Though these are mostly based off my own headcanons about Columbina at the moment, I've been thinking of Sunday with a reader that's like Columbina for a while now. So....

Sunday x Columbina!reader hc's:

-Loves when you sing and finds your voice beautiful and soothing.

-Violin/piano duets with you. He's taken on the role of your accompanist and plays that role proudly.

-Would melt from joy if you sang one of Robin's songs (and might even have the recording saved, playing it when he can't fall asleep on particularly restless nights).

-Worries about your lack of energy with how tired you appear all the time. Has considered taking you to a doctor but Welt and Himeko assured him that's just how you were, so he dropped the topic...for now.

PHAINON ࣪ ִֶָ ⋆ . call my name

as overly formal and unnecessary as it sounds, the amphoreus' hero has always been lord phainon to you. while it comes with great honour and respect, much like how it applies to your master; lady aglaea, it feels like there's a barrier between you and him, and he doesn't really like that, considering that he'd like to know you better, closer.

so naturally, he revels in making you drop the honourary title, and the best way to make you do so (based on his countless personal experiments of trial-and-error, which he very much enjoyed) is to catch you off guard. shock you enough to make you forget all about the formality, enough to make you see him not as just amphoreus' hero, but as phainon himself.

one of the times that happened was when you found a lost little girl in the wood. so you asked around the village nearby if she's familiar. you were starting to get some leads when you stumbled upon an elderly man who commented, "my, what lovely family you three look".

"no, we're not-".

"well, thank you so much, good sir. unfortunately, they're not family members. we're actually looking for this child's parents. although i'd like to note that i do look forward to starting a family with this woman".

"phainon!".

of course, that's just one method of making you fall into his plan. there's trill in guessing how you'll react. the blush that never fail to paint your face rosy red always manage to make him fall deeper for you. but nothing made him completely weak than you calling his name consciously out of your own choice.

not even mydei's hardest punch to his gut could do as much damage as you do in this situation.

he was looking at the moon one night all alone when you appeared beside him. "someone seems busy with his thought. would he be so generous to share?", a teasing tone laced your words, making him chuckled. you always seem to know how to calm his nerve when it's going wild.

"just.. thinking about the battle to come. do you think we'll make it this time?". from the hill you're standing on, the ruins around the perimeter glowed under the moonlight. the destruction they faced was unmistakable. from the way he sympathetically shifted his gaze upon them, you guessed that perhaps it's from his previous battle, one that you didn't embark together with, one that he failed.

without warning, you took his hand in yours, caressing circles on the scars on it, a gentle smile gracing your lips. "of course we will, because you have me by your side", you announced pridefully, so full of confidence that it felt contagious on him. "and you by mine, phainon".

you voice was so low, as if a whisper of a mother soothing her crying child, or a girl confessing to her lover of her affection. but he heard you loud and clear.

although, he felt like he needed you to repeat that again because his system was in a mess from you saying his name that he didn't get to savour it to its fullest.

"no, that only come once".

safe to say that he spent the rest of the night begging that you call his name like you just did. but where's the fun in a challenge if you just give him what he wants?

⊹₊ author's note ₊⊹

Phainon & Mydei Kissing Headcanons

Phainon

His kisses can be as playful as he is or as serious as when he’s raring to go and save people. With the literal weight of the world on his shoulders, he’s expectedly tense. Yet when he’s with you, the stressors melt away, if only for a moment.

“My starlight,” he breathes, lips millimeters away from connecting with your own. His hands are on your waist, gripping your clothes as though he’s afraid you’ll slip right through his fingertips. His icy eyes are focused on your every feature out of fear you’ll be gone if he so much as blinks. You have to take the lead and finally connect your lips with his, or Phainon would happily have you in the same spot, staring at you for as long as he could. With your sudden kiss, his chest heaves immediately and he presses himself impossibly closer to you.

There’s hesitation when he kisses you back, but unmistakable passion taking root out of desperation to show you how much you mean to him. He tells you all the time, shows you just how special you are to him — his traveler from beyond the stars, easily cutting through his glazed defenses and permitting him to just be a man around you. No heroes, no titles, only himself.

Indeed, you are his starlight.

Mydei

All the haughtiness in the world isn’t enough to deter how weak you make the great Chrysos Heir. With how gruff the last prince presents himself as — albeit, understandably so given his duties — it doesn’t take much for him to fold laughably when the moment presents itself to be alone with you. Desperation doesn’t do enough to describe his burning desire for you in any normal circumstances nor does it explain the magical effect you have gripping his heart.

Mydei’s kisses are like searing hot coal as he presses you up against a surface. It’s easier to balance himself, he reasons. Because when you are before him after a campaign away from you, his lips and hands always seem to gravitate to every bit of you. Skin-on-skin contact is his favorite as his lips ravage you. “Gentle” wasn’t usually a prominent word in his vocabulary; it was more accurate to say you refined him into a precious ore with jagged edges but smooth enough not to cut.

When he finally parts from your supple lips after having his way with you, you’re breathless and gripping onto him to keep yourself upright. When you open your eyes, you’re met with molted gold crinkling at the edges as he smirks at you.

“So… should I take you here? Or shall I take you elsewhere to continue our escapade?”

Loving Kevin Kaslana and then finding my beloved again in Hsr, just as beautiful as the day I lost him was such an experience... It's insane

"Never thought the deliverance would be interested in older women? Did you hang out with Aglaea too much lately?" Mydei has to physically grab Phainon's face to drag his gaze off of you before they get found out by your group.

"That's not it... It's just that she..." Being a Chrysos Heir and being good looking as he is, Phainon certainly doesn't lack suitors. There are many who would offer themselves to him on a silver platter. And yet, despite the adoration, the admiration they held for him, Phainon's feelings didn't reciprocate.

Because of that, he has been alone for a long time now. Choosing to put the well being of Amphoreus above his own needs and feelings. It was like that until he met you. You arrived on this doomed planet alongside your companions, shining down like a ray of hope sent by the gods.

Unlike them, you look older. You dressed like a person in their late 40th, choosing practically and comfort over style, and barely show any skin. The mark of time have left its mark on you in the form of the wrinkles at the corner of your eyes, and the callousness on your hands. Your eyes soft yet unyielding, signs that you have been through your own fair share of troubles. You look, no, are too old for him.

And yet, his heartbeat only gets faster as he sees you, heat rushing down his cheeks.

"I might need your help for this" he was really shameful, that the Chrysos Heir admitted. But he can't let go of his curiosity.

Every time he tries to talk to you, your first move was to distant yourself from him. If you two are even in a conversation, you always refuse to share any information about yourself. You are willing to share bits here and there about our companions and the world above the sky but never about yourself.

And your eyes, he knows that there is love beneath it. But it was not directed at him. It is as if you are looking at someone else. Someone that is him but at the same time isn't.

After that look, he decided to be selfish. He yearn to know about you, about who you are, what your liking, what power you possessed and who is your love.

Tribbie was very against it at first but after much begging, finally caved in and agreed to steal your phone for him. He know he needed to be fast, otherwise your group would get suspicious. After all, outside of your weapon and money, it was the only possession that you brought along.

But even Titans weren't enough to prepare him about what he supposed to find inside that little device. Pictures, letters, conversations between you and... Kevin Kaslana. There is no denying the love you two have for one another. Sweeten words, soft gestures and sacred moments shared between lovers. Between you and a man who shared his face. Precious memories sealed inside this little thing.

Time clearly passed since the two of you since you were clearly older than the pictures in your phone. And it proved that this Kevin- your beloved is no longer by your side.

And oddly enough, he feels both sad and satisfied at the same time. Kevin Kaslana isn't there anymore but Phainon is still here. Surely you wouldn't deny yourself a piece of your dearly departed.

After this he planned, he would save this world alongside your side and then convince you to remain by his side on Amphoreus. He is sure that he can love you the same way Kevin have loved you if not better.

But then Aglaea have to come and threatened the life that is yours and your companions. And Phainon have to forced himself to think whether or not it was worth it to save the place he used to call home. Now that he thinks about it, the so called Astral Express would surely welcome another member, right?

I wanted to write a little backstory of the relationship right now djdjdj

Dan Heng furrowed his brow as he watched you grab onto Sunday’s hand and tug him behind you, “come on! I’ll give you a tour!”

He was only brought out of his thoughts when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“I wouldn’t worry too much, she is just being nice to him.”

“Must she act so familiar with him though,” he fired back without even looking at Himeko who tried to comfort him the best she could.

Sighing a little, Himeko kept her small smile, “y/n probably just doesn’t want Sunday to feel alone. Before you and the others joined the Astral Express it was just her, Welt and me taking care of the Stellarons and trailblazing our own path. And she… was… always so distant. Broken almost. But then she met you and March and then Stelle joined too. And she finally started to smile again.”

Dan Heng fully turned towards Himeko then.

“All I’m saying,” she said continuing, “is that she just doesn’t want to isolate Sunday despite what has happened between all of us in Penacony.”

“And of course this is the main train car! We mainly gather up here when we’re about to warp.”

Dan Heng looked back to where you were his eyes once again training on how your hand held onto Sunday’s…, or was Sunday holding onto you. He huffed. He new is was petty, but he couldn’t stop feeling that jealousy well up inside of him as you continued to pull Sunday around.

“Hey, Dan Heng! Why so frowny?”

When you spotted him, you had immediately trotted over to him, Sunday in tow.

“I’m not frowny,” he said even as he didn’t do much to try to change his soured expression.

“Could have fooled me,” you tried to joke.

Sunday, all the while, was watching you both carefully. The weight of your palm in his hand becoming increasingly apparent as the pieces started to fall into place. You… were a bit oblivious, but he didn’t mind that. Dan Heng did though.

Well, whatever. Sunday was used to fighting for his place. So if he had to fight for your hand too, then so be it.

“Oh! Are we leaving now,” you said excitedly when PomPom’s voice broke out over the intercom to let everyone know they should prepare to warp.

Everyone else was already getting ready as you grabbed Dan Heng’s hand with your free one, “let’s all sit together!”

And even as you tugged them both along, their eyes caught one another instead. A silent rivalry formed instantaneously.

Anatomy Of A Hug

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ft. Phainon, Mydei, Anaxa

-; ੈ♡˳ PHAINON

In the simplest terms, Phainon hugs with his everything. He's not shy to initiate skin-contact, will press himself to you accordingly — unless you voice out discomfort. He's diligent in wrapping his arms around your person securely, should you fancy melting in the bliss he offers. Though, his dexterity with hugs was honed through practice. In the beginning, the strength of a seasoned warrior had been more prevalent. A good amount of discussion (read: pleading to breathe) and experimentation snapped him out of the rush of pleasantries and reminded him of how precious a person he was dealing with.

Front hugs, back hugs, side hugs, bear hugs — he's okay with whatever you're comfortable with. His personal preference is going through all kinds of hugs he knows of manually ; first to shield you from all the evil that preys on your vulnerability, then scooping you up from the pull of gravity, a hearty squeeze to assure you of his protection, followed by a thrilling spin that will repel all bad thoughts out of your orbit. Until all the vestiges of weariness and stress have been replaced clean with the smiles he so adores.

Phainon is not one to be satisfied with short exchanges of warmth, the duration of these hugs tend to be quite long — or, as long as he can get away with before he has to commit to a Hero's responsibilities. Just as he initiates hugs with all of his soul, he expects the same when it comes to receiving them. Phainon prefers to be coddled, held with a promise of protection, ironically. Allow him to kneel and bring him close to your heart, weave your fingers through his hair, soothe the tension in his shoulders and he'll abandon the Flame-Chase altogether.

It's impossible to stir him in those moments, unless your safety happened to be at stake. As such, it's best for you to bid farewell to any other plans. Once he has memorized the nature of this exchange well, he goes beyond and utilizes it to deal with other nuisances. You cannot blame him, not when it has been proven that distracting you with a hug deters both the interference and yourself from paying heed to a mere passer-by. Sometimes his hug offers a bit less comfort and appears more as a shackle. Should you think to point this out, bear this in mind — your embrace is the last thread keeping his sanity intact.

being transported into their world

►— pairings. honkai star rail men x gn! creator! reader

►— warnings. nothing really, not proof read 🙅🏻‍♀️, caelus is the trailblazer, romantic but you can see it was platonic if you want to! girls in the astral express are mentioned for a bit, i mentioned both dan heng and imbibitor lunae so don't mind that! mentions of self attempt/bodily harm for blade, boothill is ooc probably, spoilers of penacony quest, skipping herta space station (will be mentioned in other chapters though!), sahau (self aware honkai au)

►— synopsis. their beloved creator, the one who created many worlds, including theirs, had yet to return after thousands of years. but lately, they've been experiencing strange things, feeling like a heavenly, divine figure loomed over them. could it possibly be their one and only creator?

►— a/n. i've been thinking about a self-aware au but a honkai star rail version for a couple of weeks now after my reverse isekai'd genshin sagau series. also this may be a bit biased towards dang feng (imbibitor lunae) because uh i like him, maybe you can tell?

►— wordcount. 4.5k

part 2

for days they've felt uncomfortable, well, slightly. it only began to happen a couple of months ago when they felt as if something, no... someone was controlling their every movement and choice.

during their adventures, they felt an unsettling sensation creep upon them like a shadow in the night—a feeling of being watched, of a presence looming over their every move.

the presence was overwhelming, their body would stiffen, and they felt as if something like a heavy, invisible blanket was casted upon them.

at first, the passengers in the astral express dismissed it as mere paranoia, attributing it to the heightened tension of their journey or maybe the warping effects in the train. but as days passed and the sensation persisted, they couldn't shake off the unnerving feeling that they were not alone, that someone or something was observing their every action.

at times, they would catch fleeting whispers carried by the wind, faint voices that echoed in the corners of their minds. yet, despite their efforts, they could never make out the words, the words slipping through their grasp like elusive dreams.

as the feeling grew more pronounced, thoughts began to gnaw at their consciousness. who or what could possibly be speaking to them? why is it that every now and then they would feel a sudden boost and surge of power?

they knew deep down that the only being in the universe could make them feel that was,it could be no other than their creator.

the mere thought that their creator was dropping hints of their arrival was exciting. and only when the astral express crew noticed how each and every one of them felt the same exact things—looking around the moment they heard a voice, their body in sync as they tensed up... it was all too coincidental not to notice.

as they talked with one another and pieced the puzzle pieces together, using the information they found along the way travelling to each region, it all became clear.

it was a pivotal moment in their journey, the truth was revealed. in a flash of realization, they discovered that the presence they felt, the elusive voice they heard, was none other than their creator—the architect of their existence, the mastermind behind their trials and tribulations.

Something something about being in a happy relationship with everyone's dear, dashing hero, Phainon — absolute marital bliss and peace. A union that is said to be blessed, that is admired by so many. And the failed hero, Flame Reaver who despises Phainon beyond words, because he has everything that he's wanted — especially you. The green monster has sunk its talon too deep. To soothe that pain, Flame Reaver will steal everything that Phainon holds dearest, starting with you.

We had Mydei, but what about Phainon? He too is one of the Chrysos Heirs. Therefore he too has his wife chosen for him.

It was mostly for convenience rather than looking for any deeper bonds; logic propagated not by Phainon but Aglaea. Then again it only makes sense generally; traditional roles of a wife ease the Chrysos Heir's burdens to a degree, be it cooking or cleaning.

And Phainon was a fairly hard working man.

Despite this being arranged you felt a sense of anxiety as you waited with other women, it didn't help that he was a man of importance. What's the guarantee he'd like you anyway? You were chosen according to the conventionality of it, and other circumstances you didn't really understand. Then again, it was easier not to think of it.

The short formal ceremony was quite comfortable for Phainon, who seemed like too much of a social butterfly. While you were nervous about being married to a practical stranger, he spoke with ease as if he had not heard the concept of social anxiety.

Going back home was even scarier, at first.

Sunday was many things.

Sunday was a man who ruled from above like some sort of god, some sort of saviour to the people of Penacony. He was seen as a man of great power, with endless potential wherever his life decided to take him. And yet there was something he could never be... Free. It was something so far from his reach, and maybe after all this time the he was the bird that couldn't fly. Maybe all along the charmony dove from his childhood was a representation of himself, trapped in a cage and never meant to fly, bound to fall and crash. Yet maybe he was wrong, because now he wanted to fly. He realised now how misguided he was at that young age, but it was too late now. He remained trapped, victim to his own mind and the manipulation that wove through his being like vines. He stood in total darkness, his own feet a blur as he tried to escape but it was futile. A light seemed to flow from the heavens, the glow like a distant memory as it looked down at him mockingly. His body remained unmoving, forced to watch from afar. Trapped. He wanted to fly, to reach the light and free himself, but maybe it was his fate for his failures. Maybe he was never in control like he was labelled as, praised over. Sunday felt his right wing twitch, a mix of discomfort and familiarity as two young children appeared in the corner of his vision. The turn of his head was slow, deliberate and calculated despite the way his eyes widened as if he had seen a ghost. Though it wasn't far off. Two small children sat huddled beside each other, kneeling in a small patch of grass that withered around the edges as it approached him. Small wings sprouted from them both, resting behind their ears as their golden halos radiated a warm but dim glow. The smaller of the two wore a white dress, dirt collecting at the hem as she leaned against the garden beds cradling a small puff of iridescent feathers. The figure beside the small girl instead wore a white vest over his mostly pristine grey shirt, small stains splotched over the otherwise undisturbed material.

His breath seemed to catch in his throat as he observed their hunched over forms. Even if she was different now, a smaller version of her current form, he never thought he'd see her again. Robin. She had sacrificed everything for him, risked her own safety to confront one of the Ten Stonehearts to give him his chance to fly free. Yet all he had done was trap her, strip her of freedom in his twisted idea of protection. She was never weak, yet he treated her as if she was someone who needed to rely on him for solace. Maybe he had never deserved her in the first place, took her kindness for granted. Maybe it was for the best they were apart, if not for him for her. Maybe she could fly free for the both of them. He watched the two young halovians discussed something between themselves, hearing loose parts of the familiar conversation from his childhood. He watched as the small girl placed the fledgling onto the roughed up soil of the garden bed, turning to sprint out of the picture displayed to him. He was left with himself, both figuratively and literally, watching in confusion as the kneeling boy before him. This was... different. This isn't what happened. Sunday was left in awe as he watched himself change, feeling a shift in his child self's reaction as he stared at the small bird, patches of missing feathers becoming clearer to him as the small girl with lilac-silver hair returned to the scene, the image of her flickering as she entered further into the movie like display.

A enclosed box was in her arms, similar to a miniature house with a clear opening on one side that she pushed into the underside of the bush. The shelter didn't seem the most efficient against the weather bound to roll over in the winter months, but he felt his heart clench at her childlike innocence and compassion that made her shine ever so bright in his eyes. He watched the small girl scoop the fledgling into her hands, cupping them around it gently in case it started to stir in displeasure. Her small hands made their way past the entrance of the box, placing the baby in a mix of roughed up towels and synthetic feathers from their craft box. A smile crept onto the smaller boys face as he grabbed his sisters hand, happy at being able to give the tiny being a second chance at freedom, even if it was going to inevitably fail. Sunday couldn't help but look at his past choices in a new light, yet he felt conflicted as he continued to stare at the receding display before him. If he has chosen differently back then... could they have still been together? Would he have chosen a path away from the order that seemed to corrupt his every thought?

It was my fault. It was if the whole dreamscape had collapsed onto him, his own strength alone being the only support before it all came crumbling down. His throat felt as if it was closing, an irritating sting in the back of his eye as he stared into the endless void of his mind. It started as just his hands, shaking uncontrollably beneath the leather gloves that felt uncomfortably tight around his smooth skin, feeling like thorns digging impossibly deeper into his body. His wings were next, twitching at a pace that was bound to set him off sooner or later, followed by an unbearable itch at the base where they melted into his neck seamlessly. His covered hands reached towards his ears, moving past them as he began to scratch as the delicate skin. He felt his nails digging into his flesh as if they were bare, raking them over until he felt a warm liquid drip to his collar. A voice echoed through his head, a disoriented call of unfamiliar origin blaming him for everything. And he simply agreed to these accusations, taking them with open arms wishing it'd end the hurtful words sooner, yet them kept coming. They dug into his chest like a deep-rooted thorn, ripping into his heart like it was a mere nuisance in their way. Before he could drag himself deeper into his twisted thoughts, a comforting hand made contact with the back of his head. Despite the lack of any visible limb reaching out to him, the familiar twist of fingers through his silvery hair wasn't something possibly enforced by his imagination. Something so positive wasn't something he could materialise in the depths of his cage he trapped himself in.

What started as a gentle touch quickly changed to a soothing massage at his scalp, the amount of pressure clearly calculated. He could feel the tension leave him as he focused to the loving touches, the shaking of his limbs lessening as he closed his eyes. Sunday didn't feel as trapped anymore, recognising the slight pressure of the weighted blanket that pooled over his legs and lower stomach. He registered the feeling of a warm liquid sliding down his face, over his flushed cheeks. He frantically blinked his dulled eyes as he jolted to sit, hand coming to clench the material over his chest as his eyes flickered around the dark room. Golden tears clouded the corners of his vision, getting caught in his lower lashes as he tried to wipe them away. His small wings moved stiffly, coming to hide his face as the clouded feathers got drenched in the salty liquid, staining his usually pristine wings. He could feel as a hand gently came to cup his chin, pulling it to the side as an angelic voice called out to him. your voice. "Angel..? I'm sorry if I woke you but you were crying."

He gently forced his wings to lower despite his heart wanting nothing more than to hide away his pain behind a false façade he grew accustomed to wearing. He met your obviously tired eyes, yet he could tell the worry as if it had etched itself onto your face. His first thought was of how he didn't deserve you, how he didn't deserve such kindness considering his past sins. Yet even if it was selfish of him, he wanted to hold you until his final breath, refusing to lose another person he held so dear in his heart. He felt the burn of your questioning gaze as he lowered his head, nuzzling into your hand that felt his face like he was going to break. "Just a bad dream, nothing you should need to worry about."

He couldn't hide the quiver in his voice, or the way his tears began to flow again, leaving behind golden trails as they flowed down his face towards your hand. You could feel the now cooled tears as they made contact with your fingers, opting you to pull his head to lay against your chest as you shifted his body over your own. His arms snaked around your back like it was natural, grabbing at the loose material of your top like he would have as a child to his own mother. He felt the shift of your hands as they ran across the back of his head, resting near the base of his ear as you pushed his ash hair to the side. Dried blood sat stuck to his smaller feathers like glue, a sickly crimson coating the plumage like a corruption. Your nails attentively scratched at the dried substance, taking into consideration how sensitive his wings were as you untangled flakes of red from the now stained feathers. You could feel his shoulders droop as you slowly worked at cleaning and preening the small appendages, moving a hand to cradle his nape as you pulled him impossibly closer to you. Sunday's breath fanned over you as he laid silently against you, finding comfort in your presence as you attended to him.

Could you really love him after everything he's done? Could you really find it in you to accept his past crimes and still smile at him ever so brightly? He couldn't understand you, but it made his appreciation of you grow. you were too kind to him, to a monster who risked the lives of many for some selfish goal fostered into his mind. He found himself questioning a certain thought that circled in his mind, lifting his head slightly before asking you. "Why did she free me? After all I did why did she still choose to put me first?" The question caught you off guard initially, though after thinking on it for a moment you could assume her thoughts as if they belonged to you. Sunday shifted uncomfortably at the dazed look on your face, worried that you'd say something about how he didn't deserve it. Expected you to push him away and shun him for the rest of his mortal life. Yet what he didn't was a gentle smile, for your hand to move to cup his jaw as your fingers ran over his cheek. For you to place an array of affectionate kisses against his face before choosing to give him an answer he hadn't thought a possible explanation for her actions. "Even if in a different way, you still dedicated your life to protecting her. Maybe she wanted to protect you too, to give you freedom from your ties to the order."

As if one of the Aeons heard his prayer, he was able to see from a new light, away from his narrowed idea of life and it's destined fate. His face returned to your chest, nuzzling against you as you felt a warm liquid seep through the front of your top. Yet this time was different. he was happy. His wings twitched as if he was laughing, body shaking despite the lack of sounds coming from his throat as he pulled you by your waist closer to his warm frame. It finally clicked in his mind, finally able to finish the incomplete story in his mind. Even if Sunday was trapped in his own mind for eternity, even if he could never feel true freedom and never open his wings to fly free. Even if he was bound by the thorns that trapped his very being, he was happy.

Because he knew to you his lack of wings didn't change the love you gave him. He knew his inability to remove the shackles that kept him grounded, keeping him the bird that can't fly, didn't leave you regretting your choices of staying with him. No matter how different he was from the birds in the sky, he was still your angel.

Forever.