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aurumalatus · 8 months ago

Text

𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 2.1k

genre/warnings. princess!reader, knight!kinich, slight enemies to lovers (not really, they just argue but idk the term for that tbh LOL), pixelprincess!au

summary.

ever since he became your personal guard, you've found kinich to be a royal pain in your ass. you've always assumed he felt the same, until the night of your matching ball. now, you're not sure what this burning in your chest means after all.

author's note. this is a drabble as part of a universe that i'm calling pixelprincess (knight!kinich x princess!reader). i don't really have a full fic planned for this or anything, i just have a bunch of small headcanons about them and i love aus so feel free to scream about them with me HAHA. thank you for reading! reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

𝐩𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐚𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

If there’s one thing you can definitively say about Kinich, it’s that he’s not stupid.

Honestly, you could say a lot of things. You’ve heard the rumors just like everyone else, about the fearsome Captain of the Guard who passed training within a single day. They whisper that he holds a dragon’s power in his heart, a fact that strikes fear into any nation that dares encroach upon your territory. His reputation precedes him, and he’s somewhat of a mystery to the general public—most of them envision him as a hero, the key to the nation’s defense.

If there’s another thing you can definitively say about Kinich, it’s that sometimes, you wish he was stupid.

The castle always feels larger during the summer, when the sunlight bathes the interior with gold and the halls bustle with movement during the day. Guards and aides rush in every direction, though none of them seem to spare a glance in your direction; there’s simply far too much to pay attention to today.

The maids are replacing the vases with fresh flora, Brilliant Chrysanthemums and Saurian Claw Succulents that make the room seem brighter, discussing which configuration looks the best. You know them all, of course; growing up within the castle meant that these women had practically raised you. Even as an adult, it’s hard to escape them when they feel like pinching your cheeks and reminiscing on old times.

Sensing the coast is clear, you crack the door open another millimeter, carefully slipping into the hall and blending in with the crowd. The maids, luckily, don’t notice, still fussing over petals and stems. You’d calculated this time exactly—right now, the guard patrol should be across the castle, checking the entrances before the ball tonight. If your information wasn’t wrong, then you should have just enough time to make it to the servants’ passages, and then out to the garden—

“Oh?”

The familiar voice makes you murmur some choice curse words under your breath. Of course, the dark-haired man in front of you is always several steps ahead of everyone. He’s leaning against the stone wall, looking entirely too pleased with himself, as if he knows something you don’t.

“Princess,” Kinich greets, bowing his head despite how you wave him off—you’ve never been one for formalities. “What are you doing here?”

“Just taking a walk.”

You move at a brisk pace past him, but Kinich is faster—he always is, the annoying bastard. Before you can turn the corner, there’s the blade of a greatsword blocking your path. No matter how much you see it, you’re always surprised by the size of the damn thing—you’re shocked he can even lift it as it is. A half-smirk rests on his lips when you gasp.

“Taking a walk away from your lessons? I do believe your teacher’s room is in the opposite direction.”

The annoying thing about Kinich is that he truly knows everything, including your schedules. He’s thorough to a near fault, though you suppose that that’s exactly the kind of person who would be fit for Captain of the Guard. Still, you duck under his sword, unwilling to make eye contact.

“Lessons are tomorrow. I have other plans today.”

Kinich falls into step beside you, and the halls are suddenly clear of people—the crowd parts before you, a stubborn rock among a rushing river. You’re unsure if it’s due to your status, or due to your temper—it’s a well-known fact in the castle that Kinich can get you wound up quite quickly.

“And what might these other plans be?”

He always has too many damn questions, you think. Silently, you curse your father for assigning him to you. A series of attempts on your life last year had made him paranoid, and he’d been quick to promote the strongest knight as your personal guard. Back then, you’d been fooled just like everyone else into thinking that Kinich was some kind of serious, straight-laced hero. Instead, you’d since discovered that he was seriously annoying.

“Can I guess?” he asks, deftly dodging past the maids carrying bundles of tablecloths and the waiters carrying sky-high stacks of platters.

“No, you can’t. In fact, you can’t even ask. I should have you executed for that.”

Kinich raises a brow, amused. “The Queen would never let that happen.”

And, unfortunately, he’s correct. Your mother absolutely adores Kinich as if he were her own son, and it irritates you to no end—especially when she heavy-handedly suggests that you make him your groom. The door to the back stairwell falls into view, so you break into a jog as you reach the end of the hall, but he’s right on your heel.

If I can just make it to the stairs…

Kinich steps in front of you again, not allowing you an inch further, and you nearly scream in frustration.

“If I didn’t know any better—”

You scoff. “And you, in fact, don’t know anything—”

“—I would say that you’re trying to avoid going to the ball.”

And, once again, you wish that just once Kinich would let something fly over his head.

Utterly defeated, you collapse into one of the plush chairs nearby, fanning your face. Kinich stands over you, a bit tense, as if he thinks you’re going to try to run again. You won’t; at this point, you’re too tired.

“So what if I am?” you finally admit. “You always complain about them anyway. I find it a little unfair that you’re allowed to and I’m not.”

As great as he is at his job as a guard, Kinich isn’t so great at facing the public, despite how popular he is among them (particularly the women). Whenever he can, he avoids social events like the plague, often volunteering to run perimeter duty as a precaution rather than attending with you. You, unfortunately, don’t have that luxury.

Kinich sighs, resting his weight on his sword. “I don’t complain, it’s just annoying when everyone is so loud and—”

You snap your fingers, interrupting and pointing at him accusingly. “You hear that? What you were just doing? That’s called complaining.”

Realizing he was caught in the act, Kinich rolls his eyes. “How very profound of you. If you put that much effort into your escape routes, maybe you would’ve made it this time.”

Your gaze narrows. “How about I stick a profound fist up your a—”

“Kinich? Is that you?”

The booming voice makes you both straighten up instantly. Kinich smoothly sheaths his sword, saluting to the king as he makes his way down the hall. You’re far less graceful about it, gathering up your skirts messily and quickly curtseying to your father.

“Your Highness,” you both echo.

If your father notices the tension between the two of you, he doesn’t say so; he looks as jolly as always, even more so because of the event today. He’s the social type, a trait you unfortunately did not inherit.

“Just the two people I was hoping to see,” he laughs, a full-bodied sound that booms from his chest. “I’m glad that the two of you get along so well.”

To your irritation, Kinich smirks, while you offer your father a thin-lipped smile.

“Of course,” you lie, sneakily jabbing your guard in the ribs. He coughs. “We get along like a house on fire.”

“That’s good,” your father says, nodding encouragingly. “You’ll both do well later tonight then.”

Your heart drops at the thought of attending the event. You know how long your parents have been planning this, and how long they’ve been practically begging you to find a companion. It’s all a long-winded scheme to find you a princely partner, and not one that you particularly appreciate—a great majority of the princes you’ve met are far too full of themselves. You truly have no interest in any of them.

Kinich, however, pointedly clears his throat at your father’s wording.

“Both of us?” he asks, enunciating slowly. “I’m not sure I follow, sir.”

You perk up in interest—that detail had been lost on you.

“I invited several princes from neighboring nations today,” your father says, eyeing you with a pitying stare. You try not to feel offended. “I want my daughter to find someone suitable for her, no matter who that may be. Still, I was hoping you could attend with her this time? I know it’s not your favorite, but I would feel uncomfortable with her being around so many strangers alone.”

Kinich’s smirk falters, and he suddenly falls still. You wonder if he’s irritated by the prospect of attending the ball at your side.

(Distantly, you wonder why the thought of that makes you feel a bit ill.)

The silence grows awkward, and you rock on your heels, searching for something to say. Your guard looks a bit lost for words, likely because he wasn’t prepared for so much social interaction today. You can’t really blame him—if you were in his shoes, you wouldn’t be thrilled either.

“Actually, Your Highness, that won’t be necessary.”

Your eyes nearly pop out of your skull at Kinich’s reply, but you hurry to control your expression, unwilling to give anything away to your father. The king raises a brow.

“And why is that?” he asks.

Kinich gnaws on his lip, an action that is wholly unlike him—you don’t think you’ve ever seen him appear nervous about anything in his life. Still, he meets your father’s gaze head on, coughs once, then says:

“The princess isn’t feeling well. I think it’d be best if she didn’t attend the ball today.”

He nudges your foot just as your father’s gaze drifts to you, and you thank your lucky stars that you did inherit your mother’s dramatics. You throw a hand over your forehead, fanning yourself aggressively.

“Since this morning,” you explain, looking as pitiful as possible, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Thank the archons Kinich was here, otherwise I might’ve fainted earlier.”

And you really do feel guilty when your father’s eyes well up with tears of worry.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” he cries, then turns to one of his aides in a panic. “Call the doctor! Have him attend to her immediately. And announce that she’ll be absent from our festivities tonight.”

You force yourself to hide your smile at his announcement. Your eyes flicker over to Kinich, but for once, he doesn’t seem the slightest bit amused—in fact, he still looks troubled. Your father fusses over you for a bit longer, asking a series of questions about what you’d eaten and who you’d been in contact with. You answer as honestly as you can—the least you can do—and then he directs Kinich to escort you back to your room.

The hallway seems to empty out quickly after that display, and then it’s just you and your guard. For some reason, he seems to avoid your eyes. He doesn’t speak, merely offering you his arm, and after a moment, you take it.

“So, what changed your mind?” you ask, unwilling to let him sit in silence. He looks displeased by your question, but answers anyway.

“Nothing,” he says, expression blank, “I just didn’t think you should go to the ball tonight.”

The tips of his ears are flushed red, you note. Liar.

Still, Kinich keeps countless secrets that you’re sure you’ll never know, and you suppose it doesn’t really matter why he decided to let you off the hook tonight. Really, you’re just grateful you’ll get to sleep peacefully with no stinking princes breathing down your neck. The thought makes you smile as you finally reach your bedroom door.

“Well, what a shame it is,” you sigh sarcastically, turning the knob, “I could’ve been dancing the night away with the love of my life. Now I might never meet him.”

The corner of Kinich’s lip twitches.

“As if,” he replies gruffly, a touch too fast. “You wouldn’t like any of them anyway. They’re not nearly capable of handling you.”

Your eyes narrow, irritated by the implication. “And you are?”

He raises a brow in response. “Aren’t I?”

It comes out uncharacteristically soft. A switch seems to flip in the room, and you suddenly start feeling sick for real—it’s too hot, too quiet. Kinich’s stare weighs on you heavily, and you get lost in the depth of it. You freeze where you are, bedroom door half-open, and you can almost pick out the meaning in his words when he turns away, clearing his throat.

“Goodnight, princess,” he murmurs over his shoulder. “Sweet dreams, and…get well soon.”

He makes his exit without another word, and you wonder if he’s still working tonight. Is he still going to guard the ball? The perimeter? What if one of the other princesses takes a liking to him—

You huff, deciding you don’t care and slamming the door shut. The ball is bound to be a drag, and you find Kinich annoying, you think as you fall into bed. You’re happy about this arrangement. Overjoyed, even.

Yes, you find Kinich very annoying.

…Don’t you?

#genshin impact x reader #kinich x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact fluff #kinich x you #kinich #genshin impact #adeptus ink #pixelprincess!au

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tomahachi12 · 7 months ago

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What's the story behind your drone-sona? Since she has the Cabin Fever tag, I was curious what's the story behind her.

BUCKLE UP, IT'S A LONG ONE (some of this is headcanon crap, so not all info would be show accurate)

Toma (012) was a just regular worker drone working within the offices of the JCJenson Mining Facility.

The area of the offices she worked in had drones split into small groups to complete larger projects. She was part of the group which included Nori (002), Yeva (048) and Alice (017) (I LOVE THEM LEAVE ME ALONE).

She was usually tasked with taking paperwork back and forth between her group to turn in or for them to work on, something she was.. pretty bad at.

Because of Nori's shenanigans, their group often got in trouble with the humans.

At some point, Drones began to be selected from a lottery pool to be transferred to the lower levels of the facility. At first, the Humans would play this off as a "promotion" of sorts in order to keep the drones from becoming suspicious of their intentions and keep their minds at ease.

As time went on, the humans dropped the façade and the drones began to fear these selections, given that the chosen drones were never seen or heard from again after being selected.

Eventually, Toma's ID was drawn as the next to go. (she was chosen first out of their group, next was Alice, then Yeva and Nori was the last)

Toma was taken down the Cabin Fever Labs to be used in the "Solver" experiments.

When she was infected with the Solver Program, it took her over instantly. She was quickly given an early version of the patch (1.5.8) before causing too much damage.

The effect of the Solver's code on her body left her lethargic and forgetful. Since she was patched early, she cannot use the solver, but still suffers from it's effects; occasional possession, the need to consume oil, ect..

Not being able to provide much information for their research, the humans mostly kept her bound in her locker. Sometimes they even forgot she was in there.

Before the core collapse, she was able to escape her chains and wondered around the mines for a minute before the eventual implosion.

She was blown out the facility and somehow managed to survive, not only the blast, but even the crash back down to the planet. Though it knocked her offline for a time, causing anyone that found her to think she was dead.

RIP Toma lol

After she eventually woke up, she stayed put for a few months, hiding out in the outer buildings of the facility until she was found by another worker drone.

This drone invited Toma to join his colony, Outpost 9. She agreed and followed him to the base (wow Toma, ever heard of stranger danger gdamn..)

Toma was welcomed in this colony and she lived there for several years, learning how to live a life free from human-control. She was even able to pick up an old hobby she was never allowed to do back at the offices, drawing.

The nightmares gave her plenty to draw anyway.

Eventually, it all went to shit when the Murder Drones showed up, popped that base open like a soda can, and killed everyone inside.

Toma's solver kept her hidden long enough her to escape unnoticed. She needed somewhere to go and began to make her way toward the city she saw in the distance.

( oh hi, Y )

It took a while but she made it to the City only to find, you guessed it, more Murder Drones. She somehow managed to dodge them as well and found her way to some very large doors that resembled the ones back at her old colony. She frantically banged on the doors, shouting for help as she Murder Drones closed in on her.

The doors suddenly cracked open and a hand reached out, grabbing hold of Toma's coat and pulled her inside before slamming shut again.

She was met by a group of drones all sitting around a table, seemingly playing cards. The drone that pulled her in helped her up to her feet. After checking if she was alright, he introduced himself as "Khan" the apparent leader of this colony. Outpost 3.

She was welcomed in` just as warmly as she was in her last colony, and settled in easily, but soon found this colony was quite.. different from her old one. There were.. "kids" running around, and "babies" and... "teenagers".. Some drones were even married.

She also found out that every adult drones had to contribute to their society as well, unless they were raising children. Everyone had a job, and Toma was expected to have one as well.

She decided to join the Worker Defense Force, mostly as "watchman". She was tasked with doing patrols around the colony, looking out for any potential problems or weak points that could cause a breach.

She was pretty bad at it since she kept falling asleep while on patrol or forgetting where she was suppose to be.

The others were very forgiving toward her, though, but they figured she needed a different job.

After taking note of her interest in art, she was given the job as the new Art Teacher for the school.

Now if only she could stop falling asleep in class..

TL;DR/I only looked at the pretty pictures:

Toma was part of the Solver Experiments and now lives at Outpost 3 as the resident dumbass Art Teacher.

#fjskdlafjsd #I forgot this was in my drafts #lol #murder drones #murder drones oc #murder drones oc toma #murder drones uzi #murder drones khan #murder drones nori #murder drones yeva #murder drones alice #murder drones sarah #murder drones oc y #toma art #long post

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decafdoodlez · 2 months ago

Text

TPoF Fox Headcanons (Vol. 1 - General)

Various TPoF Fox headcanons I thought of in response to a strawpage gimmick/request. :3c

a/n: If you’d like me to share headcanons based on more specific topics, please feel free to ask in my tumblr inbox or on my strawpage @ decafdoodles.straw.page :)

word count: 1k

warnings/tags: SFW + NSFW | captive/captor themes, toxic dynamic, power imbalance, just lots of headcanons, nothing too “eyebrow-raising” tbh. :p

Ren is a bit of a drinker. I see him drinking most days after work to take the edge off from a stressful auction or especially brutal livestream.

His typical go-to drink is an old-fashioned, or just whiskey straight if he isn’t feeling up for making a cocktail.

If he gets especially drunk, I can see him expressing deep remorse for his line of work or how he treats potential lovers/pets. Whether this remorse is fully genuine or just theatrics is left up for you to decide.

Ren also smokes cigarettes, but only rarely if his day is extra stressful. He certainly drinks more than he smokes.

Ren prefers partners and pets that are more compliant and don’t really challenge his authority. Though, I can see him being a bit more “loose” with his dominance and being more charitable with pets or partners that don’t fully adhere to his “rule of law.” He may be fair, but don’t push it. Little mistakes will not warrant drastic punishment, but unruliness will be a surefire way to piss him off, and he may not be able to handle himself accordingly if worked up. (i.e. you will not live long with him if you don’t behave.)

Ren asserts his authority and dominance in physical ways, but also verbally. He uses patronizing and condescending speech to those “beneath” him. He particularly likes using the word “little” to describe those he holds power over and to make them feel small, breakable, or insignificant. (e.g. “little girl/boy,” “little pet,” etc.) Adding “my” and “sweet” in front of the word “little” also adds on another layer of patronization and possessiveness, so those are also mainstays in his vernacular, but are used in a sweeter or gentler context mostly. :3

Ren has no set physical type of person he prefers to seek out for his needs, be it sexual or to fulfill his twisted urges, though I think he would prefer partners/pets who are physically larger than him, either taller or by body mass. Partially due to the satisfaction and power he feels from dominating someone larger, and because he’s mostly accustomed to dealing with people larger than he is.

He does however prefer people who can be described as “cute” or “innocent.”

THOUGH…I do see him favoring chubbier/rounder people… :3c Could it be lingering preferences because of Strade? Possibly! Or because he just finds roundness a more “cute” feature.

Big doe eyes are his biggest weakness. If you bat your lashes just right as you look into his eyes, you MAY be able to win him over and manipulate him in your favor, at least for a little while and if you don’t over-extend your reach.

It was once said in a post by Gato that Ren doesn’t have a tits or ass preference, whichever is bigger he prefers, but I like to think if REALLY had to choose, it would be tits because of his love of anime/hentai and the abundance of large breasts that media tends to showcase.

Ren has a preference for people who present in a more feminine manner. Male, female, gender-nonconforming, or non-binary, Ren will forcibly feminize his partners and pets to make himself feel more “manly” in comparison.

In the same vein, he has an affinity for dollification…He is someone I could see playing with dolls secretly when he was younger, and having his own life sized doll to “play” with is his biggest teenage dream realized. :p

If his partner or pet has a menstrual cycle, you better believe he is VERY into it…He can smell the pheromones they give off and can deduce what part of their cycle they are in…Ovulation, Luteal Phase, Follicular, to Menstruation…there is no hiding from him…and no, he will not buy you pads or tampons. Only diva cups or free-bleeding for you! (Use your imagination as to why.) :p

Ren’s favored sexual position is obviously doggy with biting added to the neck and shoulder if being especially rough, but he does also enjoy more “romantic” positions like missionary to see his partner or pet’s pretty face. (Or tits, whichever suits his fancy in the moment.) :p

I don’t see Ren as someone who necessarily relishes in the tears of his partners or pets unless they are crying FOR him and not BECAUSE of him.

For livestream victims and auction products, I feel he couldn’t care less about them and their feelings; they are merely a means to a financial end while his partners and pets have potential for being lifelong romantic companions, something he has always dreamed of attaining.

Fox seems like the type of man to fall in love with/become obsessed with whomever he sticks his dick into and they actually reciprocate/enjoy being fucked by him. He’s had this whole notion of “no one will ever fuck you willingly” ingrained into his psyche his entire life, so the thought of someone actually enjoying being used by him leaves him with a high he will ALWAYS want to chase.

Ren craves romance more than he would care to admit. He believes he is owed romance and the other spoils of life after facing severe trauma and rising up from his hardships and making a name for himself despite his misfortunes; but at the same time he doesn’t think he is fully deserving of it because of the awful things he has done and the pain he causes towards those he is supposed to love.

Ren’s youthful spirit derives from his stolen young adult years under Strade’s captivity and his subsequent foray in the sale of humans and torture-for-profit livestreams. One moment he’ll seem his actual age, then at another moment’s notice, he can almost seem like he is 19 again.

#my writing #tpof fox #ren hana #tpof #the price of flesh #tpof headcanons #tpof ren #tpof mc #tpof announcer #TPoF Fox x reader #ren hana x reader

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asterafroditis · 2 months ago

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hi hi! may i please request the housewardens with a reader who is exactly like robin (hsr) or sua (alnst)? if you could make reader have robins little wings too ^_^

𐔌 . ⋮ cosmic celebrity .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆Housewardens x Robin/Sua gn! reader

𓏵 2196 words

ᝰ.ᐟ headcanons, no pronouns used, fluff

I'm in both the hsr and alnst fandom so this was a great delight to write!! feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

At first, Riddle doesn’t quite know what to make of you. You’re polite, refined, and carry yourself with an air of grace that even the nobility of his world would envy. Yet, there’s something about you that unsettles him—something he can’t place. It isn’t fear, but rather a quiet awe, as if he’s standing before something larger than life.

Your voice is unlike anything he’s ever heard before. When you sing, it isn’t just a melody—it’s a force, a presence that fills the air and lingers long after the last note fades. Even the roses in Heartslabyul’s garden seem to sway in time with your voice, as if nature itself is listening.

You remind him of a fairytale figure: enchanting, mysterious, and somehow just out of reach. He watches how others react to you—how they’re drawn in, how they lean closer, how even the most unruly of students fall silent in your presence. He tells himself that it’s simply your talent, your charisma, that compels them. But deep down, he wonders—do you ever long for something outside of this attention?

He notices the way you slip away when the crowds get too overwhelming, the way you seek quiet corners, away from prying eyes. It’s in those moments that he sees the real you—unburdened, free from expectations. He never tries to keep you from disappearing when you wish to, but if you ever linger a moment longer beside him, he considers it a victory he will never voice aloud.

Despite your cosmic fame, you never make him feel small. If anything, you listen to him, truly listen, in a way few ever do. And when you sing for him—not for a performance, not for an audience, but simply because he is there—he feels something in his heart shift, something he doesn’t yet have the words for.

And when your wings give a small flutter, as if content to be beside him, he dares to think that maybe, just maybe, you don’t mind lingering near him either.

─────────────────────────

Leona isn’t easily impressed. He’s seen talented people come and go, each believing themselves to be special. But you? You’re different. Not just because of your voice—though he won’t deny it has an effect even on him—but because you exist in a space all your own, untouchable by the world’s expectations.

You remind him of the savanna winds—unpredictable, fleeting, impossible to catch. One moment you’re right beside him, and the next, you’re gone, leaving only the echo of your presence behind. He finds himself watching, waiting, wondering when you’ll slip away again. It annoys him more than he’ll admit.

He doesn’t understand why you’d waste your time with him, lounging in the shade while the rest of the world clamors for your attention. But you do. And when you sing—not on stage, not for a crowd, but just absentmindedly beside him—he feels something deep in his chest, a resonance that lingers long after the sound has faded.

Your little wings shift slightly when you stretch, ruffling just a bit when you let out a sigh of contentment. He watches them, lazily flicking his ear in response. He calls you a show-off, but he knows better. You don’t sing to impress. You sing because it’s simply a part of you, as natural as breathing. And that is what unnerves him most—how effortlessly you weave yourself into the lives of others, how even he isn’t immune to your presence.

He won’t ask you to stay when you vanish, but if you ever return to his side, slipping into the shade like you never left, he won’t say a word about it either.

─────────────────────────

Azul thrives on control, on knowing exactly how to sway people in his favor. Yet, when it comes to you, he finds himself at a loss. You’re an enigma—someone who should, by all logic, be easy to manipulate. After all, you’re a performer, a star, someone who relies on the admiration of others. But the more he observes you, the more he realizes—attention doesn’t hold power over you.

You accept it, yes, but you are not bound by it. You exist above it, outside of it. And that unsettles him.

Your voice—your ability—fascinates him in a way he can’t quite explain. It isn’t just about business, though he tells himself it is. The way your music resonates, how it lingers even in the water, how it affects even the merfolk… it’s unlike anything he’s ever encountered. He wants to understand it, to study it, to figure out what makes it so powerful.

But then you turn that gaze on him—calm, knowing, like you see through every carefully crafted façade—and he wonders if, for once, he’s the one being studied. His eyes dart briefly to your small wings, which shift slightly, responding to something unseen. He wonders if they’re attuned to more than just the music—if they sense lies, deceptions, things he keeps hidden behind his careful smile.

When you disappear, he pretends not to care. But when you return, slipping into the lounge as if you never left, he finds himself relaxing just a fraction. He doesn’t need to own your song—some things, he realizes, are far more valuable when left free.

─────────────────────────

Kalim adores you. From the moment he meets you, he’s utterly captivated—not just by your talent, but by you. You’re like a shooting star, brilliant and fleeting, and he wants nothing more than to keep up with you, to chase that light no matter where it leads.

He doesn’t question your elusiveness, nor does he try to keep you from disappearing. Instead, he cherishes every moment you choose to stay, celebrating your presence as if it’s a festival all on its own.

He asks you to sing, not because he wants a performance, but because he genuinely enjoys your voice. And when you do, he listens—not just to the melody, but to the emotion beneath it, to the way it resonates even in the stillest of nights. Sometimes, he watches how your wings react to your own music, perking up at certain notes, quivering with feeling, as if they too are carried away by the sound.

You surprise him often—not with grand gestures, but with the little things. The way you remember the smallest details, the way you can disappear into a crowd yet always seem to know exactly where to find him. It’s those moments, more than anything, that make him realize just how special you are.

He never asks where you go when you vanish, nor does he try to hold you back. He only hopes that, wherever you wander, you’ll always find your way back to him.

─────────────────────────

Vil understands fame. He understands the weight of being watched, the expectations, the pressure. And so, in you, he sees a kindred spirit—someone who walks the same stage yet does so with a grace that seems almost effortless.

He admires your composure, your ability to captivate with a single note, a single glance. Yet, what intrigues him most is your unpredictability. You are refined, elegant, the picture of poise—until you choose not to be. Until you surprise him with a boldness that catches even him off guard.

Your little wings fascinate him. They move with you as naturally as your breath, fluttering in response to your emotions, betraying what you don’t say aloud. He finds them exquisite—another layer of your beauty, another piece of your ethereal presence. Sometimes, he watches them out of the corner of his eye, noting how they react to praise, to exhaustion, to excitement. They make you all the more mesmerizing, a performer even when you do not intend to be.

You are not a puppet to your audience, nor do you seek validation in their praise. You are simply you, untouched by the world’s expectations. And that, more than anything, is what makes you truly beautiful.

He won’t stop you when you disappear—he, more than anyone, understands the need to step away from the spotlight. But when you return, when you stand beside him once more, he will welcome you with open arms, knowing that true stars are not bound by any stage.

─────────────────────────

Idia isn’t easily drawn to people. He’s more comfortable behind a screen, away from prying eyes and social expectations. Yet, when it comes to you, he finds himself unable to look away.

At first, he assumes you’re just another celebrity, another untouchable figure meant to be admired from afar. But you don’t fit into any neat category. You’re famous—cosmically famous—but you carry yourself like someone who doesn’t care for the spotlight. You let people worship your voice, yet remain untouched by their devotion.

It unsettles him. Because he understands idols, performers, people who thrive on attention. But you? You exist outside of it, separate from it, as if the universe itself bends to your whims. And maybe it does.

The first time he hears your song, it’s through his tablet. Someone must have been playing a recording in the dorm, and the sound carried through the halls like an echo from another world. He nearly dismissed it—until he realized that it wasn’t a recording. It was you.

The sound seeped into every shadow, resonated with every circuit and wire. Even Ortho noticed, his sensors picking up strange energy fluctuations. Your voice wasn’t just heard—it was felt, like an unseen force brushing against the very core of his being.

He doesn’t know how to approach you, not at first. You’re unpredictable. Not in the chaotic, overwhelming way that extroverts tend to be, but in the quiet, calculated way that unnerves him. You’re graceful, elusive—but then you do something bold, something completely unexpected, and he has no idea how to react.

Like the time you appeared in front of him, eyes sharp and knowing, before casually inviting him to a game you knew he liked. No expectations, no pressure—just an invitation. And just like that, he was drawn in before he even realized it. Even now, he wonders if you noticed the way his gaze lingered, not just on your expression, but on the way your wings fluttered ever so slightly, as if encouraging him to follow.

He won’t try to keep you from disappearing. But if you ever return, sitting beside him in the dim glow of his monitors, your wings shifting with each quiet movement, he won’t pretend he’s not watching. Because for the first time in a long time, he realizes that maybe, just maybe, some people are worth looking up from the screen for.

─────────────────────────

Malleus has lived for centuries. He has seen the rise and fall of civilizations, watched as stars burned bright before fading into nothingness. And yet, in you, he finds something truly remarkable.

You are not of his world. That much, he knows. There is something about you—something otherworldly—that sets you apart. Not just in the way you carry yourself, but in the way the very air shifts when you speak, when you sing.

Your voice is unlike any magic he has ever encountered. It resonates with everything around you, weaving into the fabric of reality itself. Even the gargoyles seem to react, as if they, too, can hear the echoes of something far greater than what mortal ears can comprehend.

And then, there are your wings.

They are small, yet they move with a grace that intrigues him. They twitch when you’re amused, flutter when you laugh, still completely when you are deep in thought. He has never seen wings like yours before. They are not like a fae’s, nor are they like those of any creature he has encountered.

He longs to ask about them, to reach out and trace the delicate feathers with his fingertips. But he does not.

You are elegant, refined, a performer in every sense of the word. But then, just when he believes he understands you, you do something unexpected. Something bold. Something uncharacteristically human. And it fascinates him to no end.

You are like a dream, fleeting and untouchable, appearing and disappearing without warning. But he never feels as if you are truly gone. No, your presence lingers—in the wind that carries your song, in the silence that follows.

He does not ask where you go when you vanish, nor does he demand that you stay. He simply watches, waiting, wondering if you will return. And when you do—when your voice fills the air once more, like the whisper of forgotten legends—he listens, entranced, knowing that some songs are meant to be heard only for a moment, yet remembered for a lifetime.

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illubean · 3 months ago

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Heyyy, so I’m like reaaaally tall and I wanted to ask if you’d be comfortable with writing headcanons about the Phantome troupe (or just feitan, uvogin and Hisoka) with a tall fem!s/o? Like 6’2 or 6’3 , cuz I really like your other headcanons and I can’t find any of those ANYWHERE… :,)

Phantom Troupe w/ a Tall!Fem!Reader

Characters: Chrollo Lucilfer, Feitan Portor, Uvogin Type: Headcanons, Fem!Reader

Haven’t written hxh for a hot minute… replaced Hisoka w/ Chrollo cus I don’t write for him! also reader is intended to be in the 6’0+ range

Warnings: a tad suggestive?

Chrollo Lucilfer

I personally think Chrollo is a certified tall girl lover

never be afraid to wear heels/platforms around him because he’s literally obsessed with you

his favorite thing ever is when you wear shorts/skirts/anything that shows off your legs

if anyone tried giving him shit for having a gf who’s taller than him he doesn’t care because thats little dick energy and Chrollo is NOT part of that club

tall or not he likes having you in his lap, his palms resting on the outside of your thighs or around your waist

who cares if it looks silly to other people? he adores you

he insists on helping you put on/take off your shoes every time, often pressing a kiss to your ankle and telling you how pretty you are GAHHH

touchy touchy man in private, always laying on your lap, caressing your thighs or offering you specifically leg massages

he may or may not be a teeny bit of a perv

he just can’t help it :(( he wants to spoil his tall baby

we already touched on the shorts and skirts thing but this guy goes NUTS if you wear stockings/fishnets/thigh highs etc. like YESSS THANK THE LAWD

he is not above getting on his knees and quite literally worshipping you, kissing up the length of your leg

ok let me stop before i get freaky

Feitan Portor

oh boy

Feitan is already used to being relatively shorter than people, it wasn’t new to him

but he didn’t expect to get with someone DAMN NEAR A WHOLE FOOT TALLER

you guys are like the big and friendly x small and scary ship dynamic except reversed gender role i guess

as previously mentioned in another headcanon post i did similar to this, Feitan likes being shorter than you for 2 main reasons

1. so he can sneak up on you easier and 2. because he’s practically eye level with your chest..

he likes it when you hug him so he can just faceplant into your rack then blame it on the height difference

he likes to sneak up on you and watch you nearly jump out of your skin because you literally didn’t see him coming

he’s not at all insecure about your height difference but he does get annoyed if you or anyone else teases him

if you tried leaning an arm atop his head or something he would dodge you with a scowl and give you the silent treatment for the next 10 minutes because how dare you!?

he is small but mighty, so if you ever try to pick him up or something he WILL fight back

9 times out of 10 you end up splayed out on the floor while he stomps away, a little salty

but he doesn’t mind so much in private

he actually DEMANDS to be the little spoon

he likes the feeling of having your larger form wrapped around him :3

Uvogin

yeah so no matter how tall you are you’re probably never ever going to be taller than this guy soz

he’s like over 8 feet tall

so needless to say your height doesn’t matter much to him..

but I think he probably has a preference for taller women because it just makes things easier for him

also wtf would it look like if this guy was dating someone under 5’4…it would look suspicious even if they’re an adult……..

so yeah he like’s that you’re tall even though you’re still pretty short compared to him

he likes that he has easier access to kiss you instead of having to lean down ridiculously far (even though around 2 feet is still kind of ridiculous…)

another one who likes it when you show your legs off

to be fair, he likes it when you show skin in general but yeah

cannot keep his hands off you ever

he always has an arm slung over your shoulders or if you’re sitting his insanely large hand is resting on your thigh

he doesn’t shy away from pda ever and it kind of annoys some of the other troupe members..

but yeah you guys are giants in love <3

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erenstitanweave · 4 months ago

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❥HOW WE LOVE II

pairing: various x reader (jayce, mel, silco)

rating: giving/receiving love language headcanons

a/n: so...perchance this may be a series? please keep in mind this will be my first time writing for all upcoming characters, respectful criticism and advice on how to write them is welcome! SPOILER ALERT!! reblogs and comments are appreciated, hope you enjoy!!

JAYCE

giving:

jayce is definitely a touchy man, send tweet.

but no honestly i can see him actively trying to make sure you are NOT in his vicinity when he has things to or else they would never get done

not that's it's inherently a problem in his eyes, but he just loves you too much to ignore his urges to just be cuddled up to you over a project that can be done another day

before the events of the first season, he often delayed projects because majority of them would end with you on his workbench, gently running your fingers through his hair

words of affirmation are definitely something he loves to give to his significant other, especially if they're needed

he adores outpouring his love to his significant other with his words since he's often busy with anything revolving Hextech to be by your side more often

i feel like he'd often write small notes and letters for you, all with reminders of how much he loves you and how much you impact his life

receiving:

i feel like jayce is a sucker for acts of service and words of affirmation

he's an inventor at heart, so just hearing his significant other speak of him or his inventions so highly just makes him fall more and more in love

he loves it when you tell him how much you love him more than anything though, any compliment he's gotten about himself or his inventions from anyone else will never live up to the way you speak about him

i feel like in terms of acts of service, jayce doesn't want anything too over the top

just bringing him lunch and tea/coffee when he hasn't had the chance to get it himself or laying a blanket over him when he falls asleep at his workbench is more than enough to make his heart beat faster

i could see him actually faking being asleep at his workbench just to listen to what you say to him when he's asleep (more than likely this is how he found out you had feelings for him and he almost cut the act right then and there)

MEL

giving:

mel is probably the biggest gift giver ever, especially on an extravagant scale.

i feel like how much or how often the gifts cost/come are dependent on whether or not you like receiving many expensive gifts or a few sentimental ones

nonetheless though, she makes it a point to at least give you something if her time is being occupied by the entirety of Piltover

i feel like she would give acts of service but like, on a larger scale

she'd have a set few Enforcers that she trusts with her life help you whenever she couldn't have it done herself, making sure they do it immediately or if not immediately, as soon as possible

her love for pda also depends on if you're touchy in public or not, but she adores private intimacy with you

she'd have both of you in the finest fabrics imaginable, just together and holding each other either in public or in private, but in private, it's different

she's just mel around you, not mel medarda, not a part of Piltover's highest in power, just herself.

she cherishes the fact that you see her for herself, even after everything, you still stay by her side and that's something she'll forever be grateful for.

receiving:

words of affirmation. that's the tweet.

but on a more serious note, i genuinely think because of mel's relationship with ambessa has caused her to subconsciously or not second guess everything she's being told as truth unless she really trusts the person

she adores when she's told any hint of words of affirmation from her significant other, it just gives her a feeling like no other

mel's a sucker for physical touch in my eyes, especially pda.

i feel like she'd love someone who can barely keep their hands off of her, she knows how beautiful she is, but it's different hearing and being shown it from someone you love deeply

her favorite places for you to touch/hold are her hips and the small of her back, the latter she found out by absolute coincidence when she wore a backless dress around you for the first time and your hands couldn't get off of her

i think quality time is probably the hugest one for her, considering how much power she holds in Piltover, she doesn't get a lot of time with just the two of you

she makes sure to treasure it the best she can, whether that be through extravagant experiences or just relaxing in the other's presence for as long as possible

SILCO

giving:

silco is definitely a gift giving man, but not ordinary gifts like you'd expect.

in the beginning of your relationship, when he first began trusting you, he'd have his "accomplices" from Piltover find the best clothing and jewelry for you

but gradually, the gifts turned to a different direction as silco's love for you flourished.

the gifts took a more sentimental turn, things that both reminded him of his past with vander and things that he'd think you'd like.

as much as his past felt like a painful reminder to him, the gifts he gave you were related to fond memories he had. vintage drink glasses, records of his favorite songs, etc.

i also think silco would be willing to give physical touch if you asked, (he doesn't do anything unless you ask, i think he'd like hearing you ask him for things) but he rarely initiates on his own.

if he had a touchy significant other, i think he'd be relatively okay with it ONLY and ONLY if it's in private.

does not engage in pda at ALL. the most i think he'd do is have you either on his lap or right by his side, just to make sure you were safe.

receiving:

this man might be the king of loving acts of service, like genuinely.

sure, he has everyone doing favors for him, jinx and sevika being the main ones due to his trust in them, but with you? he asks everything but nothing at all.

he will never directly ask you to do things for him, no, he'd much rather show you his appreciation whenever you do.

he'd much rather keep you away from the side of him that (almost) everyone else gets, but that doesn't stop you from still doing things for him, and he definitely notices immediately.

he clocks anything out of place when it comes to you, especially when something gets done and he didn't ask for it. i.e:, cleaning his office, helping him inject his eye, etc.

i feel like he also yearns for quality time but on the very VERY down low.

being the man he is, he no doubt knew his demise was inevitable, especially due to all he's done. being with you made him feel normal, like before he turned into what he deems as unworthy of you

he often finds himself listening to music with you, music that makes him often reminisce about his past, trusting you with the immense vulnerability that comes from those memories

he often brings you down into the bar alone in the dead of night, sitting at the bar with you as both of you silently sipped on drinks, just relishing in each other's presence

in moments like those, he truly feels..normal. he feels like he's worthy of your love and devotion to him, the sheer intimacy of him being vulnerable more than enough confirmation of his love for you

#ali's writings ✮#arcane x you #arcane x reader #arcane #mel medarda #mel medarda x reader #silco #silco arcane #silco x reader #jayce talis #arcane jayce #jayce talis x reader #dividers by cafekitsune

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predalien · 1 year ago

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I got you covered. 👍 (I almost didn’t catch this as it came from my main blog—so, just a reminder, please send yautja related asks over here.)

I got a little carried away with this one, especially the pup part. So sorry! 😩

Thicc s/o version

Yautja with a leaner/petite S/O headcanons

Now, this is how you impress a yautja. I mean, let’s face it, no matter how big of a human you are, a yautja will always be stronger, and most definitely bigger than you. So a leaner or more petite S/O will most likely catch a yautja’s attention under the circumstances of you being able to fight off larger enemies and protecting yourself.

They won’t necessarily try to fight or spar with you as much, but they’ll probably throw you around and manhandle you a little bit. I’m sorry, lol. You’re just so light, to them at least. How could they not play a game of football with you as the ball? Of course they won’t be super aggressive with you, they’re aware you’re smaller and therefore you could possibly break easier. But it’s still fun to them to throw you up in the air and watch you yell in annoyance at them. 🤷‍♀️

If you’re a solider, hunter, or warrior of some type already, they’ll send you into the small spaces and crevices they couldn’t reach. Just because they couldn’t catch that that tiny alien warthog that burrowed itself in the small crevices of a cave doesn’t mean that you can’t catch it, right? That’s right ooman, just chase it out and I’ll spear it! (They’re missing a tooth to add to their necklace.)

If you’re more on the petite and smaller side, the amount time you may be referred to as ‘pup’ or a ‘juvenile’ by older and large yautja, especially matriarchs, will start to get annoying. Even though you’re a fully grown human adult. It’s especially prevalent if you’re the mate or associate yourself with younger yautja. To them, you’re just an inexperienced juvenile who still needs to grow… BUT! This is where you can prove them wrong, and really get that respect that you deserve. 👀

Just imagine the shocked faces and flared mandibles you’ll receive when one of your mate’s teammates tried to poke and mess with you a little more than you’d like—only to get rabid badgered in the face by a, example, tiny little ooman with a pension for violence. Well, I warned you, didn’t pick them for no reason. That’s just what your mate is thinking, lol.

Now, if you’re more on the lean muscle, athletic, etc. kind of side? You’ll probably be treated similarly to your larger bodied counterparts, especially if you have visible lean muscle as compared to bulk muscle. It’s a clear sign of strength to them for the most part, even if you aren’t really a warrior or hunter of some sort. And to yautja? Strength and honor are some of the most valuable things you can possess, regardless of species. If you’re (a) worthy (opponent), then you’re (a) worthy (opponent).

You’re a pup playground, by the way. If you’ve been assigned to care and watch for the pups in the clan, you best believe those pups will drag you down with them. Whether you like it or not. You’re like, basically their size, right? Even though you could probably drop kick one with a hard enough kick?… You’ll get head-butted and pounced on from all angles, for sure. You may find it annoying as hell at first, but by time everyone is worn out and you’re in the center of the cuddle pile surrounded by actual purring pups and juveniles, you’ll start to think it’s not as bad as you thought. It’s kind of cute, really. Until they wake up again… Oh boy, at least their mothers are finally here. 😂

#predator #predator x reader #predator x human #yautja #yautja x reader #yautja x human #yautja pups #my work #my posts

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gardenialver · 7 months ago

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Of Eagles and Hummingbirds

synopsis - just some headcanons while dating Ushijima but being like 35 cm shorter

pairings - Wakatoshi Ushijima

content - f!reader, reader does have a few outlined features mainly height, fluff

The first time Ushijima saw you in high school he thought you were a first year but then he saw you at a university junction while in his second year of post secondary and went through a moment of confusion

The two of you got closer through Ushijima's simple mindedness. since you were more academically inclined, or at least more academically inclined than him since you actually passed all your classes at Shiratorizawa

Before he realized it Ushijima suddenly became someone you were heavily dependent on, despite his nonchalant behaviour he always checked in on you when you would go out drinking, letting your head rest against him until you regained composure

His habit of lowering his entire body to hear people better came from being around you and moments where you were more soft spoken

After you started dating Ushijima began to take into consideration how much smaller you were than him, small things (pun) how your hands were tiny, he was used to towering over people in general as someone over 190 cm, but with you, you were shorter than the average person especially since he was used to being around volleyball players

You were so small he just wanted to protect you, he wanted to keep you in his grasp at all times, when you'd go to watch his games he was scared when you'd come down to meet him that his teammates would suddenly start tripping over you

Your biggest concern was that sometimes when you'd go out with him and people saw the two of you, they'd gush over the fact that Wakatoshi was taking care of his baby cousin or baby sister, it was true in your eyes your boyfriend would be much more suited with someone who was tall, the contrast between you two raised too many eyebrows, of course your concerns would always be deflected in the moment when he'd suddenly grip your hand as if it was his lifeline, thrust you in front of him and boldly claim on the street "This is my lady"

Of course you'd feel embarrassed and speechless but still a part of you enjoyed it, that he'd so shamelessly declare to everyone that you were the one he loved

On a cuter note when the two of you hugged it brought you comfort that you could hear his heartbeat so gently and how he tried to immerse himself into you, holding you close to him, putting his face into your hair, placing light soft kisses on your head

Sometimes when the two of you hugged he'd start to carry you, just up to his eye level but still with that your legs would hang in the air, it was childish but you enjoyed it, he'd spin you around while you giggled

Other times you'd jump onto his back and he'd sort of play with you there, whenever he carried you it looked like a koala stuck to a eucalyptus tree but the two of you enjoyed it so what else was there to care about

When you would steal his clothes it would obviously be way too big, the sleeves would hang awkwardly around your arms and you'd look like you were wearing a dress or that you didn't have any pants on but you could care less, his clothes were comfy and they smelled like him, it was all the comfort you needed when he'd be on work trips

He also really adored the way you looked in his clothes and sometimes would leave them around so you'd purposely put them on

Sometimes when getting stuff from higher shelves that you'd struggle with, Wakatoshi would full on hold you like a cat and carry you up to what you needed to get which was sweet at home but in public it did make you feel a bit more shy

One more thing, Wakatoshi thought your tiny hands were one of the most adorable things in the world, they were soft and small in comparison to his larger rough and calloused ones, he thought they encompassed you nicely and vowed to protect them from even the smallest of things, cuts and burns from just cooking or paper, for your cute little hands he'd do anything

#haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x reader #haikyu fluff #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #demon slayer x reader #hq ushijima #ushijima wakatoshi x reader

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 2 years ago

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I Want It All: Part 3

Part 1, Part 2

Astarion x AsexaulBard!Tav Masterlist

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Asexual!Reader, Astarion x Bard!Reader

Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Soft!Astarion, Allusion to Astarion's Past (Sexual Assult/Dissociation)

Summary: You and Astarion had been playing this little game of yours for a while; he pretends to care, you pretend not to fall for it. It’s easy, even fun at times. The trouble is, what happens the moment you can’t pretend anymore?

A/N: Holy shit! It's done! Thank you so much to everyone who has commented and reblogged and just...everything. I cannot tell you how much it means to be to know this story has resonated with so many people. I don't have any plans to continue this as a larger story (I still haven't played the game); however, if anyone would like to send requests for small one-shots or headcanons involving Astarion and this Asexual!Tav, feel free to send me an ask.

Also, sorry if I didn't tag you. There were a lot of request, so I stuck to those who asked on the previous chapter.

And as always REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THIS! I NEED VALIDATION TO SURVIVE!!!

Word Count: 5.2K

You didn’t sleep that night, but what else did you expect?

For hours you simply lay in the dark, staring at the window. The patter of rain was the only source of sound besides your own breathing. Even that small comfort didn’t last as the storm passed leaving behind cloud covered silence.

No tears came to you. What had you to grieve over? Everything you felt had been a product of your imagination. You knew that.

Still, it ached. There was a throbbing in your throat you couldn’t swallow down and a constant pressure behind your eyes. You almost wished you would cry, just to get it out of your system. If you could have a nice little breakdown, there was a chance you could get over this. It would be the slap in the face you needed to accept reality. Maybe then you’d stop doing this to yourself.

All the same, it stayed there, pressing heavy on your chest until the sun teased the edges of the clouds beaconing morning.

You groaned, burying your face into the pillow. You couldn’t lie and wallow the rest of the day. You had things to do, places to be, worms to destroy. The sooner you had something else to occupy your thoughts the better.

With an effort you pulled yourself out of bed and slowly made your way to the dining room.

You were a bit surprised to see everybody already up. Wyll, Karlach, Lae’zel, Shadowheart, and Gale were already seated with plates of half eaten food in front of them. Two seats were still empty, settings ready and untouched. A quick look around confirmed the rest, Astarion had yet to make an appearance.

“Morning everyone,” you said, trying your best to be cheerful as you sat yourself between Gale and Wyll.

You could feel all their eyes on you, no doubt noticing the dark circles under yours.

“Morning,” Gale greeted. “I trust you slept well.”

He let out a small yelp of pain.

You looked up to catch him glaring at Shadowheart as she shot him a disapproving look.

You frowned. Did she just kick him?

“I mean, ah, did you lie comfortably?” he amended.

“Seriously?” Karlach questioned.

You swore you could feel the heat of Gale’s blush, as he grumbled into his toast. “Damn it, you know what I mean.”

“Do I?” you asked.

“We just hoped you spent the rest of the night…pleasantly,” Wyll tried, and ultimately failed.

Your stomach flipped, as harsh, dreadful realization washed over you. Yes, of course they would.

“You don’t look well,” Lae’zel noted. “After all his boasting, I had thought Astarion would leave his partners more satisfied.”

You didn’t say anything, deciding to take a bite of egg as an excuse. Now would be a great time for the ground to open and swallow you into the hells. Gods knew it would be an improvement.

“She’s right,” Shadowheart said, sounding a little annoyed to admit it. “You do look tired and not the good kind. Did something happen?”

“Did he hurt you,” Wyll said, his brow furrowing in sudden concern.

“What?! No!” you said quickly. “Nothing happened.”

“How’d you mean nothing happened?” Karlach put in. “We all saw what we saw. How could anyone turn down all of that?”

Fresh embarrassment washed over you, making you wish you could erase the last twenty-four hours and crawl into the nearest, deepest hole. You had spent the whole night worried about what Astarion would make of your vision, you had all but forgotten you had shared that part of yourself with all of your companions. Of course they would have their own interpretations.

“It wasn’t like that.”

A quick look around the table gave away the doubtful thoughts of all.

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to calm. They weren’t going to believe you if you were emotional about this.

“Look, I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine. As I said, nothing happened. We talked, and it became clear that we just want different things. That’s the beginning and the end of it. Now are we done or are you all going to keep chattering on like a bunch of fishwives?”

The silence at the table was palpable as everyone exchanged looks.

Alright, maybe being calm wasn't a realistic expectation, but you hadn’t lied. Sure, there were some details you neglected to share, but that really was the long and the short of it. He hadn’t done anything wrong and neither had you. It just didn’t work out.

The plain truth of it settled in your heart carving out a hollow space for it to lay in.

Gale was the first to act, clearing his throat. “Fair enough, the matter is closed. Please, accept our apology. With such an intimate group as ours, it’s sometimes easy to forget that one’s personal matters can be well and truly personal.”

He looked at the rest of the group, each nodding in agreement to various degrees of reluctancy.

“Just for the record though, if you need someone to knock some sense into that pretty boy’s head, you just need to ask,” Karlach offered.

Despite yourself, you had to smile. “I’ll think about it.”

You then turned to Gale, who met you with kind eyes and a comforting smile. You let yourself be warmed by it, even if you still felt a little guilty for snapping. He really did understand. It was easy for heartbreak to recognize heartbreak.

“Thank you,” you murmured.

To your surprise, his first instinct wasn’t to reach for words, but rather your hand as he gave your fingers a gentle squeeze.

“Anytime.”

“Good morning everyone. Gossiping without me?”

You whipped your head around to find Astarion standing near the head of the table, a sardonic smile on his lips and a hard glare in his eyes. No doubt he had heard everything.

Everybody shifted in their seats, glancing between you and Astarion. You averted your gaze, focusing hard on the table in front of you.

Gale’s hand still rested over yours. Whatever comfort it had given you, faded as something akin to panic flooded your veins. In the next second, you rose from your chair, scraping it hard against the floor in your hurry.

“I’ve still got some packing to do,” you said. “Be back down in a few.”

Coward’s way out? Yes, but after the night you had, you figured you were entitled to it.

Keeping your head down, you slipped past Astarion, feeling him watch you as you made your way back up the stairs.

If you had lingered a moment, you might have caught the flash of hurt in his eyes. You might have noticed how his clothes were more rumpled than usual. You might even have seen his hand twitch with the instinct to reach for yours. But you didn’t see, and anything that might have happened disappeared in a brush of air.

-----------------------

The next several days carried on in much the same way. Not as torturous as that first morning, but still a drudge of avoidance and awkward silences.

In your defense, Astarion seemed just as keen to keep his distance. Where he used to be your preverbal shadow, filling the hours of travel with idle teasing and conversation, now he kept to the back, his mouth decidedly shut.

The others caught on and seemed determined to make up the difference. Karlach, Shadowheart and Wyll especially made a point to walk alongside you, telling stories and jokes in an attempt to make you smile.

You did your best. They meant well, but in some ways they only served to emphasize the absence of another.

Gale, on the other hand, had the foresight to try a different approach. He made it clear he didn’t expect you to talk, but always made sure you had the best spot by the fire and a little extra of whatever he made for the camp. You had to wonder if Tara had provided a similar comfort to him after Mystra. It was obvious he had the practice.

Even Lae’zel offered to help you train it off, something about how your, “objectively weak body had left the rest of you vulnerable to attack”. A part of you felt the insult, but the gesture was appreciated.

Honestly, all of this care was starting to make you feel guilty. None of them were giving Astarion the same courtesy. He wasn’t being shunted exactly, but the message was loud and clear; they were on your side.

This was met by him taking a step back from the late night conversations. His interactions with the others were kept short and lacked his usual humorous flare. He took his shifts on watch alone and he spent even more time either roaming the forest or in his tent.

The only person he consistently spoke to was Gale, which should have raised some alarm bells on their own, but you never caught what they were discussing. All you knew was Astarion never appeared especially pleased while Gale gave a look of someone begging the gods for patience.

All of this was your fault. You just wanted things to go back to normal. Even if you couldn’t be with Astarion the way you imagined, you still valued his friendship. If this kept up, there was a chance he might decide to leave all together. An olive branch was needed, something to signal you didn’t hold a grudge or expect anything more.

The answer came to you one early evening as you took note of his haggard looks and less than graceful steps out of camp. He hadn’t fed on you in a week and there was only so much deer and boar could do.

You considered simply offering up your neck, but that felt too forward. Besides, you weren’t sure if you were ready to have him that close. The only other solution you could think of was to bleed yourself somehow.

This proved more difficult than you first imagined. Astarion seemed to have an instinct for where to bite, balancing enough blood for himself without causing any permanent damage. You couldn’t boast the same. It took more than one cut to fill an empty goblet with what you hoped to be the right amount of blood. You’d ask Shadowheart to heal you properly later. Hopefully she’d accept a poorly executed knife trick as an excuse.

You wrapped your wrist as best you could and, watching to make sure the others weren’t looking, slipped into Astarion’s tent.

You were immediately hit with the scent of bergamot, rosemary, and aged brandy. A sense of calm washed over you at the familiar combination, settling comfortably in your lungs as you took in the space.

A single candle remained lit, allowing just enough light for you to appreciate the rich purple and red fabrics lining the walls as well as the sheer number of pillows littering the floor. How he managed to pack so many was a mystery you doubt you would ever solve. The whole set up was down right ornate, but considering this was Astarion you were talking about, you shouldn’t have been surprised.

It was only then you realized you’d never been inside before. He’d invited you more than once, but you’d always turned him down preferring to keep your feeding session in the open air. You had known, even then, any closer would give the wrong impression; all for naught it seemed.

You pushed the thought aside, pulling your attention back to the matter at hand. There had to be some place you could put the goblet where he wouldn’t knock it over. Why did he have to keep a side table outside the tent?

A shuffle came from just outside. Focusing your ears, you caught the tread of boots on grass transition to the nearly silent carpet just outside the tent flap. You turned using those handful of extra seconds to school your features into something passively innocent as Astarion ducked inside.

His whole body froze, his arm holding the fabric above his head as his eyes went wide. For a long moment, neither of you said anything.

You took advantage of his momentary shock to examine his appearance more closely. He looked…well, tired and more than a little confused. No blood marked his shirt or his lips. His pants appeared to have taken a tear or two from a bramble bush. Even his hair looked just a bit disheveled in a way so unlike himself.

“No luck hunting?” you said, unable to keep the concern out of your voice.

He stared, as if your words were coming from somewhere far away and required extra time to reach his ears.

“I’ve had better,” he finally said.

You nodded in understanding, shifting awkwardly as your eyes went to the goblet in your hands.

“Here,” you offered. “No offense, but you look like you could use it.”

He gave a tight smile. “I’d say no offense taken, but this is me we’re talking about.” All the same, he took the cup, sniffing it cautiously. He blinked hard, his brows furrowing as he stuck his nose further into the cup and took a deep whiff.

“Is this yours?” he asked.

You shrugged, holding up your bandaged wrist. “Whose else would it be?”

His mouth parted slightly as if to say something before closing it again.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said, his tone oddly serious.

“I know,” you assured. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Once again, he opened his mouth as if to speak, but instead released a breath of a laugh, allowing whatever tension he had formed in those last few seconds to fall from his shoulders.

“I know I shouldn’t be surprised, but it seems I can’t help it with you.”

Before you could ask him what exactly he meant, he raised the goblet to his lips and drank.

The effect was instantaneous. Your blood met his tongue and any control he had slipped away. His pupils dilated to those of a predator as he guzzled the whole thing down in two deep swallows. He let out a gasp of air before returning to the cup, licking the sides so not to waste a drop. A low hum of bliss came from deep in his chest as he savored the rest, allowing his fingers to scrap the bottom before bringing it back to his mouth.

The sight should have left you horrified, but in truth, it was encouraging. Things would be different, but you could at least provide him this.

“Do you need more?” you asked.

This time his laugh was loud and genuine as he wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand before licking the remains; yet another thing you found inexplicably endearing. He really was just a big cat sometimes.

“Dangerous thing to offer me in this state, darling,” he said. “Luckily for you, I found a nice burrow of rabbits yesterday.”

Once satisfied there was truly nothing left, he set the goblet down on the ground before turning his attention to your wrist.

“Let me see,” he said, reaching out a hand.

“It’s fine,” you promised. “I’ll get Shadowheart to look at it later.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, give it here.”

Knowing there was no fighting him, you relented, allowing him to unwrap the bandages.

He visibly winced as he examined the litter of harsh scratches along your skin. “What did you use? A rusty spoon?”

“I had trouble finding a good vein,” you said, feeling the need to defend yourself. You hadn’t thought it looked that bad.

“Oh is that all? And here I thought you’d lost an argument with a displacer beast.”

You pressed your lips into an annoyed line, but Astarion was already digging around his pack, coming back with a salve and potion of healing.

“Drink this.”

You shook your head, ignoring the pleasant little flutter in your chest at the gesture. “I told you, I’ll just ask Shadowheart.”

“Oh this isn’t just for you,” he said, dryly. “Do you think I want her believing you’d willingly butcher yourself just to give me a proper meal? Neither of us would hear the end of it.”

A small flush of embarrassment worked up your neck. He was right, of course. The party really hadn’t been subtle in their disapproval. It was the reason you had tried for discretion.

Without further protest you accepted the potion.

This seemed to appease him as he quickly got to work on applying the salve.

He had bought it not long after you had come to your little feeding arrangement. It helped to sooth small cuts and bruises while minimizing the threat of scars. He had initially offered to provide…other services to relieve the pain, but you had declined. This was the compromise. You’d offered to do it yourself, but he insisted, claiming it was the least he could do. In truth, it was all very…transactional.

This felt different. The hesitation he so often held, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop, was gone. His touch was gentle, his expression focused and his body oddly relaxed. It didn’t feel like an obligation, but an act of kindness, one he was more than willing to give.

Any nerves that remained slipped away. You could find a way to live with this. Certainly it was more than others had given you in the past.

Once he was done, he pulled fresh bandages from his bag and began redressing your wounds with decidedly more precision than you had.

“I am glad you’re here,” he said, breaking the silence. “I was hoping we could talk.”

A sharp sting of anxiety pressed itself into your skin.

“Oh?”

He nodded, tying off the bandage. “I think it’s important.”

You swallowed. The instinct to run pulled at your feet, but you managed to keep it in check. You owed him that much.

“Well, I’m here so…let’s talk.”

He breathed out an audible sigh of relief, raising his hands up as he took a small step back.

“Just stand there a moment. Don’t move.”

He spun around, rummaging through various bags before letting out a cry of triumph. He stepped back holding what looked to be a violin string glowing with magical golden light.

Your head tilted to the side as your eyes narrowed. “Is that…?”

“Part of the violin, yes,” he admitted. “Bit of a story. Short version, Gale was able to extract one of the strings. It shouldn’t cause any permanent damage to the instrument, as far as I know.”

You raised a doubtful eyebrow. “And Gale just let you pluck this from his tent did he?”

Astarion shifted uncomfortably. “Not exactly. I, ah, may have had some trouble understanding how it worked and…inquired as to his assistance.”

“You asked Gale for help?” you asked, astonished.

“Don’t make me relive the experience,” he lamented. “He told me the strings themselves have different magical properties in order to create the effect you demonstrated the other night. Apparently this one alone compels people to tell the truth.”

He then took the string and carefully wrapped it around his wrist before handing the other half to you.

Your eyes widened, glancing between him and the offered cord. “What are you doing?”

“Leveling the playing field,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You shook your head, taking a step back. “You don’t have to do that.”

His lips curved into a self deprecating smile. “I think I do though. I haven’t been honest with you and…while that’s not exactly unique to you, the regret I have is. So you see, it really is a selfish action. If I’m to be free of this, I need to know for certain you understand that what I say next is the truth…all of it.”

Your mouth opened to protest, but the words caught in your throat. The expression on his face was one you had never seen before. While he did his best to hide under his usual indifferent airs, his eyes gave him away. You’d never seen them so open and unsure.

Slowly, you took the other end, feeling a familiar tingle spread through your fingers.

“Alright,” you said, cautiously. “What’s your favorite color?”

Flashes of red shot across your vision, moonlit skies and a pair of eyes you only just caught to be your own before the image settled on something else entirely.

“Pink,” Astarion blurted.

Your eyebrows shot up as the start of a delighted smile spread across your face.

“And orange,” he amended quickly, “and dark blue and…honestly just the color of the sky at sunrise.” He pouted as if annoyed at the words that escaped his lips, but he shook it off. “Alright, you had your little test run. Give me something harder.”

You considered a moment. It was very tempting to continue on with some more embarrassing questions, but that wasn’t the purpose of all of this. Best to start at the beginning.

“What did you think of me when we first met?” you asked.

He grimaced, guilt evident not just through his averted gaze but the tug of the string between you. “You were a target,” he admitted. “At best a convenient meat shield. You were just so…open, ready to trust. Manipulating you would be easy.”

You took a deep breath, ignoring the stab of pain between your ribs. You should have expected as much. He wasn’t exactly subtle.

“And that’s what you were trying to do the other night, manipulate me?”

“Yes.”

Another stab of guilt, a flash of your own back walking out of a candle lit room as a hand that was not your own reached hopelessly outward.

Your actual jaw clenched. “I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity.”

“Then what?!” you snapped. “Hells bells Astarion, do you even like me?”

“You drive me to acts of insanity,” he said indignantly, raising up the glowing cord around his wrist as proof. “Do you think I’d willing subject myself to days of Gale’s passive aggressive commentary on my personal life for just anyone? Of course I like you. Gods below!”

You stared, unable to deny the waves of exasperation mixed with the sound of your own laughter as heard through another’s ears. Something warm and unfamiliar bloomed in the chest of the body opposite you making your mind spin, as you tried to re-establish the divide.

“Why did you ask me to come to you?” you asked. “What were you hoping to gain?”

Astarion took a deep breath. It was only then you noticed how tightly he was holding the chord linking you.

“I was hoping to get back on track,” he said, slowly. “I had a plan when we met. A nice simple plan. Seduce you, bed you, manipulate your emotions so you’d never turn on me. It was easy…instinctive.”

He met your eyes and for the first time, you felt him fight against the images threatening to breach the gap between you. You caught the barest flashes, memories of half forgotten faces passing by one after another. Shame and vile brushed the edges of your mind, and quickly faded as Astarion regained control.

“But, you seemed immune to my attempts,” he continued. “I could tell you enjoyed my attentions, but you never asked for more. My simple plan that had worked on countless targets, couldn’t get off the ground. And yet, you still gave me blood, protection…trust. I couldn’t understand it. I found myself wanting to know more, to know you. To anticipate what you would ultimately ask in exchange. And then that night, you showed me exactly what it was you desired.”

Something slipped through. You saw yourself in the center of the tavern with darkness surrounding you. A rise of fear entered your heart as you heard your name called from familiar lips. And then, the world shifted, light came back into the world and it was…beautiful.

“I thought I finally understood you,” he said. “A poor repressed urchin who had been hurt one too many times. All that was required was a more gentle touch. I could provide that. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

He paused, his expression softening. “And then you had to do the most inconsiderate thing and surprise me all over again: you asked for my heart, in exchange for yours. I should have been elated. It meant my plan had worked, not the way I intended, but you had fallen for it…for me. The trouble was, I hadn’t accounted for the possibility that I would fall for you.”

You stared, unable to say anything as a well of emotion threatened to burst from you. It was as if someone pulled a bow across your chest, creating a resonating sound that moved in harmony with your very soul.

It was true, all of it.

By some miracle, you wrestled back control over your lungs and tongue.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t know how,” he admitted. “Even if I had, would you have believed me?”

You averted your gaze. It was answer enough.

“It’s alright,” he said, offering a wry smile. “Smart really. I wouldn’t have believed me either.”

You nodded in appreciation, your mind still reeling from everything he had just confessed.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

You frowned, unable to shake a question that had been stirring for some time.

“Do you even want to have sex with me?”

His eyebrows shot into his hairline, his mouth falling open. “I’m standing here baring my soul to you and that’s what you ask?”

“You asked me what I was thinking,” you defended. “Besides, it’s a relevant question.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but let it go just as quickly with a huff.

“Well?” you prompted.

He made a series of non-commital noises, his mouth half forming words before being wrenched in another direction. The chord between you glowed brighter, twisting just a little deeper into his skin.

“I…don’t really know,” he said, slightly stilted, as if surprised by his own answer. “To be clear, I do find you physically enticing. In that aspect at least, I’d hardly qualify bedding you a chore, but... I spent two centuries using lust and desire to lure people back to him. In that time I developed the habit of taking myself out of my body, looking at it as if it were happening to somebody else. Even in those rare times it could be pleasurable, I still walked away feeling nothing but disgust and loathing. I don’t want those feelings associated with you. At the same time, I can’t help thinking that if we were together, it would be different. But, don’t take that to mean I expect it. Like I said, I don’t even know if I want it. Honestly, before you said it, I didn’t know saying no was an option.”

You took all of that in, your heart clenching as the full weight of what Cazador did to him settled on your mind. Red filed your vision, the sympathetic ache replaced with a rush of fury. He was a dead man. One way or another, you would see Cazador bloodied by the end of all of this. But as quickly as it had come you let the emotion pass. This wasn’t about him. You wouldn’t let him intrude any more on this moment.

“What do you want from me then?” you asked, softly.

To your relief, something familiar and teasing flashed across his face.

“I thought I’d made that obvious.”

With his free hand, he cupped your cheek allowing his thumb to lightly caress your skin. His scarlet eyes burned not with lust, but something warmer and just as desperate.

“You showed me the chorus of your heart. How could anyone look upon that and not desire it? The trouble is, the price you asked. I…I don’t know how to pay it. I don’t know how to be with someone that way, but I’m willing to learn. I want it all. I want you to have it all.”

The connection between you burned hot in your hand, but you couldn’t let it go. It felt so warm, so real. It filled every empty part of you to the point of bursting and still you wanted more. You were insatiable.

Astarion looked just as lost as you, his eyes glazed over with too many emotions for you to name. His body began to tremble. It was becoming too much.

In an instant you pulled his hand away, unwrapping the chord from around his wrist and tossing it aside.

He took a sudden deep breath as if coming up for air after being submerged in deep water.

“Shit,” he cursed, gulping for air. Closing his eyes, he ran a hand down his face as he tried to calm.

Your eyes widened as you caught the angry marks left behind on his wrist.

“Are you alright?”

He blinked hard as if clearing spots from his vision. “I’m fine. Wasn’t expecting that is all.” He turned his focus to you with a bewildered expression. “Does it always feel like that?”

“That’s admittedly a first for me,” you confessed. You reached out your hand, glancing at his injury. “Let me see.”

He followed your gaze frowning, as if surprised to note the welts forming on his wrist. Still he stepped closer allowing you to examine them without protest.

“Does it hurt?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Sort of numb, honestly, tingly.”

You nodded, swallowing hard to keep the rise of guilt and fear at bay. It didn’t help.

“I’m sorry,” you said, quickly.

He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t think a little thing like this is going to scare me off. I meant what I said. I intend to give you your fill.”

“You don’t have to give it all at once,” you promised. “I can be patient when it counts.”

A sly smile turned at his lips. “I almost hope you won’t. You’re not the only one who's starving.”

Heat spread up your neck, something Astarion undoubtedly caught as he gave a low laugh.

“Well, now that we’ve cleared the air, what happens next?” he asked.

“I’m…not sure,” you admitted. “Nobody else has ever given me the chance to figure that out.”

He nodded slowly, before taking a small step back. His head tilted as if to examine you from every angle. A question started to form on your tongue just as the start of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He suddenly straightened before placing a hand on his chest and regarded you with a deep bow.

You grinned, matching him with a curtsy of your own.

He then offered his hand, which you easily took before he pulled you just a little closer. Your other hand found his shoulder while his pressed lightly on your waist. And then you did what was only natural. You danced.

It wasn’t anything elaborate. There was no fire or sparks of magic. You simply moved together to a song of your own imagination. It stirred in your chest, the barest pluck of a melody, but it was yours and his; the promise of a symphony to come.

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