A

Hm, the grandmaster wasn't incorrect in his observations. He had been consistent in his streak of recklessness and impulsiveness, always seeking out danger and excitement without much regard for consequences, causing everyone a headache at one point or another.

Now he's extending that migraine to the grandmaster for having the audacity to ask for his blessing on marrying his adoptive daughter.

Though he sensed more words lingering on the tip of Varka's tongue, he patiently allowed himself to be quiet and listen for a moment.

"However," the older man lifted his finger as an emphasis of the gravity of his next words, "you will not marry her," he said firmly, sizing up his fatherly glare to the boy's nonchalance.

Lohen cocked his head to the side, as if he didn't understand why the grandmaster would deny his heartfelt request. With a frown, he replied. "Why not? I'm more capable of protecting your daughter from harm than anyone else."

Varka stammered for a bit, attempting to make logic of his concerns before finally speaking. He sighed heavily, running a rough hand over his stressed face before answering, "Again, I don't doubt your capability of protecting her."

Lohen continued to press on the matter, his body slightly leaning over curiously. "Then what is the issue?"

Varka didn't respond right away, bringing out his emergency flat metal container of booze from the pockets of his jeans, uncapping the circular lid, and then replying. His eyes gently cast down at the awaiting drink. "[Y/N] is still trying to figure out what to do with her life."

He paused, taking a quick sip of the alcohol, and then continued with a sigh. "She just turned into a lovely young woman and has stuff that she is passionate about, sure. But I don't want to interfere with her path by just accepting," he motioned with his hand toward Lohen. "Your blessing without her input."

He took another sip before looking back up at the latter. "And of course, as her father, I don't just casually let suitors into her life without giving them a quick clash to prove their worth." He chuckled lightly, shaking the half-emptied container in his hand. "My daughter deserves a man who is willing to work for her love and respect, not just someone who expects it to be handed to him on a silver platter."

Though his eyes had little warmth beneath them, only a fair warning.

"Is that all clear?" Varka said with a sense of finality.

Lohen was silent. Remarkably rare for him, as he usually had a quick response ready. Though his silence should not be mistaken as an agreement to the wise words of the grandmaster, it was more likely a sign of defiance or just plain ignorance. "Then could you relay the message to [Y/N]?" he requested.

Varka deadpanned. "Are you even listening to me, kid?"

"Oh, I did," Lohen replied, nodding his head. "If you wish to know how serious I am about your daughter, then let's settle it with a duel." In the blink of an eye, blue swirls of energy enveloped Lohen's hands as he materialized a polearm that gleamed in the sunlight, ignoring a certain red-headed individual's annoyed protest of, "If you're gonna bring bloodshed, at least get out of the tavern."

The casualness had eventually transformed into that signature maniacal grin and bloodthirsty glint in his dull red eyes that Varka had seen too many times before.

At this point, Varka would rather assume that Lohen wanted an excuse to fight him under the guise of proving his commitment to his daughter.

Kids these days…

"You are really going to extreme lengths just to prove a point," Varka remarked, pinching his nose in disbelief. "But if that's what it takes for you to show your dedication, then so be it."

He rested his hand on the back of his chair, pushing himself up to stand, and cracking the joints in his neck as he did so. "What are you two doing?"

Both men froze at the familiar owner of that sweet voice.

There you stood at the entrance of the tavern, your hand positioned on the wooden door frame, a look of curiosity and concern etched on your face. You took the opportunity to use the silence as an edge to assess the situation unfolding before you, wondering why the hell they are trying to cause a ruckus as an invitation to be permanently banned by the tavern in the middle of the night.

You looked first at your sheepish father, scratching his blond hair in awkwardness, and then at the Lohen who was still equipped with his weapon, as if ready for a fight or really ready for a fight.

His battle-hungry expression schooled back into one of casual indifference as he caught your eye, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

"Good evening, my lady," he said with a slight bow, his tone laced with practiced charm. "We were just having a little chat with your father here." He motioned with his head to the old man who's currently giving him a look, though the gesture was disregarded purposefully, and then Varka turned his attention to you, clearing his throat.

"So… Uh, how's the progress of your collaborated research with Albedo, sweet pea?" he asked, forcing a poor attempt at a smile, sitting back on the stool as he tried to hide the awkwardness that flickered in his eyes.

At the mention of the affectionate nickname from a long, long ago, your face scrunched up in disgust. It had been quite some time since he had addressed you with that endearing term, and using that specifically now felt like a deliberate attempt to divert your attention from the bigger picture.

"What is going on here, Dad?" you replied, arching a distrustful eyebrow.

Silence followed after your question, the tension in the room palpable as you waited for his response. Finally, it was not your father who cracked the stillness, but rather the part-time bartender himself, Diluc.

"This gentleman," Diluc said, setting his gaze at Lohen while keeping his hands busy cleaning the same glass over and over again, "has asked for your father's blessing to propose to you." Then he shifted his bored gaze back to your unusually quiet father, a hint of amusement betraying his expression despite the border of professionalism he maintained.

He can already tell the simmering betrayal emitting from Varka, judging by how tensed his jawline is and how his grip on the container tightens.

"Pro…proposal?" you stammered, your face burning from feeling caught off guard by the mention of an unexpected proposal.

Diluc nodded in confirmation, a small smirk playing on his lips as he observed your flustered reaction. "I'll leave the rest of the details to them," he said, gesturing towards your father and Lohen. He placed the glassware on an open upper cabinet, mouthing to you, "Good luck," before excusing himself from the situation to avoid getting tangled further in the delicate family matters.

Now, it was just the three of you, and maaaaybeeee, a knowing audience secretly watching the drama unfold from a discreet distance.

Your father chugged down the remaining booze from the container, swiping off the dripping juice from his chin with the back of his hand and sighing heavily. "As Diluc stated, yes, he was trying to get my blessing to marry you."

He tightened the lid of the container and set it back on the counter, his expression unreadable. "And I refused his request."

"YOU REFUSED HIS REQUEST?!"

The sheer volume of your bewildered voice jolted your father, causing him to flinch slightly. Even Lohen was stunned, but slightly touched by your shaky reaction.

He returned the bewildered stare, his eyebrows knitting together as if he weren't expecting the intensity of your reaction. "Hey, keep it down, will you?" he muttered, glancing around to see some of the drunkard fools furthering indulging themselves with the drama until they wisely looked away after catching his warning-like glare.

"I refused to give him my blessing until you give me your permission to marry you,"

He scowled. "But I doubt you would agree; you're doing fine on your own without boys trying to flock over you—"

"Then I want to marry him!"

"Huh?"

"Please let me marry him, Dad!"

Lohen looked back and forth at the father-daughter interaction with profound intrigue, his heart swelling with a mix of emotions.

Well, this is certainly unexpected, he thought to himself. But he wasn't complaining either.

You pressed forward before courage could desert you again.

"I've… I've liked him for a long time, Dad." Your voice cracked on the admission, with your cheeks scorching hot. "Months? I don't know, maybe longer?" You scratched your head in frustration, running your hand over your disheveled hair.

"It just is, okay! I know he throws himself into every fight like it's the only thing that makes him alive… but he still finds a way to check if I'm okay first, even when he always comes back bruised. " You swallowed hard, eyes now fixed somewhere near Lohen's boots because looking at either man right now felt impossible.

"I keep waiting for the right moment to say something, but every time I tried, my tongue kept getting stuck… I was too shy to confess."

Silence stretched thin and fragile.

Then the said man exhaled; that might have been relief dressed up as a scoff. The blue energy coiling up around his polearm flickered once and dissolved; the weapon vanished into motes of light as though it had never been summoned. His posture loosened, his shoulder dropping the battle-ready tension he'd worn like armor.

He turned toward Varka, lips curling into that familiar, infuriatingly smug smirk.

"See?" Lohen drawled, spreading his hands in mock innocence. "No need for bloodshed after all. Your daughter just gave her permission herself." The red glint in his eyes sparked with self-satisfaction, then softened a fraction when his gaze slid back to you. He confidently approached you, his hand taking yours, and kissed it gently. "You save a lot of trouble for us, my lady."

You blushed at the unexpected praise, unable to contain your wobbly smile.

Meanwhile, Varka dragged a hand down his face, muttering something unintelligible that sounded suspiciously like a prayer for patience to Barbatos. After a long beat, he finally looked between the two of you, expression caught somewhere between resignation and reluctant fondness.

The consequences of being a parent to a daughter, he guessed. He's more flexible when it comes to letting you get away with things than he'd like to admit, but he couldn't deny the pleasure it brought him just to see you happy.

"…Fine," he grunted, his voice rough.

He fixed Lohen again with a glare. "But if you make her cry even once, kid. I won't need a duel. I'll just bury you under Stormterror's Lair and tell everyone you got lost on a routine patrol."

Lohen's grin widened, unfazed by the protective-fatherly threat. "Noted."

Varka groaned. "I need another drink for this. You two are going to be the death of me."

Then his gaze drifted to your intertwined hands and grumbled. "Save the PDA for when you're married, please. You two are not allowed to hold hands in public until then."

"Daaaaddddd!" you whined, sending him a half-hearted glare.

Lohen brushed off his feeble warning with a chuckle. "We'll be sure to keep our hands to ourselves until the big day, Grandmaster."

"Though I wished to know now what my fiancée's preferences are for her engagement ring." Surprise flickered in your eyes as you glanced at Lohen, who was already gazing back at you with tenderness. "Shall we browse together tomorrow?"

You would be a fool to refuse such a thoughtful gesture from him.

LOHEN HAD NEVER been subtle about anything he felt, though he liked to believe otherwise.

It was obvious to everyone else in the Knights of Favonius, the way his attention shifted the moment she entered a room, how his usually composed expression softened just slightly whenever Y/n was nearby, and how he always, without fail, ended up standing closer to her than he needed to.

Y/n, however, never reacted to any of it in the way people expected.

She was calm in a way that felt almost distant, an angelic presence who spoke softly and moved like she belonged to stillness itself.

There was kindness in her, yes, but it was quiet, evenly distributed, never leaning toward anyone in particular.

Even Lohen, for all his obvious attempts, was met with the same measured courtesy she gave everyone else.

“You are staring again,” one of the knights eventually muttered under their breath.

Lohen didn’t bother denying it. His gaze remained fixed across the courtyard where Y/n stood speaking with another knight, her posture perfectly composed, her voice low and steady.

There was nothing remarkable about the moment to anyone else, yet he watched like it was the only thing worth seeing.

“I am observing,” he replied calmly, though no one believed him.

He tried in every way he could think of to bridge the distance between them. Small gestures at first, like offering assistance she never asked for or bringing her tea he insisted was perfectly brewed.

Later, it became more deliberate, lingering near her during meetings, timing his steps so he would walk beside her without making it obvious he had planned it that way.

None of it changed how she treated him.

Not negatively. Not positively.

Just… the same.

“Lohen,” she greeted him one afternoon as he approached, her voice as soft as ever.

He stopped immediately, as if that alone required his full attention. “Yes?”

She gestured slightly to the space beside her, expression neutral. “You are blocking the light.”

He blinked once, then stepped aside without question, “Of course.”

There was no hesitation in him, not when it came to her, and that in itself had become its own kind of problem.

It was not that she ignored his efforts. She acknowledged them. She always did. When he brought her tea, she thanked him. When he offered help, she accepted or declined politely.

When he stayed nearby longer than necessary, she simply continued her work as if his presence was no different from the wind outside the windows.

One of the knights once asked her directly if she knew Lohen was in love with her.

She had paused for a moment, thinking about it with genuine consideration, before replying simply, “Is he?”

That answer reached Lohen faster than anything else ever had.

Still, he continued as he always did, because stopping felt stranger than being ignored.

One evening, he found her alone on the balcony overlooking Mondstadt.

The wind moved gently through the space between them, and for a while neither of them spoke. It was a familiar kind of silence, not uncomfortable, just unfilled.

Eventually, he stepped closer, stopping at a respectful distance, though he always seemed to struggle with what that meant around her.

“Y/n,” he said quietly.

She turned her head slightly. “Yes?”

He hesitated for a rare moment before asking the question he had avoided for far too long, “Do you dislike me?”

That made her look at him properly, her expression unchanged but thoughtful in the way she always was when something required honesty.

“No,” she answered after a pause. “I do not dislike you.”

There was a slight relief in his shoulders before she continued, still calm, still unhurried.

“I simply do not interpret your behavior the way others do.”

He understood what she meant immediately, though it didn’t make it easier to hear.

“You are aware,” he said quietly.

She nodded once, “You are affectionate toward me.”

There was no teasing in her voice, no embarrassment in his. Just fact, stated plainly between them.

Silence settled again, heavier this time.

Lohen exhaled slowly, his gaze shifting away for a moment before returning to her, “And you do not feel the same.”

It was not a question, and she did not treat it like one.

Instead, she answered with the same quiet honesty she always used. “I do not feel much in that way. But I do not find your presence unpleasant.”

It was not what he had hoped for, but it was not rejection either.

And somehow, that mattered.

He leaned lightly against the railing beside her, allowing the silence to stretch again, though it no longer felt empty.

“Then I will remain present,” he said simply.

Y/n glanced at him, then back toward Mondstadt. After a pause, she responded just as calmly, “That is your choice.”

Needless to say, they did absolutely nothing and the maniac has continued to torture you by popping up at your door, sitting at your chair, sometimes even just outright laying down your bed. “When did you become part of this household?” “You mean how I got your key? Don’t worry about it, little mage. You adore me, anyway.” Oh, you could just rip his hair out.

It might be the first time you’ve ever wanted Alice’s experiment to be repeated. Unfortunately, you can’t exactly threaten the life of a skilled warrior and go against your own principles solely because he was annoying.

You really did just have to suck it up and adapt. Which shouldn’t be that hard. Except of course, it very much is.

Right now, Lohen found himself sitting right beside your work station, nudging every once in a while. He heard you murmur a while back, “Do you not have work to do?” but he chose to ignore it for the sake of not being kicked out. Instead, he observes.

You were busy practicing a type of magic you’d found fascinating. You’ve never had the chance to learn it until Alice gave you the key a few days ago—to try and make up for giving you the Vice Captain.

“In my defense, dear, I tried telling you it was him! You cut me off, so it’s your fault.” What a way to deflect the blame!

“Say…” Oh no, he’s speaking again. You sighed and turned your gaze toward him, setting your hands on the table. You probably needed a break, anyway. “What.” “Don’t be like that! I’m trying to offer myself as a test subject, here.”

“Excuse me?” Did you hear it right? Probably, given that he’s all smiles as he chewed gum (you don’t even know where he got it, really). “You’re trying something, yes? I’m a very willing torture— erm, test subject. No grudges.” He held his hand up, swearing as he grinned.

“Do you even know what I’m trying to do?” You sighed, clicking your tongue as you rested your chin on your palm, looking at him in distaste.

He’d be lying if he said that gaze of yours didn’t do anything near making his heart skip. Ah..I should focus. “Given who your mentor is, something probably bordering dangerous.” He tried shrugging it off in an attempt to conceal the slight shake in his voice. He’s excited. He’ll probably end up unable to function properly for at least 3 days.

You hummed in agreement. Can’t argue with that. “Still..you have duties as a Vice Captain, right? Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you that. Are you sure you have time to be hanging around with me like this? Well, leeching.” His smile faltered a little before it went back to normal, “I’m quite free. Besides..” he leaned closer, “I’m yours, anyway.”

Shivering lightly, you pushed him by the chest. That does no good to the heart. Proximity is dangerous, treat it with care. “I believe we’ve already established you’re not a rabbit and you’re not my pet.” He rolled his eyes, murmuring softly to himself, “not what I meant.” before recovering to a better heard voice. “Does it not increase your chances? Of success?” “Again, you don’t even know—“ “Then say it already.” He sounded a bit exasperated now.

Now, you’re not as eccentric as your mentor nor the other Hexenzirkel members. But, you had to be, to some degree, to even be accepted as an apprentice. To be someone who challenged fate itself, someone who can promise change.

Thus, you’re no different in terms of desires. You’ve been trying different ways of magic, typically similar to your mentor, but less hazardous to people or were-people. And lately, you’ve been interested in Alchemy and Environmental Engineering. Which brings you to your current experiment: a device, life-form, or even simply a potion that can alter a space or land into a better version of itself. A direct opposition of the Withering found in the wilderness of Sumeru, something that creates improvement rather than help innovation. However, a device would be better. You’re not about to risk utilizing the art of khemia, nor do you want to go for something as simple as a potion.

Lohen’s eyes scanned you for a moment as a small pout almost reached his lips. “You’re taking too long to answer.” That seemed to snap you back to reality, as you looked at him once again. “I’m thinking of creating something that can be attached to humans. A device to improve the land they’re walking on.” You respond while in deep thought still, gears turning and turning to find the best possible way to make it happen.

“How..benevolent.” He hoped it was something like an explosive device. Well..experiments ought to still show unfortunate results. “As I’ve said, I don’t mind being used.” You hate how his voice seems to sound excited at the end of his sentence. “A flawed device is prone to explosion. You’d end up losing a limb.”

“Sounds fun.”

-

“Lohen!” Your voice rang out and echoed in the silence of the forest, startling the animals that quietly gathered. This included the boar, which you currently have the appetite to fucking eat, that attacked the device that was strapped on Lohen’s ankle. Obviously, it exploded.

Your worried voice sounded so tantalizing to him. Better than he thought it would. He was fine—quick enough to use his spear in taking it off of him before it did any real damage to his ankle.

But you didn’t need to know that.

Panting from running as fast as you could, you cleared out the smoke coming from the device, eyes immediately trying to discern his current state.

Lohen looked somewhat pained (you’re not sure if it’s that or he’s actually excited), breathing sometimes coming out in quiet gasps (really, hopefully from pain). “How much does it hurt? Did the boar bite you in any way, as well?” Your questions were hurried but logical, as you tried to be. Kneeling beside him, your face contorted with nervous anticipation. You still couldn’t quite see the damage yet. Somehow, a piece of cloth is covering the ‘wound’.

“It’s not too bad..” he says after a while with a grunt, biting his lip. Then, he signaled you to come closer with his hands before it found yours, grasping. You let him entwine his hands with yours without thinking much of it. “What is it? Your pain tolerance should be high enough. Wait here, I’ll try and make a heal—“ “Little mage, listen.” He cut you off, resting his forehead with yours. Your eyes looked at him with quiet regret. This is exactly what you told him would happen.

Still, you waited for his words as he closed his eyes every now and then, seemingly collecting himself.

After around 10 minutes passed with you two being on the same position, it was starting to get suspicious. You didn’t yet have it in you to remove his hold on your hand as it could very much be something to ease the pain, but his choice of look was starting to feel strange. Did he have to rest his head on your forehead like that? Eventually, the proximity and physical contact got you as you felt heat rise from your neck and to your cheeks and ears, gulping. This is not what you should be feeling in this situation.

As you contemplated whether or not you should move and say something, a few minutes had passed once again. This time, Lohen’s composure fully broke. “Are you that worried for me, little mage?” “Obviously! Look, come on and get up—“ “hold me, then.” “You don’t sound pained at all?!”

You were nearing your wit’s end when his other hand, the one not holding yours, removed the cloth covering the ankle where the device was attached. Aside from the fabric itself being somewhat torn, he looked completely fine. Was he bluffing? You couldn’t be too sure yet, and you’d rather not risk accusing someone to be faking pain.

“..how did it not..?” Your confusion was adorable, he thought. “I do believe I avoided the actual explosion.” You nodded and gulped, relief flooding your senses before you tried standing up, only to feel his hand grip yours tightly. “A-ah, it does still hurt, you know?” He’s quite the terrible actor, given that his expression shows he very much wasn’t in pain. You grunt, “Does it now?” He nodded, trying his best to fake a frown despite the smile gnawing at his lips. You sighed deeply.

Whatever it is he’s trying to gain from this, he did still help you. So you suck it up once again, lifting his arm and letting it rest upon your shoulders as you helped him get up.

By the time you were back in your humble home, you’d have heard the endless tales of his battles. All you got from it was that he was reckless, really. Still, you sat him atop your bed as you collapsed beside him as well. He basically had you carry him, the way you had to drag his weight! He grinned, lying down as well. “Well? The pain?” Ah, right. “Subsided.” You hummed, “great. Thanks, you can leave.” His eyes widened slightly as he tried to wince. “O-ow..? Uh, not that much.” Oh, great. Suddenly it’s not bearable.

“And what will help?” Absolutely nothing, you surmise. There’s no cure for his insanity. “I think…” he began, thinking for a moment before your sight changed from the side of your bedroom into his something harder. Like a chest. Like, his chest. Why do you always somehow find yourself in this situation, you wonder?

“This, probably.” He continued as he sighed in relief, trying to keep his chuckle to himself as his hands wrapped yours around him. “It’s not a very effective way of healing, I’ll have you know.” You mumbled against him as you tried distancing. He snickered, “Really? Don’t lie to me, little mage. Last time I experienced this I turned back into a human.” Like hell that’s a legitimate solution! Before you could respond, he sat upright, sitting you on his lap as well as he inhaled your scent. His arms wrapped you, making himself comfortable as he sat back. His subordinates can rest for a while before he trains them. They probably need it, anyway.

Hm, the grandmaster wasn't incorrect in his observations. He had been consistent in his streak of recklessness and impulsiveness, always seeking out danger and excitement without much regard for consequences, causing everyone a headache at one point or another.

Now he's extending that migraine to the grandmaster for having the audacity to ask for his blessing on marrying his adoptive daughter.

Though he sensed more words lingering on the tip of Varka's tongue, he patiently allowed himself to be quiet and listen for a moment.

"However," the older man lifted his finger as an emphasis of the gravity of his next words, "you will not marry her," he said firmly, sizing up his fatherly glare to the boy's nonchalance.

Lohen cocked his head to the side, as if he didn't understand why the grandmaster would deny his heartfelt request. With a frown, he replied. "Why not? I'm more capable of protecting your daughter from harm than anyone else."

Varka stammered for a bit, attempting to make logic of his concerns before finally speaking. He sighed heavily, running a rough hand over his stressed face before answering, "Again, I don't doubt your capability of protecting her."

Lohen continued to press on the matter, his body slightly leaning over curiously. "Then what is the issue?"

Varka didn't respond right away, bringing out his emergency flat metal container of booze from the pockets of his jeans, uncapping the circular lid, and then replying. His eyes gently cast down at the awaiting drink. "[Y/N] is still trying to figure out what to do with her life."

He paused, taking a quick sip of the alcohol, and then continued with a sigh. "She just turned into a lovely young woman and has stuff that she is passionate about, sure. But I don't want to interfere with her path by just accepting," he motioned with his hand toward Lohen. "Your blessing without her input."

He took another sip before looking back up at the latter. "And of course, as her father, I don't just casually let suitors into her life without giving them a quick clash to prove their worth." He chuckled lightly, shaking the half-emptied container in his hand. "My daughter deserves a man who is willing to work for her love and respect, not just someone who expects it to be handed to him on a silver platter."

Though his eyes had little warmth beneath them, only a fair warning.

"Is that all clear?" Varka said with a sense of finality.

Lohen was silent. Remarkably rare for him, as he usually had a quick response ready. Though his silence should not be mistaken as an agreement to the wise words of the grandmaster, it was more likely a sign of defiance or just plain ignorance. "Then could you relay the message to [Y/N]?" he requested.

Varka deadpanned. "Are you even listening to me, kid?"

"Oh, I did," Lohen replied, nodding his head. "If you wish to know how serious I am about your daughter, then let's settle it with a duel." In the blink of an eye, blue swirls of energy enveloped Lohen's hands as he materialized a polearm that gleamed in the sunlight, ignoring a certain red-headed individual's annoyed protest of, "If you're gonna bring bloodshed, at least get out of the tavern."

The casualness had eventually transformed into that signature maniacal grin and bloodthirsty glint in his dull red eyes that Varka had seen too many times before.

At this point, Varka would rather assume that Lohen wanted an excuse to fight him under the guise of proving his commitment to his daughter.

Kids these days…

"You are really going to extreme lengths just to prove a point," Varka remarked, pinching his nose in disbelief. "But if that's what it takes for you to show your dedication, then so be it."

He rested his hand on the back of his chair, pushing himself up to stand, and cracking the joints in his neck as he did so. "What are you two doing?"

Both men froze at the familiar owner of that sweet voice.

There you stood at the entrance of the tavern, your hand positioned on the wooden door frame, a look of curiosity and concern etched on your face. You took the opportunity to use the silence as an edge to assess the situation unfolding before you, wondering why the hell they are trying to cause a ruckus as an invitation to be permanently banned by the tavern in the middle of the night.

You looked first at your sheepish father, scratching his blond hair in awkwardness, and then at the Lohen who was still equipped with his weapon, as if ready for a fight or really ready for a fight.

His battle-hungry expression schooled back into one of casual indifference as he caught your eye, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

"Good evening, my lady," he said with a slight bow, his tone laced with practiced charm. "We were just having a little chat with your father here." He motioned with his head to the old man who's currently giving him a look, though the gesture was disregarded purposefully, and then Varka turned his attention to you, clearing his throat.

"So… Uh, how's the progress of your collaborated research with Albedo, sweet pea?" he asked, forcing a poor attempt at a smile, sitting back on the stool as he tried to hide the awkwardness that flickered in his eyes.

At the mention of the affectionate nickname from a long, long ago, your face scrunched up in disgust. It had been quite some time since he had addressed you with that endearing term, and using that specifically now felt like a deliberate attempt to divert your attention from the bigger picture.

"What is going on here, Dad?" you replied, arching a distrustful eyebrow.

Silence followed after your question, the tension in the room palpable as you waited for his response. Finally, it was not your father who cracked the stillness, but rather the part-time bartender himself, Diluc.

"This gentleman," Diluc said, setting his gaze at Lohen while keeping his hands busy cleaning the same glass over and over again, "has asked for your father's blessing to propose to you." Then he shifted his bored gaze back to your unusually quiet father, a hint of amusement betraying his expression despite the border of professionalism he maintained.

He can already tell the simmering betrayal emitting from Varka, judging by how tensed his jawline is and how his grip on the container tightens.

"Pro…proposal?" you stammered, your face burning from feeling caught off guard by the mention of an unexpected proposal.

Diluc nodded in confirmation, a small smirk playing on his lips as he observed your flustered reaction. "I'll leave the rest of the details to them," he said, gesturing towards your father and Lohen. He placed the glassware on an open upper cabinet, mouthing to you, "Good luck," before excusing himself from the situation to avoid getting tangled further in the delicate family matters.

Now, it was just the three of you, and maaaaybeeee, a knowing audience secretly watching the drama unfold from a discreet distance.

Your father chugged down the remaining booze from the container, swiping off the dripping juice from his chin with the back of his hand and sighing heavily. "As Diluc stated, yes, he was trying to get my blessing to marry you."

He tightened the lid of the container and set it back on the counter, his expression unreadable. "And I refused his request."

"YOU REFUSED HIS REQUEST?!"

The sheer volume of your bewildered voice jolted your father, causing him to flinch slightly. Even Lohen was stunned, but slightly touched by your shaky reaction.

He returned the bewildered stare, his eyebrows knitting together as if he weren't expecting the intensity of your reaction. "Hey, keep it down, will you?" he muttered, glancing around to see some of the drunkard fools furthering indulging themselves with the drama until they wisely looked away after catching his warning-like glare.

"I refused to give him my blessing until you give me your permission to marry you,"

He scowled. "But I doubt you would agree; you're doing fine on your own without boys trying to flock over you—"

"Then I want to marry him!"

"Huh?"

"Please let me marry him, Dad!"

Lohen looked back and forth at the father-daughter interaction with profound intrigue, his heart swelling with a mix of emotions.

Well, this is certainly unexpected, he thought to himself. But he wasn't complaining either.

You pressed forward before courage could desert you again.

"I've… I've liked him for a long time, Dad." Your voice cracked on the admission, with your cheeks scorching hot. "Months? I don't know, maybe longer?" You scratched your head in frustration, running your hand over your disheveled hair.

"It just is, okay! I know he throws himself into every fight like it's the only thing that makes him alive… but he still finds a way to check if I'm okay first, even when he always comes back bruised. " You swallowed hard, eyes now fixed somewhere near Lohen's boots because looking at either man right now felt impossible.

"I keep waiting for the right moment to say something, but every time I tried, my tongue kept getting stuck… I was too shy to confess."

Silence stretched thin and fragile.

Then the said man exhaled; that might have been relief dressed up as a scoff. The blue energy coiling up around his polearm flickered once and dissolved; the weapon vanished into motes of light as though it had never been summoned. His posture loosened, his shoulder dropping the battle-ready tension he'd worn like armor.

He turned toward Varka, lips curling into that familiar, infuriatingly smug smirk.

"See?" Lohen drawled, spreading his hands in mock innocence. "No need for bloodshed after all. Your daughter just gave her permission herself." The red glint in his eyes sparked with self-satisfaction, then softened a fraction when his gaze slid back to you. He confidently approached you, his hand taking yours, and kissed it gently. "You save a lot of trouble for us, my lady."

You blushed at the unexpected praise, unable to contain your wobbly smile.

Meanwhile, Varka dragged a hand down his face, muttering something unintelligible that sounded suspiciously like a prayer for patience to Barbatos. After a long beat, he finally looked between the two of you, expression caught somewhere between resignation and reluctant fondness.

The consequences of being a parent to a daughter, he guessed. He's more flexible when it comes to letting you get away with things than he'd like to admit, but he couldn't deny the pleasure it brought him just to see you happy.

"…Fine," he grunted, his voice rough.

He fixed Lohen again with a glare. "But if you make her cry even once, kid. I won't need a duel. I'll just bury you under Stormterror's Lair and tell everyone you got lost on a routine patrol."

Lohen's grin widened, unfazed by the protective-fatherly threat. "Noted."

Varka groaned. "I need another drink for this. You two are going to be the death of me."

Then his gaze drifted to your intertwined hands and grumbled. "Save the PDA for when you're married, please. You two are not allowed to hold hands in public until then."

"Daaaaddddd!" you whined, sending him a half-hearted glare.

Lohen brushed off his feeble warning with a chuckle. "We'll be sure to keep our hands to ourselves until the big day, Grandmaster."

"Though I wished to know now what my fiancée's preferences are for her engagement ring." Surprise flickered in your eyes as you glanced at Lohen, who was already gazing back at you with tenderness. "Shall we browse together tomorrow?"

You would be a fool to refuse such a thoughtful gesture from him.

Ever since becoming his girlfriend, Lyney found he had a particular jinx; all because one evening he fucked you so hard backstage before his performance, filling you so full of his sticky cum, and his show ended up being the greatest one yet. The next performance, he wanted to test out his little theory; fucking his cock into your tight cunt til his cum was leaking out and dripping down your thighs. Lyney had yet another show stopping performance.

When he told you his theory, you had simply laughed, “Seems like you just want to relieve some pre-show nerves. I doubt it’s some type of jinx, my love.” The cute little pout on Lyney’s face made it hard to take him seriously. You give him a kiss on the cheek, “I don’t mind this little routine though. If it means getting fucked so full of you before a show, I’ll do it.”

Tonight was a performance that Lyney knew he couldn’t fuck up. It was meant to be another show stopper with prominent Fontaine guests in the audience. You made your way to his dressing room as you usually did. Lyney was seated at his vanity touching up his hair when he saw your reflection behind him in the mirror. The corners of his lips curl upwards, “There she is~”

You smirk in response, “I have something special for you tonight…Master Lyney~” Lyney turned his body in his chair to face you as you begin to undo the buttons of your dress. The soft material slips off your body, revealing a red lacy lingerie set with a black garter belt that matched his. Lyney’s lips part, taking in every inch of you with his violet eyes. Lyney almost wanted to curse his innate feline genes for almost pouncing on you right then and there. The way you looked right now and using that title he'd teased you with before was almost too much for him to bear. He wanted to be able to take his time with you, or at least as much time as he could before he had to make his way to the stage.

Lyney gets up from his seat, sauntering over to you with a sultry look in his eyes. His fingers reach out, tracing the lacy edges of your lingerie, "Look at my sweet girl dressed so provocatively... Wearing my extra garter belt no less." He runs his finger under one of the straps and pulls it back and releases, letting it lightly slap back against your skin. Your breath catches in your throat as he does so. Arousal pooling against the thin fabric of your panties when he leans in, his lips grazing yours as he speaks in a low tone, "I have something special for you too, mon chaton~" Lyney backs away from you, the lingering touch from his lips sets you ablaze with desire.

Lyney digs through his pocket and pulls out a carnelian pendulum with a mischievous glint in his eyes, "Be a sweetheart for me and keep your eyes on crystal, yes?" You draw your bottom lip between your teeth and nod, fixing your gaze on the pendulum. Your eyes follow the swinging pendulum as Lyney begins to speak, "Relax your mind and your body... Focus on the sound of my voice..." He continues on as you feel your mind go blank. He smirks at your dazed expression, now having you fully under.

He softly caressed your cheek, running the pad of his thumb across your soft lips, "Be a good girl and get the purple rope, yes?" All you can do is nod and follow his instructions. Lyney's cock twitches as he watches you bring back the rope he requested. He takes it from you hands and moves behind you, his lips against your ear, "Arms behind your back, mon cherie~" Of course, you comply. His voice filling your mind like a sweet melody that was only meant for you alone. A tingling sensation pricks at your skin as the ropes loop through your arms just tight enough for you to be forced to stay in that position, unable to touch him.

Lyney's fingers trace your skin as he moves to the front of you, admiring how gorgeous you looked. He takes hold of the straps of your pretty bra between his digits, using his pyro vision to carefully singe them just enough to let a piece of them burn away. The straps fall loose to your back and he singes the front connecting the cups. Your perky breasts are left exposed to his lustful gaze as the bra makes a soft noise when it lands on the dressing room floor. You squirm a little in your spot as the need between your legs begins to consume you. Your eyes stuck on his violet ones that burn with deep desire, "Be still, mon chaton."

Your lips part as you let a soft moan slip when Lyney cups your breasts in his nimble hands. He squeezes and massages them, mesmerized by the way the plushness squishes between his fingers. He lowers himself and leans forward taking one pebbled nipple into his mouth; his rough feline tongue flicking and swirling around it. Your body tries to fight against the hypnosis, desperate to tangle your fingers in his hair as his rough tongue does its work on your body.

Leaving your breasts sore and swollen, Lyney kisses down your body softly til he's eye level with your clothed cunt. His eyes flit up to your face, pleased to see you looking so needy. He taps your thigh twice, "Spread out so I can enjoy my pre-performance meal." You comply, taking a small step to the side to give him more room. Lyney smirks, "Bonne fille..." He places his hands on your thighs and licks a stripe through your thin panties. He lets out a broken groan at the scent and taste of you as your arousal soaked the material. Lyney tugs at the panties until they rip and glide down, now hanging loosely around one ankle.

Your moans fill the small dressing room as he dives in between your folds, lapping up your juices with his rough tongue. His grip tightens on your thighs as you shake with pleasure; his tongue relentless against your sensitive clit. White hot pleasure courses through you as you cum on his tongue, making him snarl as he overstimulates you, unable to get enough of your taste. "Please, Master Lyney~!" you cry out, feeling as though your legs are about to give out from underneath you. The title you give him and the way you taste and smell kicks his feline instincts into full gear. Lyney needed to breed you.

Lyney straightens up and tugs you by your garter belt to his vanity. He bends you slightly and tangles his fingers in your hair, pulling your head up to look at the reflection of you both in his mirror. "Oh, mon chaton... See the way you look right now? I simply can't resist~", he chuckles as you whimper when you're forced to look at how dazed and desperate you are for him. He undoes his pants, tugging them down just enough for his twitching cock to bob free against your ass.

Lyney's hands travel down your curves and to your round ass, giving your cheeks a light squeeze. He spreads them apart, giving himself a better view of your leaky pussy. He moves his hips, letting his fat pink tip rub against your cunt and gather your arousal. Lyney stills himself, his tip pushed against your wet entrance as he leans over, locking eyes with you in the reflection, "Keep your eyes on us." Unable to do anything other than what he says, your eyes widen as a pretty cry leaves your lips as he pushes himself inside of you.

His fingers dig into the fat of your hips as he fucks into you deep and hard. Lyney completely loses it when he sees your eyes flutter and drool slips from the corner of your mouth as you keep your eyes on the lewd display. His pace becomes harsh as the tip of his thick cock bullies your insides over and over, "Need to breed you nice and full... Need to see your cute stomach swell with my children- Fuck, mon amour...-" His hips stutter when he sees the white ring of cum that had formed at the base of his cock. Lyney lets out a breathy chuckle, running his fingers though his hair, “Creaming around my cock? You must really want me to breed you, huh”

You’re so fucked out the only way you can respond is by moaning over and over. You looked angelic and so fucking slutty that when your eyes crossed in pleasure and your tits bounced in time with his thrusts, Lyney releases a whiny moan. With a final thrust, his hot cum floods your fluttering pussy. His cock throbs as he regains his senses, groaning as he pulls out and his cum begins to leak from your cunt.

As much as the sight of his cum leaking from you filled his ego, Lyney needed it to take. Quickly grabbing a silicone prop, he pushes it inside your pussy with a curved smile, "You shouldn't let my seed go to waste. We need to keep you stuffed full 'til my cum takes..." Your eyes meet his devious ones in the vanity mirror, still looking for more. A sudden knock on the door causes Lyney to snap from his thoughts as Lynette's voice sounds from the other side, "Lyney, it's time."

"I'll be there in a moment!", he calls back and then lets out a sigh. His gaze returning to your dazed one. Your were still under his hypnosis... Lyney's voice is saccharine when he speaks his next words, "Sit still at my vanity and don't even think about covering up or fucking yourself on the prop that's keeping my cum in you." A sly smile forms on his lips when you let out a small whimper when you sit, making the silicone prop push deeper inside of you. Lyney presses a slow kiss to your lips and smiles, "Ma bonne fille..." He readjusts his clothes and fixes his hair one last time before heading out for his grand performance,

And what a performance it was. A standing ovation, thrown flowers covering the stage, and raving reviews from the prominent figures of Fontaine; all thanks to you. Lyney walks back to his dressing room and his lips curl up when his gaze lands on your shaking, restrained body still sat as his vanity as your own arousal had pooled in the chair. You were his lucky charm, his special jinx; and oh how he would reward you for being so perfect.... Breeding you time and time again.

જ⁀➴✧:･.˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.・જ⁀➴✧:

Lyney’s gloved hands gripped the curve of your waist firmly, the pads of his fingertips digging into your soft flesh as he sinks your hips back down onto his hardened cock with a soft grunt of pleasure. You were forced to hold onto the cool armrests of the throne to keep yourself steady, the unexpectedly cold surface causing your walls to spasm and flutter around him. Groaning lewdly in your ear, Lyney was practically hypnotized by the way the white ring of your essence coated the base of his cock.

Your poor little legs were shaking. You couldn’t count how many times Lyney had made you cum, and yet he was utterly insatiable tonight. The erotic mixture of your fluids lubricated every inch of cock nicely. His smug, seductive laughter was a beautiful soft melody in your ears as the magician teased the tip of his length at your entrance, watching the nuances of your orgasmic expression once more.

With the ends of your sexy little red dress lifted up in his right fist, his other hand smacked your ass loudly. “You wore this on purpose, didn’t you, mon amour?”

A bratty whine rumbled in your throat as he forced you to continue fucking yourself on his throbbing length. You couldn’t possibly muster up a coherent response in your cockdrunk state. Cute little pants adorned the sound of your sex slapping onto his pelvis lightly smeared with your juices.

Lyney yanked you back by the hip to bury his needy cock into you, abruptly pulling the front of your dress down so your breasts spilled out into the open air. He loved feeling the enticing, malleable flesh between his fingers, occasionally pinching your adorable nipples to earn a sweet little moan out of you.

“Oh, fuck,” he murmured from behind, taking his thumb under the string of your lacy thong to get an unobstructed view of how your slutty hole gripped and swallowed his cock over and over. Lyney’s voice was deep and honeyed, enough to have you whimpering under your breath in anticipation. “Don’t you cream on my tights now. You’ve been such a good girl for me tonight, (Y/N).”

“Mm, mhmm,” you nod obediently, focusing intensely on the sensation of his cock continuously stretching your walls in the most delicious rhythm. You swear he must have memorized the exact spot that drove you wild. “Y-you fuck me… so good…”

“Mon amour, please, you’re doing all the work,” Lyney’s voice resounds lowly into the shell of your ear, smug and soft as velvet. He leans into your neck, nibbling at your sensitive skin. A seductive giggle warms your shoulder and sends shivers prickling down your spine. “Why don’t you let me work my magic, hm?”

You settle yourself completely onto his pretty cock, resting your back gently against his chest. Lyney continues to encourage you with sweet nothings, distracting you with his words of praise while gloved fingers cup underneath your plush thighs and spread your legs. He gently guides your legs apart to set your calves onto the cool armrests on either side of you.

You hear him draw in a sharp breath as your spongy walls suddenly tighten again. “Are you trying to milk me dry, mon cœur?”

“I’m sorry. C-can’t help it,” you mumble, practically a whimper as this position has your cunt clenching down and damn near feeling every curve and contour as Lyney’s cock angles into you from underneath.

He smirked, presenting the pink petals of your wet flower long decorated in cum to the empty gardens of the Opera Epiclese. Though it was just the two of you and the mechanical dancers below, the mere thought of anyone catching a glimpse of how his thick cock split you open was beyond thrilling to Lyney. Call it a showman’s pride in his performance.

And for Archon’s sake, every little bit of movement had you rolling your head back with a litany of soft-spoken profanities and prayers leaving your lips. Yet you found yourself curious, leaning forward slightly, mesmerized by the way he stuffed you nice and tight.

Lyney chuckled, always one to study and revel in his audience’s wonder, and even more so with his secret lover. He drank you in like fine wine, pupils dilating and swirling with endless pool of desire as you struggled to take him like this.

“Give me your fingers, ma chérie,” he asks, though his tone is surprisingly firm. It wasn’t really a question. You reached around your shoulder to offer him a shaky hand, your breath catching as something hot and wet envelopes your index and middle finger. “Touch yourself.”

Heat flushed your cheeks as Lyney’s warm saliva drips from your digits. Parting your folds, you liberally massaged in circles around your clit, already a bit swollen and puffy from your previous lovemaking sessions on the throne. You curse under your breath between moans, reaching further down to trace your fingers at the bottom of his cock and marvel at the way he disappears inside of you.

The magician groans faintly, the brush of your fingers leaving him extra sensitive as you grind your hips into him. His words come out as a desperate whisper in the night air, a plea only your delicate ears are privy to. “H-hah, fuck, it’s so perfect… ‘n’ made for me.”

Lyney’s hands trail down your sides lovingly, making sure you’re well adjusted to his length in this unique position. In the wake of his fleeting touch, he plants featherlight kisses wherever possible on your spine. He presses a final chaste kiss on your shoulder blade before leaning back, cupping the bottom of your thighs to support you.

“Call my name, mon cœur, that’s all I ask,” he groans, thrusting his cock fully into your dripping hole. You cry out, gasping as his tip reaches the deepest part of you and rubs against every lovely ridge of your walls. Lyney hushes your loud moan, not to deter you but rather to comfort you.

Caressing the innermost parts of your thigh, the magician effortlessly holds you from underneath to help you relax around his cock. He can see your back muscles loosen up, and he whispers to you, “Look up—look at the moon—she’s our spotlight, yeah?”

“Keep your pretty eyes on the heavens. I promise I’ll take you there,” Lyney coos, the timbre of his voice laced with longing. You were hopelessly ensnared in his web of passion and temptation, more than willing to submit to his saccharine words and whims. He smiled, praising you as your eyes drifted up to the full moon. “Je t'aime.”

Just as your reply was on the tip of your tongue, the magician squeezed the bottom of your thighs and finally bucked his hips up ruthlessly into your cunt. Despite how much Lyney prepared you for this position, he still stole your breath away. It was all you could do to meet the intensity of his thrusts. “L-Lyney…! Oh my god, fuck… keep going, p-please…”

Your orgasm was already stirring in the depths of your pelvis with Lyney pounding against your G-spot repeatedly without fail. His grip on the flesh of your hips became possessive, a low growl following his rapid thrusts. “Did I say to stop touching yourself? I want you a fucking mess on my cock.”

Apologies weren’t what he wanted. This was the final act of the night before you were to be separated for Archons knows how long. Lyney wasn’t about to waste this precious time without giving you the moon, the stars, and the whole damn universe—rocketing you to your climax after you fingers messily flitted across your clit.

“Lyney! I’m cumming, a-ah!” you nearly screamed in pure ecstasy and amazement, your legs quaking and threatening to collapse onto him. Waves upon waves of pleasure wash over you. You couldn’t believe how he relentlessly fucked your release into your sopping pussy, utterly blissed out and wishing for his seed like a whore.

Coaching you through your strongest orgasm yet, he exhales heavily and clutches you tightly, “That’s it, that’s it. Yeah… Sing for me, mon amour. You feel so, so good.”

Just as your climax reached its crescendo, Lyney’s cock twitched inside you and dribbled cum out of your abused hole when he pulled out. His fingers were buried into your skin, certainly enough to leave a bruise on your hips in the morning. Even though the magician was exhausted after the night’s worth of lovemaking, he spun you around and captured your lips softly—wanting to taste your post-orgasmic pants for air.

“It’s a shame,” Lyney chuckled warmly into your mouth, seemingly unable to detach himself from your decadent lips. “I really liked this dress on you.”