˚₊‧꒰ა 𝔧𝔲𝔭𝔦𝔱𝔢𝔯 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

HSR Honkai Star Rail

╰┈➤ Boothill x Argenti

ཐི ྐ❤︎ ཋྀ Pillow Talk

╰┈➤ Boothill

ཐི ྐ❤︎ ཋྀ I love ya' lots

ཐི ྐ❤︎ ཋྀ Chargin' Port

ཐི ྐ❤︎ ཋྀ Boothill Headcannons

Genshin Impact

╰┈➤ Kyryll Chudomirovich Flins

ཐི ྐ❤︎ ཋྀ Amatory

ཐི ྐ❤︎ ཋྀ The Azure Flame

ཐི ྐ❤︎ ཋྀ The Azure Flame Pt. 2

ཐི ྐ❤︎ ཋྀ Of Fang and Fae

VHD Bloodlust

╰┈➤ D

ཐི ྐ❤︎ ཋྀ Silence

Lately, everything feels... confusing. A relentless schedule certainly hasn’t helped, but even when things quiet down—if only for a moment—your thoughts inevitably drift. Always, they circle back to Flins. For the past month, he’s occupied your mind, his presence slipping into every thought, persistent and inescapable.

The worst part is that you can't tell if these thoughts are even productive. Sure, it's never productive to get stuck in a daydream when you have more important things to worry about, but maybe these thoughts will be of use if you can get some clarity from them.

You've noticed how strange Flins acts around you— or maybe it's around everyone? It's hard to tell because hes naturally so charming and gentlemanly to others. Is his hand resting on your back while he escorts you away from the danger of the Wild Hunt protocol? Maybe he just wants to ensure your safety, or maybe it's something more like an excuse to keep you close. He often gifts you intricate coins and gems, purchasing you ones that oddly match your personality and preferences. You swear there was something about accepting gifts from fae... You had searched in libraries, but there was nothing to confirm or deny the dangers of it.

Sometimes, his words would slip—he’d lace a conversation with a honeyed “dear” or “darling,” the words leaving as quickly as they came before you could challenge him. But each time, it would send a rush of warmth blooming across your cheeks, your heart thumping in your chest. Did he scatter these tender names like petals at everyone’s feet, or were they reserved just for you?

Yes, Flins has always been kind and generous to you; it's part of his personality, but you can't help but think perhaps this is more than friendly. Your mind always wanders back to the memory of falling asleep in his lighthouse and waking up with him in your lap— granted, he was in his lantern, but no matter if it was ‘human’ Flins or lantern Flins, he still took the opportunity to practically cuddle up in your lap. Why did he choose to do that? Does he even need to sleep, let alone in your lap? You can never find a worthy answer to these winding questions. Perhaps a second opinion could provide some clarity?

That's how you found yourself here at the Flagship, sitting at the bar next to Grand Master Varka. Hes a funny and agreeable person, and lucky for you, he happens to be friends with Flins.

"Mr.Flins? Yeah, what about 'em?" He questions, taking another swig from his oversized jug. Hes rather loud and boisterous, something unaware of his volume, but the music and chatter of every other drunkard in the bar makes you unconcerned about someone overhearing your conversation. Contrastly, you take a sip of your preferred drink, quietly trying to figure out how to best word the question you're about to ask.

"Okay, this is gonna sound weird— bear with me." You start, swirling your drink. "Does Ky— Flins ever say anything about me? I know it's strange, but I have many questions..." Varka's eyebrows raise in surprise as he laughs, hitting his hand on the bar table. "Haha! Oh, man!!" He takes another huge gulp of beer, slamming it on the table. "Flins talkin' about you?! Listen, I'd love to help you out, but a man's gotta follow bro code!"

Bro code? Is Varka serious right now? The literal Grandmaster of Mondstadt is following something as silly as bro code???!?!??!

All you can do is stare at him with your jaw hanging. Is he serious? You're about to pinch yourself to hopefully wake up from this dream when you're interrupted by his laughter. "Haha!!! Your face is priceless!" With a smile, he runs his fingers through his hair. "Now, if you can strike a deal with me, maybeee I'll spill a few secrets. I'm far from as closed-lipped as Nefer is." You rub your temples. Of course hes being difficult about this, but it inherently confirms that Flins does talk about you, and it has to be something of importance for Varka to need a favor to tell you. You laugh dryly, already trying to think about what you could possibly do to hear what mysterious things Flins has said about you.

"Okay, okay, fine. What do you want?" You retort, resting your chin in your palm and waiting for his answer. He hums, tapping his chin as he ponders what could be worth breaking this 'bro code' with Flins.

"Dandelion wine." He smirks, pointing behind the bartender where the wall of bottles sits on display. "All the dandelion wine has been stuck in transit for Archons knows how long; there's not a bottle left in Nod-Krai."

⊱༺༒︎༻⊰

Your brows furrow as you read over the names of people responsible for the exports from Mondstadt. Your most promising person was a man named Diluc Ragnvindr, who was the owner of the Dawn Winery, the sole production site of dandelion wine. You never thought you'd be so invested in Mondstadts wine industry, but curiosity was getting the better of you, and you were determined to get ahold of this wine no matter what. Now, the problem was figuring out how you were gonna get ahold of this Mr. Ragnvindr...

You had asked around for names and companies that were responsible for this screwed-up transit and wrote them down on a notepad, followed by some other to-dos and doodles scattered around. You wandered aimlessly around Nasha Town, the moon hung high in the sky, and illuminated Teyvat. Stuck in a trance of swirling thoughts, you made your way around a corner only to be met with a firm blockage, stumbling back slightly.

"Oh, I apologize, miss."

When you regain your footing, you're met with black and purple clothes, dull metal chains, and belt clasps, along with a flickering blue lantern... It was Flins you just bumped into.

Embarrassment swarms your face as you compose yourself. "Oh! I'm sorry I didn't see you—" He chuckles softly as you wave your hands, you seemed flustered to have bumped into him here. "No need for apologies. What a pleasant surprise seeing you here." You nod in agreement, trying to shake the nervous jitters out. You close your notebook and tuck it under your arm, meeting his pretty eyes. "What brings you to Nasha Town at this hour?" He asks.

Of course, he asks this... There's no way you could tell him why you're here, getting information about dandelion wine production and planning your trip to Mondstadt. A little white lie wouldn't hurt. "Ah, I'm heading out of town tomorrow for some work stuff." You hoped your tone was believable. He nodded and smiled, stepping closer. "I see. Well, I bid you safety and good luck on your travels tomorrow. I presume you're heading home now? Allow me to escort you back." He holds out his gloved hand to you with a handsome smile, leaning down the slightest bit. His courtesy and kindness were something you could never refuse, so you placed your hand atop his. "I suppose, but it's alright, I really don't need to be escorted."

As you both begin walking, he tuts to himself. "Well, that just won't do." He lets go of your hand, letting his find its way onto the small of your back. You tense slightly at his unexpected touch, yet you find that you don't hate it. "I wouldn't be able to sleep if I allowed you to return home alone without protection."

"You don't sleep to begin with..." He only chuckles in response, settling into a comfortable and casual conversation. The whole walk home, you were hyper aware of the feeling of his hand settled on your low back. His touch was gentle on you, holding you just enough to keep you close while keeping things respectful. You wondered what he was thinking about during this. Was this completely casual? Or was he also thinking about this simple contact as much as you were? Whatever the case was, you soon arrived at your front door.

"This unexpected meeting was most enjoyable, dearest." Flins removes his hand from your back and takes your hand in his. You flick your gaze over to him, watching as he gently brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles so soft you barely even feel it. Instantly, you felt a flush of warmth wash over you, eyes blown wide as you watch in flustered shock. You're certain Flins is aware of the emotions hes invoking in you, his lips curl into a cunning smile as he drops your hand back down to your side. "Be safe tomorrow, don't hesitate to call me if you need my assistance." He leaves and bids you farewell before you can even respond, watching his dark coat dissipate into the foggy night. Your mind was clouded with so many emotions, all you could do was admit defeat and go inside.

As you prepare everything needed for tomorrow, your mind is elsewhere... It's like it's impossible to think about anything other than him. Hes strong and capable with plenty of knowledge about the battlefield, yet, in contrast, he can be so gentle and caring. He can take instant control of a dangerous situation and eliminate the threat before it even gets a chance, and he can also take your hand in his so gently and place a fleeting kiss to say goodbye. The parallels of his personality only enhance his charming qualities.

It was difficult to fall asleep, but the day's exhaustion eventually caught up with you and drew you into a blissful slumber. When you awoke, you set off for Mondstadt. Determined and ready to handle whatever situation was thrown your way, that pesky Flins was still stuck in your head as you traveled to the Nation of Freedom.

The scenery was beautiful: verdant leaves and soft grass coat your view, and you can't help but notice how much brighter the sky is here compared to Nod-Krai. There were unique flowers, such as Windwheel Asters and Cecilias that sprang up on the edges of the paths you followed. You waved to a few friendly traveling merchants and watched as the wildlife played and bounced around in the foliage.

It was a rather peaceful journey, thankfully, and you soon found yourself in front of a large bridge. It was a lively town full of people and peace, pigeons fluttered above your head as you entered the city itself. It smells like warm stone and faintly earthy, a hint of cecilas barely noticeable when you don't catch a whiff of alcoholic beverages.

Eventually, you found yourself inside Angels Share— right in front of Mr. Ragnvindr. He was tall and reserved with striking red hair. He seemed somewhat bored while working, wiping a glass and pouring drinks for others. “Excuse me,” You called out, coming up to the bar in between two empty seats. He looked over at you, a somewhat unreadable expression on his face.

“Welcome to Angels Share… You aren't from around here, are you?” He inquires, and his voice is rich. You settle down on the stool, laughing briefly. “No, I'm just here for… business, I suppose.” He turns over to a tall woman, her skin sickly colored with short magenta hair. She looked goth and intimidating, and she didn't say anything except slide her glass over to Diluc. He poured her a drink, still listening to you and giving you occasional glances.

“I need to buy a bottle of Dandelion wine.” You explain, watching him work deftly in front of you. “It's a favor— for Varka.” He perks up at the name, pausing as he turns his full attention to you. “Varka?” You nod, hoping that mentioning the grandmaster somehow didn't cause an issue. Diluc laughs under his breath, murmuring something along the lines of “These damn Favonious Knights”, and giving the gothic woman a look.

“Whatever this favor is, you’ll need more than just one for Varka.” He and the woman chuckle, and he turns and heads into a back room, disappearing and leaving you and this woman at the bar. “I'm guessing that delivery hold up to Nod-Krai is really getting to him.” She jokes, taking a large sip of her drink and musing to herself. Shortly, Diluc returns with 3 bottles in hand, setting them on the counter. “Out of courtesy for Mondstadts Grandmaster,” He wraps them and packages them in a box with an “Angels Share” logo on them, “And for your wallet, I'll discount you for these.” He pushes the box towards you, a gentle smile on his face, though you can tell there's an underlying annoyance — possibly at Varka. He was kinder than you expected; he certainly looked strict and somewhat played the part.

You left Angels Share giddily. The package was sealed, and you were so, so close to finding out what Flins said about you. Was it sweet like a toothache, or was he more serious and down-to-earth with his comments about you? It consumed your thoughts the entire way home to Nod-Krai, and you got back relatively late. The moon was already high in the sky when you walked into the Flagship, a big victory smile on your face as you spotted the blond man sitting down at a booth.

“Varka!!!” You exclaim, slamming the box down on the table and eagerly waiting for him to realize what present you brought back. He looks at you, and then at the box on the table before erupting into a loud laughter, excitement swelling full in his tone. “No way?! Is this the real thing?” He laughs, opening the box and finding bottles of his precious wine inside it. He gazes at it like it's liquid gold, taking a bottle out and popping it open before taking a nice, long swig. He sighs deeply after, leaning back into the booth as he relaxes and slouches. His gaze flicked up to you. “Well, I guess I owe you.”

Settling in the seat across from him, you nod, eagerly waiting for him to tell you. “Took me all day… I made a day trip to Mondstadt.” Varka muses over his drink, nodding along and listening to the details of your journey— it was the least he could do after you spent the whole day trying to get this favor for him.

“Well… Flins.” Varka interjects when there's a break in the conversation. “I'm guessing you wanna hear about what he said?”

You nod eagerly, sitting a little straighter. Everything you were contemplating gets discussed right now, and the truth about the matter will be exposed. You've wondered if there are deeper feelings at play, and this conversation will hopefully confirm or deny them. Varka smiles as he adjusts in his seat, preparing himself.

“Alright, it happened a couple of weeks ago.”

The flagship was loud and bustling, the crowd cheering as patrons participated in the drinking game. It had been going on for hours at this point, countless people joining in and tapping out— or rather physically being unable to drink anymore. Flins and Varka had taken a step away from the chaos, now sitting at the bar closer to the wall.

They shared a simple and casual conversation, both a little too drunk to be completely coherent. They mused on their drink, indulging in the alcohol and the bustling atmosphere. “You ain't bring your lil’ partner here tonight?” Varka bumbles, watching how Flins perks up at your name. The Ratnik adjusts in his seat, catching Varkas' gaze. “Partner?… I hate to break the news to you, Grandmaster, but they are not mine…yet.” He almost sulks out his answer, the last word whispered under his breath as he stares down at his reflection in the glass of his drink.

Varka scoffs, chuckling and taking a swig of his drink. “Whaddya mean?! Jus’ about anyone can tell you gotta crush on ‘em.” He slurs his speech, playfully shoving Flins shoulder. He grumbles from the contact, resting his head in his arms on the table. “Don't… humiliate me.” He sighs in defeat, his gloved finger drawing patterns on the old wood of the bar counter. “I can't bring myself to admit such things…”

The blonde tuts, shaking his head and patting his dear friend on the shoulder, more roughly than he meant. “Hey, now. Don't say that! I‘m sure it’ll be fineeee.” His reassurance only soothed Flins partly. There's no guarantee this will magically work out. You're mortal, and hes Fae. Sure, Flins has developed feelings for humans many times in his long life. He rarely acts on said feelings, though, in this case, he wonders if he should let loose. “I appreciate your concern, Varka.” The Ratnik murmurs, the alcohol making him a little less gentlemanly and now casual. “I just— they have such a beautiful soul. I cannot resist.” Flins tired eyes meet Varkas as he sighs.

“There's a constant flutter in my being when they’re around. I can't help but feel drawn to them…” An image of you flashes in his head, and Varka can tell because he bashfully tucks his face into his arms, hiding the warmth in his face. “I want to spoil them with everything I have. Ah, I wish I had invited them here tonight.” The grandmaster decides to stay quiet and let Flins dig himself into a deeper hole.

“Have I told you I've been on the hunt for a gem or a piece of jewelry for them? I've had rotten luck; nothing is quite right. It has to match their preferences perfectly… Perhaps when I find it and gift it, then I should confess how I feel…? Ugh, no— that's too close to marriage…” Flins runs a hand through his tousled hair, still leaning over onto the counter. “O-Okay, Flins, I hear ya’. Y’know— maybe just tell them straight up one day: Pull them aside to somewhere quiet and save everything you're telling me now for their ears!” Varka explains, but the man before him doesn't seem to be finished.

“Sometimes, I can't help but enjoy their scent… some days it's stronger than others, and I can tell when they choose to wear perfume or not. I enjoy it all the same, though. Oh, how I wish they were mine…” He exhales, almost whining and sulking, while keeping his head bundled between his strong arms. Varka pats his back, softer this time. “Oh man… you've got yourself in the mud. Maybe it's time to go back home for the night, you're hammered…”

Varka finishes his story by washing it down with dandelion wine. He had to be lying, there's no way Flins felt that way about you— and admitted all that to Varka!? You want to smile and jump around, squealing at the news just broken to you, but you have to keep it inside and gush about it later. “You're serious!!??!?! Flins said that, about me?!” Varka laughs and nods, not feeling an ounce of guilt for spilling his dear friend's secret. “Yup! Lemme tell you— when he first started going on and on about you I thought he was just being dramatic or just pulling my leg, but no, he was dead serious!”

Well, at least you had plenty to think about on the way home. In fact, it was all you could think about, just like your trip to Mondstadt, except tenfold. Does Flins think about you as much as you think about him? Does he imagine embracing you and holding you close on frigid nights, kissing your temples and covering you both in warm quilts? Does he think about coming home from his Ratnik duties to you in his home? Does he wish to see you excel and pursue all your favorite things, lifting you up and pushing you to become the best you can be?

Before you know it, you're at your front door. The walk home had gone by fast thanks to Varka's little secret. You unlock the door and enter inside; though empty for the majority of the day, it was noticeably warmer inside rather than out, a cozy and homey feeling settling in as the chill from the air no longer bit at your skin.

As you turn away from closing the door, your gaze catches on a vibrant blue lantern hanging in mid-air, eerily awaiting your return. You'd be creeped out if you didn't already know who this is…

“Kyryll!?” You gasp. The last thing you expected was to see the topic of the night literally inside your home. And how did he even get in? The flame flickered as he came out of his lantern, a black and violet cloud forming as his physical body manifested.

He doesn't speak at first, just staring at you with a look that borders on affection. Your skin starts to crawl at the sight. The moonlight from the window behind him illuminates him as he stands in front of you, tall and everlasting. He smiles at your furrowing brows.

“No need to be startled, my light.” His voice is smooth and velvety, and he steps forward just enough to reach out and tuck a stray lock of hair away from your face. “How did your journey treat you? You must be tired.” You laugh almost in disbelief as you rub your face, walking past him to kick your shoes off. “It was fine… and, yes, I am very tired now.”

He steps out of your way, watching you drop your travel bag on the ground. “Also, how did you get in here?? Care to explain?” You almost scold him, watching him raise his hands defensively.

“Hah. Well, you ought to know something.” You two now stand in the entryway; the house is dark, and only the starlight shines in. He gazes at you softly, yet there's something hidden behind his dilated, golden eyes that you can't decipher.

“I know why you went to Mondstadt today.”

Now, everything you've been secretly working for comes crashing down. Was it a setup from Varka? Was it all fake? What's Flins and Varkas's relationship going to look like now that he spilled the secret? You don't dare to move nor look at his face, a semblance of guilt, embarrassment, and curiosity settling in your stomach. You swallow, staring at your feet as the tense silence only continues. What do you even say to him?

At last, you let out a breath that had been trapped in your lungs for far too long. From your peripheries, you can see he hasn't moved an inch… How comforting…

“I… I shouldn't have done that…” Murmuring, you can't bear to face him or even glance at him, your eyes glued to the floor as you fidget with your fingers. Suddenly, Kyryll reaches out and takes hold of your hands, gently clasping them in his. His gloved hands hold no warmth, and his thumb tenderly brushes over your knuckles. Your gaze flicks up to his face, where he adorns a soft smile.

“Oh, you have the wrong idea. It bothers me not to hear that Grandmaster Varka may have spilled the secrets I told him while intoxicated.” Once again, confusion and shock makes you freeze. “But, you really should've come to me. I would've told you everything myself, dear.”

Did Kyryll mean it? Is everything he said to Varka one-hundred percent true? You let out a soft breath, and your shoulders relax, no longer taut with the tension. Flins chuckles softly at the change in your demeanor.

“Did you really mean everything? Like, you're not joking?…” He nods, gently lifting the back of your hand to his lips, just like before, and pressing a fleeting kiss to your knuckles. Your eyes watch him steadily, your heart thumping wildly in your chest at his confession. “I meant every word I said. Though it's unfortunate, the gift I had planned is now spoiled...”

Before your mind even has time to react or process, you throw yourself to him, hugging him tightly and burying your face into his chest. With your arms wrapped firmly around his torso, you can feel how he gasps at your actions. Oh, how he has waited for this moment, to finally have you in his arms. He chuckles at your spontaneous reaction, his arms gently coming around you to hold you against him dearly. He presses his nose to your hair and inhales your scent— the one he talked about with Varka a little too much to be considered normal; however, you both know Flins is not exactly normal.

The embrace satisfies something in both of you. His strong arms surrounding you cause your eyes to shut in relaxation, feeling like you're wrapped up in a cocoon of affection. His large, gloved hand softly rubs up and down your upper arms, something so simple, yet so soothing. As time passes, you relax your tight grip around him into something loose, just enough to hold him without engaging.

Finally, Kyryll releases you from the hug, refusing to take his hands off you. Hes finally got you here with him; there's not a single part of him that wants to let go, so he takes hold of your hands once again. You glance up at him to meet his loving gaze, his pupils blown wide with a small dusting of pink along his cheeks and tips of his pointy ears.

“How did you know what exactly Varka said… were you eavesdropping?” He only chuckles, placing his index finger to his lips. “Shh.” Finally, the two of you laugh in unison, albeit a little awkwardly. He cradles you again, his arms around your shoulders.

“Well… it would be awfully rude of me to keep you up any later. Would you like me to help you get ready for bed? I can cook something for you while you bathe. I noticed you didn't eat anything at the Flagship.” He gives a mischievous and playful smirk, hoping his remark about watching you would earn a feisty reaction from you, just so he can hear that sweet laugh of yours once more.

ཐི ྐ❤︎ ཋྀ

Amidst your mental war, you had climbed atop him; too clumsy and out of it to get comfortable. Your hands gripped his shoulders, clawing at him to hopefully ground yourself to resist your selfish desires. Though he did not seem to mind any of this. Not your hunger, your crazed mind, nor the way you were slowly sinking closer and closer to his neck.

He gently placed a hand at the small of your back, hoping to aid in settling you down. But alas, he did not care whether you bit him or not. "Dear, are you feeling alright?" He knows he didn't need to ask that question; it was written all over your face. You were undoubtedly about to lose yourself.

You never wanted to feed from him; there's no way he would even taste good. Fae blood? Who knows if you could even digest it? But all rationality had been thrown out the window, and you couldn't tear your gaze away from the silken skin of his neck— at least the small sliver you could see hidden from his overcoat's collar.

"... I'm fine." Strained, you murmur. You try to take deep breaths, pushing away the thought of tasting blood. Flins stroked stray hairs from your face; his gloved touch is soft and gentle. He gently takes hold of your chin to force you to meet his gaze. "Are you thirsty?"

Am I thirsty? What a silly question to ask. Instead of becoming irritated with him, who seems to not understand the severity of this, you answered honestly. "Very." Your grip tightens as you have to bear the thought of just how thirsty you are. "Flins— I don't think you understand how bad this is right now." Grimacing, you try to swallow, but to no avail, your throat still burns.

"I believe I understand; however, I can't bear to see you in such a state." He cups your cheek, stroking it softly with his thumb. "If it will relieve the ache, then by all means, please—" You knew how that sentence was going to be finished.

"No— don't say that." Desperately, your hands rake over his chest, nails dragging over the thick material. You grip his shirt, wrinkling the already tight fabric. "I can't." He sighs softly at your defiance, leaning in to pepper kisses on your cheeks.

"This body is but a vessel. Your indulgence will not wound me, just this body I reside in." His voice is low and almost sultry, his hand bracing the back of your neck. "Its quite alright. I've always been curious to know what the bite of a vampire would feel like." He intentionally mentioned being bitten to further persuade you. It matters not to him the state of his body; it's just a bite from his beloved, hes certainly sustained worse injuries while fending off the wild hunt. He whispers into your ear words of affirmation, telling you that it will be alright and that he can handle your desire.

As he convinces you to give in, his hand opens the buckles on his high collar, opening it and exposing more of his neck. Your eyes zero in on the skin, your breath hitching as the overwhelming need for blood takes over your senses. Words fizzle into faint sounds, and all you can do is claw at the lilac dress shirt that covers the most delicious spot of his neck. He aids you, still whispering sweet nothings even though you were too far gone to hear them.

Finally, the pale skin of his neck is exposed. Your breath flutters as you tuck your face under his jaw. He tips his head up for you, his pulse quickening as he can feel your heavy breath against his cool skin. Your lips glide over his skin as the world around you slows. You swear you could smell the blood beneath his skin, or maybe you were losing your mind. It all felt the same; the only thing you could think of was his blood.

Your lips parted, fangs achy and in desperate need to be sucken into flesh. Everything hurt and felt exhilarating. tantalizingly slow, you dragged your dangerous fangs up his neck, feeling the goosebumps flare underneath the sharpness.

Flins had never felt something so passionate, yet terrorizing. Knowing that in an instant, your teeth would devour him and indulge on his succulent blood made him shiver. This exchange ignited something in him, and he wished you had given in to temptation sooner. It roused a desire that's been hidden within him for ages, and he couldn't help but succumb to the pleasure of you on top of him. Laving you tounge against his skin; all the while you subconsciously squirmed in his lap, rubbing up against him in ways where he sighed softly, leaning against the cushions behind him.

It felt immaculate to him; your breath was warm against his cold body, and hes sure the quick pain of the initial bite would fizzle into something pleasurable, something that would wring out sweet sounds from him and hopefully you. But there was no need for him to fantasize about it, not when it was bound to happen within the next minute or so.

You were determining the best place to have your meal, lips skimmering over his skin, before you paused, your heart was beating so fast you were sure Flins could feel it with how close you were pressed together. You dragged your tongue over the chosen spot a few times as if prepping the area. Your arms were wrapped tightly around him, one behind his back and gripping towards his shoulder blade, the other on the opposite side of his neck to brace him. As he tipped his head away for your feasting pleasure, your sharp fangs barely pressed into his skin, feeling the way it gives beneath the sharpness.

The suspense was heavy and overbearing. With your fangs already set on a spot, Flins closed his eyes in anticipation, bracing for the jolt of pain. You swallowed thickly before your jaw abruptly shut, piercing his skin and letting your teeth penetrate into the meat of his neck.

Flins tensed, flinching as the shoot of pain radiated from his neck. He groaned, his hands on your back gripping you to keep him steady. And oh, the pleasure that filled you was immeasurable. The thick, warm blood instantly filled your mouth. The intense iron and bittersweetness made you moan in relief. His blood was rich and silken against your tongue, satisfying that intense desire that had taken over you.

You suck, hands adjusting their hold on him as you tilt his head further away, exposing his neck more. He lets out a pained, subtle sound, only to fall on deaf ears. Quickly, the room smelled metallic; it only filled your senses more, making you fall further into a state of delirium. The taste of him was something you didn't expect; it wasn't as hot and lacked the sharpness that most humans had, but you were too drunk on it to care— and it was blood, Flins' blood, to be exact.

Amazing was an understatement for how good this felt. Finally getting to drink something— especially from the neck. It satiated something deep within you, making your mind settle with a hazy fog from how lost you were becoming in this. He was patient, letting you take as long as you needed.

Soon, the current of blood jutting from the puncture wounds had slowed, and it was laborious to suck it from his skin. The obscene sounds had become too loud for your liking. Gently, you retracted your fangs from his neck, and blood was smeared across the wound sloppily. Your breath came out in shuddered gasps, fanning over his sensitive neck. As you pulled away from his neck, he sighed in relief, his shoulders releasing the tension, and his hands no longer holding you so tightly.

Shakily, you drag your teeth up his neck again, dirtily carrying blood streaks along with them. Flins opened his eyes, gazing at nothing as the intense moment was finally dying down. He felt oddly dizzy; he wasn't sure whether it was from blood loss or from the adrenaline. His hands softly rubbed your back. You must have felt better after drinking so much.

Suddenly, Flins yelped as your teeth sank into him once more. He groaned and jerked; his neck was already sensitive, yet you paid no mind to his reactions, greedily drinking more of his delicious nectar. Your hand on the side of his neck held him too tightly for comfort, and he fought the urge to throw you off of him. You had become barbaric and animalistic, groaning while you devoured him.

He called your name once, twice, then a third time before he grabbed your shoulders tightly. The movement made you jerk, effectively pulling you out of that drunken state. You were dazed, eyes barely opening as you struggled to remember what was happening exactly. All you could think about was blood.

"Mercy, please, dear."

With his quiet and faint voice, everything hits you at once. How many times did you bite him? How long was he trying to get your attention? How much blood did you drink? You gasp and pull back abruptly, taking in the sight of him before you.

He was panting shallowly, his neck littered in angry shades of crimson as the blood had smeared over his skin. His eyes were unfocused, gazing at you with a hint of a smile, somehow. Frozen in terror, you could only stare at him, looking at how you utterly destroyed his neck. His hand slowly and gently reaches up, brushing some of the hair caked in blood away from your face.

You were sure you looked a mess right now. You could feel the sticky blood coating your lips and chin; it was probably dripping down on your chest at the moment. Your lips part to speak, and all that can come out are apologies. He smiles, huffing out a small laugh weakly. "It's quite all right."

"Oh my god— Flins, I'm sorry—" Desperately apologizing, guilt settles in your stomach. You hold his face, watching how his eyes stay lidded and his head wants to fall back. He shushes you, his hand resting on your shoulder. "Don't let a drop go to waste, now." He tilts his head up, exposing his neck again.

"But— I can't take more from you!" You felt terrible; this was never supposed to happen. He shakes his head, his hand on the back of your neck bringing you closer. "Just clean it up, dear. It has already left my body, it's yours."

You grit your teeth. Yes, it was true the blood that is so obscenely smeared over his neck would be wasted if you didn't lap it up, but there had to be more pressing matters, right? He seemed faint; he probably needs nutrition and rest. Instead of going against his wishes and complicating things further, you tucked your face into his neck and gently licked the remaining blood.

You tried to be as gentle as you could, moving slowly and applying minimal pressure. He gently rested his hand on your head, and his breathing had started to even out. With all the remaining blood cleaned up, you pulled back again, guilt knotting your eyebrows as you locked eyes.

"I-I didn't mean to bite you more than once. I'm sorry— I got lost and—" He shushes you once again, your apologies seemed to have no effect on him, as he was not upset at all.

"Don't be sorry, my light. That has brought me things I have never felt before." His voice is low, and he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer into his lap. "This roused something within me; the feeling of you satiating your thirst from me, squirming, and all the while letting out the sweetest sounds has had an effect on me." You start to understand why he pulled you closer...

"Do vampire bites have a sort of, venom...? One that makes the victim ache with desire? Not a want, but a need to be satiated that only you, my dear, could fulfill?" His tone is curious and gentle, yet he holds you firmly. He gazes at you with almost a pleading look, his golden eyes dilated fully, and his brows knotted together beneath his wispy indigo hair.

You could only watch, frozen in a mix of shock and delirium from feeding off him. Shaking your head, you murmur a faint "No." He deflates slightly, his gaze flicking around in thought. "...I see."

His hands snake further around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. The proximity makes you flush slightly; the tension in the room has changed— it was oddly sensual. "I suppose it was just you."

He takes your hand in his, gently pressing his lips to your knuckles. "Then, please, dear, will you indulge me in your sweetness tonight? Your actions have deeply aroused me... I apologize for the sudden change, but you are simply irresistible— especially in this carnivorous and uncontrollable state— all I ask is for you to please consider my request, love."

Perhaps you should hear him out...

⊱༺༒︎༻⊰

“This is for you; you may have as many cups as you'd like.” Flins sets a cup of tea on the table for you, a small cloud of steam wafting off the top. The aroma is pleasant, the floral and sweet scent agrees with you. You take the cup gratefully, sipping it slowly as Flins turns to tend to labeling the boxes of his bone jigsaw puzzles. Though the hobby is definitely unusual and peculiar, you can respect the dedication and craftsmanship he devotes to it. They're certainly impressive, though odd. “Thank you.” You murmur, the tea is soothing to your tired body, its warmth and smooth flavor make your shoulders release the tension you didn't even notice was there. “Are you not going to have any? I quite like it.” You ask him, setting the cup on the table as he scribbles some dates on a blank box. “Oh, me? I'll pass. I don't favor tea as much as you do.” His tone is light and relaxed, back still turned to you as he organizes his collection. 

You knew it… Flins is somehow never thirsty, or hungry, or sleepy… It doesn't make any sense! How could someone who dedicated his life to fighting the Wild Hunt never want to eat? Surely he needs energy, right? You grumble, placing your chin in your palm as you glare at him. “How come you never want anything? You decline food, drinks, hell, I don't think I've ever even seen you sleep!” He finally turns to you, a smile on his face that you can't quite read. Was it mischievous? Or secretive? You couldn't tell. 

“Really? Have you ever thought I'm just declining out of politeness? I brewed that for you, not for me.” He humors as he pulls a box off the shelf, opening it and sorting through the contents. “Ugh, no. Flins, it's like you're not even human.” He perks up, his golden eyes flicking over to meet yours. Something in him shifted. “Do you truly believe that claim?” His voice lowers slightly, and it unnerves you. Hes always been unsettling and honestly creepy, but his demeanor now makes your spine crawl. You shift, sitting up a little straighter. It feels like his eyes are boring holes into you. “Yes… You're not human, right?” You admit your thoughts, staring back at him with intensity and anxiousness. “...You're a vampire, aren't you?” 

Flin's eyes widen before he snorts out a laugh, bringing his gloved hand to his face to stifle his laughter at your comment. You can feel embarrassment rise in your face, blooming into pink ears and cheeks. “Hey— Don't laugh at me like that!” You can't help but giggle along with him. You also can't remember a time when you saw him laugh like this, so maybe your incorrect guess at his nature wasn't such a bad thing. 

He composed himself; the tension was completely gone with the fit of laughter from you two. The box was disregarded as he turned fully to you. “Well, I guess I should come clean to you, since we have recently grown so close.” His tone is soft, yet genuine, and he takes in the change in your demeanor as you process his words. “Though not a vampire, you were correct. I am not human.” He admits, and the air falls silent. 

“...What? Are you serious?” The shock hits you, even though you already speculated this, it was different to hear the confirmation come from him directly. “Yes, I'm serious.” He speaks as if this is a completely normal topic for you two to talk about. You blink, sighing and slumping into your seat. “I knew it…” 

He huffed a laugh. Your reactions were endearing to him, and he watched you take another sip of the tea he made for you. “You knew it? You were certain I was not human?” He teased, focusing back on the box of bone puzzles before him. “Well… Thats besides the point.” You change the subject. “If not human, then what are you?” You question, your voice was a tad bit softer, as you didn't want to pry— this was clearly something he didn't want everyone knowing— but you couldn't help yourself from at least asking. 

“I'm sure you would be able to figure it out yourself. You are very perceptive, so much im sure you could land a position at the Curatorium of Secrets with Lady Nefer.” You ignore the compliment, though it doesn't go unnoticed. “Youre not gonna tell me!?” You exacerbate, straightening up again. After all this effort you went through putting together the pieces of the little things you've noticed about him, and even gathering the courage to tell him so, he still won't admit his true nature to you. 

“I won't tell you because you are absolutely capable of figuring it out yourself. Think of it like this,” He explains. “As I work on my bone jigsaw puzzles, you can piece together the puzzle of my identity.” Spoken with a smile, he examines a bone, angling it to see how it could connect to the others. Hes so nonchalant about this, it's a wonder to you that he puts so much effort into keeping his identity secret, yet he wants to play a game with you to guess his nature?

“Really?” You sigh. He only nods with a hum; he most likely just wanted to tease and play around with you because he knew your reactions would provide ample entertainment (but also because hes learning that he enjoys your company more than he initially thought). “Where should I start…” You murmur under your breath when you realize he was dead serious about this, and that there was no way you were going to be able to convince him to tell you otherwise. “Well, why not start with those things you said you noticed. You were certain I was not human before I told you, correct? You’ll be able to see all the evidence.” He chuckles softly, piecing together small bones, some carved and some found. 

And so, you began to talk about everything you noticed about him. You weren't sure if he suggested this because he actually thought it would help you, or if it was because he slyly wanted to hear the things youve noticed about him. No matter, because you were already spilling the details about how you've caught his pointed ears through his silvery-ultramarine hair and about all the times he seemed to appear out of thin air. He listened to everything you had to say intently. 

You recalled a story to him when it was the dead of winter, you and Flins were outside during a snowstorm after offering to help out Nefer for an important commission. However, you soon realized this was a mistake, as the cold was bone-chilling and relentless. You had a furs and thick coats to retain your body heat, and the snowfall wasn't as peaceful as you hoped. It was hard to see far in front of you, even with the help of Flins lantern; the bright violet hue could not penetrate the flurry of ice before you. You shivered and tried your best to keep moving so circulation could bring heat to your limbs, but all you wanted was to sit curled up in blankets with hot drinks in front of the fireplace. When glancing over at Flins, you couldn't help but notice his lack of reaction to the bitter cold. He moved as if the cold didn't bite at him; his teeth never chattered, but most of all, there was no cloud of misty breath leaving his lips. You figured maybe the blizzard was to blame, as it was hard to really see anything, but the more you paid attention, the more you realized there was no breath at all. His chest did not inhale with oxygen, and there was no respiration; no puff of foggy breath leaving him. Naturally, this made you both concerned and curious. How is he not breathing? Something had to be wrong… Yet, you never brought it up until now, watching Flins nod along with your story. 

“Yes, I remember that indeed.” He connected a few bones; you guessed they had to have been hind legs or possibly shoulders. With a smooth and velvety voice, he continued. “Another correct observation, I do not need to breathe like you.” His responses feel like hes grading your capabilities like an exam…

“What else…” You murmur to yourself, eyes flicking around while you search your brain for any other anomalies. That's when your gaze catches his, and it sparks your memory. His eyes. They are unlike anything you've seen before, and that's not coming from an affectionate place, but rather an acute observation. You've noticed the yellow is in fact his pupil and not his iris. It dilates like a cat, expanding large and full like a golden saucer when hes in the dark; then shrinking to small beady circles when hes faced with the sun. You can't recall any other being in Teyvat with eyes like these— a closer look is necessary. 

So, you get up from your seat, only needing to take a few steps to get close enough to him. “Look here,” He glances over at you as you approach, setting his puzzle down as your hands reach out to adjust his face to be parallel with yours. You two are awfully close now, but your excuse was that this was necessary in order to figure out his identity. 

His golden pupils were blown wide with barely any of the navy rim left, and you hoped that fae shared the same dilation factors as humans did. His lashes were a dark blue, some more of a pale violet or lilac color, along with dark circles around his eyes, almost looking like eyeshadow. His skin was somber and almost grey-ish, yet it shone with the slightest iridescence when the light hit it just right. Though sharp, his features are unique with carved cheekbones and a subtle bump to his nose bridge. His lips were thin with a mauve undertone, similar to the faint blushing to his cheeks that you pretended not to notice, though your heart jumped when you had caught notice. His hair was soft-looking, with indigo roots and pale tips, similar to his lantern's flame. He was certainly attractive… But now was not the time to gawk and stare at him; you were here to look for clues to his identity! 

“Has curiosity gotten the better of you? What's the meaning behind this?” He questions with a hint of humor in his voice, though he doesn't seem to be complaining or bothered at all. “Your eyes are not human, so what else isn't?” You tilt his face to the side, examining for anything unusual, before your eyes catch his pointed ears. Yes, you've been curious about this before. They're certainly too pointed to be cosmetic, and they seem to be completely natural. He has a few piercings adorned with silver colored jewlery. “Your ears are not human,” You continue, listing off your findings. You adjust his face back to normal positioning, feeling something spark within when you catch eye contact. Your eyes flick down to his lips. Maybe it was subconscious, but you ended up continuing your little ‘investigation’ here. Your thumb pulls at his lip, exposing his teeth. Nothing seems to be different, but to confirm, you gently pry his mouth open. He gruffs slightly, baring his teeth as you coax him to do so. His teeth are a little more pointed than you would've imagined, yet not quite enough to be alarming like your vampire allegation earlier. “Hmm… Your teeth are normal— but your skin is cold.” Your palms lie flat against his face; no warmth spreads from his tinged cheeks. Perhaps he was getting flustered, as his gaze flicked anywhere but at you. 

Reluctantly, you let go of his face after finding all of the details you possibly could. He stands up straight again, his eyes still taking in your form before him. “I must say, you are incredibly observant of me.” He muses with a steely voice, pretending as if that interaction did nothing to him. He looked back at his puzzle, but he was unsure if he wanted to spend the time to finish it, or to allow you to ‘examan’ him some more. Though you settled back in your seat, taking a sip of the tea he brewed for you and contemplating what he could possibly be. “I still don't know… are you sure you don't want to just tell me?” You lament, shoulders sagging as you wonder if you'll ever be able to figure it out. All of these clues point to something inhuman, but what? A Seelie? An Adeptus? A Melusine? Hell, maybe a Saurian?! He chuckles richly, inevitably deciding to finish his puzzle. “Have you ever heard the story of the Azure Flame?” He questions, and for a split second, you wonder if this is him coming clean. You shake your head.

“I see, well then, allow me to tell you a story.” Through your time spent together with Flins, you've learned that he loves to tell stories, and some of them are so ancient that you wonder how he can remember and recite the details so well. Hes calm as he begins to talk, working to piece together the puzzle of bones before him. “The Azure Flame is a tale from Nod-Krai; a Lantern Fae said to have done many good deeds for Nod-Krai during its peak many, many years ago. Some say that if you are lost or in danger at night and you happen to see a flickering blue flame, you should follow it.” His tone is delicate and soft, his eyes never leave his puzzle, though. “However, an Abyssal Calamity had struck, which I'm sure you are familiar with— the Wild Hunt.” You nod along, listening intently. “From the devastation and corruption, the Lantern Fae had snuffed out their light, extinguishing their flame. The Fae chose their resting place at the Final Night Cemetery, resting in a grave for eternity to escape the pain and guilt of the fallen humans it once helped.” His tone shifted to something more somber, and you recongized many words within this story. The Final Night Cemetery? That was here. And the part ‘extinguished their flame’, is that something equivalent to suicide?

His gaze seemingly locked on nothing as he recounts this story. “However, on a fateful night, the Wild Hunt was rampant and relentless, the Ratniki had found a blue lantern, and a fatally injured one used the grave for a brief respite. His blood had seeped into the inscription and stone, miraculously awakening the Lantern Fae that was sunken into a sleep-induced state for seemingly forever.” The more he speaks, the more and more the dots start to connect. Was he perhaps this Lantern Fae?

“And so, the Azure Flame was once again ignited, swearing to protect the people of Nod-Krai from the wild hunt for as long as they may live. Though to tell the full tale, we would be stuck here for hours, but it's a rather heroic and bittersweet story, wouldn't you say?” He turns to you, placing the final bone into his puzzle, the skull. 

This story of his certainly cleared everything up. Now the pieces connected, the pointy ears, the appearing out of thin air, his eyes, the lack of breathing and body heat, and the azure-colored lantern that he seems to take with him everywhere he goes…

“Are you this Lantern Fae? The Azure Flame?” You speak with a hint of a smile, partly because you believe youve solved the case of his identity, but also because Flins seldom speaks about his personal life. He chuckles softly, stepping back from his puzzle and turning to face you. 

“Correct.” He looks at you with an emotion you can't quite put your finger on. Was it admiration? Affection? Perhaps hes simply satisfied you've solved the case. Whatever it was, you enjoyed the way he seemed to take in your presence. “Allow me to reveal my true identity to you,” He bows slightly, his hand straight and placed over his chest. “I am Kyryll Chudomirivich Flins, but you may call me Kyryll. Though please take caution when calling me by my first name, it's a secret.” His tone is teasing and pleased, and he seems to take a great deal of pleasure in revealing this to you.

“Kyryll…” You test his name on your tongue, and he quite likes the sound. “Yes, dear?” The affectionate name makes you falter for a moment, and you try your best to ignore it, but the slight warming of your face betrays you, so you come up with an excuse for saying his name. “...If you're a fae, do you have— wings?” You struggle to imagine the stoic and unsettling Kyryll with cute fairy wings. He hums to himself, amused. 

“I suppose so, yes, though not like those found in children's books and fairytales.” 

“Do you have pixi dust?”

“...No, the source of my ‘power’ is from my lantern.”

“But you aren't small like a fairy?”

“Thats because I'm a Lantern Fae.”

“Though, you like shiny things just like fae, right?”

“...Yes…”

He sighs to himself with a small puff of laughter. Perhaps his story skipped over details that are common knowledge to him, but foreign to humans. So, Kyryll proceeded to tell you tales of Lantern Fae and himself, from sad stories of death and passing, to humorous ones from his long life. The night seemed to never end, and both of you had found your way in front of the warm fireplace, sitting on the couch while you sipped at warm tea and snacked on crusty breads. 

You had lost track of time, and before long, you found yourself dozing off to his lengthy stories. His voice is soothing and velvety with a hint of something monotone beneath it all, perfect for falling asleep to. With your consciousness fading, you tried to fight the sleep overtaking you. However, you could only fight it for so long, eventually falling into a deep slumber.

When your eyes peered open, you weren't sure how much time had passed. It felt like you may have been asleep for years, or maybe only ten minutes? Confusion of your surroundings was the main thing your sleepy brain could focus on. You lifted yourself up groggily, limbs tired as you found a blanket draped over your lap. You couldn't remember there being a blanket here before… As you realize where you are, a sort of frenetic panic sets in.

This is Flins Lighthouse! Wait— Kyryll now. 

You rub your eyes, noticing the faint light coming from the thin windows. Though never was it sunny at the Final Night Cemetery, you could tell it was daytime. The fireplace had fizzled out, and the bread and tea were still on the table; a water pitcher and cup had joined seemingly overnight without your knowledge. 

How could I have fallen asleep here?! I know we were up late, but I shouldn't have allowed myself to pass out like that! Will he think this is rude or unbecoming?

Moving to stand up and trying to remember where you left your coat and shoes when you first arrived, you're stopped by a weight in your lap, not particularly heavy, but somehow warm. You glance down, cautious and curious at the same time.

There lies a blue lantern, one with silver edges and a soft violet hue emanating from it, the Azure Flame. You sigh, relaxing and leaning back into the couch cushions as you look down at him, well, Lantern Kyryll. Was this his way of sleeping? Residing in his lantern and picking a spot to lay? Or maybe float or hang? It confused you, yet you welcomed it. One thing you were certain of was that he picked this spot to ‘sleep’; he chose to place himself in your lap. In no way, shape, or form did you mind; it actually confirmed something else inside you that maybe you would also need to start an ‘investigation’ on— his true feelings towards you.

ཐི ྐ❤︎ ཋྀ

Kyryll lets out the quietest sound at your actions, his head tipping back just slightly, your ministrations taking hold of his sensations. His golden eyes lidded, gazing at you full of affection and desire, though there's a hint of something carnal behind them; it was noticeable but insignificant in this moment. Flins usually prefers to take the lead, as he prefers to give, but there's no harm in allowing you to do so tonight...

You were straddled on his lap, arms wrapped loosely around his neck as you lazily rutted your hips into him. Your movements are languid and slow, yet with each grind, you crave more and more despite your sluggish movements. You can feel him beneath you, and you can tell he's getting restless. He twitches occasionally, and he croaks out a moan while his hands on your hips tighten the slightest bit.

"Dearest," Strained, yet with an underlying coordination, as if hes allowing himself to lose control, he tips his head to glance at you. "You are tearing me apart." He almost whines, spreading his thighs more to allow for more friction. Involuntarily, his hips gently press up into yours for more of that addictive pleasure. You shiver at his movements, pressing down harder. Though the thick fabric of his pants proves to be quite annoying. You pause, moving to fumble with the buckles and buttons of his pants. With his help, you push his pants to above his knees as he settles back down. Getting back on top, you resume your previous activities. He shudders deeply, his hands gripping your hips and guiding you further.

"Ah," He shuts his eyes, the pleasure was creeping up into his head and settling as a dense fog. It felt as if he couldn't think straight. His nerves were set ablaze, and his sensitivity seemed to be dangerously high. "Dear, you are mesmerizing... i-its—" A throaty moan cuts his sentence short as he feels your fingers grace the soft spot between his shoulder blades through his thin lilac dress shirt— the sensitive base connected to his wings.(Though his wings are not visible, this spot on his back still experiences the sensitivity as his wings would.) It makes his hips jerk forward, the pleasure flashing through his nerves and, in turn, making his movements involuntary. He whines almost desperately, his back straightening as he chases the feeling he craves so deeply.

His arms snake around your waist, pulling you close as he tucks his face into your neck. He pants softly, shutting his eyes as your hands draw dangerously close to the sensitive spot again. "You're teasing..." He murmurs, kissing your neck. His lips ghost over the sensitive skin; occasionally, his teeth drag, sending shivers up your back. He utters sweet praises to you, all while letting out soft sighs and moans into your ears. It sets you off more, making you turn a bit desperate for him.

He takes quick notice of your nature, starting to gently rut his hips into yours once again. He groans, and it seems like his reserved and gentlemanly nature may be wearing thin. As you drag your fingers down his sensitive spot, he tenses with a deep groan that dissolves into something akin to a whimper. The arms around your waist tighten, and he bites into the curve between your neck and shoulder, overcome with a flash of deep and intense pleasure. Though he didn't sink his teeth in hard, it still sent a tingly sensation down your back and up your neck. "Sorry, sorry..." He mutters, his voice is thick with desire and strained. You're sure if you could see his face, it would be flushed with a fair shade of pink— maybe that's why he was tucked under your chin.

He loosens his hold around your waist, placing a few kisses on your neck before he glances up at you. "Dearest—" He shudders as you continue grinding into him, making him shiver with your perseverance. "Once more, please." He whispers, looking up at you with desperation in his eyes. "Touch me again— please dear," He begs without a lick of shame, as if asking for your touch is the most sacred and honorable thing a man could do. His hand reaches up to your face, stroking your cheek with a slight tremble in his hands. "Please..."

His begging makes you freeze to allow your eyes to capture the sight before you. The intimidating and powerful Flins: a Ratniki and warrior of the Wild Hunt, is reduced to whining and begging you to touch him so prettily. His golden eyes look up at you with ache, and you can't bear to deny him any longer, not when he asks you so sweetly and politely.

Your fingers scratch down his spine slowly, watching him choke up as the pleasure seizes his nerves. He tenses as his eyes shut in bliss; he was forever thankful for your kindness towards him in this moment, offering him the insatiable pleasure that only you can provide. He sharply inhales through his teeth, hands around your back, gripping you as if you might slip away in the throes of his pleasure. Hot flashes wreck him, his skin set ablaze with tingly sparks; it's so good he wants to run from it and embrace it simultaneously.

When you grind into him with palpable pressure, a full-body shiver slams through him as he can no longer suppress the desperate sounds that leave him. He can feel your wetness through the thin undergarments left on you both, and most of all, the addictive and heavenly warmth you provide to his fae body. He's awfully susceptible to your warmth and human qualities— it's foreign to him, yet there's something about it so endearing. Your natural body heat is a weak flame compared to his: the Azure Flame. It's interesting how his body is so cold, despite his true form as a lantern fae.

Multiple sources of stimuli make his head cloud, unable to form any coherent thought as all he can do is accept the pleasure you give him. He rarely allows himself to receive, mostly because he prefers to give, but now that he's experiencing so much ecstasy, he's sure he will become more open to being on the receiving end. In fact, it feels so good he's starting to lose himself.

Flin's mouth is agape as gasps and moans escape him; he can't seem to suppress himself as the overwhelming need for release creeps up in the pit of his stomach. His eyes are tightly shut, and his hips jerk into you; he would have to apologize to you later for being so ungentlemanly...

But it doesn't bother you; in fact, it's stoking the flame within you even more. Watching his polite and reserved demeanor crumble because of your ministrations fills you with a certain warmth and solidarity, and you are set that you absolutely must see him fall apart at your hands. You massage his spine between his shoulder blades, hitting the sweet spot from his wings just perfectly. He pants heavily, growing restless, and you know he's soon to snap. You make sure to press yourself into him at the perfect angle, allowing him to feel just barely between your folds— almost teasing him with the possibility of what he could have.

"Dear—" You're surprised he managed to speak to you, albeit strained and hoarse. He's so caught up in pleasure that he jerks and twitches with every movement. You try to soothe him by running a hand down his shoulder, whispering sweet nothings and praises into his pointed ears. He pants, moaning and gasping on almost every single exhale as his spine straightens and his stomach flexes. "I'm gonna— fuck—"

Before you even have time to process hearing him curse, he squeezes you to him tightly, a deep shudder wracking through him as he finally comes apart, groans dissolving into whines as he comes hard. You can feel the warmth from the bodily fluid beneath you, making a slippery mess of you two as he desperately and honestly fails at rutting his hips into you. His forehead rests on your shoulder as he steadily relaxes from the hot waves of pleasure that just passed him. His movements come to a halt as he calms himself through the aftershocks, his grip no longer bruising as he leans against you.

You're honestly shocked at what just happened; not only has Flins never been that vocal, but never has he came so hard. You gently stroke his hair as he lifts his head. Meeting his lidded and dark golden eyes, you noticed his cute, flushed face, tinged pink, along with the tips of his pointed ears. No words are shared for a moment as he recovers; the intensity of the moment needs a break, yet you find yourself craving him more now than you did previously. However, when Flins finally speaks up, his voice is low and hoarse, yet undeniably attractive.

The ranger grumbles through his sleep, feeling his system boot up as the surge of electricity starts to flow through him. Heavy eyelids struggle to open, heat enveloping him from behind. The soft warmth that pressed against his backside was familiar, the scent of floral musk wafting over him as a gentle hand slid around his waist. On instinct, the fiery cowboy would jolt out of bed from the foreign touch, but a rich, velvety voice keeps him from doing so.

“My silver cowboy…” Argenti mused, pressing his nose and lips into the head of thick, ivory hair. The ranger calmed, realizing that it was just his lover resting behind him. 

Mornings spent together are few and far between. Typically off in pursuit of their own goals, only meeting when their fates pass and the stars align, hence why Boothill was so alarmed to feel a body behind him. For as rare as these moments are, they both cherish them together deeply. They can sleep in each other's arms, revealing the most vulnerable parts of themselves together. 

“How did you sleep, dear?” Argenti speaks once again, voice soft and low near the cowboy's ear. His hand slides up his metal plating, pulling Boothill flush against his broad, warm chest. He sighs in response, letting his hand cover the knight's. 

“Slept well.” He murmured. “How about you, sweetpea?” The knight smiled at the nickname, pressing tender kisses on his shoulders. “I sleep very peacefully when I'm with you, naturally.” Boothill could feel his face growing warmer from his sweet words. 

“Yeah? Well, a Knight of Beauty certainly needs his beauty sleep.” He teases, a grin pulling at his lips as a deep rumble of laughter erupts from said knight behind him. “Dear Boothill, everyone deserves a good night's rest, not just the Knights.” This prompts Boothill to roll over, shuffling the covers as he now faces his lover.

Argenti wore his gentle smile, as usual. Scarlet hair was tousled and frizzy, stray hairs tickling his cheeks as he lay. The ranger's gaze cast downwards, finding his neck and collarbone littered with small blemishes of pink and violet, along with his own shark-like teeth marks. Memories of last night's endeavors came flooding back; all the moments of passion spent together made his face warm in realization. 

The knight pays no mind to it, reaching a hand out to gently brush the hair from the ranger's covered eye. He grumbled, fussing and putting the hair back to cover the eye. Argenti chuckles, muttering out an apology as he leans forward to kiss his lover's forehead.

“How are ya’ feelin’...?” Boothil mumbles, somewhat shy and boyish as he lets his hand trace over the markings. There was a sense of guilt in his voice as if apologizing for the roughness from the night before. The knight smiles deeper, eyes crinkling in affection. “I feel eternally grateful, as our love was shown through blazing affection and countless actions of devotion.” Boothill scoffs from his teasing words, growing quieter and averting his gaze.

“Don't say that. For once I'm tryna help…” Boothill grumbled, pulling away from the knight in slight embarrassment. Argenti only giggled, leaning closer to pull the bashful cowboy closer. He grumbles once again, pretending to be annoyed with these affections, but secretly loving it: he struggles to show affection for his candid lover. After a moment, Argenti pulls back, the warm light casting a soft glow in the room as it filters through the curtains. There's a moment of silence between the pair, nothing awkward, just a peaceful and comfortable ambiance. 

“...You ain’t too sore?” Boothill mumbles out, his steel fingers tracing little lines along his scar-littered arm. Although hes not the best at voicing his true feelings, he deeply cares for his knight and has the instinct to protect him, just like his homeland. Instead of explicitly saying something more lovey-dovey, he’d save himself the embarrassment and ask a simpler question, all the while still giving the same caring actions. “A little, but it's nothing I can't handle.” He frowns, gaze softening ever so slightly, the cybernetic pupil dilating and taking in every detail of his lover. “Where are ya’ sore darlin’?” The knight takes hold of the iron hands before him, guiding them to his hips with a deft, yet gentle motion. Boothill swipes his thumb over his hipbone, eyes casting down his frame and landing on a purply-green bruise, one that was not crafted by Boothill's mouth. 

“What— wait, why are ya’ so bruised here, ‘genti?” The cowboy raises his eyebrows and stares in shock at the sight, his hands sliding down to push his waistband down, revealing the bruise to examine it. It was rather large, discolored with violet and olive undertones, it ranged from his hipbone down to his upper thigh, evidence of the position he had the cocky cyborg in last night. “Oh,” Boothill sighs out in realization at the implications of this bruise, becoming somewhat flustered again, but not enough to stop him from caring for his lover. 

“It's nothing you need to fret over, my ranger. It will fade with time.” Argenti muses, a smile on his face as he lets his waistband move back into its natural position. Boothill frowns. He didn't like that Argenti was brushing this off; he should be more concerned with his current state, should he not? The bruising is nothing dire, but it clearly looks uncomfortable and may bother him under his armor later. “Darlin’, I'm not jus’ gonna let you say that.” The ranger laments, feeling a bit guilty since he caused this. Argenti laughs, his arm around Boothill, bringing him closer. He seemed to be clingy this morning. 

“It's nothing to be upset about,” He muses, a hand cradling a head full of ivory hair. “It shows passion. It's a physical marker of our love and intimacy.” Boothill could feel his face growing hot; he scowled while being pulled under Argentis' chin, yet not resisting or pushing back. “It's something beautiful—” 

“Figured you'd say sumthin’ like that…” 

Argenti ignored his comment, only continuing to spout saccharine words. “I am so lucky to have such a mark of devotion on my body: one caused by you. It truly warms my heart.” Boothill felt like putty. Argenti was such a gentle and understanding man, never to be upset with his augmented body. Boothill was no longer made of flesh and blood, he could not give — what he felt — Argenti deserved. It was always a sensitive topic to the ranger. It made him insecure, which is almost a foreign emotion now.

He wished that maybe in another universe, they met under better circumstances. Maybe Boothill didn't have to change his body. Maybe Argenti would have white hair, instead of it being stained by bloodshed. Maybe Boothill's little girl would have a family to come home to, Argenti taking her under his wing as his own. When he thinks about these “maybes,” it wounds him. But there's no need to be sad now, not while being cradled in his lover's arms on a warm sunny morning. 

Boothill withdraws and pulls himself up from the embrace, all the while Argenti is still talking. They lock eyes for a moment, both of them pausing in their tracks as time stands still to admire each other. Its calm and intimate, a moment of blissful serenity to soak up eachothers presence. 

“As much as you talk, yer eyes say a lot ‘bout what yer thinkin’.” The cowboy smirks as he blurts out the tease, watching his lover laugh softly. He leans down and presses a kiss to his forehead, brushing the crimson locks away. “Dear, as I was saying, please do not worry about the bruise, as it is a symbol—”

“I get it, I get it,” Boothill sighs, nuzzling his cheek against the other. “I love ya’ too, darlin’.”

Argenti smiles warmly, his strong arms pulling the ranger back down and hearing a string of censored profanities erupt from him. As much as they both wish things could have been different, things right now seem almost perfect.

ty for reading<3 !