
you place a hand on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
“all that matters is we're here.”
his warm and gentle hands press against the back of your waist, finally letting himself hold you in his arms.
your body fits every crevice, resting against his chest.
“i'd wait for a lifetime for you.” you whisper into his robes. “i'll remember you even in my next life.”
“you think that's possible?”
“everything's possible with magic.”
he hopes so. perhaps then, he wouldn't have to wait for another lifetime to feel this once more. to be at peace in your arms, free from all his fear.
perhaps then, he could hold your hand whenever he wants, feel the warmth of your palm against his.
perhaps then, he can tell you the words he's been dying to say. he won't have to fear the consequences of telling you he loves you, oh, so much. that he wants you to be his and him, yours.
YOU LOOK SWEET, AND I HAVE A LITTLE BIT OF A SWEET TOOTH.
PAIRING | qifrey x reader | olruggio x reader
REQUEST | can I request Qifrey and Olruggio with an shy/ introverted partner, please?
NOTE | im not sure if you meant a fic or a headcanon so im gonna go ahead and mix both LMAO also notice the qifrey and olruggio matchy banners hehehe
qifrey finds your shy demeanor very endearing!
he would very much be your spokesperson if need be. you need to buy something but are too shy to ask around for it? he's already leading you to where you need to go. ordering food? he has your order memorized before you can tell him what you want. you know what, he's going to cook whatever you want, just say the word. he's gotchu, no questions asked.
loves to watch you try to step out of your comfort zone though!
you're asking for directions on your own despite your shaky voice? he's right behind you, squeezing your hand in encouragement. you're teaching his apprentice something even if you have no experience in teaching? he's smiling so proudly, patting your head after and telling you that you did great.
loves your reserved characteristics. he likes the thought of being the only one to know what really goes on in your mind. it's like you're inner self is a secret he can keep for himself. he's very selfish when it comes to your attention. he loves knowing that he's the only one who really knows the real you.
qifrey knows you don't like mingling too much, so he's very observant of your comfort in the presence of a crowd. he knows the look in your eyes when you're internally asking him to get you out of a situation, which he gladly does.
also finds it so endearing when you turn shy on him.
a kiss on the cheek and you're already shying away from him? oh no, he's tugging you in his arms, there's no escape when qifrey gets in affectionate.
he knows you so well already, that even if you try to hide, he can tell what you feel deep inside and reassures you that there's nothing wrong with the way you act.
love, love, loooves to fluster you!
“am i doing this right, master?”
“huh? oh- um- ye yes!”
qifrey breathes out a quiet laugh at the stammering of your voice, watching with so much fondness how you gently guide coco's hand to draw in the right angle even with your own shaky hands.
you've never outwardly said that you'd join him as a teacher in his atelier when he first started, feeling pressured when they listen to you speak. also, the title of ‘master' is a heavy role, one you claim to be unworthy of. (qifrey begs to differ) but when the girls had asked you to teach them a certain wind magic you made, your poor heart can't possibly say no to their pouty lips and starry eyes.
“your theory on wind magic and pressure is much easier to understand than master qifrey's.” tettia hums, placing her own drawing in front of you for you to inspect.
qifrey pretends not to hear what she just said, in favor of watching you with an adoring eye.
“well… i think everyone perceives magic in a number of ways unique to themselves.” your voice was small, so is the gentle smile on your face, but it seems your words meant so much to the girls. they all seem to absorb your words deeply, even agott seems to look at you with immense focus.
you shrink from their looks, intimidated by the amount of attention these small girls can give. yet, you still try to satiate their curiosity regardless of your anxieties.
pride occupies his heart so much he feels it would overflow into his actions.
a little later after your impromptu lessons, you busy yourself with tidying up the common room. you were sitting on the floor organizing the unused papers scattered across the coffee table when he suddenly wrapped his arms from behind you.
“qifrey!”
he chuckled against the side of your head, inhaling the scent of your hair with each breath he takes. he could sit here for hours, his body flushed against every crevice of yours, fitting like a glove. he'd hold you like this forever if he could.
“you did great with the girls today.”
“you think so?” you're face showed doubt, hands playing with the elongated ribbon from your hat. “i… i hope i didn't disappoint them.”
oh heavens, have mercy on qifrey's heart for it is ready to surrender into your palms in a pile of sweetly goo.
taking one of your hands in his, his lips kissed your knuckle with such tenderness, a playful and sincere twinkle in his eye when your quiet gasp reached his ears. he can feel the way your fingers slightly tighten its grasp.
“my love, you did fantastic. you've been pushing yourself outside of your comfort zone lately and i think you've done a great job! there's no need to fret, even if it all went wrong, i will be sure to be by your side no matter the results.”
two peas in a pond! the two of you are both shy in your own ways! it's ok though, you can be both awkward together and it'd still look adorable.
he's the “they asked for no pickles” meme.
ould fight anyone that would make you feel uncomfortable in any circumstance!
overprotective! watches all the people around you with great caution and suspicion, he takes your comfort really seriously and will stand between you and whoever's bothering you.
imagine someone tryna talk to you and he's just standing right behind you with a pensive face and all too scary dirty look staring into the poor fellow’s soul.
also loves your shy and reserved demeanor!
there's a fluffy feeling in his chest at the thought that you'd only ask him for help and it's him that you always go to, a feeling so special he wants to cocoon you in his arms and a blanket. it makes him feel warm whenever you turn to him with pursed lips, quietly asking for his help.
the man will stammer through his words but he will go through it for you!!
he doesn't always coodle you though. he encourages you to do your thing, giving you a little push whenever the girls have questions for you, asking you for your opinion out loud in a conversation just so the others turn to you to listen. he accompanies you when you have to purchase something instead of doing it for you, standing beside you like an anchor.
“at this point, we're not going to this picnic at all.”
qifrey sighs, watching the girls bicker back and forth, choices upon choices of foods to bring for the picnic flowing from their mouths like a river. they just won't get along when it comes to which food to bring and qifrey would not want to have too many to bring. it would be a mess to carry all that and clean afterwards.
olruggio, cranky and grumpy from the lack of sleep and too much noise, turns to rest a hand on your waist.
you haven't said a single word amidst the war between the girls, but he can see the way your eyes flutter to the carton of eggs on the other side of the kitchen counter. if his memory serves him right, you were craving some egg sandwich a few days ago.
olruggio rubs his thumb on the curve of your waist, before clearing his throat garnering the attention of the girls.
“hey, i think our resident wallflower would like to make us something for the picnic.”
“huh?” startled, you turn to him with widened eyes. “i… do?”
“really!?” as if on cue, the girls turn to you with sparkling eyes, food choices out of their minds as they wonder what you'd make.
“um… i could make us some egg sandwich, if that's alright?” you turn bashful at the six pair of eyes looking at you, one of them with so much sweetness it makes you feel so light headed. you desperate hope you don't faint sooner from olruggio's stare. “and fruit salad too… i guess.”
“can we have cheese in both!?” tettia ask with a beaming smile.
“o-of course!”
“we can help too!” coco, ever so considerate, scurries with the rest of the girls to the kitchen. you follow behind quickly, worried that they might be too energetic and make a mess of the kitchen.
olruggio slouched in relief, a contented smile on his face while watching you and the girls go about making food, with you helping then around with their task despite your nervousness.
he's just so proud to see you go out of your comfort zone with people you love.
qifrey doesn't eat vegetables because it's cannibalism LMAOHAHSHA
“woah.”
qifrey looks up from his pot of stew, stopping in the middle of adding his last ingredient, which happened to be some chopped carrots and radishes. something you rarely see him add into his meals. a mental image of a young qifrey suddenly appears within your mind; furrowed eyebrows, puffy cheeks while he chews reluctantly, all the while grumbling under his breath about how wonderful the weather is. like an angry squirrel given an onion instead of nuts.
the said man raised an eyebrow in question.
“what's the matter?”
“i think i may have to get my eyes checked.”
qifrey urgently places the carrots and radishes down on the counter to climb the small step of stairs towards you at the entryway of the kitchen, the lines on his forehead creased in concern.
his hand gingerly tips your chin upward, checking around your irises and sclera, “what happened? do they hurt? are you able to see just fine?”
oh, poor, innocent qifrey.
“unless i'm mistaken, those orange and white things you were about to add in the pot…” you struggle to bite the laugh bubbling from the back of your throat.
“things? you mean, the carrots and radishes? what about them?”
qifrey looks almost lost, struggling to connect the invisible dots behind your thinking. surely your eyes are working properly, right? after all, a witch without their vision is equivalent to a fish without their fins.
“so they really were carrots and radishes.”
your voice wavers, hands clutching his wrist for stability, but being face to face with his worried puppy eyes only makes it harder for you. your lungs feel like giving up, it's a little hard to breathe when you're trying not to laugh.
“yes? are you alright?”
“it's just that,” you pursed your lips together. “you haven't had those ‘horrid' things for so long.”
your struggling ends when his face suddenly turns vexed, watching you lean over from laughter and your shoulders shake from the way it wracks up your whole body. how you find this so funny, he doesn't understand.
“what's that supposed to mean!?”
“it means you hate vegetables so much that seeing you cook something with a few is a rarity.”
olruggio snickers at the way you seem to laugh harder, sometimes wheezing for air when it gets particularly hard to breathe.
“oh my god, i'm about to lose my mind!”
“i think you've lost that way long ago.”
qifrey grumbles embarrassingly, cheeks a little flushed from your and olruggio's teasing. you seem to be having the time of your life though, with the way your knees gave up on you, barely keeping yourself up if he wasn't holding you. perhaps he should just drop you, that will do the trick.
“do tell me you've fed the girls more vegetables than this!?”
“if you don't feed them enough vegetables, you'll be a bad influence and they might not eat those too.”
“i take their nutrition very seriously, if that's what you're inquiring about!”
“i bet they don't know what a broccoli looks like.”
SYNOPSIS | the captain and vice captain of the fifth company– they could not be more different from each other in the eyes of all and sundry. but in the battle field, it was no doubt that the two of them are like two peas in a pond.
NOTE | first post in a long time and it's about lohen lmao. also, i need more imunlaukr and mare jivari lore asap please and thank you hoyoverse <3
1,664 | WARNINGS: not much, a cuss here and there and lohen.
“grandmaster varka?”
“is there something that matters, aether?” varka glances at the honorary knight, looking over his person to check if he was injured or hurt anywhere after the battle against the corrupted dvalin from the magic bubble that alice made. after confirming that the traveler is unscathed, he nods to himself and urges him to continue.
“is there something you want to know?”
“i'm a little curious about…” aether ponders over his words before deciding to give it a go. take it or leave it.
“you've mentioned about lohen, the vice captain of the fifth company in the knights of favonius,” aether notes the way varka grimaces at the aforementioned name and resist a snicker. “and how he always disturbs the peace of wherever the wind blows him to.”
“you can say that again,” he exhales loudly, like a parent tired of cleaning up the toys of his children. “that rascal goes around inviting people to spar with him as if it's equivalent to a dinner party or a drink at the bar!”
“reminds me of someone we know very well, eugh.”
paimon shakes her head, praying that the sudden mention of a certain ginger does not call fate for them to meet once again. they had endured enough with the battle against dottore after rerir, the clean up of what's left of the wild hunt and then the abyssal corruption in the magic bubble. any of the sevens could tell how much they deserve some peace and quiet, even for just a week or two. hopefully longer, paimon crosses her fingers.
“he's much more professional inside the knights of favonius business and all, but the moment you set aside the serious stuff he immediately goes running around trying to find a good fight.”
“sounds very bothersome for you, huh.”
“and embarrassing too!”
“speaking of which, does that mean even the grandmaster can't control that freak show of a knight?” paimon prods, arching an eyebrow in question. “what does that say about how you keep your knights in check, oh grandmaster varka?”
“yeah right, go ahead and tease me, as if the two of you can do the same. if you want to try, be my guest!”
“i think it will end up with him asking us to fight him, not the other way around,” aether shakes his head amusingly.
“but! as a matter of fact we do have someone in our midst who can somewhat manage him.”
aether perks up in question. he wonders if there's actually anyone out there who can not only keep up but also do damage control before and after lohen's crisis woven path.
“really!?”
“of course! there's nothing that the captain of the fifth company can't do when it comes to that rabid bunny!” he proudly exclaimed.
“really? a bunny?”
“captain of the fifth company?” aether mulls over loudly. he hasn't heard anyone mention anything about the captain of the fifth company, only their maniac of a vice captain. now that he's thought about it, he didn't see them in nod krai either.
“their name is y/n!”
what kind of captain could actually tame the bloodlust and battle-crazed vice captain of the fifth company?
“they're crazy, that one. i almost thought they lost their mind when they said they wanted lohen as their newest recruit when he just applied for the knights.”
varka places his hands on his hips, voice booming.
“a knight who uses a polearm in the ranged company? are you crazy!?” he reenacts what he had formerly said to the captain. “no one could ever predict their mind when it comes to strategic planning and decision making, but they're a great captain! coming from a noble family, they even made their estate the designated headquarters for the fifth company. generous and chivalrous when it comes to other people, but they tend to close in on themselves. cool and calm like the breeze that passes throught the hills of starsnatch cliff, unpredictable like the howling winds of the ocean and terrifying when the storm hits the shore.” varka wore a smile on his face, recalling memories of the years behind the passages of past times. when he had made them captain of the fifth company, it had caused a ruckus from the knights that doubt the skills of the quiet and young fellow. so many had exclaimed that they lack experience at that time, having only spent less than three years in the knights before being promoted as vice captain and then as captain.
but most importantly–
“now that i thought of it, it makes perfect sense that they chose someone who rarely wields a bow in the ranged company.”
aether tilts his head in confusion.
“why? don't they need someone with a ranged weapon? i too also found it puzzling when i saw lohen's weapon of choice.”
varka barks out a joyous laughter.
“well, that's because his captain doesn't wield a bow and arrow either!”
“huh!?”
having spent the day with the ever eccentric vice captain of the fifth company, lohen, hunting out in the wild for a commission that the latter was assisting him with, aether feels like questioning how such a man was able to secure his position within the knights and if his captain lack compos mentis when they assigned him as their vice president.
aether's not one for judging the book by its cover, but no one can blame him for such a thought. anyone who first laid eyes upon lohen had the same wonders.
however, he does fit chivalrous when it comes to casual settings. it's like he was raised in nobility with his prince-like charm.
the man in question wraps up the elk that the two of them had captured moments ago. with the commission being to hunt down an elk for its hide and carcass, asking who to come to for help in skinning and butchering lead aether to lohen after a game of who's who. it confused him at first, wondering how the vice president from the knights of favonius would know how to hunt and skin an animal. but still, with kaeya's assurance, led him to this moment after witnessing lohen's crazed eyes while hunting down the elk.
like a predator sneaking upon its prey.
“you sure know what you're doing, huh?” aether groans as they simultaneously lift the animal up to the cart, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “i've never hunted something this big before. it would be a waste to eat only a small portion and leaving the rest to rot.”
“you can always store the rest for any day though?”
“and where, in all my time travelling with no permanent place, can i store such a large amount of meat?”
“meh, sounds like a ‘you’ problem,” lohen snort at the unimpressed traveler and started securing the elk in the cart, careful to make sure it wouldn't fall during the transportation. “there must be a big feast for such a large meat on demand, i wonder which family it is for.”
ah, so he has a knack for gossiping too.
“it's a feast for a bachelor party, some big family in the noble lineage. i don't remember which family for, however.”
“sounds bland,” lohen tuts disapprovingly. “i hope he doesn't do something that will thin the line in his marriage, it always happen in a bachelor party. i'd hate for his unfortunate bride to suffer in the near future from heartbreak, should he be exposed.”
aether archs an eyebrow in question, taking his position beside lohen as they push the cart in front, starting their journey back home with the elk in possession.
“you seem to know about a thing or two…”
“when you've attended enough of those, you'll understand.”
“and i'm assuming you had?”
“of course i had! and from some gossips too!” lohen chirps happily, “news spread fast within these walls.”
the two chatter amidst their travel, sharing gossip here and there. aether realizes there's more to lohen than just a crazed warrior lusting for the smell and taste of blood. the more he shows himself, the more colorful his character becomes aside from the murky green hair. his eyes remain suspiciously dull, however.
“i'm a little curious.” aether pinches the wooden handle of the tray.
“shoot.”
“i've never seen the captain for the fifth company before. everyone from the expedition have returned, but i haven't heard anyone being addressed as the captain before.” aether glances beside him. he then realizes…
just how giddy lohen gets when speaking about his captain.
“oh captain! my dear, dearest, captain!”
“huh?”
why is his smile… suddenly got so bigger? and why the dazed eyes!?
lohen breathes in deeply before exhaling, as if wondering where his captain could be or calming his own erratically beating heart just at the mention of his captain.
“an unforeseen event occurred that needed my dearest captain's attention just a few months into our expedition. they had to trek their way to mare jivari all alone!” he places a hand on his chest, looking so crushed at the loneliness he wonders his captain is going through. “honestly, i could've forced my way to come along but they strictly said that i'd be placing myself in solitary confinement if i don't heed their orders.”
the restless lohen, placed in solitary confinement… that's an odd image to imagine, that's for sure.
aether was about to inquire about the details pertaining to mare jivari when lohen flushed a bright pink at an idea.
“i wouldn't mind being locked up alone with them as my punishment if anyone were to ask.”
“what the fuck?”
a sneeze rang throughout the caravan.
“captain, did you catch a cold? in mare jivari?”
“i'm fine, just an itch.” you rub your nose, taking a few deep breaths before resting your back against the wall of the caravan once more, relaxing your fatigued muscles.
“i hope lohen doesn't cause any trouble while we're gone.”
SYNOPSIS | lohen hopes that with his letter that fate grants his wish for you to come home, pronto. he swears he just wants to have another spar with you, but his letter beg to differ.
NOTE | no lohen lore yet, so this will have to suffice.
1094 | WARNINGS | n/a
“to my beloved captain.
i write to you this letter to inform you of the current status of the expedition team in nod krai. we have determined that the one leading the wild hunt was a man named rerir, hailing from the era of khaenri'ah. something something about the sinners of khaenri'ah, or so the traveler says. he had been leading this wild hunt with the power of the abyss to gather his strength and duel with the moon goddess, who we now recognise as columbina, the damselette of the fatui harbinger. all for the sake of bringing back his beloved whose name i did not care to remember about. kinda boring, did not get to fight with him so that doesn't matter much to me. they then met another khaenri'an named dainsleif, who helped them in their investigation and successfully brought rerir into the moon gate, where he cannot leave at will. later on, the fatui harbinger named dottore caused more trouble in nasha town. the grandmaster said that he had almost obtained god-like powers and was already in the process of becoming one himself. all that trouble and he ended up being obliterated by columbina. funny how the harbingers are always at odds with each other, huh? i hope i get the chance to spar with her sometime! with all that said and done, peace had returned to nod krai. well, mostly. there are still more complications with the wild hunt but they are not as far and wide as they once were.
and not a single moment did i get the chance to fight any of those foes! curses, i tell you! i got too immersed in the wild hunt, relishing the unlimited amount of enemies i can kill in just a day! varka didn't even care to contact me for help, darn it!
anyways, those are events of the past! i have returned to mondstadt promptly. kinda sucked, i didn't get to partake in any of the fighting and even became the next mail man for the grandmaster. you should just tell him to get himself a messenger bird just like yours. could save us the trouble of being his next mail man. the expedition team is also on their way back after cleaning up what's left of the incident. meanwhile, the knights of favonius are preparing a welcome celebration for the expedition team. that's all the boring stuff i have to report!
i also write to you this letter in hopes of reminding you to also keep in touch. you haven't written in, what? like a month? you can literally speed write all your reports and paperwork within hours, surely you'd be able to conjure some time to write back? you're slowly but surely scaring the grandmaster into thinking that you've gone missing in action. no worries! i keep telling him that there's no way you'd go down that easy. you're a tough cookie! we've fought so many times and i can personally confirm that the grandmaster underestimated your prowess! you should teach him a lesson sometime. so don't go dying in some unknown place, alright? it would be embarrassing after all the times i kept reassuring the grandmaster that you'd return safely. maybe not unscathed, i'm sure you earned yourself a few battle scars, but that's something you should be proud of! i'd prefer it if you'd come back with no serious issues or major injuries, just so we can spar at once when you get back!
please inform me ahead of time of your return, it would be greatly appreciated if you also write something in response, just to quell the panic within our division. as much as it irritates me to say, they do miss you and are worried about you as well. so do i.
also, you owe me a few duels. you think i'd forget how many saturdays went by without a spar? nope! you are not getting out of this one! each saturday is a spar that we must have. how many saturdays went by? i didn't count, but you better not come back lousy or unprepared! i will have my spear at the ready, in time for your return! well, maybe not on the day of your arrival but later on! i must make sure that my captain stays in shape as their vice captain!
please write back to me if this reaches you or i will personally follow you to mare jivari. i also eagerly await your return, everyone is boring here. until next time, my captain!
yours truly, your vice captain, lohen.”
signing the bottom of the letter, lohen leans back in his chair with a satisfied smile. he glances towards the desk at the other side of the room, the chair empty and the surface of the desk completely cleared of any mess. a knife sits on a display, newly polished and sparkling under the sunlight from the wide open window.
the desk reminds him of your own mission and how long it has been since you last sat on your desk, working yourself to the bone with reports and whatnot.
oh, how he misses the glare you always directed at him whenever he interrupts your work.
with a miserable sigh, he folds the letter and tucks it in a small container before pushing himself to stand. he approaches the window, where a messenger bird perched on a potted tree, awaiting his letter. he clips the small container on its leg, securing it before handing the bird its treat.
“there you go,” he gently coos at the bird, scratching under its beak. “make sure to give my captain a good pecking, yeah? they deserve that much.”
the bird coos back in response, as if agreeing.
“good birdie, now go on.”
he opens the window and watches the bird fly away to the distance. he hopes the letter finds you well. he wishes time could fly faster, so that the day you return to mondstatd will be sooner. he wonders how he would greet you at the gate. is it with a spear in your face? does he hug you with every ounce of love he has for you, enough to break a rib or two? or is it just with a smile that shows how relieved he is that you're back? he much prefers the first option, but he'll come back to it once the day finally arrives.
for now, all he can do is wait patiently, and hope that your return will be soon in the near future.
SYNOPSIS | spiderman!lohen au | lohen should leave you a five star review for cleaning the bloodstains on his suit. if only it wasn't his spiderman suit. he should kill you after.
NOTE | look at me posting an hour after i said my writer's block is horrible.
1,536 | WARNINGS: lohen.
spiderman!lohen didn't know whether to commend you for your skills or to tie you to a chair and question what you knew about him.
well, you don't exactly know him, per se.
but he's been a customer of your laundry shop since he's moved to your neighborhood. every sunday, he would come and do his laundry in peace. it was a lovely chore; getting your clothes washed, being surrounded by lovely smelling fabric conditioners, soaking upon the warmth of the dryer after, and organizing your freshly cleaned clothes. it felt good to wear newly washed clothes. there's also a coffee machine and snack area that he can help himself with while listening to the lofi music that's always player in the background.
the silence and tranquility of the laundry shop was a plus.
most customers would come and ask for cleaning service, leaving behind their clothes and lohen to his comfy lonesome. if they do stick around, they don't strike up a conversation with him. after all, your regular customers were tired people wanting to relax while waiting for their clothes. they're simply tired busy people, all minding their own business. some of them tend to sleep on the waiting areas too.
it's been a couple of relaxing weeks, with a few run-ins with burglars and good-for-nothing nobody's.
until a thief decided to smash your glass window and demand for money in the middle of the night.
lohen was merely passing by after dealing with a group of criminals, suit bloodied and a few tears on the fabric, when his spidey senses began to tingle and his webs led him to his favorite laundry shop.
“hand me the money, now!”
was the first and last thing he heard before he came barreling through the broken window. both of his feet met the side of the man's head, his unconscious body flying across the room and into one of your machines.
“oops.” lohen scratches his head awkwardly. he didn't intend to hit one of your washing machines.
“sorry about that!”
weirdly enough, you look unbothered as you are. the clothes behind you on the tabletop are a disarray, a pile of clothes in plastic sacks piled over each other and the items on the reception counter from where you stood are thrown to the side. your face blankly stares at him, cash in hand, before your shoulders slump forward with a relieved sigh.
“were you really going to hand that over?”
“were you expecting me to choose death over compliance?” your response was dry as the clothes freshly taken out of the drying machine.
“well, normally, people would put up a fight.”
“i hardly call a sudden burglary incident a normal encounter for a lot of people.” threat unconscious and nowhere threatening, you carefully place the stack of cash back into the cashier. “it's just money, i hardly think my life is worth… a few dollars of cash.”
“oh wow, that's… optimistic of you.”
you don't look optimistic at all. in all the times he's been here, you only ever have a bored look on your face whilst folding the laundry, never looking too pleased or too annoyed.
just a balance of neutrality and boredom.
but with lohen’s current predicament, neutrality is barely a choice. he's been pushing himself beyond his limit lately; over fatigued body walking here and there in the police station he works at, dragging himself after his shift to swing across cities at night. he barely gets any rest when he gets home. he can manage two to three hours of sleep before he jumps back to his feet for work. it's how he came to the decision to avail your cleaning service for his laundry.
and how he came to his predicament as of now.
lohen's spiderman suit and his bloodied uniform is nowhere to be seen.
the adrenaline of losing one of the evidence of his late night activities kept him on high alert. varka had half the mind to send him home in the middle of his shift with how many times he'd snapped at the junior officers at the station and mindlessly stared off in the air, conclusions upon conclusion of where he'd left his suit building up in his mind.
one of those conclusions is that he had thrown the suit and uniform in his laundry basket while half asleep.
the same laundry basket he's about to retrieve from your laundry shop.
the same laundry basket you handed over without so much as a reaction, just your usual bored look while you resume to tend to your other customers. you barely bat an eyelid when he had asked if you had come across his bloodied police uniform, leaving out the part of his bloodied suit.
“sorry, i don't pay enough attention to remember what each of your clothes look like. if you want, you can recount the number of clothes if it matches the ones you've sent to me. if you're missing one, just let me know.” you said, before you turned away from him.
the same basket that contained clothes the poured into his bed in search of the said suit and uniform (he grimaced when he noticed the straight folded lines of the ones you had ironed and folded, efforts wasted in vain).
the same basket that indeed had the same suit and uniform.
only difference is that both of the offending clothes are spotless and squeaky clean, almost good as new. you even sewed some of the tears in his suit.
there was no way you hadn't paid attention like you said. he doesn't even know how to clean up those bloodstains without scrubbing the hell out of them, and even then there will still be some dark spots left after drying them up. he would've left you a five star review for the amazing work you did, but all that clouded his mind is that you've seen his suit.
now, lohen stands in front of your shop once more, a laundry basket in sweaty hands.
“good evening,” you come running from the back of the shop, a stack of clothes in your hands. “oh, welcome back.”
lohen forces a smile on his face (varka always said to smile before confrontations) rocking back and forth on his heels. he feels antsy, the question screaming in the back of his mind feels heavy. the oncoming migraines are a pain in the ass.
“yup, got some cleaning to do! it's sunday, after all.” he looks around the shop, relieved to see that there's only two washing machines running but no people in sight.
lohen should kill you while he still has the chance.
“you don't seem to have many customers tonight.”
“most of them left a little earlier.” you approach the counter, where he stands in anticipation. after a few clicks on your keyboard, one of your washing machines beeps in response. “you can take those to number five.”
“thanks!”
lohen needs to find the perfect moment to pose his question, watching you work from the corner of his eyes. the buzz of the machines around him was deafening, it kind of represents the way his mind is spinning; confused and anxious with the way you're nonchalantly doing your work without addressing the laundry he sent last week.
all of the sudden, your voice rang across the shop.
“are you a cosplayer or something?”
“what?”
lohen turns to look at you fully, though you haven't spared him a look. you seem content folding the clothes on your side of the shop.
“your costume.” you repeat, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
lohen thought you've figured him out. that he was the spiderman, beating and killing criminals left right and center. but no, instead of thinking the obvious, you thought he was merely an imposter. a cosplayer.
lohen couldn't stop the snort that escaped his mouth.
“ah, so you did saw the suit!”
perhaps playing along with you is the safest solution.
“i did.” you turn to him this time, and he doesn't fail to catch the interested glint in your eyes. “the fabric was spandex, but it's more sturdy than your usual type of spandex.”
he listens to you go on and on about the suit, the way the texture of the fabric felt beneath your finger and the way it stretched when you pulled just a bit. lohen admits, he hasn't heard you speak this long. he could count the number of words he's heard you repeat before tonight and right now was reaching a world record. and your eyes, gosh, why do they look so sparkly all of the sudden? you make it look like the stars outside in the night sky are a shame and lohen's spent countless nights gazing up at the sky when he's all but spent from the adrenaline after a fight.
lohen should model the suit for you. only if you ask though. he wouldn't mind. he should tell you though. maybe.
“you seem to know a lot about fabrics.” he approaches the counter, resting his chin on a palm.
