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boop-le-snoot · 1 year

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I just had this vivid scene play out in my brain. Dropped to my knees in a local chain grocery store, had to pretend I was grabbin the bootleg brand chips from the bottom shelf. I'm definitely normal about this. Yea, I'm so abso-fucking-lutely normal about this.

So what if I'm ovulatin'? It ain't me sittin' here clenching my fuckin' thighs, no ma'am, nu-uh. Even my predictive text talks like Daryl now- okay, I may have a tiny little problem. I hope I never, never ever get the chance to look Norman Reedus in the eye.

4.5k words. VERY VERY NSFW. Just sweet and a little rough monkey lovin' where Daryl enjoys something for the simple sake of it feeling good. A little undercooked plot-wise but the smut has been grilled to a perfect medium-rare, slightly juicy, collard greens and mashed potatoes on the side with the mushroom sauce. Two packs of cigarettes later (he owes my lungs an apology),

Imagine you and Daryl going out on a - run, scouting mission, whatever - and hunkering down in a secure cabin for the night. It's summer, it's hot and stuffy inside, but luckily, the cabin has running water, even if it's ice-cold. So you wash up and apply some of the essential-oils-homemade-perfume-thing that someone at the community made for you.

You change into your PJs and come downstairs to amuse yourself til the sun sets completely.

He's smoking next to a crack in the boarded up windows and you, being on friendly terms, banter a bit and bum a cigarette off him. He doesn't mind when you use one of his knees to sit down. As you two joke, you ruffle his hair slightly, not missing the way his eyes narrow in pleasure.

That sparks a conversation about letting oneself to feel good things.

You say that it's different for women because they get judged for wanting to experience pleasure just for the sake of it and Daryl says he always thought it to be stupid. You say that he's not exactly the resident expert on that, which briefly makes his natural competitiveness overshadow his shyness and self-loathing.

Petulantly, he places your hand back in his hair and stresses the purring growl of pleasure as your scratch his scalp and let his moist tresses glide through tour fingers.

You laugh and say you're gonna braid his hair one day, in jest, and he growls back "yer pushin' yer luck, pretty girl," but his smile is hidden rather badly.

In revenge, you stomp out the cigarette and straddle his lap fully, attacking his head with a massage worthy of a spa parlour professional.

He grips your waist as his head hangs forward, a low rumble coming from his mouth as his nose comes that much closer to your neck.

Daryl takes a deep breath, and sensing you unbothered by it, says "ya smell good. like apple pie."

"Oh," he doesn't miss the slight hitch in your breath, "'member when I fixed up the 'lectric in number twelve? they paid me in some essential oil perfume they made. feels nice to... not smell death all day, every day. 's a nice change."

He nods, agreeing, remembering your strong feelings about doing some things just because they feel good. Not because it's useful or to survive, but just for a surge of happy hormones in your bloodstream.

Despite his best efforts to distract his body, one wiggle from you is all it takes for his excitement to be obvious. He freezes, but you adjust simply, politely, keeping your weight off his boner. Confused by your chill attitude, he lifts his head, forcing you to brush all of his hair out of his face.

Daryl feels vulnerable and exposed.

Your eyes slide down to his lips, once, twice, but you - just as stubborn as him - pick them back up. As he parts them to run the tip of his tongue over them in hopes of finding something to say, he notices it fully.

He notices the flush of your skin. His hands move on your waist, provoking another blink-and-youll-miss-it twitch of your fingertips and toes.

Gathering his ducks in a row, Daryl leans into you - your neck, not your lips, not yet - softly running the tip of his nose along your collarbone and up to your jaw.

"That feel good?" Voice gravelly low, it sends reverb through your chest.

"Yeah," you breathe quietly, your fingers in his hair shaking slightly. You lean more into him and that is all the encouragement he needs for the time being.

"Wanna make ya feel good," he admits, dry lips and scratchy stubble gliding along the length of your jaw. His breath is hot on the shell of your ear. "Can I do that, suga'-pie?"

"Mhm," you respond, his cheek now against yours - you rub into him gently, like a cat. The affectionate headbutt makes him chuckle quietly in his throat.

He continues nosing around your neck, feeling the muscles in your back and your thighs unclench one by one. You're practically on top of him, almost right there, over the throbbing erection in his pants, and he feels your control slip away bit by bit.

The flimsy wooden chair you two are sitting on creaks; Daryl doesn't place much trust in it. Planting his feet wide, securing his position, he inadvertently lands your cunt right over his cock. Both of you shudder and hiss at the contact.

The damn chair creaks again.

He curses under his breath, hands sliding down to your ass, hoisting you up and urging you to wrap your legs around his waist as he stands up, sending the raggedy chair clattering to the floor.

Your breath catches in your throat, your hands grab at his shoulders, kneading into the meat there. A few steps later, both of you land on the couch heavily; it creaks, too, but your legs have room and your body can finally relax against Daryl as you stabilise yourself on the surface.

He's panting, open-mouthed, looking at you with those stormy blue eyes, searching for something in your earnest, open face.

The corners of your mouth tug up.

He runs his palm over your back, settling on your nape to pull you into him. Your mouths connect; the kiss is slow and unhurried as you take the time to explore each other's mouths. There is no need to rush, no risk of being caught or ambushed; it really feels good. Following someone's advice for once, Daryl lets himself become utterly lost in the sweet kiss.

Your hands are in his hair, tugging softly every now and then, tipping the cup of him ever-so-slightly for short groans to spill into the kiss. Sometimes, you let your hands traverse the hills of his shoulders, the plains of his chest, fingertips poking around the collar of it.

It's overstimulating but at the same time, it's not enough. To give you a hint, Daryl timidly strokes the single bare inch of skin between your shirt and your pants, feeling the goosebumps even through the thick, calloused skin of his working hands.

The way your hips respond: restless and fluid, pressing into him just that much closer, prompts him to slide his hands further under your shirt, mapping the bony ridges of your spine. The skin along it is sensitive on any mammal, that much he knows, so he expects the twitch, expects the breathy moan leaving your lips; he revels in it, the kiss growing humid and sloppy.

Your hands slip into his shirt, finally, your warm palms on his hot skin. He's burning up inside out and you're- you're diligently adding fuel and accelerant to the fire. Blunt nails scratching over his uneven skin, you snag his bottom lip on your teeth as moisture gathers in the corners of your mouths.

The need for oxygen is strong.

Daryl inhales deep as he rests his forehead against yours.

Both of you are panting. Necking like horny teenagers, not a care in the world, no worry for tomorrow; it's near impossible to focus on anything else but the pulsating need at the spots where your bodies are pressed together.

It's all too much but neither of you want it to stop.

"Holy shit," your awed mumble causes Daryl to smirk lightly; as you shift in place, he swears he can smell how wet you are. His jeans must've gotten ruined by now, if not by you then by the weeping of his own cock.

It feels almost regretful to proceed. This exact feeling, if someone could figure out how to bottle it, would have people sellin' their soul for it, Daryl is damn sure.

It's the moment before lightning spears open the stuffy air of a muggy, stormy day. The millisecond before a heavily pregnant cloud gives birth to a solid wall of ice-cold rain; the blink of skies as they generously cool the overheated earth, filling up its parched cracks with invigorating liquid.

"Fuck," Daryl groans, tossing his head back onto the backrest of the couch, watching you through lidded eyes, "whatchu doin' to me, girl?"

You offer him a shaky, sheepish grin before your lust takes over your senses, pushing you back up to him. Your mouth connects with his neck, suckling, licking, nipping at the caramel skin there.

Daryl tastes of cheap soap and clear sweat, that musky scent of gasoline and leather unfurling into notes of pinewood and smoke as you nose deeper; right next to his ear, tickled by his hair, he smells and tastes like the best dessert at the carnival inside the town fair.

A little greasy and drenched in spices. You can't get enough of him. Opening your mouth, you stick your tongue out flat and lick.

Daryl groans. It's open-mouthed and loud. His hands grab your hips firmly, dragging you over the tent in his pants.

Both of you hiss at the friction.

Your knees wobble as your stance widens in an attempt to cover more surface are, to bring the feeling closer to your clit. There's at least four layers of fabric between your skin and his and it is something that is so sweetly, arduously annoying.

He pushes down again, harder this time, offering another delicious groan that you can't help but swirl in your mouth and recreate. The noise attracts his attention; Daryl watches you, watches your face, the flush on your chest, your heaving breasts. Like many men, he licks his lips utterly unintentionally when his eyes settle on your hard nipples.

Inwardly, you find enough clarity of mind to chuckle. Men and breasts nevel fail to amuse you when placed in close proximity. You push them outwards and his mouth is immediately right there, shirt and all, rolling a stiff nipple gently between his teeth.

The soft, damp cotton adds an edge to it; you feel your underwear slide over your cunt, the fabric absolutely saturated with your arousal.

Daryl's hands knead your ass as he takes in his fill of your breasts.

"That's, fuck," you pant, needing him to know, "that's really fuckin' good."

"Yeah?" He groans wetly before taking in as much of your breast as he can fit in your mouth; there's no finesse to it, just raw, unadulterated need.

"Uh-uh," you nod: his eagerness is what takes the cake.

Daryl tugs your shirt up; up and over your head and fuck knows where it flies, forgotten the moment his lips are back on one nipple, his fingers on the other. He rolls, he bites, he sucks.

Your breasts are wet with spit and sweat.

His breath ghosts over the damp areas, pebbling the tender bud to a state almost frigid.

You moan, loudly, wetly and openly. You gasp, you squirm, anything to quell the restlessness. It's like an army of fire ants trotting their primal, tribal dance under your skin, reducing you to a disoriented mess with a one-track mind. Your fingertips are pale where you hold onto Daryl in a feeble attempt to ground yourself.

He's smirking when he surfaces up. There's spit glistening on his chin, his lips are puffy, the deepest, most delicious shade of maroon. It's obvious the state of your undress and the intensity of your want is echoed by him.

"Feel good?" He has the audacity! to ask.

"Yeah," your response is lackluster in words but the tone and the pleading expression on your face conveys it all: your desire, your desperation.

With you on top of him, the only relief to your aching cunt so far has been provided by his bulge rubbing against your clothed slit. It's not enough, it's not even nearly enough.

Daryl's biceps bulge as he effortlessly lifts you up, "c'mere," placing you back-to-his-chest.

Your legs fall open on your own accord, hanging limply over his muscular thighs. The meat of his cock digs into the cheeks of your ass; you feel it twitch along with you when Daryl's thick palm cups the mound of your pussy in a gesture both tender and possessive.

"Fuckin' shit," his low mumble travels down the shell of your ear, "this all fr'me, sugar?"

"Yes," you breathe out as he slides his middle and ring fingers up and down your slit. There is no hiding it: your cunt had soaked right through your panties and the cotton of your pajama pants.

With some more maneouvering that comes unfairly easy to him (in your opinion), your pants join your t-shirt somewhere in the deepest pits of hell (a far corner of the room). The panties stay on and for that, you're grateful - a little - as the simplest, straightest of touches on the sensitive meat of your cunt feels like clear honey being poured over a-

Daryl taps two fingers at the top of your slit, right where you outer lips part to reveal your swollen clit.

"Fuck!" You yelp.

"So responsive," he mumbles. He sounds fascinated as he spreads his fingers, the rough tips gliding along the skin and the thick meat sliding over the soaked fabric. You quiver and he can't resist running his mouth, "that feel good?" His smirk is a little mocking, a little breathless.

Your resolve hops between strangling Daryl and begging him, the rabbit of your heart leaping in your chest, doing a binky when your lover shows you mercy by moving aside the sticky fabric covering your crotch. It immediately cools and you wince as it touches the hot flesh of your thigh.

Daryl's inhale is sharp, deep and loud as he dips the same two thick fingers inside your slit.

You're swollen and so wet, its practically dripping. Your clit twtiches under his fingers.

"Jesus Christ," he exhales his disbelief, "you like that, huh? This all for me?" The question proves to be rhetoric when the arm that holds you by your waist tightens on you and Daryl grinds his hips up into the small of your back.

The pitch of his voice drops impossibly low, "bet you taste sweet," as he scoops up some of the fluid, fingers snagging on the snug ring of your entrance, before bringing them up to his lips. He noisily sucks your cunt off his fingers, slurping, "fuck yes!"

Your eyes flutter shut as you cunt pitifully clenches around nothing, no doubt making an ever bigger mess between your legs and on his jeans. Your soft whine is an earnest compliment to the man doing his best to clean up your mess.

Daryl repeats the motion several times, scooping up the sticky droplets of your cunt juice, immediately sticking his fingers in his mouth.

You feel a little sad you can't see it, but your imagination supplements that which is lacking. You imagine his brow, furrowed; his eyes, closed; the tight 'o' of his lips around his fingers. Your cunt flexes again, spasming.

Daryl's reward for it is to circle your clit with a featherlight touch of a single finger. His breath is heavy as he reaches lower, same finger sliding to your entrance: not breaching it, just circling, like a predator circles its prey. He must have the patience of a saint.

You, however, do not. Your hips have a mind of their own as they arch into him, your cunt so empty, it practically hurts.

"Tell me whatcha need," Daryl orders, the low of his voice seasoned with a pinch of pride and a pinch of desperation, "tell me, sugar."

"Inside," you keen, out of your mind, "I want you. Inside." There's drool gathering in the corners of your mouth.

Daryl obliges, but not before lubricating the entirety of his thick finger by sliding it over the outside of your cunt, causing another loud keen to fall from your lips.

When he pushes in, you swear you could cry from the sheer relief of finally getting something for your hungry cunt to wrap around.

Experimentally, he drags his finger in and out, slowly, tense as he watches your reaction, before adding in another. To say they're big would be an understatement: long and thick and textured, it's everything your cunt has craved for the past some minutes. Daryl pumps them in and out as you pant through the new sensation, acutely aware of the loud squelches coming from your hole with every plunge.

Your swollen lips and throbbing walls attempt to keep him hostage with every pull.

Daryl curses, something completely unintelligible, his rough voice completely lost to lust. "Gonna cum for me, eh?" He breathes as the contractions of your cunt become quicker, more rhythmic.

Your neglected clit pulses, your nipples are stiff as rocks, your breathing is uneven and shallow. You couldn't find your voice even if you tried; you don't try at all, letting your body do the talking. You fuck back onto his fingers to the best of your limited ability to move as short, loud, primal noises choke their way up your throat.

The throb of his cock against the small of your back is what sends you over the edge.

Daryl's panting, whimpering himself at the unabashed state of your being; you don't think he realises it, even, his eyes set on your cunt gripping onto his fingers.

When it clenches for one last time, you arch, you paint the walls of the room with curses and whimpers that would make even a prostitute blush as more sweet slick drips out your spasming hole and onto his fingers. Your legs tremble as your entire body goes limp in Daryl's hold.

Soft lips rest on the crown of your head, hot, uneven puffs of air frizz your damp hair.

As your brain does a factory reset, you become hyperaware of the hard, thick flesh pressing into you; a stark realization comes over your being, washing your body in a new layer of shivers. Your cunt still tingles, still aches for more.

"Daryl," you mumble, feeling him go stiff and hot, his name like the sweetest honey on your lips, "I want you inside me."

He shudders, he pants, his cock twitches pitifully once again in his pants. The tight denim had provided some relief, enough to focus on you, enough to stretch the time a little bit more. But now, with your body warm and lax and fucked out of your skull, how could he resist?

He didn't want to resist. He wanted to feel good.

In your dazed state, it was easy for him to pick you up, bridal-style, and carry you towards the singular bedroom in the cabin. He grinned at the clumsy way you immediately reached out to him, tangling your fingers in his hair, placing sloppy kisses on the nearest inches of skin you could reach.

The whine you let out when dropped onto the cool comforter?

Daryl's cock twitched demandingly.

The man stood at the foot of the bed, admiring the view: you, blinking up at him, breasts moving with each shallow breath, feet on the comforer and legs bent at the knee, a hint of flushed, swollen pussy peeking out from the crooked gusset of your underwear.

This may not be heaven but it was as close to it as he'll ever get.

The buckle of his belt clinked, denim shuffled as it was left somewhere behind him- Daryl wasted no time dropping to his knees, using two strong hands to bring your cunt up and into his face. The force of his inhale made your sensitive pussy quiver, it was something that made him smile against the fabric of your panties as moved it aside once more - this time with his teeth.

"Oh, fuck!" You yelped as the broad, wide, flat expanse of Daryl's tongue licked messily up your cunt, hole-to-clit.

"Mmm," he groaned, "fuckin' candy apple pussy," taking another taste. And then another, and another until your skin was raw from the stubble of his beard and you were left in a shaking, whimpering, wet mess of a human. His face was drenched. "Messy girl," he chided in a soft mock as your cunt provided him with another gush of arousal, "ya like bein' messy for me, don't cha?"

"Uh-uh," you arched, your usually concise vernacular reduced to whimpers, groans and two-syllable words that barely made any sense to your own ears, much less anyone else's.

Daryl was like a wild animal, lapping up the liquid, uncaring of the mess he made of you and of his own face.

"Please," you fought with your tongue and finally, finally won, "I wanna- uhh," well, maybe not quite.

Momentarily, he withdrew, wiping the side of his face on the inside of your thigh, "you want what? Tell me."

In your state, he could have touched you anywhere and it would have reduced you to a mindless, blabbering mess. So you settled on the next best thing. Your hand, the one that was in his hair, tugged him up - or tried to.

Daryl's responding growl, the shift of his shoulders, the absence of a single hand on your thigh - you knew the tug had him palming himself through his boxers. Another, purposeful tug was given, another growl followed as he stood up.

You weakly pushed yourself up higher on the large bed.

In the dim twilight of the bedroom, Daryl stood, shirt soaked through and through with sweat; his chest heaved as damp strands of hair fell over his face. They were unable to conceal the glistening layer of you on his chin, neither they could hide the blown pupils of his stare. There was almost no blue visible in his eyes.

You licked your dry lips, forcing them to cooperate, "c'mere," your hands stretched out towards him.

Daryl crawled on the bed and over you, sitting between your spread legs. Obedient, he leaned into you, placing sloppy, damp kisses over your face as you wound your arms around his neck. The tent in his boxers hovered less than an inch away from your bare cunt.

"I need ya'," you breathed, tasting yourself as you licked into his mouth, hoping to convey with you body what you couldn't with your words.

"Ya sure, sugar?" Ever the gentleman, Daryl pressed his clothed cock over your bare cunt, ruining his underwear even further; his muscles flexed under your palms.

"Uh-uh," the heat, the feel of his thick cock backtracked any progress you'd made on getting your vocal cords and your brain cooperate. There was nothing but lust and saliva gathered in your mouth now, something that both of you shared during another slow, wet kiss. Your teeth clashed, your tongues ran over each other, all graceless and sloppy.

With one swift, ragged motion of his hand, Daryl shoved his boxers down and over his cock, freeing it from the tight confines; that action alone was enough for him to let out a grunt as the cool air hit his leaking, flushed tip.

The same tip that slapped against your clit, jerking your body and his.

"F-f-fuck," Daryl wheezed, fisting his cock at the base, running the tip slowly over your lips, your clit and down to your hole, "m'not gunna last for shit like this."

Just get inside me!!! You wanted to scream. Instead, you wiggled your hips, you squeezed his shoulders.

The fat head of his cock slipped in, slowly, steadily. More wet, sticky noises got lost in the growl coming from Daryl's gritted teeth.

Your cunt was sucking him in, all wet and hot and snug and constantly flexing, rippling as it adjusted to his size. The roll of your hips that followed was utterly unintentional, driven by the most primitive of instincts.

"Oh, sugar," Daryl grasped your hip tightly, holding it in place, "fuckin' shit. What're you doin' to me, woman?" His speech slurred.

All you could reply was a series of small breaths, 'ah-ah-ah's' with every inch of his cock sliding into you, until you felt his heavy balls pressed against your ass.

If your eyes weren't clenched shut, you would have seen the wild look in Daryl's eyes, the way they darted between the blissed-out look on your face and the root of his cock secured against the entrance of your cunt.

Slowly, he withdrew, hissing at the smooth pleasure of your wet pussy sliding over his cock, and then he slammed back in.

Your body curled, arched; a shriek left your lips at the sudden realization. You held onto him tightly, his shoulders, his arms; the sweet feel of his skin, slick with sweat, bombarded your senses, drowning you in that natural, masculine smell of him.

You babbled some nonsense, something about how good he felt, how he fit just right and so nicely, how he was so good to you-

"You're so good to me," Daryl objected, Daryl stated, "s'fuckin' sweet. My sweet, messy girl."

The words alone brought you closer to the edge as he hammered away inside your oversensitive cunt. In fairness, he could have flicked your clit just once, or even taken his mouth to one of your hard, throbbing nipples-

Daryl's need to feel you come, to clench and gush around his rock-hard cock was at the forefront of his mind, followed closely by awe at the way your body molded perfectly against his. The way your thighs quivered as they attempted to wrap themselves around his hips, the desperation in your grip on his shoulders.

"Fuck!" He cursed, teethering at the very edge of his orgasm, "come for me, pretty girl, c'mon," he urged, swallowing his own moans and gasps.

"I- uh," you, too were almost right there. The coil in your stomach at its most tense, it sent small tremors inside your cunt, shocks of pure, hot, liquid ecstasy-

That traveled down Daryl's cock. Like damn rings during a heated game of muckers, the spasms of your cunt collected at the root of his shaft, one on top of the other, until he could do nothing else but rut roughly, sloppily into the equally sloppy mess of your cunt.

He felt it. It began somewhere at the deepest part of you, squeezin' the head of his cock firmly and traveling all the way down his shaft, until each ring of pleasure popped, releasing his seed into you-

Throbbing, your cunt pushed and gushed, a flash of lightning zapping your clit as Daryl's pubic bone ground into it with force. A hoarse scream tore from your throat, your body curling inward with the force of your orgasm. Strong, heavy spasms of his cock shooting hot ropes into you lulled you into the aftershocks.

It made both of your bodies limp with exhaustion. The cord had snapped and tension finally leaked out, dissolving like smoke and fog into the open air.

Sweaty, sticky and hot, the two of you panted your relief onto each other's cheeks.

Your lips connected with the rough stubble on Daryl's. Hair hung over his face, obscuring your smile.

"Whatchu grinnin' at?"

Boy, did he sound fucked-out. All smoke and gravel and spice and everything nice.

"Feels good."

"Heh," he chuckled, the noise coming from somewhere deep within his chest, "sure does."

#WHEW I NEED TO BE NEUTERED Y'ALL #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x female reader #twd smut #fuckin' tiktok editors wirh their fuckin sexy edits #fuckin norman reedus with his stupid fuckin face #ALL OF YOU GET OUT #of my head #please.

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theroseredreaper · 1 year

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Brushing Their Hair

Twisted Wonderland - Platonic Headcanons

[Part 1] [Part 2]

Characters: Riddle Rosehearts, Azul Ashengrotto, Rook Hunt, Vil Schoenheit, Malleus Draconia

Word Count: 640

Riddle Rosehearts

Would be confused by your request, not used to being touched by others, even if it’s platonic affection.

Might be apprehensive at first, but agrees after seeing that you’re sincere about your request to brush his hair.

Would sit awkwardly the first time you brush his hair, but would gradually relax over time.

Would thank you for doing something so nice for him just because you wanted to.

Depending on how comfortable he feels with vulnerability that day, he will offer to brush your hair in turn. It’s only natural to return such a kind gesture, after all. He will feel more comfortable offering to brush your hair after that.

If you give him a braid, he will be impressed by your skill and perhaps even flattered that you saw fit to give him a braid on top of brushing his hair.

Has baby-soft hair. It’s like touching a cloud.

Azul Ashengrotto

Would refuse to let you touch his hair at first. Your friendship level is too low.

If you somehow reach the friendship level where he trusts you enough to touch his hair, he will absolutely insist that you let him return the favor. At first it’s because he refuses to be indebted to anyone, then eventually it’s because he genuinely enjoys spending time with you doing something that’s proof of the closeness of your bond together.

If you give him a braid, he will be impressed by it and will gladly wear it about. Would not take kindly to anyone who would tease him about it and would boast that you did the braid if anyone compliments it.

Has slightly dry, textured hair. Feels just a tad course to the touch. It’s hard to maintain soft and moisturized hair when you live in a dorm that’s underwater and you’re an octomer.

Rook Hunt

Would be delighted to let you brush his hair!

Not a quiet bonding session, he is a chatterbox the whole while, talking about anything and everything.

Will gently guide you on how to care for hair according to Vil’s expectations in between conversation.

His hair is too pin-straight to hold a braid.

His hair would be silky and soft, the kind that just slips through your fingers.

Vil Schoenheit

No touching the hair. Period.

In that tsundere motherly way of his, he would offer to do your hair instead.

The bonding session turns into a combo of a well-meaning lecture on hair care and Vil spending time just relaxing with you.

He is not jealous of the others whom you’ve shared hair bonding sessions with.

You might find yourself invited to Pomefiore more often from then on for beauty sessions with Vil because it’s really quite a crime that Crowley doesn’t give you the means to take care of yourself with better beauty products. Worry not, Vil makes more than enough to share with you.

(Epel may or may not think you’re crazy if you accept Vil’s beauty session invites.)

Malleus Draconia

After being friends for a long time, he’d gladly accept your request to brush his hair.

Would be very happy during the whole process, eyes closed with a content little smile during your bonding session.

Would definitely tease you light-heartedly about touching his hair, especially if you happen to touch his horns while doing his hair.

If you braid his hair, he’ll happily wear it for days on end, subtly showing it off as he goes about his day. Will boast that you were the one who did his hair if asked.

Will look forward to any future requests you make about brushing his hair.

Would see it as an honor and sign of high trust if you let him touch your hair and brush it in turn.

Has naturally soft and smooth hair that feels like downy feathers when touched.

A/N: Just some headcanons that were bouncing around in my brain. I know some people view certain types of touch as romantic in nature, but I personally really love playing with my friends’ hair and them doing my hair in turn. It makes for fun, cozy bonding sessions that can really reflect how close you are with your friends. 🥰

#twst headcanons #headcanon #malleus x reader #azul x reader #vil x reader #rook x reader #riddle x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #malleus draconia x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #rook hunt x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #twisted wonderland headcanons #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #platonic x reader #platonic headcanons

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aetheternity · 2 years

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"Hold on, you have something on your cheek." -5wirl +Tighnari

Synopsis: How the 5wirl boys + Tighnari react when you move their hair aside to kiss their cheek. Otherwise known as you shamelessly flirting with them.

Disclaimer: This is some adorable fluff to unscrew up my tired porn ridden brain. No gender/pronouns used. Enjoy!

Venti

It'd been a while since Venti had last invited you out to lunch. Whether the reason had been work related or just a need for space you weren't sure. Though today you felt a surge of confidence. A sort of push like every cell in your body was telling you to finally admit your feelings. As though you'd never get the chance again if you didn't. So you bit the bullet.

"Oh hey, you've got something on your cheek." You stop him in his tracks brushing his braid aside and trying not to physically combust at his cute little hm?

He leans in a little closer, just enough for you to press a quick peck against his cheek. His eyes enlarge for just a quick second and you're almost ready to spurt out some apologetic words when he mutters,

"What's on your lips?" His kiss is soft yet fleeting. Cold from his drink and yet sends heat roaring through your body.

His grin is shitty when he pulls back, a chorus of raucous laughter soon falling off his lips. "You should see your face, it's so cute!" He soon devolves into breathy giggles stopping when he realizes you haven't said a word. Or blinked or.. wait were you even breathing?? "Wait! Name, breathe!"

Your head rests against his knee while he summons calming breezes to your side. "Geez, you kissed me first and yet you could barely handle reciprocation." He tsks teasingly.

"I didn't know you would kiss me back!" You pout

"Ugh the point is we're even now." He retorts with a playful roll of his eyes.

"I guess.."

"So, wanna kiss again?"

Your heartbeat slams against your rib cage. One hand sliding up to your chest entangling your shirt in your fist. "I-I need a minute.."

Heizou

You'd been waiting for what had to have been a full month for Heizou to come back from vacati- his private investigation. And the second you'd heard the rumors that he'd been found and was returning. You knew you had to snag him up before you didn't see him again for another couple months.

"Look at this beautiful view." He cycled on as you rested your face in your palms. "I took this picture the moment I set foot on the island. It truly is a sight to behold. This picture doesn't quite do it justice either because during the night time when the water is bathed with glowing moonlight.. ugh it's quite majestic."

"Hei, you've got a little something on your cheek." You tap your own face with the palm of your index finger.

"Oh." He slides a hand across his face, eyebrows creasing as he looks at his fingers.

"No, right-"

You shift your face to the side, brushing long red strands aside quickly taken aback when your lips are snagged. Pressed against his so suddenly that you nearly snap your head back. But he doesn't allow it, keeping you close with a hand on your cheek. His kiss so firm yet gentle. Before you can even get used to his taste however he's leaving you high and dry.

"There?" He finishes

"Wha-" You ask or well try to as he continues to hold your face. His breath fanning the bridge of your nose as he chuckles.

"I believe your next question is, how long have you known?" He remarks "The definitive answer would be: I've always known. I notice your little lip bites when I make corny jokes. I've noticed the way you absolutely must rub your knee against mine whenever we're sitting close, just as we are now. And I've seen the way your eyes flicker to my lips when you think I'm not watching. I assumed you'd just come out and tell me you like me. I mean I have been waiting for so long, my heart was starting to break." His chuckle is far deeper this time. Far more teasing than the first.

"You're such an annoying little tease." You hiss, shakily entangling his shirt in your grip.

"Come now, you must find some enjoyment from it." He pecks your lips. "Otherwise you wouldn't be clinging to me like this."

Aether

The two of you had finally made plans for the first time since he'd left Inazuma. While you'd always felt like the two of you had a not dating but acts as though you are, kind of relationship today you wanted to take it a step further. Before you'd met up he'd shooed Paimon off to the teapot and prepared a basket of food fit for a banquet. He wanted you to try all his new favorites after all.

"Ae, I think you've got something on your cheek."

He blinks in between bites before leaning closer to your hand. Your thumb slides beneath strands of silky blonde hair brushing them aside before pecking his cheek with a quick kiss. His eyes dart towards yours and without warning he pulls a tissue from the basket bringing it up to his cheek with a quick swipe.

"The wind wiped away your kiss, you have to do it again."

"Why can't you just ask for another kiss like a normal person."

"Lips this time please." He retorts puckering up.

Xiao

Not seeing Xiao for a couple weeks was pretty normal usually but you found yourself missing him these past few days. Which soon lead you to the Wangshu Inn kitchen to prepare a bowl of almond tofu for his return. Once you'd finished and tidied up the space you'd used, you headed back to the balcony. The view swept you away for a moment, quickly entranced by the way the landscape could stretch for miles. Almost so taken in that Xiao's entrance nearly caused you to tip over the bowl in your hands.

"You're here." He greeted simply taking the bowl from your grasp.

"Mhm, How was your patrol?"

He simply huffed heading downstairs to grab a spoon. No surprise there, Xiao never had been ready to conversate after a long patrol.

"Oh hey Xiao, what's that on your cheek?"

You could feel the roll of his eyes despite his back being to you. "I've told you not to dote on me." He stops at the bottom of the staircase, halfway facing you.

"Well you should want to get cleaned up right?" You reply curling a handful of strands around his ear.

"I can do that on my own. Just leave I-" A sound you'd never believed Xiao could make escaped the adeptus in front of you. His face soon hung, the bowl of tofu hanging between shaky fingers. You giggle as you watch his cheeks flush with red, briskly rushing to the tips of his ears.

"Xiao.." You mummer close to his ear unsurprised by the faintest shiver being his only reply. "Thank you for all you do for Liyue." You whisper, without another word you head back upstairs to allow Xiao the space and comfort to eat in peace.

Kazuha

When Kazuha came back to Inazuma he always made sure to spend at least a week at your place. A time in which you'd found that Kazuha took up very little space, he'd always kept his area neat and if he was gone the whole day he'd make sure he'd bring you back some goodies.

This time had been no exception: It was only twelve am when he'd arrived home but he quickly insisted that he whip up a, "thank you for letting him stay" dish. You sat a ways away allowing yourself to become swept up by the intoxicating aroma wafting into the living room.

"It should be ready soon, Name."

Suddenly an idea floated into your head. You stood from your seat softly inching up behind Kazuha. Though it soon proved to be worthless as Kazuha's eyes quickly drifted behind him. A small smile brightening his features.

"Oh, have you come to sneak a taste?"

"Actually, you've got a little-" You smooth his hair back and before you can hesitate further you give his cheek a quick peck leaning back to anxiously take in his expression.

"Hm so that's why you've been so distracted tonight?" He places the spoon in the pan before removing it from the fire. He slowly turns back to you deep crimson eyes filled with adoration. "Is it ok if I kiss you too?" He asks

"Sure.." You're not sure how loud you said it but you soon find Kazuha's lips pressed to yours. The only description you could come up with to describe the way his lips felt against yours being airy, light almost feather-like. As though he had some internal fear he could break you with a single touch.

Before long he's leaning away and you can't help your childish huff. "Don't worry, we can continue once you have dinner." He smiles softly.

"I eat all the time. Kiss me."

Tighnari

Today was kind of special. Tighnari wasn't busy with the usual training of forest rangers and he'd finished his patrol early which meant the two of you had time to take a leisurely stroll. Which for Tighnari meant he could point out random flora and facts about them as you walked. While for you it just meant you could bask in his every word while barely keeping pace because he walks surprisingly fast.

"Are you still listening? I was on a roll there and you missed it."

You trot along till you catch up to his side. "Sorry Nari, hasn't anyone ever told you, you walk super fast?"

"No, I don't believe I've heard that until now actually." He retorts with a small lift of his chin.

"Well anyway for your information I actually was listening. You were explaining the temperatures at which Sumeru roses grow the best in." You reply

"Exactly, excellent!" He perks up, smile broadening "I don't think I'll ever understand why you didn't come with me after we graduated. I don't really need to explain this stuff to you the way I would a rookie forest ranger. Plus you're so skilled with medicinal remedies you'd be such a big help to me and Colliel."

"The akademiya begs for you to come back and you try to talk me into becoming a forest ranger someday. Somethings never change."

His chuckle is dry and you soon realize just how close you're standing. Your elbow resting on his shoulder. The tips of his ear twitching as your breath flutters against them.

"Hey Nari, what's on your cheek?" A small hum leaves his throat as he checks his left cheek with two fingers.

"Huh, did I get it?"

"No I mean this cheek." You whisper, his hair is silkier than you'd thought it would be and when you press a kiss to his cheek you make a mental note of his deep shudder. "There it's off now." You giggle immediately pleased at how quickly his entire face blooms pink.

"Wh-what was that for?"

"Consider it my thank you for a lovely afternoon."

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throneofsapphics · 3 months

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I've been thinking about poly!nessian & I have so many things stuck in my brain so here we go! just a few headcannons/scenarios

warnings: implied sexual content - nothing explicit, nightmares

Nesta having a nightmare

You brush the hair from her face, fingers running carefully through the sweat-soaked strands, Cassian quietly slips out to get a glass of water, careful to close the door quietly. "It's alright," you murmur, focusing on gentle, soothing, and steady motions "you're not alone nes." Shuddering breaths, before she sits up, taking the glass from him. Shuffling, you slide behind her, peppering kisses on her shoulders, Cassian's arm stretches over both of you, tugging his two girls in close.

"Running" the stairs with nesta

You get to the bottom, and convince her to carry you on her back the way up. For training, of course. Deciding to add an extra challenge, one to test her concentration, can reach around tease her, hand brushing around the curve of her breast, until she snaps, "keep it up and you'll be carrying me." You behave after that

Cassian does something to piss nesta off, except he can't figure out what it is. After 24 hours, he finally comes to you.

"Put me out of my misery," he groans, collapsing next to you on the couch. "I don't know what you're talking about," you press your lips into a tight line, fighting back a smile. He give you a 'cut the bullshit' look, and you sigh, "have you asked her?" "Three times. She told me I should know by now." He gives you what could only be described as puppy dog eyes, and you stifle a laugh "If I tell you, she'll know. Then she'll be mad at both of us." Cassian asks the house - an icy wind whipping both of you in the face, a remprimand. "It always takes her side," he grumbled. Glancing at the clock, Nesta would still be out for several hours, training with the Valkyries. "Come on," you grab his hand, tugging him to his feet, heading towards the balcony. "I have an idea for an apology."

Nesta coming home to her apology

Cassian's nearly brimming with anxious but hopeful energy, glancing at her with pleading eyes. Next to him, you're hiding a smile, she cocks her head, narrowing her eyes at you. Wordlessly, you grab her hand and tug her towards the dining room, Cassian following behind. There, a basket on the table - with an early copy of Sellyn Drake's novel, not set to be released for another week, various chocolates and pastries, and a few pretty flowers from the areas surrounding Velaris. She knows whose idea it was, but also saw each of your touches. You must've pulled several strings to get that book, she recognized the flowers - ones Cassian had taken one time, fiddled with her braid until they were woven inside. She takes the basket, "don't interrupt me this time," she warns Cassian. His mouth lips part, half in surprise, half in disbelief. You 'shush' him. Nesta's teeth dig into her bottom lip, and she tucks the basket under one arm, striding up towards him. Cupping his face with her spare hand, she presses a quick kiss to his lips, darting out of his way before he can deepen it.

You working a late night

Alone in the shop, you try to focus on your work, but the prospect of getting home to Nesta and Cassian proves distracting, as always. "Almost done," you mutter under your breath, filling out the dreaded paperwork. Three more sheets, and you'll be free. "With what?" You squeal, pen clattering across the counter. Cassian catches it before it hits the floor, but ink's already splattered on the marble counter. "Damn it," you huff. Maybe the ink will add character. Before you can grab the cloth to wipe it, Cassian's already there, pressing a kiss to your cheek, sliding around you, hand brushing along your lower back. "Thought we'd keep you company." Nesta's leaning across from you, one elbow propped on the counter. "Please tell me you brought snacks," you plead - an edge of desperation in your tone. Your stomach has been growling for the last hour. Her hand rises, a bar of chocolate balances between two fingers. She slides it across to you, fingers brushing against yours. "Here, love." "Fuck, you're perfect," you moan, teeth snapping a large piece, letting it melt on your tongue. The scent Cassian and Nesta's arousal fills the room. "I have work to do," you remind them. "Don't stink up the place." With Cassian hugging you from behind, it takes a bit longer than usual to finish up.

#nessian x reader #nessian x y/n #acotar x reader #nesta archeron x reader #nesta x reader #cassian x reader #cassian x y/n #nesta archeron x y/n #nesta x y/n #acotar drabble #acotar headcannons #poly!nessian #poly!nessian x y/n #poly!nessian x reader

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cheshirebitch · 1 month

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𝔽𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕟 𝔸𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕝 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕊𝕥𝕦𝕓𝕓𝕠𝕣𝕟 𝕊𝕥𝕒𝕘

Alastor x Reader (Oneshot)

It has been sixteen whole days since I last had a conversation with Alastor. It made me feel like I needed a cigarette or two because no matter how long I resist the temptation, I will always lose. Sixteen whole days since I last saw how he can have a genuine smile, how soft he could get, feel his gentle touches, and oh my stars do I miss it.

I walked past him again as he walked the other way in the hotel, our shoulders almost brushing each other. Both our eyes remained looking forward as we ignored each other’s existence. I wanted to stop walking and turn to look at him. It was just a small glance that I was wishing for but my mind wouldn’t allow it. Instead, I tightened my hold on the papers in my hand as I carefully walked to my office, softly closing the door behind me. As my fingers drifted down the black wood door, all I could think of was all the times he carefully drag his claws against my skin, the feeling of his human hands pushing my hair out of the way for him to put a necklace on me, the feeling of him braiding my hair after a hard day.

A tear dropped onto my cheek, cold and damp. Then another dripped down.

“Why can’t I let go of this?” I have done the math over and over in my head, there was just no way for him to ever consider us again. It was all just a misunderstanding but his stupid stubbornness and thick headed nature is blocking it.

My black leather chair squeaked slightly as I dragged myself towards my desk covered in papers. I slowly sorted through them all as I let my brain wander to old memories of Alastor and I. Sniffling and the sound of papers moving sounded loud without the sound of his broadcast in my office. My eyes landed on the radio in the corner of my room, and as I stared at it, I realized it was just as painful to see. My fingers were holding it tightly and before I knew it, I placed it on the ground outside of my office. When I stood up, Alastor was rounding the corner and stopped dead in his tracks. My tear stained face, his radio I used to always only have on his radio broadcast, and my shaky hands. A deep breath of air and a small sad smile as I gently shut my office door again.

My head rested on the door as I closed my eyes and cried silently for a moment, turning back around to continue my paperwork. Then he was standing behind my desk, his staff abandoned in the corner of the room where his radio once was. But as I glanced, I noticed the radio was back.

“Mon Cher…” It was his normal voice, the one I missed so dearly from our days alive. My lip quivered and chills ran down my body. He tensed at my reaction.

”Mi Amor…” Red claws tightened their hold, his back straightening before all of it melted out of his body. His smile twitched.

“It hurts to be something, but it’s worse to be nothing with you.” I breathed out, referencing how we have been treating each other.

“I apologize for causing unnecessary heartache, Mon Cher. I’m willing to listen if you’ll allow it.” My hands twitched, should I? It has been painful for him to just feel betrayed by me, for not understanding when I first tried to explain everything. I just didn’t want him to feel guilty but instead I ripped us apart.

”Will you listen this time or am I better off trying to get back into heaven?” His eyes started to switch into two emotions, regret and sadness. He walked around the desk and slowly reached his hand out to my cheek, wiping a stray tear.

”Please.” Patient crimson eyes danced with my scared eyes.

”When I saw you get shot and mauled by those hunting dogs, I fought the hunter. I begged him to call off his dogs, that you were a human and not a wild animal. By the time we got the dogs pulled off of you, you just didn’t look like you. It was- it was horrible.” My voice broke at the word horrible. My fingers played with his free hand as he was running his other in my hair.

“I tried begging the paramedics to bring you back, even though I knew there was nothing they could do. My heart shattered and remained broken till the day I died, three months after your death. I went out to where you died every night. That’s where I met the same fate as you, I got shot by another hunter.” A breathy laugh left my body as Alastor’s lip curled up in anger towards the hunter who took my life, knowing that bastard was also in hell with us.

”When I woke up, I was in heaven. I got to talk to your mother. She really was as lovely as you described, and boy does she miss her son.” Alastor’s mean mug face wiped into one of grief. I knew how much he loved his mother and wished we could have met.

“After a couple months searching for you in heaven, I found out you were in hell. Then, when I begged to be sent to hell, they refused relentlessly. That was till I found out how to become a fallen angel, and I fell. I’m so sorry, Mi Amor. I should’ve told you the day I fell. I should’ve searched harder for you before I tried to make a deal with Vox.” Tears were falling from my eyes, I couldn’t help but feel that anxiety and heartbreak all over again. The man in front of me didn’t look like my Alastor but still did in an evil way. My hands held his face in mine. Alastor gripped me into a tight embrace as he held me.

“I forgive you for not speaking the truth sooner dear, but please never leave my side again. If you have to ever sell your soul, make sure it is only to me.” I nodded my head as I breathed in his cologne. I missed it for so many months, months that felt like years. My wings spread out behind me before wrapping themselves around Alastor and I.

“I missed you so much.” I whispered against his chest. He kissed my forehead before whispering back, “I missed you most, Mon Cher. Forgive me for being a stubborn old stag.”

(As always, characters belong to their owner and the story belongs to me. If you have any requests or ideas, send them over :)! Just a short angst Drabble I thought of while listening to the song ‘Promise’ by Laufey. I will gladly try to write things for my supporters! Thank you for the love and have a great day <3!)

#fanfic #fanfiction #hazbin hotel #x reader #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #radio demon #xreader #hazbin hotel alastor

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sakufilms · 6 months

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light in the darkness ; kim chaewon

m.list le sserafim m.list

summary. chaewon’s always been fascinated by your ability to bring light to the darkness. / powers au.

pairing. kim chaewon x gn!reader

genre. fluff, romantic.

word count. 0.6k words

warnings. established relationship, attempt at humour lol.

✐ consider this small drabble as an apology for my lack of fics and for being behind on requests </3 the writers block is BAD rn

The evening was calm. You and Chaewon had spent it with some quality time. You felt light as you reflected on your time together, just now planning to go to bed as it was already midnight.

Chaewon’s hand was on the small of your back, as she guided you out of the kitchen, when suddenly you were drenched in darkness. The power had gone out.

Your brain seemed to realize this faster than your body, as once the darkness hit, you stubbed your toe against the kitchen island. You swore on your life in that moment that this kind of pain would make any man crumble as you dropped to the floor, groaning out in pain. You didn’t care how dramatic you seemed because you may have well been hit in the foot with a sledgehammer.

Chaewon gasped. “Are you okay? What happened?” She said. Her arms were now reaching out into pure darkness, not being able to find you.

You sighed. “I stubbed my toe.”

Chaewon paused her frantic movements, blinking, and then reached down, her hand landing on the top of your head. “Oh.”

“Oh? That hurt!”

Chaewon couldn’t help but to giggle at your misfortune, crouching down next to you and sitting onto the floor. “You acted like it was so much worse. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

She was right, of course. The pain was already subsiding as you sat crisscrossed in front of her—or as least you think. You couldn’t see anything.

You sat in the silence for a few moments, wondering what could have caused the power outage. The weather was perfectly fine, so that wasn’t the cause.

Then, you felt dainty fingers brushing over yours, and slowly, her fingers intertwined with yours. Her hands were soft and gentle, like she was crafted with clouds and fairy dust. “I don’t really like the dark.” Chaewon said softly.

“I’m right here, don’t worry.”

There was a small pause as Chaewon prepared her response. “Can you do the thing? The lights?”

The smile that appeared on your face was involuntary. How couldn’t you smile when you were around her?

Putting one of your hands on your knee, palm up, you let it rest there, and then you closed it. You felt the power in your veins. The power felt light and comforting, unlike those who had a hungry, evil power.

Your power was blue rivers running through you. You were grateful to be born with such a gift.

You opened your palm, and blue tendrils of light gleamed, running out your hand and floating into the air. Like waves of light, they fluttered around, swirling around the room and brightening every darkened corner.

You followed one of the tendrils with your eyes, watching as it flowed. It grew closer to you, and then it was right in front of your eyes, swirling right before you.

It then reached Chaewon, and you had never been so in awe of the effects of your own powers before. There were waves of blue light flowing around and braiding through Chaewon’s hair. Her locks were lightly blowing around like she was being hit by a light breeze. And her eyes, which looked like they were made of glass, sparkling so brightly, were filled with a childlike wonder. It was the same look she always had when you used your powers.

Her lips pulled into the gentlest of smiles, flickers of blue speckling in her eyes as the light reflected off them. “I don’t think you understand how beautiful this is.”

And as you gazed at her, your heart filling with love and adoration, you simply had to agree. This was a beautiful sight.

@ sakufilms

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shineonyoucrazyyandere · 1 year

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A little donut - Yandere! Giorno Giovanna x reader

So I did a darling playing with Josuke’s hair some time ago, and now I’m having brain rot thinking about Giorno’s hairstyle. In short American darling seems to have a psychotic break, compares Giorno’s hair loops to donuts and then he proceeds to fluster them in return. Specific donuts mentioned are the preservative filled hostess powdered donuts. This is just a fic for funsies

He was puzzled at your request for these things considering he could literally get you the best dessert in Italy with a snap of his fingers. However he decided to indulge your craving for these artificial things, it involved little work to get them and didn’t involve you going out. Also you actually spoke to him for once since he brought you into his home, which caught the blond just slightly off guard. Perhaps your walls were ever so slightly beginning to crumble?

Nevertheless you received your treat from overseas within a week or so. Made sure to be fresh (as far as they could be in his eyes anyway). A slower afternoon when he wasn’t deep into work, you were with him on a small table. Everything set up for tea, including your selected indulgence for the day. You weren’t quite as anxious as you usually were when the two of you ate together, your eyes clearly fixated on your newly obtained prize. Giorno couldn’t help but purse a small smile, it was like observing a cat with catnip almost.

He noted you had played about three of the small confections on your plate. Before gently pinching up one with your index and thumb, a bit of the powder flaking into your dish as you did so. A bite or two later and the first one had vanished, but you didn’t proceed to grab the second.

“You know your hair reminds me of donuts…”

The blond about choked on his spit, at the seemingly random nature of the question. There was a snort of laughter from a distance where Mista was sitting. Giorno paid no mind, honestly it was rather amusing. After a few stunned seconds of blinking, and soaking up this attention he chuckles.

“That’s a rather cute comparison” He responded

“The way you style it…” you squirmed in your seat “just reminds me of that, and I was wondering how you, do it”

“I could show you if you’d like” He directly offered to satisfy your curiosity.

Cautiously you accept the offer, knowing it was feeding right into his obsession. Though it was exceedingly difficult, even outright impossible to get any outside human interaction. So this event would have to suffice.

The following morning he woke you up to see his routine, you were absolutely not used to his messier than usual hair. Nor the fact it was all cascading down slightly curly from the braid he usually kept it in. You weren’t going to lie, his golden locks were attractive just sitting around his shoulder blades.

“You know, you should help me…” He mused to you while brushing his hair out in front of his bathroom mirror.

“I don’t know about that, I uh…don’t want to ruin your hair before you talk with whichever people you meet” You awkwardly deflect, however you see the slight mischievous look in his eyes.

“If I show you how, there won’t be a risk of messing up, I’ll walk you through everything” He hummed gesturing you closer

As much as you wanted to back up, something unseen to your own eyes was allowing no exit. You sigh at the grave mistake you had made yesterday. This is what you get for teasing the mad man who kept you under lock and key. How else were you supposed to keep your sanity? You didn’t want to admit either that Giorno probably knew this would’ve been an inevitability.

You jumped as a gentle touch of one of his arms drew you closer. He firmly asked you to hand him one of the items on the counter. Before shortly asking you to help with certain gestures and guiding your hands through certain bits of his hair. You were momentarily in awe at its softness once touching it.

“Do you enjoy my hair now that you get to feel it?” he mused casually You weren’t sure if you should respond to that.

“I do think we should do this more often however, I think I like the way you put my gel in my hair and of course your braiding is gorgeous y/n” He continued on.

You could tell he was slightly teasing and you were internally freaking out how much your hands would touch. As if he hadn’t been laying in bed a time or two with you.

“dammit…” you mumbled under your breath,

This is where everything falls apart.

#yandere x reader #yandere jjba x reader #yandere jjba imagines #yandere #yandere jjba #yandere imagines #yandere scenario #jjba imagines #yandere x darling #yandere giorno #giorno giovanna x reader #Yandere jjba imagines #yandere giorno giovanna

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karenssupplystore · 10 days

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Powerless X Simon 'Ghost' Riley

This is literally just brainrot because I just finished 'Powerless' by Lauren Roberts and my brain randomly connected a scene in the book to one Simon 'Ghost' Riley.

'Powerless' by Lauren Roberts spoilers!!

Basically just the scene from the book but tweaked a little to make this a scenario with the character Simon Riley and from third person. So this is NOT my writing! All credits to Lauren Roberts. Go read the book!!

Rough fingers brush against the nape of her neck.

Her breath catches as Ghost casually pulls her hair into his hands, combing the strands out of her face and away from her bloody ear. "What are you-?" She stops short, feeling the patterns he's gently weaving. "Are you... braiding my hair?"

"Why do you sound so surprised?" he asks simply, unaware that her mouth is hanging open in shock. His voice is full of that cocky challenge as he says, "What, do you need to teach me how to?"

"No, I don't need to teach-" She pauses, taking a breath. "How do you even know how to braid?"

Ghost huffs out a laugh that stirs the hair on the back of her neck, his breath ghosting over her skin. "You say that like it's supposed to be difficult."

The two are quiet for a moment, and the brush of his fingers travelling farther down her back makes her still. She clears her throat. "I thought you told me not to get used to you being a gentleman?"

The smirk on his lips is almost audible as he speaks, "And I still stand by that statement."

"Then why are you doing this?"

He heaves a sigh, his fingers falling to her arm making her nearly jump at the sudden skim of his calluses. They stop on the strap wrapped around her wrist before slipping it off to begin securing her hair.

"There," he says, stepping around to hand in front of her, flicking the long braid over her shoulder. Then he gives it a tug, admiring his handiwork with a smile that reaches his eyes.

She turns her gaze down to the braid as she stiffles out a snort at the sight of several strands sticking out. "I thought you said this wasn't difficult for you?" She laughs as she says, "You do know that all of the hair is supposed to make it into the braid, correct?"

"Odd way to say thank you, but I suppose that is the best I'll get from you." Ghost leans in closer, lips lifted into a mocking grin even visible through his mask. "Perhaps of you won't let me teach you how to braid, you'll consider letting me teach you some manners."

She nearly chokes on a scoff at the thought of Simon 'Ghost' Riley teaching her manners. His eyes skim over her ear before he takes a step away, slipping his hands into his pockets. "You should get that healed up before the mission tomorrow," he says casually, nodding to the wound. "We wouldn't want your little misstep to scar."

The sudden bite in those words has her stunned for a moment as she studies him in the growling silence. "No," she finally manages, "we wouldn't want that."

His gaze sweeps over her again before he turns, tossing what can only be assumed to be a smirk over his shoulder. "Good luck tomorrow."

She doesn't bother to fight her smile. "If I had any manners I would wish you luck as well, Ghost. But you already informed me that I don't."

He laughs, and the sound snakes down her spine as he continues to stride away. Without him to distract her, her ear begins to sting furiously as she begins to trek her way to the med-wing with one though occupying her.

He never answered her question.

#powerless #powerless lauren roberts #cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley #kai azer #paedyn gray #lauren roberts #i freaking love their banter #go read powerless

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the-little-moment · 2 months

Text

Braided Together

A Collection of Hair Stories with

Senna and the Bad Batch

Words: 1,772

Warnings: None

Just some sweet fluff. There's a separate little story for each character.💕

Hunter

Senna combed her fingers through the sergeant’s black hair, feeling the silk of it.

“Crosshair used to do this, and Tech helps now, but you know how he is.”

The doctor chuckled. “Oh, I know. I don’t mind at all, dear. I am a little rusty though.”

“At least you’re not gonna lecture me while you do it. It makes me feel like he’s got me right where he wants me,” Hunter admitted, raising two fingers like a pair of scissors, “and he’s pointing a sharp object at my head in case I get any ideas.”

Senna bit her lip in an effort not to laugh at his exasperation. “Hmm, the lecture costs extra.”

Hunter was sitting on the third step of the ship's ramp, Senna perched just above him so she could get a good view of what she was doing. His hair was still damp from his shower and she had spread a towel over his shoulders to catch what she was about to cut. A warm breeze blew through the docking yard as Hunter tilted his face up to the sunshine, trying to ignore the clatter of pit droids arguing nearby.

One would think that all clones would share the same hair, but Senna had seen every variety the Fett genome could produce in her time on Kamino. Shades of blonde, brown, red, and, of course, black. Even silver, like Crosshair’s. Most clones had tight curls, but Hunter’s hair fell in softer waves. It was longer now than he usually kept it, brushing his shoulders.

“You have such nice hair.”

“Thanks," he murmured, eyes closed. If it was quieter he could see himself falling asleep. "I do absolutely nothing to it.”

“That seems to be the trick, as far as I can tell. We women torture our hair.”

The sergeant chuckled at that. “I condition it with sweat.”

Senna grinned, shaking her head as she lifted the scissors to make the first cut.

Omega

Omega sighed and leaned forward on her elbows, one finger tracing idle patterns on the console as Senna drew the brush through her short, blonde waves. “I wish I had hair like you, Senna.”

The doctor smiled at her wistful tone. “What, black?”

“Long.” She spread out her arms and sighed again.

“Oh.” Senna chuckled, separating a tangle at the back of the girl's neck. She and Wrecker had played—that is trained, hard today. “Well, you can if you want to, but it’s mostly just a giant pain.”

“But it’s so pretty.” Omega sat thoughtfully for a moment as Senna continued brushing. “Do boys like girls with long hair better?”

Senna thought her brain had short-circuited for a second, arm frozen halfway through a brush stroke. “I—uh,” she offered helpfully. “Um.” Where had this come from? Senna took a deep breath and sent a prayer up to the spirit of her mother, a woman who had somehow raised two thirteen year old girls.

“Honey,” she resumed her brushing, “there are trillions of boys in the galaxy and they all like different things. What’s more important is what makes you happy. There’s only one you.”

Tech

“Time for bed, Tech.” Senna came up behind him and knocked on the back of his seat. “Honey?”

“I only require a few more minutes,” the pilot muttered, hunched over the circuit board he was soldering. Senna had grown to fear that soldering iron after she’d followed the smell of smoke one night to find him asleep with it in his hand, slowly burning a hole through the part he was holding. Maker, how had they survived this long?

“You’ll have plenty more minutes tomorrow.” Nothing made her feel more like her mother than trying to get her family to go to bed. At least Wrecker was a good sleeper, bless him. And Hunter tried.

Tech sighed and switched off the tool as she pulled him gently back in the chair by his shoulders. “Somehow I managed to accomplish more before you joined us.”

“You’re about to trigger a lecture on the importance of sleep.” Tech groaned as she reached up and ran her fingers through his short hair, scratching his scalp gently. “Goggles.” She tapped the side of a lens and he pulled them off. They spent another minute like that, Senna gently massaging his head, her chin on the back of his seat, concentrating on the dents his goggles left, as he closed his eyes and sighed. “Alright, dear. Time to sleep.” She bent and kissed the top of his head like she had when he was small, smiling as Tech lurched to his feet and headed to his rack.

“G’night, Senna.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Wrecker

Wrecker had kept his head shaved ever since the accident. That awful day when he and his brothers had been cadets that had taken half of his sight and hearing and left them all terrified of his decommissioning. As a child, he’d had thick curls like any other clone, although a shade or two lighter than the prevalent black.

Senna had taken the razor from the medic who had been about to shave the burnt remains of the young clone's hair, knowing that, if he was awake, he’d rather her do it. He’d been off-balance for many weeks after his injury and she had continued to shave his head for him whenever the hair started to grow back, taking extra care around the fresh scar that surrounded his ear. They’d grown even closer during that time when his brothers had been forced to continue their training without him.

“You don’t think…it makes me ugly?”

Wrecker's left eye was still bandaged and Senna’s heart broke when he gazed at her sadly from the hospital bed, as miserable as a kicked akk pup.

“Oh, honey, no." The doctor rolled her stool from the monitor she'd been typing at to take his hand. "There’s no such thing as an ugly clone. The longnecks didn’t know the favor they were doing the galaxy when they made you and your brothers.”

He’d laughed at that, and Senna had leaned over and squeezed him extra tight. Her little Wrecker, now so much taller than she was, but still with the same sweet heart he’d always had.

Senna

“Thank you for letting me do this,” Tech said from his cross-legged position on the floor of the ship, a brush in one hand and the ends of Senna's hair in the other. She was perched, knees drawn up to her chin, on a cargo crate in front of him to keep the heavy waves off the floor.

“Of course, dear. You’re always welcome. Means I get to rest my arms.”

The doctor smiled to herself as she thought back to a very strange two days, when a much younger Tech, bored with his lessons, had developed a brief, but passionate fixation on learning to style her hair. His quick mind and nimble fingers had instantly mastered the braided crown she wore every day, insisting that she stay while he practiced increasingly intricate plaits, much to the bewilderment of his brothers. When she’d visited the Batch the next day, he was ready for her, immediately ushering her to sit on his bunk while he took her hair down and explained the traditional Mirialan and Chalactan hairstyles he’d researched the night before, a pile of handmade hair pins at his side. It had all been desperately adorable, and Senna clearly recalled an amused Hunter taking a holo of them at some point. She’d have to try to dig it up.

Tech slowly worked the brush up the length of her hair, patiently untangling the occasional knot. When he’d reached her shoulders, he unfolded his long legs and stood to finish the top of her head. “That feels nice,” Senna muttered, closing her eyes as the bristles scraped against her scalp and down her neck.

Tech smiled as he worked carefully around her ears. When all of the tangles were gone, he placed the brush at the crown of her head and dramatically drew it down the entire length in one smooth movement. “That is quite satisfying.”

Crosshair

The little clone glared bitterly down at his boots, as if they were to blame for all his troubles. “It’s just another thing for them to make fun of.”

Crosshair was sitting next to her on his bunk as Senna rubbed his arm absently. She hated seeing him unhappy. The fresh scar over his right eye only added to his look of misery.

“Sweetheart, your hair is beautiful. I’ve always thought so.”

“It’s different," he grumbled. "I don’t want to be different.”

“I know. When you get older, you can dye it if you really want to. I hope you don’t though.”

The boy sighed and slumped against her as she brushed her fingers through the soft silveriness of it. “Even you have black hair, Sen.”

She laughed at the grumpy observation. “You know, when I was your age, I wanted to be a redhead.”

Crosshair turned to look at her in confusion. “Why? Your hair’s nice.”

“Because everyone in my family had black hair and I wanted to be different.” The memory was vaguely embarrassing now.

His small face twisted in disgust as Crosshair settled back against her arm. “You’d look terrible with red hair.”

“Thanks, dear.” Senna lifted her eyes to the barracks ceiling and tried not to sigh back at him. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Echo

“It’s all yours.”

Senna looked up from her datapad as Echo entered the cabin, tilting his head to knock water from his ears. She smiled as he gave his head one more pass with the towel. “You’re always so fast.”

“Yeah, well, it goes faster when you have less to wash. Dunno how you deal with all that hair.”

“I have thought about cutting it." Senna grimaced to herself. "We had so much water on Kamino, but here…”

Echo’s eyes widened slightly as he adjusted his scomp prostheses over the folded sleeve of his shirt. “I didn’t mean you should cut it! I was just…making an observation.”

Senna chuckled at his concern. “No one on this ship seems to be a fan of me cutting my hair. Not even Tech, and he’s the practical one.”

Echo didn’t appreciate the implication that he was impractical. “Well, people get used to things.” He shrugged as he hung his towel over the edge of the top rack to dry, reaching for his neural brace. “And you have nice hair.”

“Thanks, dear.” Senna smiled fondly as she watched Echo replace his headpiece, eyes going blank for a second as the system reconnected. Then he was back, giving her a wry look as he took the chair across from her.

“If you do cut it, can I have some of it? It’s the same color and everything.”

That made her laugh. “Sure thing. We’ll just glue it to your head and it’ll look totally natural.”

“I’m sure.” Echo sighed. “Plenty of troopers shave their heads. I guess I should be glad I don’t have to keep up with that.”

Senna bit her lip as she smiled in sympathy. It was different when you had a choice. It was different when it wasn’t just another thing that had been taken away. “It’s a good thing you have such lovely eyebrows. And…armpit hair.”

Echo guffawed and then Senna was laughing at the way he was laughing, sure she saw tears of mirth in his eyes. “Thanks!” the soldier gasped, leaning heavily on the arm of the chair as he shook with laughter. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

@lightwise @bad-batch-lurker @freesia-writes @kybercrystals94 @just-here-with-my-thoughts @clonethirstingisreal

#star wars the bad batch #clone force 99 #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars oc #dr divehdi #tbb crosshair #tbb wrecker #tbb hunter #tbb tech #tbb echo #tbb omega #the little moment writes #braided together

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cowgurrrl · 1 year

Text

Everything Leads to You

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (plus platonic fem!reader x Ellie Williams)

Summary: Who says grief and braiding hair can’t go together? [2.1k]

Author’s note: I’m not a fic writer but this was really fun to write and I thought other people might like to read it!

Warnings: grumpy Joel (what’s new), mentions of Tess, brief canonical type violence, ellie not knowing about restaurants, grief, lmk if I missed anything!!

“How do you do that?” Ellie asks as she sits across from you, still wrapped in her sleeping bag. You furrow your brows as you pull the hair tight to make sure that it won’t fall.

“Nobody ever taught you how to braid hair?”

“I must’ve missed that lesson in FEDRA school. Maybe it was between learning to fucking kill Fireflies and running drills.” She snarks, and you roll your eyes. There’s no heat behind it, and she seems to know.

Ellie has stuck close to your side since you left Boston, asking questions as you trekked to Bill and Frank’s. Joel is on edge. He hasn’t said much to you since you lost Tess, but you hear him mumbling and turning restlessly in his sleep. His shoulders are always square and tense, and he jumps at the slightest noise. You wish he would just fucking say something so you could talk about what happened. You may not have known her for as long as he did, but you still loved her. You lost her, too.

“I can teach you if you want. It’s not hard.” You offer, and her eyes light up.

“Really?” She asks. You nod and shake the braid out to start over. The fallen tree you're sitting on wiggles at the motion but doesn’t move more than that.

“C’mere,” You say. Ellie shuffles over as Joel turns from where he’s packing his things to give you a look. “What? I’m teaching her how to braid hair, not make a fucking shiv.”

“That’d probably be more worthwhile.” He grumbles.

“It’ll take five minutes,” You say. He sighs and stands, wiping his hands on his jeans.

“I’m going for a walk.”

“Aye, aye, Captain No Fun.” Ellie salutes. You can feel Joel’s eye roll before actually seeing it, and you can’t hide the smirk as he walks away, mumbling something under his breath. Ellie turns her full attention to you as you show her how to divide and pull the hair to make a tight braid.

“You don’t want any hair to fall out because an Infected could grab it and use it as leverage,” you tell her as you redo your hair. She nods and watches your movements closely, trying to memorize the sequence. When you're done and your hair is tied off, you let her show you what she learned and watch as she tries (and fails) to braid her hair. She got so frustrated that you thought she was going to tear the hair out of her head.

“You said this wasn’t gonna be hard!”

“It takes practice. C’mere, I’ll do it for you.” You say as you open your legs for her to sit between. Ellie settles in front of you, her knees pulled to her chest, as you brush your fingers through her waves. You secretly wish you had a real hairbrush, but do your best to be gentle as you tease days-old tangles out.

“Has he always been so grumpy?” She asks.

“Probably not, but I can’t be sure. He won’t say it, but he’s going through a lot. We both are. It’s not an excuse, but it is a reason.” You say, pulling a burr from her thick hair. How did she not feel that?

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Go for it.”

“Were Joel and Tess, like, a thing?” She asks, and you sigh. You’re asking the question of the century, kid, you think to yourself.

“I know they were like family to each other, but I don’t know anything beyond that. They were already partners when I came to Boston and weren’t too keen on labels.”

“You didn’t know them from before?”

“Nope. Tess was in Detroit, Joel was in Texas, and I was in my hometown. Somehow, we all ended up in the same place and started working together.”

“Why did you come to Boston?” She asks. You take a deep breath as memories shutter through your brain like frames from a movie—the fear and confusion of Outbreak Day. Running north like your lives depended on it because they did. The nights spent smuggling and raiding any medicine cabinet you could find looking for a miracle. That last day full of smoke and blood and screams. You shake your head to relieve the sudden pressure building behind your eyes. Thank God she’s not facing you.

“That… is a long, long story for another time.” Seems to be enough of an answer for now. She doesn’t push the subject further as you section her tangle-free hair into threes.

“What did you do before the Outbreak? Like for work.”

“Guess.”

“Probably something super badass like a fighter pilot or a sharpshooter.” She says, and you laugh— really laugh— for the first time since Tess died. Believing in any sort of afterlife is a slippery slope when death is always at your door, but you hope she can hear your laughter from wherever she is. You hope she knows you're doing your best to keep your promise. You hope she knows how much you miss her.

“Close. I was a waiter.”

“What’s a waiter?” She asks. It’s weird to think she’s probably never been in a restaurant before, let alone know how they work.

“Waiters were people who worked in restaurants which were like big rooms where people would all eat together, and we had to give people their food and drinks and whatever else they wanted. If you did a good job, customers would leave money, and that’s how you got paid.” You explain, and she turns to look at you, her eyebrows knitted together.

“The people who owned the restaurant didn’t pay you?”

“Well, they did, but not very much. I think I was getting paid two dollars an hour at my last job.”

“Two dollars? That’s fucking ridiculous!” She practically yells, and you nod, a smile pulling at your lips. You want to tell her everything about before just to see her reaction.

“It was fucking ridiculous. Now, turn back around so I can finish your hair.” You push her with your shins, and she turns around, still mumbling about two dollars. She gets quiet as you keep braiding.

It’s weirdly relaxing, only to have to worry about her hair. Wind rustles the leaves around us as birds chirp above you. The air is cool, and the morning sun shines against her dark hair. It’s almost peaceful. You tie off her hair and smile when she takes the braid between her fingers and traces the crosses. She smiles back as she turns to face you, turning pensive at an alarmingly fast rate.

“Do you think Joel blames me for Tess?” She asks, her eyes dropping to her hands before she can even finish her thought. As if she’s waiting for you to give her the answer she’s been afraid of since you left Boston. She looks so small and fragile. Like the wind could blow too hard, and it would knock her over.

“I think he blames himself. They protected each other for a long time from everything, and even if that didn’t always work out, they found a way to fix it. Her getting infected was the one thing he couldn’t fix, and I think that’s killing him,” You say, trying to keep your voice steady despite the tears threatening your lash line. This kid has a talent for making you cry. “What happened to Tess is nobody’s fault except the stupid fucker that bit her. She made a choice because she knew we wouldn’t be able to do what she wanted us to do, and we have to be okay with that. She would want us to be okay with that even if it’s gonna take some time.” She opens her mouth to say something more, but Joel coming back into the clearing cuts her off.

“You two wanna paint each other’s nails while we’re here too, or can we start walking?” He asks as he pulls on his backpack. You and Ellie stand, wiping the dirt from your clothes, and walk over to him.

“Knowing how to keep your hair out of your face could be the difference between life and death, Miller. I’m teaching valuable survival skills here.”

“Mhm,” He hums, unconvinced. He looks at Ellie as she pulls her jacket on. “We’re gonna go check something out real quick. Be ready to go by the time we get back.” He doesn’t even wait for her to respond before he turns and starts up the path he came from. You sigh in annoyance but follow him anyway. You walk down to the river bank far enough out of Ellie’s earshot before he finally looks you in the eyes for the first time in three days.

“You know we have to take her to the Fireflies, right?” He questions, crossing his arms over his chest. You scoff and glance up to where you left Ellie.

“Yes, Joel. I understand why we’re traveling across the country with a teenager.”

“Good. Now, stop getting attached before you get hurt.” He says, and you balk at him.

“Are you really that pissed I taught her how to braid her fucking hair?”

“It ain’t about her hair.”

“Then, what is it about? “

“She’s a job. Something we need to deliver so we can move on with our lives.”

“She’s a kid. A scared kid at that, and you’re not making her feel better.”

“Oh, give me a fuckin’ break.” He groans as he walks away from you to pace, his hands on his hips. You cross your arms over your chest and tilt your head back to look at the puffy clouds. You're mostly trying to find the strength to put up his bullshit, but the view is nice, too. It’s silent as you think, the waves lapping at the rocks, the only sound around us.

“I know you miss her-“

“Don’t.” He whips around to face you. His eyes are heavy and unreadable, the irises almost black. You wonder how long it’s been since he’s gotten actual restful sleep. The answer could range anywhere from three days to twenty years. You almost want to ask. You almost want to reach for his broken hand and tell him it’s okay. You almost want to wrap your arms around him and just hold him. Almost. You shake the buzzing ache for his skin out of your hand and focus.

“I miss her, too, but we both know she saw Ellie as way more than a job. She wouldn’t have done what she did if she thought differently,” You wait for him to get angry and lash out, but he just stands there, staring through you. “Taking care of her or, at least, treating her like a fucking human being is what Tess would’ve wanted. So, that’s what I’m doing. You can keep doing your stoic, pissy thing if that’s what you want, but you don’t get to control what I do, especially when it comes to her.” He grinds his teeth together for a couple of seconds while he thinks. A red bird swoops down and lands on a fallen tree branch not far and sings at us before flitting away. You had always heard that red birds like that were our dead loved ones coming to remind us they were not far away. You never really believed that, and you still don’t know if I do, but the memory pierces your brain with newfound importance.

When your eyes meet Joel’s again, something has shifted. It’s slight and minuscule, but you recognize it from his arguments with Tess. He’s yielding without words. He’s trusting you. Your body relaxes, and he nods. The whole exchange lasted no more than five seconds but felt like an hour.

"We can make it to Bill and Frank's today if we start moving now." He says as he walks past you, acting like your conversation didn't happen. You take a deep breath before silently following him. If he heard that stupid bird chirping at you again, he didn't say anything. In the same way, you don't tell him if you saw the stack of rocks on the shoreline.

*TUMBLR STOP DELETING MY LAST PARAGRAPH*

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel tlou #ellie tlou #tlou part 1 #the last of us #the last of us x reader #the last of us hbo #ellie williams #tess tlou #i wrote this for me but you can read it too i guess #joel miller x female reader #joel miller drabble #tlou fic

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streaminn · 1 year

Note

Well if you're okay with it, I'd be very happy to give you a few prompts. Also my brain just responded with a decent non smut prompt. Wednesday and Enid's first kiss. (Does that count as smut actually? I don't know)

Kissing is pretty wholesome simp anon

But! Idk how to write kiss scenes so have this instead, it's world vomit tbh

Lemme set the scene. Set somewhere after the recent video I made

Enid lets out a breath, her shoulders dropping as her head presses against Wednesday.

She's sticky, dirty and shes pretty sure that the thing sticking on her teeth is something she doesn't want to think off right now but!

Wednesday is here and Enid drinks it in like a starving man given food, greedily. Her once neat braids is messy and Enid's so tempted to let it loose, to tug at the hair and bring her close-

A sharp inhale.

Fuck, what is she thinking? She should be mroe focused on other things. Like..

Wednesday being safe.

Yes.

That's what matters.

"I meant it yknow?" Enid whispers and her hands press against her knees as she kneels in front of the girl who easily holds the leash that is her control in her hands. The thought makes her heart race. To think, that she would shift once again because of her roommate.

Sounds like the last time wasn't a fluke huh?

It feels like a pattern.

(it feels like fate.)

Wednesday watches with big eyes and Enid can't help the pride that surges in her chest. Yes, a part of her seems to purr, absolutely delighted. We did this, we eliminated the threat.

Only us, no one else.

The words come out easily, with such familiarity that Enid had to blink for a moment because what did she just say?

"I love you." it's said like one does with a good morning, with ease and adoration. It's said like a worker coming home, opening the front door to see their one waiting inside.

It said of "Wednesday, I look at you and there is no flutter of butterflies or flushed cheeks. I see you and I think of my bed, I think of the comfort of my blanket and what it would be like for us to lay in the couch in the laziest of days.

I stare at your eyes and wonder if they would look the same or better from my spot next to you, years from now. I look at our room, our home and wish and long for it to be like this decades post Nevermore.

I love you and with this devotion, I will gladly stain my hands with the darkness that you call your heart.

I dont know what we are but it doesn't matter.

For you, I will kneel like a servant to royalty. For you, I will be the sword on your hip or the teeth in your maw.

For you, I will be anything as long as you are safe."

Wednesday sighs and her eyes close.

They do not kiss and something stings in Enid's sight as she breaths.

But she doesn't dare look away from Wednesday's face as something brushes through her fingers, intertwining with a grip so tight it feels like a promise.

There's stars on her skin and Enid knows that she could spend forever counting them.

This is not a kiss but its enough.

Anything of Wednesday is enough for her.

#Wenclair #Writing #streamer enid au

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dulcesiabits · 1 year

Note

I LOVE YOUR TALKS ABOUT MHIN THEY’RE MY FAVOURITE CHARACTER AAAAAA-

Anyway I was wondering if you have any headcanons for them (or any of the other characters) that you're willing to share 💜

Yay!! I’m glad to hear that you like my ramblings about Mhin ^_^ !!! They’re also my favorite character… so here are just some general thought I have on them <3

Mhin’s profile states that they like sweet things; I imagine their sweet tooth is something they try to keep hidden just because they know they’ll be teased about it. They know the locations of all the bakeries and patisseries in town, and the vendors that sell the best sugary snacks. They’re a frequent visitor of these establishments when no one else is around, skulking in during the early mornings or late nights to slam down a bag of coin and buy a week's worth of supplies.

Speaking of profile facts, Mhin probably dotes on all the cats they meet on their patrols around town. They sneak cat treats to them, and I bet they’ve given each one a name. They’re probably all simple names (like Spot, Lily, etc because I think Mhin isn't creative but they're thoughtful) based on the cat’s general demeanor and/or appearance. I bet the cats are very friendly with them, never afraid to purr and twine against their legs when Mhin visits. They sense a fellow kindred spirit in them— and it probably helps that Mhin is never stingy with the treats.

It goes without saying that Mhin is touchstarved (badum-tissss) like the rest of the cast. They tell themself they’re fine if they don’t have friends or companions, that they’re used to coming home to an empty house. But whenever someone accidentally brushes against their fingers when they’re reaching for a purchase, or if someone bumps into them on the streets, it makes their skin tingle-- and it takes a while for the feeling to go away. That’s why when you touch them- accidentally, casually, or intimately- their brain goes haywire and they need a moment to remember how to breathe.

Mhin has very nice hair for someone who has such a demanding job. I don’t think they’re particularly meticulous about taking care of their appearance, but it’s not like they completely neglect it, either. It’s just something they have to do. However, they do like it when you run your fingers through their hair or twirl strands around your finger. Scratch their scalp and they’ll melt, or braid ribbons into their hair they're reluctant to undo.

Mhin likes to keep little mementos of you when the two of you are apart. They’re not usually a sentimental person (or so they claim), but a physical reassurance of your presence and affection gives them a little boost of energy every time they see it. They’re not big on flashy gestures, so they prefer subtle items: a handkerchief with your favorite scent, perhaps, or a braided charm they can tie to their belt. Something that they can keep safely tucked away but take out to look at and think of you.

Mhin is a light sleeper. Maybe it goes hand in hand with being a hunter, but they startle awake at the slightest disturbance. In general, they have a hard time falling asleep. They also keep a knife tucked under their pillow, a fact you learned the first time the two of you shared a bed. They tend to take naps in the morning, just so they can be prepared for their graveyard shift.

As a partner, Mhin is surprisingly clingy and a worrywart. Not that they’ll ever express this out loud, of course, but they try to get you to make the first move when it comes to initiating affection (with varying levels of success). Their clingy nature takes the form of sticking close to you and, if you’re spending time together, trying to find roundabout ways to get you to stay with them longer. Of course, if you’re the one to initiate any sort of affection first, they can never refuse you. It's easy to lose track of time and spend the whole day with you. Additionally, they like to check up on you at least once a day. What if something happens to you, and they weren’t there to protect you? They tend to get tense if you come home late, because they know firsthand how dangerous Eridia can be, especially when the sun sets. If you insist on doing risky jobs or running late night errands, at least let them come with you.

#liya answers #touchstarved #mhin #‘isn’t mc incapable of touching people’#… uhh pretend this is an au where there is no curse. or this is a scenario post cure. or--#anyways enjoy my recent bout of mhinsanity

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keicordelle · 10 months

Text

More Tartali thoughts because apparently that's all that's in my brain right now? But Childe combing through Zhongli's hair, running the loose strands through his fingers, Zhongli almost drifting off beneath the soothing sensation of hands against in his hair. They sink lower to shift through the long locks that tumble down his back, a sort of rhythmic tug against his scalp, still relaxing but pointed now, with intent.

When he risks a glance back, he finds Childe weaving his hair into a tight braid, twisting the dark flow over his hands and the tip of his tongue poking out between his lips as he focuses on his chosen task. It's a simple style, nothing so ornate or complicated as he's seen the women around Liyue sporting, but it's neat and flawless, Childe's nimble fingers threading effortlessly through his hair.

"You're good at this," Zhongli remarks, watching the faint bloom of pink over Childe's freckled cheeks.

"Ah, thanks," Childe says. He offers Zhongli a bashful smile, the one reserved for when he thinks of his family back in Snezhnaya. "I used to do this for my sisters back home. Tonia used to complain that it caught in everything, but she couldn't bring herself to cut it." One shoulder lifts in a shrug, and he lets the half-finished braid go, watching as it unravels before him. "But I'm out of practice now."

Zhongli reaches back to curl his hand around Childe's, interlacing their fingers. Childe's fingers twist around his like they did around his hair, their hands bound more tightly than any braid. "You can play with my hair any time, if you'd like," Zhongli says softly, brushing his thumb against the back of his beloved's hand. "That way when you finally get to see your sisters again, you won't be out of practice."

(Over the course of the next six months, Wangsheng Funeral Parlor's infamous consultant could be spotted around Liyue sporting increasingly complex and occasionally outright bizarre hairstyles that he always, always wore with pride)

#genshin impact #zhongli #childe #zhongchi #tartali #zhongchili #genshin #my writing #~K

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foreverforgally · 1 year

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In The Garden

A Gally Fanfic; Chapter 4

The kiss

Summary - Quinn Abigail Allen is the first female ever to grace the presence of the Glade. At first the tensions between her and keeper Gally are high, the enemies to lovers trope creeps through her life. Will she give into the trope? Or will she chose the love triangle?

Warnings - Maybe smut in different chapters or hints of sexual activity. Fluff! Angst! I am definitely not a good writer! Short chapter!

A few weeks went by in the Glade and ultimately I had been chosen as a Builder. Although we worked together, there wasn’t much speaking happening between me and Gally.

Everytime I figured we were going to address the situation, he would order me around like I was any other Builder that worked under him. He was actively avoiding me.

Outside of “work”, I didn’t have much to do in my very little free time. I did however make a few good friends. Elijah was a slicer, however his job was primarily to raise the livestock.

Elijah was tall, strong and his locks were a messy dirty gold color. "You busy today Eli?" His back faced me, he was planted on a stool, caring to one of the Glades many sheep's.

"Yeah sorry Q, Winston has us doing double time." He turned around on his chair, he beamed at me while giving me the bad news.

"Boring, can't those shanks give you a break," I walked along the wall of the shed, touching and playing with various tools.

"Aren't you supposed to be building... Y'know, as a builder?" He chuckled, turning back and putting his attention into the animal.

"Yeah, well Gally's in a mood, just yells incoherent nonsense and expects a corporate office." Bending down, I grabbed one of the piglet and held it into my chest.

"Soo you came to bother me instead of your job?" Elijah turned and smirked at me, hanging off his chair with a brush in his hand.

I rolled my eyes and put the piglet down. "You've never minded my company," I softly stated, "I just can't handle him when he doesn't want to talk to me." I had walked over to his stool, grasping his locks with my fingers, brushing and braiding.

Over time, while spending it with Elijah, we grew close. Our relationship was strange, we had already developed nicknames for one another and were comfortable with friendly physical touch.

"And how's that going for you?" His tone softening from the teasing, enjoying the sensation of the mini head message.

"He's infuriating, It's always his way or no way." By this time, I had my own stool and I spent my time taking my nerves out on Eli's hair.

"I mean, every time I get any percentage of close to starting a conversation, he just changes the subject to work," I babbled, "Ever since the 'almost kisses' and him becoming my keeper, he's completely belittled my existence." | dropped my hands in frustration.

"Wasn't he doing that before hand?" He raised his eyebrows in genuine question, turning his head to look back at me. I slapped the back of his head and he ducked out, holding the spot I hit.

"Ow!" He sassed at me, "You have no brain cells Eli." | stood up from my stool and walked back to the piglet.

"Are you interested in that pig?" He stood up aswell, The sheep being well groomed and ready for sheering.

I shrugged, she was cute. "I don't know, I like her spots." I smiled down at the piglet, she was a white pig with black spots, it particularly tickled her snout.

"Take her." He suggested, shrugging like it was such a casual offer. "Woah Elijah, I can't just take a pig. What, What would I even do with her?" The said pig bounced around and made little squeaks as her tail danced around.

"I don't know, probably give her a better life than we could, y/know, unless you're into eating your pets." He chuckled and I grimaced.

"Even if I did take her, what would I even do with her?" I questioned, watching her run around and squeal. "Keep her here, I’ll take care of her for you." He persisted.

What if the Glade needed this adorable, cute pig? "You promise it's not a big deal?" I wanted to make sure we wouldn't become a problem for him.

"Quinn, I promise from my death bed, that l'll take care of that pig," He smiled, "No questions asked." He scooped her up, gently placing her into my arms.

My face contorted in the sweet gesture, "Thanks Eli," I hugged him hard with an umph, his arms slowly wrapping around me securely.

"Anytime Q." He whispered into my hair. I pulled away and he kept his gaze on my eyes, running down to my lips. "What're you going to call her?" He asked softly, eyebrows raising.

" think I'll name her Sadie, cute right?" I looked down the pig in my arms. "Beautiful." His arms were still wrapped around my waist, gaze never leaving mine.

"Am I interrupting something?" Jesus can I just have one moment without someone walking in? I separated from Elijah's touch, him being more hesitant.

"Gally, I was just-" I hesitated, "Getting back to your post? You've been gone for over thirty minutes." He accused, his body looked tense and I knew I was in trouble.

"Right." I retorted, "I'Il see you later Elijah." I handed Sadie back to him, He looked down at me feeling sorry for me. I walked past Gally wordlessly, shoving my shoulder into his as I made it out of the shed.

Right in the middle of the Glade, Gally grabbed me by my upper arm and pulled me towards him. "What were you doing." He pressed angerly, "What does it matter to you Gally?” I spat his name out like venom, having enough of his attitude.

He scoffed, making random noises instead of answering my question. I scoffed, "Typical." I started to walk away, but his grip on my arm tightened and he pulled me back.

He did what I never thought he could do, He kissed me.

He grabbed me by the back of my head and placed his hand on my hip, smashing his lips into mine. All the tension we had evaporated in that one moment, that soft moment.

His lips moved in synch with my movements, his lips soft and wet. He pulled away slowly, our eyes still closed and the sounds of our breathing accelerating. I was so awestruck; I couldn't mutter a word.

He pulled away quickly, eyes shot up in shock and he removed himself from my body. “You just kissed me.” I gasped, feeling the tingle of my lips fade away.

“Yeah I did.” Gally was also shocked by his actions. Although the situation we’re in forces us to act like adults, we’re still children at heart.

“I have to go.. I’m super busy right now.” I stuttered out and ran away from Gally, and heart pacing out of my chest.

I left him there, I didn’t know what to say to him after that. It was everything I’ve wanted since i’ve been here and I just ran.

“Woah woah, why are you in a rush?” Newt stop in front of me, concern splat on his face as my breathing accelerated.

“He kissed me, he kissed me like on the lips and I just ran away I didn’t know what to say-“ I rambled fastly, “Quinn calm down, take a breath. What happened?” He looked me in the eyes with concern.

“Gally and I kissed in the middle of the Glade.” I finally said to him, His form was taken aback.

“Well good goin y’a shank, even if it’s with Gally but good goin.” He was proud of me, I don’t know why it didn’t feel right when I felt like I’ve been in this situation before.

I took a second to think about what had happened in the last few weeks. So much tension, to none at all, and finally to a kiss that’s been long overdue. It felt good.

“Yeah I, I guess I should be happy.” A smile grew on my face and Newt patted my back. “He kissed me.” I giggled out and and bit my lip.

Newt grimaced and shoved me into a bush. “Don’t be gross klunk.” Newt left me in the bush a walked away, how fucking rude.

“You look like a fucking muppet.” I muttered and picked myself out of the bush.

“We kissed.”

#gally #gally maze runner #gally x reader #gally imagine #the maze runner #maze runner #newt tmr #tmr imagines #tmr fic #fanfiction #fanfic #foreverforgally;itg #gally x y/n

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thunderwavesolveseverything · 3 months

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Words of Mine Will Turn to Ash

[Astarion x Named Tav]

“Who’s this?” Phayelynn asked, looking at the newcomer with unease.

She knew this man- she recognized his face but couldn’t remember where or how.

“This is the Blade of Frontiers." Shadowheart gestured before reaching for her goblet. "He’s been infected like us. He will help us free Halsin after we help him track down a devil he’s hunting.”

"As I've already told Shadowheart," The man smiled, rising from his seat. He reached his hand out for Phayelynn to shake and gave Shadowheart a playful glare. "My friends call me Wyll."

A cold sweat broke out on Phayelynn's forehead. Her heart skipped a beat, and a lump formed in her throat. Of course- that’s who he had to be. Her mind raced as she tried to act normal. But inside, she was panicking.

She needed to get away from camp and the Blade of Frontiers.

---

So, I'm back and with a new computer!

Lol.

There was no saving my old computer, so I splurged and got a new gaming laptop and I'M INLOVE! It runs so smoothly, and it's like I'm playing the game over for the first time. I didn't know it was supposed to look this good 😂

This chapter is a little more on the shorter side for what I usually write, but I have pretty much all the way up to the Tiefling party outlined, so I'm excited to keep going and writing again. 💜💜💜

Also, we're going to start getting more into Phay's backstory which I'm so excited about!!!

(word count: 2,071)

Read on AO3 or below :)

Words of Mine Will Turn to Ash

Phayelynn sat comfortably beneath Alfira’s tent, perched on a grassy cliff side overlooking the river flowing past the grove. The cool breeze brushed against the tent, stirring the fabric and bringing a sense of calm between the pair of bards.

Alfira sat behind her, her deft fingers working through Phayelynn’s hair as she brained it into two intricate sections, leaving out a few strands to frame her face.

Hours had passed since they first met-Phayelynn having followed the sound of frustrated hands plucking at strings and stumbling across the Tielfing as she struggled to write.

Alfira hummed the song they had written together to herself as she continued to lace and weave strands of hair. The song evoked a connotation of sadness and somehow brought a smile to her face.

Phayelynn, a complete stranger, Alfira noted, was like a close friend after helping her find the right words to honor her teacher- helped her find it in her to play again. And now, Alfira was determined to return the favor.

She’d help Phayelynn feel like a proper bard.

As Phayelynn slowly opened her eyes, finding herself humming along to the tune, she eyed her clothes hanging nearby, swaying in the breeze. They were nearly dry after Alfira’s help with dying them. She couldn’t stop staring at the bright purples and reds that now adorned her clothes, colors her father used to wear.

Alfira sighed in satisfaction as she finally tied off the last braid, “And done,” she sang out with flare.

The braids were perfectly aligned and neatly secured with thin leather straps. She leaned back to admire her handiwork.

“Perfect,” she added, a hint of laughter in her voice. “Now your hair won’t be in the way while you slay those goblins tomorrow.” She gave Phayelynn’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Phayleynn smiled, letting a hand fiddle with the braid. The smile quickly turned into a pout. Shadowheart and Gale were busy getting supplies and more important things for tomorrow. All the while, she had spent the day lazing around, playing music, and making a new friend- sprucing up her appearance.

She pursed her lips as she pondered, wondering whether she should have asked Shadowheart’s permission first before dying the clothes. They were gifted to her. She quickly dismissed the thought.

“You don’t think they’re too bright?” Phayelynn looked over the clothes. They were…flashy…to say the least.

Phayelynn shifted to the side so Alfira could get a better look at them.

“Yes,” Alfira giggled, and Phayelynn shot her a look, gaping at her. Alfira stifled her giggles. “But not in a bad way. Purple is a bard’s color, after all. And the red compliments your skin tone beautifully.”

“But what if it is in a bad way- this isn’t like I’m about to perform in front of an audience- I’m about to fight a horde of goblins.” Phayelynn wasn’t entirely convinced. She loved what they had done to her clothes but couldn’t stop herself. What if she messed up again? “What if they draw too much attention?”

“That’s exactly what a bard is supposed to do- draw attention to themselves. All the greats- they don’t hide behind the others, though they don’t necessarily lead the charge. They distract. They rally. They inspire. They stand out and encourage their party in the heat of the battle.” Alfira tries to explain. “Trust me, you are going to do just fine. Now stop overthinking, and let’s get you dressed properly.” she gave Phayelynn a slight push, urging her to stand and stop worrying.

Phayelynn hesitated, letting Alfira get up first, and watching as the Tiefling walked towards the clothes and began taking them down from the tree branch they hung on. She looked away as she stood. The sun was starting to set. Phayelynn knew she was being silly. She could do this.

“You’re right.” she nodded, starting to strip out of the shirt Alfira had let her burrow. Alfira grabbed the red top first, throwing it to Phayleynn once she was ready. “This was fun,” she caught the shirt, pulling it over her head as she spoke, “Thank you for today,” she continued as she popped her head out from beneath the fabric. “I needed this. I-I needed a day of normalcy.”

Alfira beamed, tossing Phayelynn her jacket next, “I should be the one doing the thanking,” she said, sifting through the different belts and holsters they had also dyed a deep red to match. She grabbed an old pair of gloves and gifted them to Phayelynn. “I had completely forgotten what it was like to have that itch in my fingers. To perfect a song until now. The Weeping Dawn will be my gift to Lihala. So thank you, I really needed this too.”

Both smiled at the other before rushing with excitement to finish putting all the pieces together. Fastened belts and hitching thigh-high boots, Phayleynn had a blazing spark in her eye as they worked. Alfira watched her with a critical eye, nodding her head in approval when Phayelynn was fully dressed and equipped.

“It’s perfect!” Alfira exclaimed in delight, clapping her hands together.

With newfound confidence, Phayelynn gave Alfira a spin before pulling her into a warm, grateful hug, which Alfira returned with equal enthusiasm.

When they parted, Alfira looked her up and down one last time and gave her a firm shake for final reassurance, “You can do this.”

Phayelynn smirked. Alfira was right. She could do this.

---

As Phayelynn arrived at camp, darkness had already engulfed the area. She spotted the flickering flames of a fire ahead of her, accompanied by the sound of laughter and chatter. An odd feeling washed over her the closer she got. There were five bodies gathered around the fire instead of four.

She tilted her head in confusion.

Shadowheart was the first to notice Phayelynn’s arrival. Her expression quickly changed from concern to a flash of anger in seconds as she stood up, placing her goblet of wine on the log she had been sitting on. Phayleynn felt uneasy as Shadowheart’s stern eye met her own.

“And where have you been?” She demanded, her voice snipping with disapproval.

Before Phayelynn could answer, Astarion was next to look her over, spreading his lips upwards mischievously, “Our dear cleric was worried sick about you, darling,” he playfully announced, bobbing his head towards Shadowheart. “She was mere moments from heading a search party.”

“I was not worried!” Shadowheart’s face flushed as she hissed at him. She turned back to Phayelynn. “I didn’t know if you had gotten yourself in trouble again or abandoned us or gods know what else!”

Gale let out a deep chuckle.

“That is the definition of being worried,” he pointed out.

This only made Shadowheart angrier, fixing him with her sharp glare next. She waited for him to let out a nervous cough, clearing his throat and looking away before returning to Phayelynn.

“Well, what do you have to say for yourself?” she crossed her arms, waiting for an explanation.

“Um-er, sorry?’ Phayelynn stammered out an apology. A poor one. She shifted in her place. “I lost track of time. I’m sorry.” she tried to sound confident- composed.

“We can see that.” Astarion let out a loud, nosey laugh. He stuck his nose at her, eyes tracing over every part of her form, not leaving a detail out, “Well, I guess we’ll never lose sight of you again.”

He found her new attire obnoxious and hilarious, yet something in him couldn’t bring himself to hate it. It oddly suited her.

“I see you lost track of time while ruining the clothes I bought you,” Shadowheart scolded.

Phayelynn winced- but then she caught herself. Why was she letting them treat her like this? She crossed her arms against her chest and popped her hip out almost defiantly. “I didn’t know I had a curfew, mum,”

Gale saw the twitch in Shadowheart’s brow and moved to intervene. He stepped forward andtried to lighten the mood, “I think you look great. I love the purple.” He gave her a supportive wink, pointing at the purple fabric of his robes.

His voice was warm and genuine, even if his motivation for the compliment was more to keep the peace than flatter. Phayelynn felt a flutter in her chest as she took in the praise. It had the reverse effect. They matched now- her cheeks reddened in embarrassment.

She tried to shake it off, smiling and nodding at the wizard. She looked at the newcomer, who’d been listening in but trying to make it appear that he hadn’t been- he probably didn’t want to get involved in their bickering, Phayelynn assumed.

“Who’s this?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Shadowheart sighed, sitting back down and reaching for her goblet, “While you spent the day playing dress up, Gale and I were busy finding supplies and allies.” She took a sip, gesturing to the man sitting to her left. “This is the Blade of Frontiers. He’s been infected like us. He will help us free Halsin after we help him track down a devil he’s hunting.”

“A devil?” Phayleynn gasped; she scrutinized the man’s features. “I thought we said no more distractions. Or is it only okay if I don’t cause the distraction?”

“As I’ve said, as well.” Lae’zel spoke up in agreement from her spot furthest away from them, “I won’t wait my time chasing devils.”

Phayelynn rolled her eyes. “You won’t waste your time doing anything,” she muttered under hot breath.

She narrowed her gaze, shifting it back to the Blade of Frontiers as he stood up. She studied him as he started to approach.

Her unease from earlier started to grow into fear. This man, she knew this man- somehow and not because he was the famed Blade of the Frontiers. She had heard stories of his heroics, but she recognized his face but couldn’t remember where or how.

The Blade misplaced her confusion- taking it as her fearing facing a devil. “Karlach is fierce, but from what Shadowheart has told me- how you three had escaped the Nautiloid, I have no doubt we won’t succeed.” He stopped before her, reaching out his hand for her to shake. He gave Shadowheart a playful glare. “As I’ve already told Shadowheart, my friends call me Wyll.”

A cold sweat broke out on her forehead. Her heart skipped a beat, and a lump formed in her throat. Of course- that’s who he had to be. Her mind raced as she tried to act normal. But inside, she was panicking.

“I know who you are.”

She failed as her words came out harsher than intended. Still, she forced herself to shake his hand. She felt a pull from his tadpole and quickly let go before he could access hers. She cleared her throat, now trying to cover up her coldness.

“You know, cause you’re so famous- for being the Blade of Frontiers, like you said-” her thoughts were in disarray. She needed to get away from camp and the Blade of Frontiers.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Wyll looked at her curiously- cautiously.

Phayelynn quickly averted her eyes, fearing he was beginning to recognize her. Her eyes met Gale’s first, then Astarion as she darted away before gazing at the river near their camp.

“Yeah, pleasure. We’ll need all the help we can get. Glad to have you.” she forced a smile and gave a nervous laugh. With a quick nod, she jerked her thumb towards the river. “I’m going to go take a bath now.”

She sounded so dumb.

She didn’t let it simmer before abruptly departing from the others. An uncomfortable silence hung in the air as she hurried away without even a glance back at her companions or Wyll.

“But aren’t you hungry?” Gale called after her, his voice laced with concern. “I saved you a plate!”

Wyll’s eyes were fixated on Phayelynn as she rushed away. She seemed terrified of him. He felt a hint of concern- unsettled by her reaction towards him. He noticed Shadowheart and Astarion staring at him, most likely trying to determine what had just happened.

He tried to deflect, unsure what he could have done, “She seems…interesting..” he tried to find the word for the encounter.

Astarion hummed in agreement, watching after Phayelynn as she disappeared through the brush and trees, “Very interesting indeed.”

#astarion x tav #tav bg3 #astarion x oc #astarion romance #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x mc #astarion x reader

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