I want to play with Halsin’s hair.
Imagine him sitting on the ground in front of you, and you’re on a couch/log of sorts right behind him. One of your legs is draped to the side of his shoulder, the other tucked underneath yourself half cross-legged as your fingers play with Halsin’s hair.
He sits quietly with his eyes closed, enjoying the sounds of nature and your gentle touch. You like to play with his hair- somehow so.. luscious, even when he’s been living as a bear. Makes you jealous, really.
“braids or bun?” you ask softly, waiting a moment as you realize he wasn’t paying attention. “…Hal.” You poke, tapping his shoulder, seemingly taking him out of a trance.
“Hm?”
“I’m asking what you want me to do with your hair, Halsin” you say, raking your fingers through his scalp again as you mindlessly part strands, debating on braiding or not.
“I have no preference other than for this to never end.” He’d coo, with a slight chuckle as he can feel you tense slightly. He’s not a fool, and he’s not the only one in camp aware of your crush. But, he is respectful first and foremost, as to not push your limits. Though, he hasn’t inquired.
“Hal, please” you’d say, thanking the gods that his back is turned to you so he cannot see your fight to contain a smile.
“Whatever you feel best, my heart.” Oh, he may not be facing you, but he knows the warmth rushed to your cheeks with that line. He’d reach his hand back somewhat, enough to rest on your thigh as he sits patiently.
..until you playfully smack his hand away, “Don’t distract me or you’ll end up in pigtails at best.”
If only you two would just confess and get on with it, you could have many more hair-braiding sessions to fix up the post.. shared-bed-roll-nights.
