sashimi18
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“Has a knight out there caught your eye, then?”
A quiet hum. Flins thought of blue eyes alight with mirth, of calloused hands and rumbling laughter, and murmured, almost to himself, “Yes, something like that.”
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Or: Mondstadt is holding a tournament in honor of the Windblume Festival. Flins takes this opportunity to make his affections for one very specific knight known.
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“Um, Mister Flins isn’t moving. Or… responding. At all.” A tentative pause. “Is that normal?”
Shit.
Aether whirled around, and, at the sight of Flins crumpled on the ground, unmoving, his stomach dropped like a stone.
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Or: The battle with Rerir goes much worse.
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"Where does it go?" Varka's warm hands on his shoulders again, drawing him closer until he collides with heat and fabric and a strong, sturdy body beneath. Flins' eyes stay open. His gaze sticks to the azure of Varka's coat. "Where does all that hurt go, if we can't see it?"
Inside, he supposes. Inside his cold, aching chest, where his flames aren't enough to burn it away.
Finally, Flins shuts his eyes, fingers hooking in fabric, mouth pressed to Varka's shoulder behind layers of fabric. Fool, he thinks again, and imagines himself biting down. Varka has never seemed to know not to get so close.
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Flins' body doesn't carry his scars. Varka is the first to see that, and, perhaps, the first to care.Bookmarked by sashimi18
14 Feb 2026
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“Can you have a child with Uncle Flins?”
For a little while, sound reached him as if through layers of wool, and the only thing he could feel was akin to a blade piercing through his chest. Something in him folded inward, the same instinctive reflex he felt when he put out his light that one time, long ago. He did not move. Did not think. Did not speak.
Varka laughed again, too fast and too loud, a tone that went against all the natural laws of sound.
“That’s impossible,” Varka fixed the hat on Klee’s head, looking just as sad as she did. “Sorry, little spark.”
Varka invites Flins to the Windblume Festival without telling him that the festival is the most notorious courting ground in Mondstadt. Somehow, everyone already knows what they are to each other—except them.
Bookmarked by sashimi18
14 Feb 2026
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“You consumed my food. You shared your name with me, and I mine. I held your taste in my mouth. By Fae law, we are now bound.”
“Bound?” Varka echoes, intelligently.
“Indeed.” Flins’s eyes of molten gold feel like a physical weight on him. “Forgive my bluntness, but I sense some confusion on your part. Perhaps you desired a human marriage?”
“Marriage?”
In which Varka gets married to Flins. Unbeknownst to Varka himself.
Bookmarked by sashimi18
13 Feb 2026