Chapter Text
"Bocchan, I am not actually human..."
The confession slipped so casually from Flins' lips—his lover and cowoker alike—about six months ago. And truthfully, Illuga was not particularly surprised. Of course, he had long been waiting for the day that pale man would finally speak the truth Illuga had already suspected. From every angle, he had always believed Flins was not human.
And indeed, that day had finally come. Flins confessed to him, his voice as calm and composed as ever.
"I am Fae. A Lantern Fae. One of the spirit folk... or perhaps, humans would call it fairy, if you've ever heard of them."
Of course Illuga had heard of them. Countless legends and ancient records described such beings as creatures of beauty—something ethereal, almost untouched by reality itself. How much of those stories held truth? Illuga could never be certain. And even if they were real, no one could say how few of their kind still remained in this world.
Since that day, Illuga learned many things about the Fae—about Flins.
About how Flins could summon the ancient power concealed within his lamp, shifting into his Manifest Flame form with an ease that defied all reason. It was simply unbelievable.
About how he scarcely enjoyed human food, preferring instead to extract nutrients from hardened rations that tasted completely miserable by human standards. Illuga no longer needed to wonder why Flins rarely accepted invitations to dinner—especially from fellow Lightkeepers. At first, Illuga had assumed Flins just an eccentric person who was... difficult to read. Not strange—no, never that. Flins was always impeccably polite, composed to an almost unnatural degree, yet he was mysterious. And Illuga no longer found himself wondering why Flins preferred to carry out most missions alone.
About his ability to communicate with the spirits of departed humans. That explained why he often seemed to speak to empty air among the graves near his lighthouse. These wandering souls, Illuga realized, must have been his quiet companions all along.
About his distaste for water—far too bland, as Flins would say—and his near-excessive fondness for alcohol. Strong flavors pleased him. That, too, explained how Flins could spend hours drinking with Varka without showing the slightest hint of weakening.
About Fae's langunge. It bore no resemblance to the tongue of Snezhnaya, any region in Teyvat, nor did it seem remotely intelligible to human ears. Illuga had once asked Flins about those elegant, unfamiliar characters, curiosity shining plainly in his eyes. He had wanted to learn them—to understand that secret, beautiful system of symbols.
Flins had only laughed and said. "Oh no, I’m afraid I can’t share that with you, Bocchan... That is reserved for Fae alone."
The answer had been delivered lightly, yet there was something resolute beneath the amusement. Illuga suspected the truth easily enough. A language meant only for Fae was a language of privacy—a sanctuary of words Illuga would never be allowed to learn. Or perhaps, it was simply Flins’ way of preserving a space where he could whisper things too tender, too intimate, too dirty, too filled with affection for Illuga to never be translated into Illuga's ear. Some mysteries, it seemed, Flins intended to keep.
And now, when they were alone...
Illuga was allowed to see his true form.
Pointed ears, pale skin that seemed almost luminous, and his face—God—even more beautiful than words could to describe. And when he shifted into that blue flame... the soft glow looked like something not entirely of this world. Blue, gentle, soothing, cold—yet somehow warm.
Ah. God. Sometimes Illuga still struggled to believe it, that such a beautiful creature... was truly his lover.
.
.
.
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From that day onward, Illuga's life was slowly filled with new things that felt both strange and oddly comforting. Of course, that was natural when you have a Fae as your lover.
And today, Illuga was at Flins' lighthouse—a quiet place that now felt far more like a second home than a mere stopping place. Maybe because its owner no longer minded his presence at all, welcoming him wholeheartedly whenever he came, provided neither of them was occupied with their duties as Lightkeepers.
That night, like many nights before, they spent their time without any particular purpose. Simply being together was enough, wrapped in each other's warmth, sharing idle touches and stories about the days they had endured.
Then, a question slipped from Illuga's lips.
"Flins-san... how do Fae have offspring?"
Flins' golden eyes rolled toward his lover, blinking slowly. "Why do you ask, Bocchan?"
Illuga set aside the book he had been reading. He turned toward Flins beside him, arms slipping possessively around the Illuga's waist atop the bed. The pointed ear resting calmly against the pillow was proof enough—Flins already trusted him too much and no longer wanted to hide his true form from him.
"Uh... I was just curious," Not entirely. The book had been discussing marriage and lineage, and the thought had lingered longer than Illuga cared to admit.
"Hm... offspring, you say. If we're talking about lineage..." Flins murmured. He paused briefly, and his expression as composed as ever. "Fae are not quite like ordinary fairies. We possess our own social structures, our own notions of bloodlines... and what humans might call nobility."
Illuga frowned faintly. "Nobility?"
"Yes. The Snowland Fae—or Fae Spirits, as humans usually call us—once stood at the center of Snezhnaya's aristocracy," Flins explained calmly. "In the era of the Belyi Tsar, purity of lineage was regarded as... significant. Many Fae chose partners only among their own kind, believing it preserved stability, power, and identity."
Illuga listened quietly.
"Of course," Flins added smoothly, "such traditions were never absolute."
Illuga blinked. "... Meaning?"
A small smile touched Flins' lips. "Not all Fae are of perfectly 'pure' descent. Bonds beyond our kind have existed."
His golden gaze softened, faintly amused. "But if you are asking about old Snowland customs... then yes. Preservation of bloodlines was once considered important."
Illuga fell silent, processing the information he had just received. "So... uhm, there are Fae who reproduce with humans, then?"
A small smile curved upon Flins' lips. "To my knowledge, yes."
Illuga lifted his head. The young man's blue eyes seemed to brim with hope, making a faint narrowing of Flins' golden gaze, his smile deepening ever so slightly. "My, my... discussing children? Don't tell me... you've been entertaining the thought of having one, My Young Master?"
A gentle kiss brushed against Illuga's ear, a ticklish breeze that made its owner blush and struggle slightly.
"My sweet lover," Flins continued smoothly, amusement laced within his voice. "... tempting his partner to fill him so thoroughly. I certainly wouldn't mind touching you for an entire night. The thought of your body brimming with me, your belly could be full of me... how utterly adorable."
"F-Flins-san—!" Illuga pushed lightly against the Fae's chest, cheeks flushing evenly. He knew that tone. That dangerously calm voice always carried mischief when it softened like that. And yes—Illuga enjoyed those invitations more than he would ever openly admit. But that was not what he meant. Not this time.
"I-I'm serious! I'm curious about this!" Illuga protested, flustered.
"Oh, is that so?" Flins paused, retreating just enough to restore a sliver of space between them. And moments later, he leaned in again, pressing a tender kiss against Illuga's cheek. "Well... your voice did sound far more earnest than simple curiosity. Why is that, I wonder? Do you truly desire a child? Or perhaps... did Old Man Nikita plant such thoughts in your head? Some grand project to increase the population of polite and disciplined Lightkeepers, hm?"
"Ugh... no. It's not that..." Illuga turned his face away. "... It's just..."
Flins grew quiet, his brows lowered slightly. He understood well enough—humans, fragile yet numerous, were creatures driven by instincts of continuity. His cold fingers rose, gently guiding Illuga's chin back toward him. "If you truly wished for it, such a thing would not be impossible. Well... I cannot say I enjoy imagining you being with someone else, but if what you seek is simply a human child..."
Illuga's heart nearly stopped.
A human child, he said.
Someone else, he said.
Flins' voice remained maddeningly even, flowing as though the words carried no weight at all—as though they did not fracture something delicate within Illuga's chest. Flins spoke as if he himself were not the axis upon which this entire conversation revolved, as if this beloved Fae weren't the center of all the questions swirling around in his head!
Really? Illuga with someone else? That's absurd. They were lovers, were they not? ... Weren't they? Did Fae perceive bonds differently? Were Fae notions of partnership truly that detached?
"... Sir Flins," Illuga's voice shifted without him realizing. The emphasis in his tone was heavy with tension now, his emotions gathering tightly within his chest. "No, not me with other humans."
Flins did not respond immediately. That faint smile still lingered on his pale face—the same smile that always left Illuga uncertain whether he was being teased or taken seriously. Golden eyes studied him in silence.
"What I mean is..." Illuga's words faltered. His fingers curled unconsciously into the fabric of Flins' clothing as their gazes locked. "... I want to have a child with you."
The gentle smile Flins so effortlessly wore vanished at once.
"... Oh."
He fell silent for a long moment, one hand rising to pinch the bridge of his nose. Flins murmured at last. "I see. So that is why you asked about how Fae have offspring...
Illuga gave a small nod, cheeks warming as he waited.
"You mean to say... that you wish for a child half Fae and half human... with me?"
Illuga nodded again. Still waiting.
Flins' golden eyes stared straight at him."... May I ask your reason?"
Illuga flinched slightly. The question sounded simple, in spite of for reasons it tightened something painfully within his chest. His fingers, still clutching Flins' clothing gradually loosened.
"Uhm..." Illuga hesitated, carefully assembling his thoughts into something that would not fall apart once spoken. A small breath slipped past his lips before he continued. "First... of course, because I love you. Second... uhm, I keep imagining what it would be like if there were something... that was half of you. Someone with your eyes, or maybe your strange infuriating calm..."
Flins remained silent, motionless now. Even his blinking had nearly ceased.
Illuga swallowed, then—as though a crack had finally given way—his words began to spill out more quickly. His cheeks flushed intensely, nevertheless he forced himself to remain steady, afraid his voice might shatter.
"A-and I thought... it might be better if you didn't have to face everything alone anymore. I hate imagining a day when you'd be alone, Sir Flins."
His voice softened, sounding fragile in a way that bordered on breaking. As if tears hovered dangerously close—perhaps because the thought itself unsettled him too deeply. Flins said nothing, though his hand at Illuga's waist jolted faintly.
"... I'm a human, after all," Illuga murmured with a small bittersweet smile. "One day, I'll be gone. Everyone around you will leave too. But if there were someone born from your own blood... someone who would remain..."
He paused, his voice dropping to a whisper. "... at least there would be someone to care for you, to watch over you... and to stay by your side."
Silence—the silence froze absolutely for several seconds. Until finally, a sigh escaped Flins' lips broke it. His gaze softened, though the faint, eternal trace of weariness upon his pale features did not fade. That gentle breath settled between them like something heavy, touched by the slightest bitterness. "Bocchan... you truly are adorable. Honestly, who wouldn't get a heart attack when you say such sweet affectionate things?"
Illuga blinked. "A-adorable?"
"But, really," Flins continued gently, warmth threading through his voice with an almost human tenderness. "I have always wondered whether that kindness of yours is entirely a virtue."
His cool fingers still cradled Illuga's chin. His thumb moved lazily, brushing against Illuga's skin with a softness far too deliberate to be called habit. "You are forever thinking of others. And, if I may be honest... you think of others far too much."
Illuga's cheeks flushed instantly, his lips pressing into a indignant pout. "I'm not talking about 'others'. You are not just anyone. You're my lover. Of course I worry about you," he muttered defensively.
Flins did not answer at once, and silence fell between them again. Again. Then, slowly, that familiar smile curved upon Flins' lips—yet the light within his golden eyes had shifted entirely. Gone was the teasing glow. What remained was something steadier, it was a serious look.
"... About what you asked... I have already given it thought."
Illuga blinked. "Thought about... what?"
"Having offspring, and my answer is quite certain," Flins' voice remained calm as his arms slowly loosened from Illuga's waist. "I do not desire it, Bocchan."
Illuga's eyes widened. The world seemed to tilt, something inside his chest quietly collapsing.
"... You... don't want children?" Illuga asked, his voice dropping involuntarily.
"Yes," Flins looked at him directly now, without the veil of teasing in those golden eyes. "Least of all with you."
The words struck harder than Illuga had been prepared for. His body stiffened. His lips parted slightly, trembling, thoughts scattering into noise.
"... Is it because I'm human?" Illuga's gaze lifted again, glassy with emotion. "... No, you said Fae can have children with humans. Maybe because I'm a man? Is it impossible?"
Flins immediately shook his head, his tone softened. "Hey, hey, no, Bocchan. The concept of having offspring among the Fae is different from humans. We do not concern ourselves with gender."
Flins spoke as his fingers gently brushed aside the soft strands of hair resting against his lover's forehead. With a tenderness that contrasted the heaviness of the conversation, he pressed his thumb lightly beneath Illuga's eye, where unshed tears had begun to gather. "But the process of reproduction between Fae and humans is not nearly as simple as you imagine."
Illuga fell silent, listening.
"... In essence, the original Fae were beings created purely from frostmoon's light, forged upon the bones of giant beasts. Over time, Fae lineage has not remained entirely pure. Fae with Fae, Fae with beasts, and yes... Fae with humans. But such unions are never simple."
Flins paused.
"Every possibility carries danger for humans," Flins went on, finally voicing the concerns he had long restrained. "If I were to become the vessel, then Bocchan would be the one required to 'fertilize' me. And you..."
Those golden eyes narrowed slightly, studying Illuga with unsettling intensity. "... you are still far too young. Perfect pollination is not something that can be forced. Should the process fail to stabilize, the consequences for your body would be severe."
Illuga held his breath, swallowing hard.
"And if you were the vessel..." Flins' voice dropped lower. Illuga could see it then—not just caution, but fear. A rare, unguarded fear flickering within those golden eyes. Fear that did not belong to the composed ever-serene Kyryll Chudomirovich Flins.
"... Good heavens," Flins murmured hoarsely. His shoulders had grown tense. "That would be just as dangerous. It could kill you."
Illuga's heart stuttered. "... Kill me...?"
"A human body is not designed to carry Fae essence. The life force required to sustain such a gestation. It would not simply 'grow.' It would draw."
Illuga's chest tightened. "Draw?"
"Yes," Flins' gaze hardened with reluctant honesty. "A developing Fae offspring would instinctively anchor itself to the nearest compatible source of vitality. And in that scenario, Bocchan... that source would be you."
Illuga froze.
"It would not be intentional nor cruel," Flins added quietly. "But a nascent Fae spirit stabilizing inside a human body... It would compensate. Your strength, your years... perhaps even your life. A human vessel would burn far too quickly."
Illuga's lips parted soundlessly. Flins leaned closer, his forehead nearly touching Illuga's. "And if I carried the child instead, the bond would still demand equilibrium. Fae reproduction is not purely biological. It is metaphysical. The vessel must be sustained by a stabilizing counterpart."
Realization dawned slowly in Illuga's eyes. Flins' hand slid gently to Illuga's chest. "In other word, your life force would still be tied to the process."
"... So every possibility is dangerous... for me?"
"Yes," the answer came far too quickly, his tone edged with something uncharacteristically sharp. Nothing like Flins' usual gentleness. His jaw tightened. His fingers curled faintly at his side, clenching with restless unease.
Across the centuries of his existence, the thought had never once been something Flins truly entertained—having a child, raising one, adding even a single drop to the thinning lineage of the Fae upon Teyvat. Not because he couldn't, but because he had never permitted himself the indulgence of imagining it.
There had always been too many what ifs. Too many inevitable losses. Flins had never fallen in love with another Fae, and he knew all too well that beings beyond his own kind were creatures of unbearable complexity.
Especially humans. Flins had come to understand them—their fragile beauty, their cruel impermanence, their relentless dedication to living, and the reckless devastating way they loved.
Until now, he loved one human in particular.
Illuga.
By every oath he had ever known, Flins had never once envisioned having a child with him. Illuga—a kind-infuriatingly-selfless-Illuga, who placed others before himself without hesitation. Illuga, whose gentle smile could constrict Flins' chest, whose unwavering devotion both suffocated and captivated him in equal measure. Flins was far too deeply, irrevocably in love.
"I will not take that risk. Not with your life," Flins said, his golden gaze did not waver. "Release this wish. I beg you, Bocchan."
Illuga fell silent for a long while. Flins had not explained the full, unsettling intricacies of how such pollination would occur, but the unusual weight in his voice was explanation enough. What Illuga desired was not merely difficult, it was dangerous.
However, Illuga didn't stop.
Even after hearing about death, his desire remained undiminished.
"But, Flins-san... I want something that is half of me as well," Illuga continued, the resolve threaded unmistakably through his voice. "I want to bring someone into this world—someone who is a part of me. You know my past... I lost my parents when I was still young, and I... I want to see a child who carries my blood. To hold them. To raise them. To love them."
Flins inhaled quietly. "If that is your wish, you could—"
"No," Illuga cut him off immediately. "I don't want that with someone else. Not with another human. I want it with you."
The words came out blunt, tinged with frustration, stripped bare of hesitation. His fingers tightened faintly against the fabric of Flins' clothing.
"It's simple, because you are the one I love," Illuga said, his voice tightening. "Can you truly not understand something that simple?"
Illuga pressed on, emotion now spilling freely past the restraint he had tried—and he failed—to maintain. "I love you, Sir Flins. I have never once imagined building a life like that with anyone else. If the alternative is another person, then I would rather never have children at all."
He fell silent for a moment before speaking, his icy blue eyes shining with determination, his expression remained stubbornly defiant. His cheeks burned, but conviction steadied him. "As for the dangers you speak of... I would still try. I am stronger than you think. I am not as fragile as you believe me to be."
"..." Flins fell silent upon hearing the firm statement from the owner of the pale white hair. Illuga's eyes stared straight at him, demanding understanding. Innocent, naïve, endlessly endearing—gosh, his lover was really making his head spin even more, truly did nothing but complicate his existence.
Flins closed his eyes.
A moment later, a soft chuckle escaped his lips.
Golden eyes opened once more, meeting Illuga's directly before Flins drew the smaller body into his embrace. "Honestly, you are extremely troublesome, Young Master. No one ever said you were weak, you know."
"So that means—"
"No, I am not saying yes," Flins replied at once. There was no teasing now. The hesitation was real, the fear still lingering beneath his composed exterior. He was still haunted by possibilities, by outcomes he refused to imagine too clearly. He did not want to lose Illuga. Even if Illuga was human. Even if Flins knew with cruel certainty that one day Illuga would leave him regardless, he did not want to think about that now. "... But, I will consider it."
"Really? I can accept that. Thank you for considering it for me, Flins-san."
The boy bowed politely, his response incredibly polite—his tone sincere to a faul, his words too kind, as if they were for his own benefit. Oh, my. Flins loved him. He loved him so painfully, so helplessly much.
Burning Heart Amidst the Nightmare—what nightmares was Illuga still trying to erase from this world?
Flins leaned forward without warning, capturing Illuga's lips in a kiss. He took his time, pressing soft, deliberate kisses along his lover's skin, slowly covering Illuga's body with touches that were tender, sensual, and affectionate.
"Mnh— S-Sir Flins...?"
Flins pulled away from the kiss slightly, teeth grazing Illuga's lower lip once more before his mouth drifted downward—brushing along his neck, then lingering near the delicate curve of his ear. "For now, how about I fill you with my love instead?"
His wandering hand slipped beneath the white sweater, fingers gliding slowly as though savoring the privilege of every touch. He continued, tone low and intimate. "I need time to convince myself to properly imagine just how adorable my lover's stomach would look... completely filled by me."
"O-oh... g-gosh—" Illuga's cheeks flushed instantly, color blooming bright and helpless across his face.
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"—Ahhh... S-sir..."
Flins was now above him, handling Illuga with care. With extreme gentleness. With practiced ease. Even so, Illuga's body felt completely filled by Flins' penis moving within him.
As he began to move against Illuga, Flins leaned down to capture his lips once more. Once, twice, three times—soft kisses melting into a tender hunger one. Flins' tongue slipped into Illuga's mouth, and Illuga answered without hesitation. They clung to each other, lost in deep, breath-stealing kisses.
The kiss finally broke. Illuga's breathing turned uneven.
"My sweet one..." Flins murmured. His lips brushed the corners of Illuga's icy eyes, where crystal-like tears had gathered. Then the kisses drifted lower—along his shoulder blades, tracing the line of his firm shoulders—until Flins' mouth found Illuga's reddened nipple. He kissed it slowly, teasingly, before drawing it between his lips. A gentle suck. A faint graze of teeth. Again and again, until Illuga's back arched helplessly, silently begging to be claimed.
"A—ahh... S-Sir F-Flins..."
Illuga himself was no less sensual than Flins. He lifted his head, pressing soft kisses against Flins' face—the Fae's pale cheek, the sharp bridge of his nose, then his forehead.
Flins' fingers returned to Illuga's chest, squeezing gently, savoring the warmth beneath his touch. When he cupped Illuga's nipple and lifted it slightly, his thumb immediately brushed over the sensitive peak—now hardened, now desperately demanding attention.
"Beautiful... So beautiful..." Flins murmured softly, pressing his face against Illuga's chest as he breathed in that distinctive sweet scent, before his lips closed around one of Illuga's hardened nipples.
"A... ahh..." Illuga pulled Flins closer, arms tightening instinctively. Flins' hips began to move again, driving into him with slow rhythm. A soft moan slipped from Illuga's lips as his body suddenly clenched, the muscles around Flins tightening as though desperately trying to hold and feel every inch of him. He moaned softly as his rectal muscles suddenly contracted, as if trying to massage the hard object inside. Within a split second, Flins convulsed—pushing his cock deeply into him, spurting out a gush of white fluid.
His movement stilled—then a deep, final thrust, burying himself as far as Illuga's body would allow. Warmth followed immediately, a sharp tremor running through Flins as release overtook him.
"Aahhh... mnh..." Together with him, Illuga felt the pleasure crash through his body—deep, overwhelming, spreading like heat in his stomach and stealing whatever breath he had left. Flins' teeth grazed Illuga's lower lip gently. Once, twice, then he released it, leaving the warmth behind.
Flins' breathing was ragged now, golden eyes faintly glowing with the lingering haze of satisfaction. Illuga, too, had completely unraveled—yet there was no mistaking the pleasure still trembling through him. Without without pulling out his penis, Flins gathered Illuga into his arms, holding him securely against his chest. Illuga clung to him, burying his face against Flins' shoulder, seeking comfort in the familiar warmth of his embrace.
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Flins' fingers brushed softly across Illuga's sleeping stomach, his touch slow and gentle. He knew well that the gesture did nothing to soothe the quiet unrest coiling deep within his chest. Silenty, his thoughts drifted toward an image he had never truly allowed himself to linger on—Illuga's wish, that slender body gradually changing, that belly would grow, and it would harbor a tiny life.
An unfamiliar warmth crept into that imagination. It was a pleasant feeling, happy, tender, and achingly sweet. And yet, entwined with it came something else—a tightening suffocating weight that refused to loosen. A feeling like... Worry? Fear?
Fae were never born in the way humans understood birth. They were not creatures of natural beginnings. His kind had been crafted by the artisans of Hyperborea, shaped through methods long deemed forbidden—knowledge bestowed upon them by Koitar. They were beings of frostmoon's light, existence itself woven rather than conceived. And history had never been kind to such existence. When the Celestial Nail fell upon Hyperborea, many of his kin were erased without mercy, reduced to nothing more than icy, silvery mist. Fragile forms undone in an instant.
To attempt such a rite with a human...
Flins' fingers stilled slightly against Illuga's skin.
If the ancient ceremony were ever performed, it would not resemble anything human. No gentle passage of life. No simple union of bodies. A Fae's essence would have to take root within a mortal vessel—not merely resting there, but drawing, feeding, shaping itself through the very vitality of its host.
And a human body...
A human body would pay the price. Life drained slowly. Warmth consumed from within. Strength fading without remedy. Not pain, perhaps—but an inevitable thinning, like a candle burning too brightly, too quickly.
Flins closed his eyes. He had lived long enough to understand the cruel arithmetic of such possibilities. Illuga's wish was unbearably sweet—too sweet—it bordered on agony. A dream radiant with beauty, but built upon a risk Flins could never willingly accept.
A small creature with eyes as beautiful as Illuga's.
Bearing his blood, Flins' pointed ears.
Laughter that resembled like Illuga's.
Flins' chest tightened. Oh, the desire was there. It was definitely there. Undeniably there. And precisely because of that, he restrained it with all his strength, locking it away carefully in the deepest chambers of his heart.
"... My, my. How foolish," he murmured softly, whether to himself or to the unwelcome vision, even he could not tell. "Such a foolish Young Master... why would you suddenly bring up such a terrible desire, hm?"
And now, that little beloved lover of his had awakened a desire Flins had buried for so very long.
To be Continued...