I can’t tell if this is good, or if I was depressed at 2 am listening to Sombr & just started writing in my notes app (´・＿・`) either way, enjoy !!
Btw this story can be interpreted as any female mc x Sebastián (⌒∇⌒) with some angsty angst
TW: mentions of death
WC: 2516
⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒
Levioso!
Sebastian’s whole body lifted off the ground, about 2 feet in air from the long wooden table. A blast of basic cast hit his chest, not only pushing him, but also flipping him over mid air. The spell suddenly wore off, & he fell onto the floor with a heavy thud. Loose papers fly due to his impact.
When he sat up, & looked at the girl that just beat him in a duel, he was stunned for a heart beat of a second. Within that beat, his heart realized something that he himself would not come to terms with until much later.
The slight surprise in her expression, then her lips twitching up into a half smile, until it was full blown excitement & celebration. The happiness not only in her smile, but those eyes. Those bright, expressive, beautiful & absolutely captivating eyes.
The joy she felt was radiant, & it could be felt everywhere - even in his own loss.
This would just be the beginning of the friendship between Sebastian and the girl. A friendship that would bloom like a bright sunflower, & then suddenly wither into nothing but dust & soot.
As time had passed, they’d become closer since that duel in Professor Hecat’s class. They would talk, exchange letters, share secrets - & even tender moments. Even when it’d be three rather than the two of them, he didn’t mind all too much. As long as his precious moments of time were being spent with her, he didn’t have a care in the world.
That was, until he walked in on her with someone. His closest friend, the one he met before her - when they were just children. The one who knew more secrets about that castle, than anything else. A boy who was born with no sense of sight, Ominis Gaunt.
Sebastian had been wandering the halls of the castle for what seemed like forever. Classes had long since ended, & he wanted to find her, to show her something new. Something he’d learn from one of the books in the restricted section. Sebastian had a horrid habit of going into the library’s restricted section. Why make something unreadable in a place where you can only read? That’s what he’d tell himself anyway. And what he’d tell Madam Scribner whenever he got caught.
He’d search everywhere in the castle for the girl. The dungeons, common rooms, rooms behind paintings, even the black lake. But alas - she was no where to be seen. Disappointed, Sebastian decided to surrender his search. But instead of retreating to the Slytherin common room like he should’ve, he made his way to the Undercroft.
He wanted to have a few moments to himself before he’d be greeted by his roommates. As he made his descent down the winding staircase, he heard shuffling.
Clank!
And something falling.
“Bloody..”
Sebastian heard someone say lowly. The voice was female, & quite familiar.
“Pick it up later. We only have so much time before curfew.” Another voice said. This time, it was a male voice.
“I’m more worried about Sebastian than curfew..” the female voice spoke. The closer he got, the more he could decipher who the voices belonged to.
“Sebastian should be the least of your worries, my love.”
Love? As he took his last few steps, he came to a conclusion of who it could be. Granted there were only two other people who knew of the Undercroft's existence, so his conclusion had to be right.
He peaked through the iron bars that prevented him from entering the Undercroft, he gazed around the dimly lit room, until his eyes found two figures on the opposite side of one of the large pillars.
He could barely see their faces, but he knew exactly who it was. It was her & Ominis.
Ominis had her pinned to the pillar, her back against the cold ancient stone. They were close to each other, very close.
Ominis leaned in closer, his warm lips brushing her soft warm skin. Her eyes were squinted shut, she turned her face away so her cheek was facing his him. Ominis’ suddenly grazed her lower cheek. He sighed once he realized it wasn’t her lips, her attempt at a composed chuckle gave it away.
“You little..” he said threateningly, though there wasn’t any real bite behind his words. Ominis then proceeds to pepper her entire face in butterfly kisses. Her composure immediately failed, & she broke into fits of light laughter. It was utter music to his ears.
The tender moment continued for a few more seconds, until Ominis’ kisses slowed to a stop, & her laughter began to dissolve in the cool quiet air.
They both stared at each other, even though Ominis couldn’t see her - he didn’t need to. He didn’t need to see her to know how much he cared for her, how much he adored her.
Sebastian witnessed the sweet moment intensely. He watched at Ominis & her began to lean in closer, their faces so close to one another. Sebastian leaned in slightly to try & see their expression more, but in the process of doing so- Sebastian stepped into the smallest puddle of water. The sound of the ripples echoed through the walls.
The couple stopped in their tracks, & turned to the source of the noise. Sebastian didn’t waste another second, before bolting up the stairs to the cupboard door.
Sebastian tripped on his foot as he stepped out of the cupboard. He continued to book it, until he made it near the dungeons. Placing his hands on his knees, he slouched & tried to catch his breath.
Why did he run? Why didn’t he congratulate them? Or say something snarky like ‘well, it’s about time Ominis found someone to court’ or something of the sorts. It’s not like it’s a terrible thing that they’re together, in fact it should be a great thing! Ever since they were small, Ominis promised himself he wouldn’t court anyone if it meant passing down his cursed blood. He should be happy for his best friend - best friends.
Yet, if he’s so happy, why is there such a heavy sting in his chest?
Sebastian didn’t question them about their relationship, nor did they ever tell him about either. But after seeing them together, he wonders why he didn’t seem their chemistry sooner. At some point before they graduated, she & Ominis told Sebastian. Well, more like Sebastian walked down into the Undercroft & found Ominis’ face covered in lipstick kisses.
He congratulated them this time. Even teasing Ominis a little bit. But still, that stinging in his chest never went away. in fact even hurt more. Especially years after they graduated & they’re all in their mid twenties & working - Sebastian was personally gifted an invitation to their wedding. As well as Ominis asking him to be his best man.
He looked down at the invitation, the display of the small animation of the detail in the card. That stinging began to feel like his stomach was empty, or that it had dropped. But of course, being the stubborn man that he is, he’d never admit that - not even to himself.
It wasn’t until he saw her walking down the aisle, in her beautiful, long white dress that he realized. Her hair all done, her makeup looking neat, & her eyes.. oh her beautiful eyes. The same ones he saw that first day of school in Hecat’s class. Those same eyes that defeated him in a duel for the first time. Those eyes that he fell absolutely in love with, & he fell hard.
But as the sad story goes, he realized too late. He snapped out of his thoughts when he heard the applause of the audience, congratulating the newlyweds. He did the same, clapping his hands together, with a small gentle smile as he watched them kiss. Even as his heart began to shatter. It’ll be fine, it was just a crush, right?
Yeah right.
It was late one night, the pouring rain was heavy & Sebastian was sitting in his small London apartment. He was doing some extra work that the ministry provided for him. He didn’t mind it, after all he never had anything else exciting going on in his life at the moment besides his job. When he heard a heavy knocking coming from the door. Sebastian checked his watch. 11:37 who in Merlin’s name could be here at this hour?
Slightly suspicious, he grabbed his wand as he stood to his feet, & carefully made his way to the door. He heard 2 more heavy knocks. He peaked through the peep hole of the door. At the sight of the person, Sebastian didn’t hesitate to unlock & open the door.
There, standing on his doorstep, was Ominis absolutely drenched & covered & soot. “Bloody hell Ominis, what in Merlin’s name are you doing?” He asked. Ominis was panting heavily - like he had run away from home. “Let me in, I’ll explain.” Sebastian stepped aside to allow Ominis to enter.
As he did, Sebastian noticed he was carrying something in his arms - it was wrapped in a thick blanket so he couldn’t get a good look at what it was. Until it started crying.
Quickly closing the door & turning to his best friend- the crying continued. “Ominis ..” he mumbled. Said man only sighed, he slowly turned around to Sebastian, opening his arms just slightly. He revealed the small baby, whose cries began to slowly cease.
Sebastian’s expression softened, he took a single step, but stopped to look at Ominis, silently asking for his permission. He only nodded, even though he didn’t have his sight, his eyes were downcast to the child. Sebastian resumed his steps, & took a closer look at the child’s features.
Hair of a certain color, pale skin littered with small moles, a familiar shaped nose. Features that belonged to not only Ominis, but her. The child whined, squirming & shuffling in Ominis’ hold - until the eyes of the child opened. Revealing the exact shade of her eyes. That same glimmer of light & life, the child’s eyes. There’s no doubt about it now.
“Ominis,” Sebastian started. “Is.. is this your-“
“Yes Sebastian, this is my son.” Ominis finished. Sebastian was about to congratulate his best friend, until he realized - Ominis came here alone. When Sebastian opened the door, he was standing alone.
“Where is she?” Sebastian suddenly asked.
The young father remained quiet. His blind eyes still cast down to the boy.
“Ominis, where is she?” Sebastian asked again, more demanding this time.
“Ranrok’s Loyalist .. they found us.”
Sebastian’s blood went cold. He’d heard about some goblins who were trying to revive Ranroks plans of ridding wizardkind. But he never paid any mind to them because they never posed any real danger.
He should’ve known better.
“We tried to fight them off but, Sebastian, there were just too many. When they tried to go after our son she-!..” he suddenly went quiet.
“What?” Sebastian asked. “What did she do? Why isn’t she here with you?” He asked, louder.
Ominis inhaled a deep, shaky breath, holding onto his child tightly. The scene flashing in his mind like a picture shows a scene on repeat.
They quickly ran up to where their emergency portkey was in the house. The goblins were downstairs, but they weren’t wasting much time down there. Hearing their voices, the clank of heavy goblin metal - brought back more horrified memories of having to be-rid of goblins during her Hogwarts days.
“My dear, we have leave now!” Her husband shouted.
Her mind raced, so much was happening in so little time. But she knew one thing out of everything. She didn’t want her son to live in fear. She didn’t want her son to grow up worrying about the goblins, ancient magic, the mistakes she made. Anything from her past that may cause more problems for them later. Such as right now. In one swift she wrapped her son in his light blue blanket - & handed him to Ominis, whilst backing away.
Ominis looked down, feeling the soft material, & their child squirming. “My dear?”
“Ominis, I love you, so very much. It’s almost impossible to describe in any kind of detail. Please never forget that.”
“My dear, please don’t—“ he begged.
She smiled, heavy tears welling up in her eyes. Taking a step towards him, she cupped one side of his cheek.
“Promise me, you’ll always be there for our son. Raise him well, & show him as much love whenever you can. Because that is what’s important”
Ominis’ eyes were so full of tears, some began to fall on the blanket that wrapped the small boy.
“Please show our boy, how strong love can be, okay?” She turned her sights to her boy, kissing his forehead, & stroking his hair. “Take care, my love.”
The door burst down, & in came running were the goblin the loyalist.
“Accio!”
“Even though she casted the spell, I caught the portkey without even thinking about it.” Ominis admitted.
Even after being told what happened, Sebastian apparitioned himself to where their home was, or at least what was left of it. The small home she & Ominis built was burned down to its foundations. All that remained was the smell of burnt oak, & a broken wand.
“Glacius!”
“Terrible. Try again.”
“We’ve been doing this for hours! Can’t I at least have a moment to rest?”
“Goblins don’t rest, they don’t stop until their target is defeated or dead.” Sebastian said sternly, glaring down at the boy with his taller, much older frame.
“And unless you don’t want to meet the same fate as your poor mother, I suggest you try harder.” Years had now passed, & her son was now in his 5th year at Hogwarts.
& just like before, a goblin rebellion started to rise again. “You don’t get to talk about my mother!” The boy said.
“You’ve never even met her.” Sebastian retorted, perhaps harsher than intended. “You wouldn’t know a thing about her.”
“I know she tried to protect me!” The boy replied, becoming irritated. “You say all this big talk, but I bet you don’t know a thing about her!”
“Depulso!”
The boy suddenly went flying, hitting a nearby bookshelf of the Dark Arts classroom. He groaned in pain, holding his head. But he didn’t have much time to recover his thoughts, as a wand was pointed to his neck.
Sebastian stood just a few feet away from him, holding him at wand point. The boy began to nervously sweat as he swallowed. “..Professor Sallow..?”
“I knew she loved Phoenix’s.”
“Huh?”
“I knew she loved to win in duels, loved to go to three broomsticks, & I knew for a fact, that she loved your father more than anything in the world.”
Sebastian’s wand lowered. “I knew her before you were even a worry in her mind.”
Sebastian took a few steps back, & looked at the boy, the boy who had mixed features between his parents. Sebastian took a heavy breath.
“And I know for certain, that you are just as stubborn as she was.” He said to the boy. The boy with the eyes of the girl he won’t ever forget.
"How do you get over that feeling that everything in your life has been a lie?" Ominis asked, not bothering to face her. He was leaning against the desk, hair fussed, tie loose, and sleeves rolled up. He gripped the edges of the table like he was trying to hold his very grip on reality.
She looked at him curiously, but did not know how to answer him. When she had shared with him the secret she held and her growing abilities with ancient magic, he had seemed surprised at first–then angry with himself. She took a step toward him, unsure how to comfort him in this state, but he held up his hand to stop her.
“I’m sorry, love. I’m not upset with you. Quite the opposite, I am quite touched that you chose to share this with me–that you felt safe enough to share this with me.” He raked his hands through his sandy blonde hair, seemingly uncaring of his usually tidy appearance.
“I am upset with myself, I think. I work so hard to counteract the ways of my family and their preconceptions about muggle-borns, I forget how deep it runs within me. My first thought is not always kind. I am–I am not a kind man.” His voice breaks as he hangs his head in his hands, still refusing to look towards her.
“You are kind to me.” She replies, her soft voice cutting through the tension in the room. Slowly, she moves towards him, her hands grabbing his wrists to pull his arms around her.
Now that his hands aren’t covering him, she can see the tear marks on his face and her heart cries out in sorrow. She kisses them away, he tenses but allows her to clean his face, first with her lips, then with the sleeves of her button down. He is still getting accustomed to her softness towards him, something he has never been afforded by anyone else.
“You are a good man, Ominis. Not because of how you were raised, or the voices that still reside in your head, but because you choose to be good. You choose to make the right choices. Being good isn’t just something you’re born into, it’s something you choose everyday. Like when you chose to help Sebastian, even when he did not deserve it, or when you chose to help me, even though you barely knew me.” She spoke quietly, holding onto Ominis’ shoulders like she was holding glass or something far more breakable.
He finally tilted his head so it faced her. What he did to deserve her, he would never know. Merlin, if she only knew of the depths from which she raised him from. He kissed her, savouring the soft warmth that always seemed to swirl around her, whether magical or not, Ominis was enamoured.
When he finally pulled back, keeping his arms secured around her, he kissed her forehead, feeling appreciative of the peace she brought to his life.
Could I get headcanons for Feitan, Illumi, Leorio, and Chrollo falling for gn!reader who by all means seems like a strong, nuturing, emotionally stable individual but every once in awhile casually says or does smthin that makes people go "Oh you're a little fuckin nuts, actually"
(e.x.: Most of their D.I.Y. furniture is made of different kinds of bone, morbidly interested in the more gorey parts of their jobs, probably works in a field that allows them to be around the dead often like a taxidermist or a mortitian, highkey just unabashashedly a morbid little freak™️ whenever it comes up naturally in conversation but otherwise comes across as just an attentive lil guy you could bring home the average parents would love.)
being an aspiring doctor, Leorio thought that your knowledge on both human and animal anatomy was pretty useful
at first he didn't think much about your job and just assumed you were some type of doctor or biologist or something
he often asks you questions as he studies and you're a pretty good tutor
the first time Leorio realized you were kinda weird is when one day you were walking down the street and saw some roadkill
and you were like "aww too bad, the skin and bones are too damaged to harvest"
and you kept walking like it was normal while he was like ?!!??!?
or you guys were having a normal conversation and you say something like
"if you died i'd taxidermy you and re-articulate your skeleton so you'd be with me forever <3"
1 taxidermizing humans is illegal and 2 WHAT
he is cold sweating wtf did he get himself into
when he comes to your house for the first time and sees a bunch of bones, animal skins and wet specimens he damn near passes the fuck out
how do you just casually have dead things and remains around your house!?
AND WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU MADE YOUR COFFEE TABLE OUT OF CAMEL BONES?
he is freaking the fuck out and you're just like "dw everything is ethically sourced :D"
yeah he thinks you're a freak and he is too fearful to break up with you ever (not like he was planning to anyways)
Illumi Zoldyck
whatever drew Illumi to you had to have been some type of power
aside from that power, to Illumi you were relatively normal and had a good grip on your emotions which made you a perfect candidate
that being said he could care less what your job was, you'd just end up working for or with him eventually
when he started bringing you around the estate, you often sought out their guard dog Mike and Illumi couldn't think of why
that is until you came back one day with a human femur and bright smile on your face
"... where did you even get that?" "From one of Mike's victims. If I collect enough I could make a whole set of bar stools!"
he blinked at you and chose to ignore your statement
i mean, to each their own am i right?
so you have ah hobby, big deal
Illumi just thinks you're pretty normal personality wise until you randomly but casually drop information about what you do in your free time or have in your home
so now whenever he has a job Illumi calls you in for cleanup
you get to do.... whatever it is you do and there's no evidence of a dead body left behind, it's a win win
Chrollo Lucilfer
he couldn't care less what your job is because it's probably not worse than his 😭
he didn't really notice anything "morbid" about you until he asked about your jewlery
you wore things like resin caster bug pendants or bird skull earrings and stuff
he just assumed they were fake and you bought them because they looked badass
but then you told him you make it all YOURSELF
he is intrigued
he doesn't really question you past that because you were probably buying the bones and stuff somewhere (spoiler alert you're not)
what really caused him to think was when you casually just picked up a dead rat off the floor in some abandoned building you were exploring and suck it in your pocket
bro was so confused
"What do you need that for?" "To make a new necklace :3"
yeah now he knows that your odd taste in jewelry goes deeper than just that
he won't judge you though, if anything you're a better person than he is considering you don't kill things yourself
he is literally a murderer and a thief and has committed like 3467633788 crimes so he couldn't judge even if he wanted to
so now when he sees dead animals and what not he bags them up and brings them to you
he likes to sit in on your cleaning and making process
you seem like a perfectly normal and sweet person to everyone else but Chrollo knows about your freaky little hobby and it just makes him like you even more
Feitan Portor
I feel like for you and Feitan to even be acquainted you have to be part of the troupe
whatever you do outside of it is your business
buttttttt since you are his s/o and Feitan is probably homeless he crashes wherever you are
thus him finding out about your hobby and other job
out of everyone on this list he is the most interested
he too is a morbid little freak
he goes with you to find things and will help you with the cleaning/taxidermy or whatever process if you let him
what he doesn't understand though is why you don't just kill the things you want instead of hunting for already dead things
sometimes he will go catch like a squirrel or something and bring it back to you like a cat and tell you he found it like that
Fei baby. No the fuck you didn't
after doing what you're doing for so long you can tell what caused an animal to die but you wouldn't tell him that
he's just so cute and wants to be supportive of your hobby <3
- you probably caught his eye while he was out at a bar with Hisoka or by himself.
- his parents were pressuring him on getting married and starting a family so he sees you as the perfect person to do so with.
- he watches you closely for a couple weeks without anyone noticing and until he feels ready to approach you. He takes this time to learn more more about you so he can confirm that you’re the right person to help him carry on his family’s legacy.
- since he has a hunters license this allows him a way to figure you out quicker. It took him some time pulling up your info at first since he barely even knew your name.
- once it’s confirmed to him that he actually wants you, that’s when he finally goes out to make his move.
- I don’t think illumi is experienced in flirting or even talking to girls so it’s going to be very awkward and he’s well aware.
- He already knew what your interest were anyway so making conversation on that wasn’t going to be that hard.
- when the two of you finally do start dating, he’s going to make sure you’re well taken care of in every aspect of your life to where you start depending on him for everything.
- HUGE ON GIFT GIVING!!! Illumi will buy you anything that he hears you want or like. Even things he believes you would probably enjoy.
- not really affectionate but he does enjoy hand holding and whenever you would rest your head on his shoulder.
- would certainly let you dress him on most occasions since he would love to adopt his SO’s personal style.
- I do believe he’s the type to be sort of closed off and not share much about his feelings even if he knows you will be there to listen and comfort him.
- He was raised to be an assassin from a young age where he wasn’t allowed to make any friends so it would likely stem from that.
- but if there is a chance where he does end up opening up to you, he would probably omit so much information out of fear that it would likely traumatize you or have you see him as a monster.
- would destroy and absolutely ruin anyone that harms or even thinks about messing with you.
- he would likely hold off on introducing you to his parents until he’s officially ready for marriage where he makes you a zoldyck.
WARNING: I love Hanzo, but i had to-, Ging cause he's a crime, Hisoka, its more hair related situations than actually playing with it, but the vibe is comfy and chill, some are on crack but enjoy :)
SUMMARY: You play with their hair (if they have any lol)
CHARACTERS: HxH guys × F!Reader
WORD COUNT: 7.191
AN: it was super fun, for some reason my inner gremlin shows up if i write hxh
Chrollo
Chrollo lets out a soft huff of air as you start playing with his hair. He's sitting up, leaning against the headboard of the bed, focused on the book in his lap. A smile appears on his face, but he doesn't look up from the page he is reading.
"You're playing with my hair," he answers with a hint of playfulness in his words. "No.", you try to suppress a smile, but it's giving you away as you play coy. Chrollo glances up from the book, giving you a curious look.
"Are you trying to annoy me?" He quirks an eyebrow, his smile widening. "Sometimes." you smile. He shuts the book in his lap with a quiet thump, setting it to the side before turning to face you, his body moving closer to you with a fluid grace. "You're terrible at teasing me," he hums, wrapping an arm around you. "It's almost adorable," he murmurs. Chrollo pulls until you are sitting in his lap, your back against his chest. His arms wrap fully around you, his chin resting on your shoulder. "Can't even own up to it," he says, pressing a kiss against your shoulder. He takes a deep breath, the rise and fall of his chest against your back steady and even.
"What will I ever do with you?" "Can I keep playing with your hair?" "You'll do it regardless of what I say," he murmurs, burying his face into the crook of your neck.
His breath is warm against your skin as he speaks, his words brushing against your ear like a whisper. "Yes, you can," he relents after a moment. Chrollo hums in contentment as you start to run your fingers through his hair, his eyes closing at the feeling. He nuzzles his face against the side of your neck, his lips pressing soft kisses against your skin. "You know, you're very distracting," he mutters against your neck, his voice muffled by your skin.
He pauses, burying his face further into the crook of your neck, his breaths warm and fast. "Very distracting," he murmurs again.
Bonolenov
His whole body stiffens when you touch his head; soft flick or no, he flinches, as though it's the first time someone has ever laid their hand on him. His breath shakes, and an inhale comes sharp, almost painful. Yet, he doesn't move away from you at all. Bonolenov stares at you.
"Don't…" He whispers. At your laugh, Bonolenovs glare transforms into something more hesitant— as if unsure of what to do with his face in response to your laughter. "Don't tease me," He mumbles, eyes flickering from your face to the floor. "No teasing." "Sorry, sorry." You keep softly laughing as you rub his bald head again. (Wtf am I writing) Bonolenov shudders again at the feeling of your hand on his head. He leans into it, slowly, a flower seeking the sunlight.
"You do this on purpose," he mutters. Despite his protest, Bonolenov can't seem to look away from you, or stop you from touching him. He shivers ever so slightly every time your hand moves over his head, and he still hasn't moved away. In fact, he's almost… pressing his head against your hand.
"Or is this a ritual from your tribe?"
Dalzollene
Dalzollene stirs slightly from the gentle motions of your touch, tilting his head up, almost as if seeking to lean against your hand. Dalzollene blinks slowly, eyes half-lidded. He makes a soft, sleepy sound, a low hum that is more of a content hum than anything. He's half-asleep, completely at ease and utterly lost in this moment. "You're overworking yourself." You whisper as you carefully take a seat on the desk he's resting on. Dalzollene's eyes flutter as he tries to focus in on you more clearly.
"I am simply doing as I should," he says, his words slightly slurred from sleep. He lifts a hand to rub his eyes, before he blinks up at you again. "I have to—" his words interrupt themselves with a yawn, "—work." "Neon is draining you." Dalzollene frowns at the mention of her name, but he can't find it in him to speak against you. He knows it's true, even if his job means he has to spend most of it within a few feet of her.
"It is… tiring," he admits, trying to be subtle about his slight disdain for the woman. Dalzollene's eyes shut again as you run your fingers through his hair, his body relaxing further. "This is… nice," he murmurs, the last word coming out more as a hum than a spoken word. "Your hands…" His head tilts into your touch.
Feitan
Your hands are in his hair and he would love nothing more than to melt into you. But his temper is getting the better of him, and he’s trying all he can not to show you just how good it feels.
“Stop that,” he mumbles, a bit testily. “Stop what?” You ask, as if you don’t know perfectly well what Feitan was referring to.
Your hands remain in his black locks, running your fingers through the smooth strands. He huffs and turns his head away, trying his best to ignore the way gooseflesh rises on his arms every time your fingers comb through his hair. “You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?” He snaps back, but his voice lacks most of its usual sharpness. “You mean… playing with your hair?” You ask, feigning innocence.
Even now, as Feitan is glaring up at you like a petulant child, you continue to brush your hands through his hair. Feitans eyes flash, temper flaring like a candle in the wind. He glares up at you, teeth snapping in irritation.
"I told you to stop," he says, a hint of a warning in his voice. "Or are you really that intent on annoying me?"
Franklin
"I'm sorry for your loss..." you whisper as you run your hands through his short hair, trying to comfort him. Franklin can feel your fingers combing through his hair, gentle enough to leave an imprint on his soul. "Uvo-" He blinks, his brow furrowing as he remembers who you are mentioning. "You don’t need to apologize."
He lifts his head to look up at you, and his gaze softens. "You have nothing to apologize for." He leans his head back, moving closer to your hand like a cat craving attention.
"If I’m being completely honest," he admits, his voice almost as soft as a whisper, "I think Uvo deserved it." He grins, and his eyes crinkle in the corners. "Don't say that," you say softly, "he was your friend, you loved him." "He *was*." Franklin closes his eyes for a moment, then sighs as you continue to play with his hair. "He was a friend, and a partner." The words are almost a hiss, a whisper of a curse on his breath.
"And he lost that when he laid hands on you." Franklins eyes are open again, staring up at you. "I didn’t like him as much as you think I did." He says, his tone blunt.
"He was a good fighter, and a decent person, but…" He’s quiet for a moment, and his eyes lower as he looks at the floor. "He tried to touch you. How could I forgive something like that?"
Ging
For a moment, he is still like a statue, then his lips curled into an agitated snarl and he starts to pull away. “Enough!” He snaps, swatting your hand away. "Dammit old man lemme brush your hair-!" You snap back. “No! No, that’s—“
Gings words stop the moment he sees the expression on your face. He gulps the lump lodged in his throat down and his shoulders slump. “Fine,” he says, looking away from you. “You can brush it. Just— just make it quick…” While you work to untangle the mess that is Gings hair, the man grumbles and mutters to himself.
“I could’ve untangled it myself, you know,” he murmurs, his words a complaint more than a statement. “You didn’t need to do it for me.” "Stop pouting." "I am not pouting," Ging huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. He glances sidelong at you, his expression a blend of annoyance and something else he doesn't want to admit.
"And for the record, I was perfectly capable of untangling it myself." "Uh-huh." With another grumble, Ging lets his head droop forward in defeat. He tries to steal a glance backwards at you through the tangled mess of dark hair before remembering that he's not supposed to look.
"How much longer is this going to take?... my neck is starting to ache..." "Till you fucking die." "That doesn't tell me anything," Ging mutters, his words clipped and quiet. The pain in his neck is starting to mount, but he's not quite sure how to ask you to be gentler. "Could you… try and be a bit… more… careful?" He winces, his shoulders involuntarily twitching as needles of pain shoot down his spine. "It… hurts…" "Manchild." "Women these day's, i tell ya."
Hanzo (you could totally play with his eyebrows tho, they look like lashes, what a queen honestly)
"Are you just bald or cant you grow hair at all?" You blurt out while you both cuddle. "Bald?" Hanzo flinches as you touch his head. There aren't words to describe the touch of your hand against his scalp. A shiver runs through his shoulders; he seems to be holding back, somehow. "Um, I…" He pauses, clearing his throat.
"I can grow it… if you wish." His voice is soft, like a child speaking up to their mother. "No." you laugh by the thought of him with hair. The look of relief that washes over Hanzo, you've never seen on anyone else. He sighs, shoulders relaxing into your touch.
"Good, I—" his voice cracks, almost as though he's holding back. "I'm not sure I want to grow it to be honest." "And I'm not sure you'd look good with it either." A surprised sound leaves him, almost like a breathless laugh. He shakes his head a little.
"I didn't think so either," he murmurs. "Not to mention! A good ninja never leaves behind traces!" he adds. He lets his eyes flutter shut for a moment, as if in thought. When he speaks again, his voice is low, a murmured admission. "I like it when you touch me." "Hmm?" You hum, "You do?" Hanzos breathing hitches, his chest rising quickly with each breath. “I…” his voice is breathless, a strangled whisper. “I do.”
He shivers again, and this time he doesn’t try to hold it back. He just closes his eyes and leans into your touch.
Hisoka
His head is tilted back slightly, leaning into your hand as you play with his hair. Like some touch-starved little dog, he can't help the low sound that slips out of his mouth.
"Ah," he gasps quietly as he looks up at you. And yet, the smirk at the corner of his lips betrays him. "OH-! You didn’t...." "... I didn't just what?" He asks, eyes full of mischief. "Moan like that you slut-!" That makes him laugh. A soft, sultry little chuckle that sends a shiver through his frame as he grins up at you. He's utterly shameless, and he knows it. "And what if I did?" He coos, raising one eyebrow up at you. "Will you punish me, baby?" "Whore." A huff of air leaves his mouth, almost a sigh, but not quite.
"Maybe I am." He grins, not denying it. "And maybe I want you to do something about it." Hisokas breath is knocked out of his lungs as you pull his hair, and another soft, desperate sound slips out of his mouth. He can feel his body heating up, blood flushing under his skin as he lets out a little moan.
"Ahnn...!" He shivers, eyes squeezing shut as your hand is tangled in his locks. "That's it I'm done." You say with a straight face and leave. "Leaving me all hot and bothered?" He pouts. "How cruel."
It's a joke, of course— but he really is rather bothered.
Illumi
The gesture catches Illumi off guard, and he blinks in surprise. The feeling of your fingers in his hair is unlike anything he has known before. For a second, it's like the whole world has stopped in order for him to experience the sensation.
He has to resist the urge to lean into the touch. "Why are you touching my hair?" he asks. "Am I not allowed to?" Your hand stops in his hair, waiting for his answer. You never know what happens when you overstep the assassin's boundaries. Illumi almost stutters, but manages to respond in his usual even tone.
"You are allowed to do whatever you please," he murmurs. "It's just… I am unaccustomed to the sensation." "Did your mother never do your hair?"
"No." He doesn't look up as he says it, his eyes focused on the floor. "She didn't. I used to do my own hair from a very young age." "Not even maids?" “No.” The answer is short, sharp. Illumi takes a deep breath, forcing himself to stay still as you continue to play with his hair.
“Mother said that my last priority should be my hair, my first is to make the family proud and train. Maids weren't allowed to either talk to me or touch me.”
"So that's why it's so long." You laugh, trying to make a joke to lighten the mood. "What does that have to do with the length of my hair?" "....Nevermind"
Kite
"You…" Kites voice has a tinge of awe in it that only comes out when you are together. It is late. The sky is a canvas of stars. He sits next to you, so close that he can feel your warmth. His eyes are closed. Your hands glide through his hair, untangling some of its knots with a gentle, soothing touch.
"You would…" A brief pause, as if he cannot bring himself to ask. "...stay here with me?"
"Looking at bugs for a whole month or longer? Yep, with you always." You smile, leaning your head on his shoulder. A huff of laughter escapes him. As always, he is powerless against the light you bring to his mind, the warmth you give him when you are near. "A month…" he murmurs, repeating your words. The corner of his mouth quirks up in the smallest smile.
"You'd spend a month in a forest watching bugs with me?" "Romantic." His smile widens into an actual smirk. As he glances at you, Kite cannot help but think that you look the most beautiful when you are like this— lighthearted, carefree, at peace. He is entranced by the way you look in the moonlight. "Romantic, hm?" He shifts a little closer, until his knee is grazing yours. "...you’d think watching bugs with me is romantic."
"I can imagine better things, but I won't complain." Kite's smirk only grows. He is close enough now that his body is almost flush with yours. He reaches a hand up, resting it against your waist, tugging you just a little closer. His voice is low, deep, but there is an element of playfulness to his expression as he looks at you.
“You won’t complain?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow at you in a challenge, "That's a new one." "EY-!"
Knov
Knov doesn’t react when you reach for his hair, though his body jolts ever so faintly as you touch him, his eyes staring up at you the entire time. "Ew-!" you withdraw your hand.
His voice is very different when he replies to your exclamation, though, his voice taking on a hint of annoyance. “What?” He asks, brows furrowing. "The gel, it's ew." You scrunch up your nose. Knov's expression is a mixture of surprise and slight embarrassment. He looks like a puppy being told off for eating its owner’s shoes. “The gel isn’t supposed to be touched. It— it’s supposed to help control it.”
He reaches up and tries to pat his hair back down, which is only slightly successful, with a few black wisps falling back down to cover his forehead once again. “It isn’t supposed to… feel like that,” he says, still mumbling to himself, trying to fix his hair back into the pristine fashion it had been a moment previous. Then he looks up at you, eyes searching for approval.
“Better?” "When you wash it later, I wanna play with it." Knov's face turns a slight red color at your request. He’s still fiddling with his hair, trying to get it to behave. “You… want to play with it?” He repeats, like he can’t believe his ears. "Mhm!" His face heats up once more, the red flush spreading to his ears. “Ah…” His fingers stop trying to fix his hair, leaving it messy and unkempt. He looks a little disheveled, especially when compared to the perfect image he always has in public. “…sure.” He says, as if he can’t refuse anything you say.
Knuckle
"It's surprising how it stays up..." you mumble in slight amazement. His hair is surprisingly soft under your touch. He lets out a gasp at the motion, almost like a puppy who wasn’t expecting to be pet. "It.. it does that," he stutters out, face going pink. Knuckle is utterly flustered, but far from annoyed at the touch. "I… I don't know how it stays up."
"...you style it every morning tho." "Ah… I…" he falters, realizing that he's been found out.
"I use a little bit of hair gel," he admits, like he'd just confessed a terrible sin. Knuckle looks up at you through his eyelashes, face still flushed. "More like a whole container." Knuckle flushes a deeper shade of red. His mouth opens for a moment, wordless with protest, then he sighs and looks down at the floor.
"Fine," he mutters, his hands clenching into fists. "I may use a bit more than just "a little bit" of hair gel…but only because my hair keeps falling back down otherwise!" He adds, a slight defensive edge to his voice. "And if I'm not always perfectly presentable.. I-" he falters, biting his tongue before he says, "I just…" He looks down, refusing to meet your eyes.
Finally, he looks back up at you and admits, "I can't look anything but perfect when I'm next to you. Not even a single hair can be out of place." "Awww baby." Knuckle blushes at the pet name, but doesn’t protest when you begin playing with his hair. He even leans into your touch, craving your closeness as if it was the only thing that would make him whole.
Kortopi
"It's so tangled..." you mumble as you brush his hair, the small male sitting between your legs. Kortopis eyes flutter shut, breath hitching as you brush through his long hair. He tries his best to keep still, a slight shiver rolling through his body. He's never been a fan of people touching him so intimately. With you it's a different story tho.
He'll hold still as long as you like. “Please be gentle. I don’t… I’m not used to this.” He whispers the words, eyes still closed.
The feeling of your fingers stroking through his hair and across his scalp is almost dizzying. Each brush of your touch sends a shiver down his spine, his breaths leaving his parted lips in soft gasps. "Am I too rough? I'm sorry." You quickly apologize. “No, no.” Kortopi is quick to shake his head at that, a hand lifting to reach hesitantly for your leg.
“It’s just… it’s a lot.” He mumbles, eyes fluttering open. He looks up at you, cheeks reddening a bit. “It feels nice. Keep going.” He can’t explain the feeling he gets from you just playing with his hair— the way that the slightest brush of your fingers makes his stomach clench and his heart flutter.
No one has been this gentle with him before. No one ever bothered to look at him with any form of compassion in their gaze.
He leans into your touch, his grip on your leg tightening when you scratch ever so slightly across his scalp. "I don't wanna overwhelm you." “It’s okay,” he says quietly, almost breathless. The feeling of your fingers against his hair, your touch against his skin, it almost makes him dizzy. He reaches his hand up, wrapping his fingers around your wrist as he guides your hand back down, silently asking you to keep going. He closes his eyes again, leaning against your leg.
Kurapika
A shiver passes over Kurapika, but he does not look up from the pages of his book. "You're playing with my hair," he notes, a simple observation. "I am," you say as your fingers slide through the strands. You twist a few around your fingers and pull slightly. He tries to keep his focus on his book, but the feeling of your fingers intertwined with his hair is quite distracting. You feel more than see the effort Kurapika makes to keep his attention on the words in his book, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks.
"You're making it difficult to read," He says, but he makes no move to pull away from you. "That's the point," you reply, a light chuckle in your voice. Kurapika grumbles and makes an attempt at turning the page, only for one of your hands to tug on his hair again.
This time, he makes a soft noise and sets his book down, closing his eyes and sighing. "Why do you do this to me?" His voice sounds almost mournful, but there is a sense of joy in his words. It is almost as if he were grateful for the situation he has found himself in.
His hair is tousled from your ministrations, messy and disheveled. It is a sight that is both attractive and adorable. "Because I like to see you this way," you reply, still lightly pulling on his hair. The action makes Kurapika shiver. He turns to look up at you, a mixture of defeat and happiness in his eyes at the same time.
"This way?" He repeats, voice wavering faintly, "Disheveled? Frantic? Utterly distracted?" You nod. "It reminds me how cute you are." Kurapika lets out a huff, his cheeks growing a little warmer. He tries to school his features into a frown, but he can't help the corners of his lips from twitching upwards.
Leorio
The touch of your fingers through his unruly black locks soothes Leorios mind. He leans into your touch, the tension seeping from his muscles, and his eyes flutter shut. He lets out a low, almost inaudible sigh, a mixture of exhaustion and relief. He's silent for a long moment, simply enjoying the gentle ministrations your fingers give to the hair around his face.
Finally, he speaks, his voice low and quiet, as if not to disrupt the peace that's settled over the two of you. "You are too good to me," he whispers, his eyes still closed. He slowly reaches up to take your hand. He pulls it from his head and instead places a firm, lingering kiss upon your knuckles.
His thumb caresses your skin, the pad of it tracing little patterns against the back of your hand. "You've been so stressed lately so i-" "You are much too generous to me," Leorio mutters into your skin. His grip on your hand is tight, as if he's worried you'll pull away.
His eyes flick open, and he looks up to meet your gaze. "You do not have to be this kind to me. Yet you are. You are too kind, my God," he repeats, the words quiet and reverent. He lifts himself up, resting on his elbow as he looks down at you. He brings your hand to his chest, holding it just over his heart. His free hand reaches to cup your face, his touch gentle yet firm.
He brings his face down to your ear, and the sound of his next words are as soft as a whisper. "Why do you have to do this to me? Why do you have to be so damn good?"
Menthuthuyoupi
You stare up at the big guy, "can I try something?" Menthuthuyoupi blinks, then gives a firm nod.
No matter what you say or ask for, he will do it without question or complaint. He has been yours since the first moment he laid eyes on you. "Can i play with your hair?" "My hair?"
Menthuthuyoupis voice is quiet, bewildered. Never in his long weeks of life has anyone asked to touch his hair before. "You… you can." He tries to keep himself still, but his body is tensed up. It takes all of his willpower to keep from leaning into your touch.
"Does it… is it good?" He can't help but ask. "Does it feel strange?" Yes. Yes, it is. "Yes," he says bluntly. "Didn't even know i had hair."
"What?!" A small huff of irritation. Menthuthuyoupi shakes his head. "Now I know have hair." His hand reaches up to touch at one of the red locks, wrapping it around his finger and giving it a small, harsh little tug.
"I've just never…" he continues, pausing as if he isn't sure how to say what he means. "I've never been taking care of it." "Figured, it's greasey as hell."
Meruem
His eyes snap up to your face as you drum your fingers against his skull. He frowns for a moment— the barest twitch of his lips down.
He doesn't quite register what you are doing, just that your fingers are against his skin. Meruem is silent for a single heartbeat, and then he tilts his head into you, leaning into the touch. That touch makes Meruem pause, tilting his head back to give you a look, one corner of his lip lifting in an almost smirk.
"And what makes you think you can do such a thing to me?" Meruem asks. His voice has a hint of challenge to it, like he's testing you. "I just can." You smirk, knocking on his head. Meruem's smirk grows, and he lets out a soft laugh. There's no sarcasm in his voice, just a hint of amused disbelief.
"And that makes you think you're above me?" He asks, the challenge growing with his smile.
"Above the great king? Everything of course." Another laugh. Meruem shakes his head, letting out a breath as though he can't believe what he's hearing. He's not bothered or annoyed— far from it. Amusement is written all over his face as he looks up at you with a wide, wolfish grin. "You think you're that powerful, do you?" He muses, still with that hint of challenge in his voice. "My love for you is." That makes Meruem pause, looking up at you for a moment. That hint of challenge turns to surprise, and then that surprise fades into a soft, warm look. His smirk is gone as quickly as it came, replaced with a small smile.
"Is what?" He asks, voice much softer. "Love? The strange pulling in ones heart? What we talked about?" "What we talked about, yes." "I doubt your pulling compares to mine."
Morel
"Ey old man! Come here!" "Eh? Old man?" He sputters as if the very notion offends him."I am not that old," Morel protests. "How old do you believe I am?"
"100?" "One hundred?" Morel stares at you incredulously. His eyes narrow. His shoulders tense up. For a short moment, it looks as if he’s holding back a snort.
"You think I am a hundred years old?" "You have white hair." You run your fingers through his hair as he sits down. "That does not mean I am old," Morel saya. "It just... means my hair is white. It always was." He falls silent, crossing his arms over his chest in a huff. "You wouldn’t ask others with white hair their age, would you?" "I was just joking." The admission seems to soothe his wounded ego a little bit. "You could have used a more believable number,” he mutters, but there’s hardly any heat in the words.
"For your information, I’m not a hundred. I’m not even close to that old." He huffs, rising to his feet and dusting off the dirt from his clothes. "Not that it matters either way,” he adds, giving you a sidelong glance out of the corner of his eye. "I don’t suppose my age matters to you, my love," Morel says, the reverent title slipping easily from his tongue.
“I could be a hundred or thousand, immortal or not, and still,” he stops suddenly, eyes fixed on your face as the words die on his tongue. For a moment, he swallows, as if suddenly unable to find the words. “I would still be yours...and i know you like em older anyways.” "Ey-!"
Neferpitou
"No one? Ever?" You asked in disbelief. Neferpitou leans ever so slightly into your touch, enjoying the soft feeling of your fingers against their hair. No one else has ever done this.
"No," they murmur, "never like this. No one ever touched me like this." "What a shame...it's pretty." The corners of Neferpitous mouth twitch, something like pride swelling in their chest at your compliment. Your simple words mean everything to them. Praise from you is more valuable than all the riches in the whole universe.
"You flatter me," they say quietly, although there's no attempt to deny it. Not only is their hair pretty, but so are they, and they know it— but they also know only you can tell them that. "Hmm, maybe." your lips crack a smile. Neferpitou stares up at you, eyes burning like fireworks. They're not blind— they know you're teasing them. Your smugness is something they adore. All of your expressions are so unique, from the look on your face when you're fighting a battle, to the curve of your lips when you smile, all the way to how your eyes crinkle at the corners when you laugh. Humans are interesting. You especially.
They know exactly what you mean, even if they're not willing to admit it. Neferpitous expression is mischievous, their tone bordering on dangerous. They won't admit it out loud, but they do love playing with fire. Especially when it comes to you. You're a feisty little inferior species.
"Don't smirk, my human," they murmur, leaning closer until they're a mere breath away from you. "We both know I'm more than just pretty."
Netero (me and my eyebrow or bald jokes in this post are wild)
You can't help but feel slightly upset, "Damn...why'd you cut it?" A soft sigh escapes him as you ask why he cut his hair.
“It would've gotten in the way, and it became difficult to manage,” he murmurs in response, his eyes still closed as he drinks in the feeling of you touching him. “Plus… it will grow back,” he says. For a few moments, Netero remains still, enjoying the feeling of your fingers in his hair, until he opens his eyes and looks upward at you.
“Are you really that fond of it long?” He asks, in his voice, as if he’s worried he disappointed you by cutting his hair in the first place. "You could've at least cut your eyebrows." You add with a smirk. Netero rolls his eyes dramatically, but even the small action isn’t enough to disguise the soft, flustered look on his face. “You know I can’t do that,” he says, but there’s mirth behind his words. “Unless you want me to run around with no eyebrows at all.”
"That would be a sight." You imagine. “I’d look absolutely ridiculous,” he says, but the way he’s grinning gives him away. "And you think you looked better before, old man?" Netero shoots an unimpressed look at you, his eyes narrowing slightly, but he knows you’re only teasing him. “You’d rather I looked like a caveman?” He asks, raising an eyebrow in a silent challenge. "You already d-" Netero cuts you with an indignant scoff at your comment and, for a moment, looks as if he’s about to protest, but then he stops, a small smile twisting his lips.
“Oh, quiet,” he says, his tone holding no bite. “I may be older than rocks, but I’m allowed to care about how I look.”
Nobunaga
"Washing is an option, yk?" "I know that," he mumbles, his eyes fluttering shut at your touch. He shivers slightly under your palm, his body as sensitive to your touch as a rose to sunlight. "I've been busy," he clarifies as you play with his hair, trying to come up with a good reason to escape your chiding. "I don't have time to bathe, is all." He lets out a sigh, leaning into your touch like a kitten against a hand.
"And it's not that bad," he says, though his voice falters slightly— he knows he's lying. "Yeah sure." You smirk. "I've been sweating!" Nobunaga protests, as if that will solve everything.
"That's not my fault." He mutters, but when you tug lightly on his hair, he shivers again. "Relax." You calm him down. "I can't relax," he hisses, his eyes snapping open to glare up at you. "Not when you're—" He cuts himself off, his gaze suddenly shifting away as his cheeks flush. "I'll wash it for you later, okay?" taking care of a mess like this men is actually fun activities in your book. Especially when you can see him flustered. It takes a moment for his brain to process your words.
Nobunaga blinks, lifting his head from your hand to stare up at you, his mouth falling open.
"You—" a beat, "—you'll wash my hair?" You can practically see the smoke coming from his head. Nobunaga blinks, once, his mouth slowly falling open again as he processes what you'd said. His throat works silently as he grapples with the situation.
"You…" the word comes out faint, almost a whisper, as he tries to grasp what you're offering. "You'd… wash my hair?" he finally manages to get out, his face already starting to tint pink. "Yes?" "I—" he starts, hesitating as he tries to form a sentence, his thoughts flying to every possible meaning and implication of your words. Finally, after a moment of silence, his face completely flushed red, he manages to utter a response.
"I'd like that," he whispers, voice barely more than a sigh, though his words speak volumes as to how badly he wants you to do this.
Pariston
"It's so smooth?" It sounded more like a question than a statement. With all the products he uses you were almost sure his hair was like hay. He leans into your fingers, closing his eyes, a satisfied hum escaping his lips.
"Of course it is," he mumbles back, pride and arrogance dripping from every word. "After all," he continues. "I keep it that way for you. Gotta look good for my girl." His head tilts into your hand, seeking more of your touch. You can't help but roll your eyes at him. "What?" Pariston asks, his eyes opening. He lifts his head just to look at you, a single eyebrow raised.
"Don't roll your eyes at me, I'm being sincere," he says, tone a mix of amusement and mock-offence. "Since when." "Oh, always." He says, sitting up a little straighter. He leans back on one of his hands and grins. "You just don't notice because you never pay attention to me," he retorts. "I think..." He speaks slowly, fingers dancing over the top your other hand. "I think you're just cruel to me. That's what it is," he says decisively.
"You have no idea," he continues, his tone going from teasing to serious for a moment, "how much I adore you, and yet you treat me so callously." He fake pouts, a frown on his face, but you can see his eyes are dancing with mischief. "It's very insensitive of you." He admonishes you, his fingers moving over your skin.
"You should feel very guilty for treating the person who loves you more than anything like this," he admonishes, though there is a hint of a smile on his lips.
"And the person that finances your very being."
Phinks
"No," Phinks insists, pulling a little away from you. He scowls, crossing his arms at his chest. "Just… No." He won't let you ruffle his golden locks. "Why?" You whine slightly. "I don't want you to ruin it," he protests, running his fingers over his hair. He glares at you as his perfectly styled locks get mussed. "It takes hours to make it look good." Phinks frowns, his hair tousled from your touch. He combs his fingers through the messy blonde strands, trying in vain to return them to some semblance of order.
"I don't understand why you always have to touch my hair," he complains. "You're just like a child, always grasping at what the world has to offer without regard to the consequences," he says, still combing through his hair and trying to keep it away from you. "You have the impulse control of a three-year-old."
"But you love me." You smile innocently. Phinks can't help but soften a little at your words. He lets out a huff, his shoulders slumping as he gives up on his hair. He can never resist you.
"Yes, I love you," he admits, running a hand through his hair one last time. "Now, don't ruin my hair or I'll punish you." He doesn't sound all that threatening. In fact, you can imagine a hint of a smile flickering at his lips as he glares at you.
"If you make me look awful, there will be consequences," he says, though you suspect he's more likely to give you a kiss than actually punish you. He lets out a quiet sigh, running his hand through his tousled hair one final time before admitting defeat. He's fighting a losing battle— his hair is messy and sticking up at all sorts of ungraceful angles, and he's only going to undo any progress he makes by touching it. With a huff, he gives up, looking back at you.
"You're going to be the death of me one of these days, you know that?"
Pokkle
Every time you even think of coming near his hair, he looks up at you like a frightened doe. "I'll bite your hand, you know," he adds, though it is a very empty threat. "Why not? Shy?" You tease. "I–It's a mess." Pokkle protests, lifting a hand up and attempting to tame some of the messy locks of messy hair. He quickly gets frustrated however, huffing as it just flies right back in his face. "Besides… You'll mess it up…" "Can I at least brush it? Make it better?" Pokkle bites the inside of his cheek, looking down as if contemplating.
He remains like that for a few moments, thinking it over. He can't deny he wants you to touch his hair. That much is obvious. He's simply very stubborn, and won't say it.
He mumbles something under his breath that sounds vaguely like a reluctant yes. He turns around, presenting his back to you. His hair hangs messily over his shoulders.
His spine is ramrod straight, almost painfully so, and he’s clearly trying not to look over his shoulder at you. He's expecting his hair to be pulled, not brushed. He stays completely silent once you begin to brush his hair. He is still as stone, like a statue, but you can almost hear the sound of his mind racing even when you touch the brush to his hair.
He doesn’t look at you the entire time. In fact, he appears to be trying so desperately not to look at you that it’s like he’s fighting a losing battle with himself.
"Good?" Pokkle is quiet for a few seconds. He seems to have to collect himself, closing his eyes in an attempt to process what's just happened.
Finally, he nods, answering your question in a single word. "Good."
Razor
Razor doesn't question your request for a moment. If you want to, he will allow it. His head dips down, allowing you better access.
"You may. It's yours." "...its so short." you mumble. "I never let it grow." Razor responds, then lets out a quiet little hum as you play with the strands of his hair. It is indeed short, just barely long enough to play with. His neck twists a little, tilting to the side as you ruffle his hair. Razor is surprisingly pliant at your ministrations.
"You like to play with it, I take it?" He asks, a touch of amusement in his tone. "Meh, it's alright." Razor lets out a quiet scoff, the corner of his lips twitching.
"Only 'alright'," he mutters, but there's a hint of a smile in his words. "Just say you like it." He leans closer to you, head tilting down to look at you. "I know you like it," he teases, the corners of his mouth twitching. "You love to play with this short hair. Admit it."
"Hmm,...no." Razor snorts. "Why not?" He murmurs, leaning in a little more, so his head is resting against your leg. "It's short and soft. I can tell you like it, don't lie." Razor lets out another quiet scoff, though it is not meant as rude. He is too comfortable to care how he sounds. "Your hand is still in my hair," he whispers, tilting his head a little more to give you better access.
"Admit it, you like it." He smirks.
Shaiapouf
Shaiapoufs head is leaned against you, his eyes closed as your fingers run through his golden locks. He shudders at your touch, a low hum of satisfaction rumbling in his chest like a distant storm. After a few moments of comfortable silence, he finally opens his eyes and speaks.
"What are you doing?" He asks, voice heavy with exhaustion and contentment. "Hmm, nothing." Shaiapouf raises an eyebrow, glancing up at you from his place beside you. He smiles a little mischievously as he leans into your touch. "Just playing with my hair for no reason, then?" He teases. Even through the weariness in his voice, there's a hint of mirth there, like he wants to see how you'll respond. "Yeah." "Liar,"
He laughs, reaching up and grabbing your wrist, moving you hand back to his hair. He gently guides your fingers through his locks once again, his eyes closing, a soft sigh falling from his lips. "You just want an excuse to touch me, don't you?" Shaiapouf rolls over, laying himself against your side, head resting on your shoulder, his body pressed against you like a shadow.
He slings an arm around your middle, pulling himself close. "Gods, you're warm." He mumbles, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Shaiapouf hums contentedly as he cuddles against you, feeling the heat of your body seeping into his skin. He pulls you closer, his grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly.
"You're soft," he murmurs, his breath warm and ticklish against your cheek. "So soft..."
Shalnark
The feeling of you sitting in his lap makes Shalnark hyper aware of you. He tries to stay focused on the computer screen, he really does, but it’s hard to when you’re playing with his hair. “What are you doing…?” He asks, swallowing thickly as his eyes dart from the computer to your hand in his hair. "Playing, like you." You mumble, keep playing. He lets out a slight huff, but there’s no annoyance in it.
“Are you trying to make it difficult for me to concentrate?” He asks, giving you a light smirk. “Not that I would want you to stop,” he adds as an afterthought, his voice growing softer.
Despite his words, Shalnark still continues to try and focus on the computer screen rather than on how it feels when your fingers glide through his hair. After a few moments, it becomes too distracting. Shalnark lets out a small huff, his fingers resting on the keyboard, unmoving. He turns his head a bit to look at you. A light flush has dusted his cheeks; his gaze almost seems a bit petulant, but there’s no real annoyance in it.
“You are doing this on purpose.” "Noooo." Shalnark gives you an unconvinced look.
“Liar.” He mumbles, tilting his head back a bit. The bare expanse of his neck shines in the cold light of the computer screen. His eyes flutter closed, and he lets out a soft sigh as he feels your fingers running through his hair again.
“I know you’re too smart to do this unintentionally.” Despite his words, he can’t hide the way he relaxes with your hand on him.
Shoot
Shoots eyes slip shut as you touch his hair. It's been a long time since he's felt the gentle caress of your fingers against his scalp. You would think this would be enough to soothe him, but his chest still rises and falls quickly, his breaths uneven and choppy in his chest.
"Thank you," he stutters, trying to control his breathing. "Your touch feels like paradise," he whispers, almost so quiet you can't hear it.
"Missed it?" You laugh as you keep braiding his hair. He nods, feeling the gentle tug of your fingers on his hair. Shoot opens his eyes and looks up at you, his gaze unfocused. His head is foggy and hazy, his mind slipping away as you continue to braid his hair. "Yes," he admits, voice quiet.
"Yes, I missed it." "So...the mission?" Shoots expression darkens a little when you mention the mission. The mere mention of those words turns his mind to memories he would rather forget. "It was complicated," he confesses, watching your fingers move through his hair. "The mission…"
He pauses, his eyes growing a little distant. "...It did not go as well as planned." "...oh." "It was…" He falters. Something in Shoot shifts, a change in the air; as if the very atmosphere around him has grown darker. His mind drifts back to the mission, replaying the events of the past few days.
"There were... issues," he states, trying to keep his voice steady. "Obstacles. Setbacks. It was not the success we were hoping for."
Uvogin
Uvogin ducks his head to avoid the brush once again, a quiet scoff leaving him.
"I can brush it myself," he mutters, and reaches up. His hair is tangled and messy after spending most of the day without his hair being brushed — but he doesn't like having others run their hands through his hair for him. He can do it himself. "Do you even know what a brush is?" you ask as a joke. Uvogin narrows his eyes at the words, a quiet huff leaving him.
"Of course I know what a brush is," he says, and snatches the hairbrush from you, holding it with an almost possessive grip. "I'm not an animal." Uvogin mutters something to himself— probably something about you being annoying— but he sits down and starts to run the brush through his long locks.
He looks like he is struggling. A lot. But he won't ask for your help. His pride won't allow it. "I can he-" "No."It's a short, quick answer. Uvogin immediately shuts down any offer you may have had before you can even finish speaking. He's stubborn, and he doesn't want to ask for your help— even though he very clearly needs it.
It's a sight to behold, the brush sticking in his hair and him struggling to brush it through. You walk up and hug his back. Uvogin stiffens at your sudden embrace, but he doesn't try to push you away. He continues to struggle with the brush, until he finally— begrudgingly— lowers his hands.
"Fine," he says, and it's clear it pains him to admit defeat. "You can do it."
Wing
Wing practically melts under your touch. His head rests against you like a pillow, and he hums in contentment as you play with his hair. He is warm, his chest rising and falling in a deep, even rhythm. "Tough day?" A heavy sigh escapes Wing. He nods, just a fraction, his face pressed into your chest.
"Yes." His voice is quiet, almost as if he doesn’t want to speak too loudly, in case it breaks this perfect moment. He pauses, hesitating, his eyes closing as he listens to your heartbeat.
"You make it better," he confesses, the words whispered into your skin like a secret. His breath is gentle, a soft sigh falling from his lips as he relishes being this close to you. After a few moments, he shifts, wrapping his arms around your waist in a hug, and burying his face into the crook of your neck.
"Being with you is my favorite part of the day," he admits quietly, breathing deeply of your scent. "Then I'm glad..." Wing nods his head, nuzzling into your chest a little more. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice barely loud enough for even you to hear. His body is flush with yours, his chest pressed against you. Every breath he takes, every rise and fall of his rib cage, you can feel against your own skin. Wings arms gently tighten around you, his grip almost desperate, like he’d die if he was torn away from you. "Love you too..." Wings hold on you tightens when you return the sentiment. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck and lets out a shaky breath.
“Say it again,” he whispers, a hint of pleading in his tone. The words are uttered as a near demand.
☽ he’s sitting there tracing the rim of his coffee cup with his finger, which is his way of disappearing without leaving the room. probably overthinking. or dissociating. or both.
☽ she keeps tucking that same damn piece of hair behind her ear over and over again. but it’s not about the hair. she’s dodging eye contact and lowkey panicking inside.
☽ he’s twisting his ring. like, not even consciously. it’s just this old habit he picked up years ago when things were bad and now it just happens when his brain starts spiraling.
☽ she lets out this super tiny sigh, barely even a sound, but if you know her, you know that’s her version of screaming into a pillow.
☽ he raises an eyebrow and it’s giving “are you serious right now?” without him needing to say a single word.
☽ she adjusts her glasses but not because they need adjusting, no, it’s because she’s nervous and doesn’t know what else to do with her hands.
☽ he’s tapping his fingers on the table. not a full-on drum solo, just this soft, steady rhythm that probably makes sense in his head and nowhere else.
☽ she laughs, but it’s this quiet little breath of a laugh. the kind where you can’t tell if she’s actually amused or just pretending to feel something.
☽ he folds the corner of the book page he’s reading. not to save his place, he just liked that part and didn’t know how else to hold onto it.
☽ she keeps shifting her weight from foot to foot, like she’s physically trying not to run away from the conversation.
Ok, but imaging that one scene in shameless, where Ian and Mikey are getting chairs for their wedding day and apply it to a pregnant y/n with the twins.
—-
“WHY DOES EVERYTHING ALWAYS HAVE TO SUCK!” You screamed, picking up the closest thing next to you, an all black chair. “THIS IS OUR FUCKING WEDDING DAY! ALL I WANTED WAS THE WHITE CALVERAÍ CHAIRS WITH THE GOLD SEATS!!”
“Doll, you might wanna calm down, stress is not good for the-“
“FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU!” You began to slam the expensive piece of wood down into the polished floor. “YOU,” slam. “HAD,” slam. “ONE.” Another slam, “FUCKING.” Final slam, “JOB!”
The chair shattered, breaking apart under the pressure of your grasp, you tossed the rest of the chair onto the floor with a sigh, whipping the sweat from your brow.
“-baby.” Jerome finished, staring at you wide eyed.
Jeremiah sighed, shooing the dumbstruck store keeper out of the room. Jerome let out a loud laugh, amused by the entire situation. However, Jeremiah was not impressed.
Jeremiah took off his shades and whipped them clean with a handkerchief, “Dearest, don’t you think this is a little overactive?” He asked, “they’re just chairs.” You slowly turned your head towards his to meet his glare, blinking a few times.
“Yea,” you breathed out. “MY FUCKING CHAIRS!” You stomped up to him and ripped Jeremiah up by his collar, Jerome watched with excited eyes from the corner of your eye. “And if you don’t get my fucking chairs, there will be no wedding, understand? There will be no FUCKING SICK FAMILY FANTASY YOU HAVE EITHER!”
Jeremiah nodded hesitantly, you released his cooler. Satisfied with your work, you stomped out the store, heading to the limousine. You needed a hot bath and a glass wine after this fucking day.
Once you were gone, Jerome glanced over to Jeremiah giving him a snicker as his twin attempted to fix his tie and pull himself together. Jeremiah cleared his throat, going to say something but Jerome cut him off.
“Oh? You think this is bad? Wait till the twins are born.” Jerome laughed.
Your parents listed Hades as your godfather as a joke, That would not be an issue if it were not for the 3-headed puppy delivered to your doorstep by Persephone and Hades themselves, planning to protect you from the Olympian’s shenanigans due to Zeus’ bulldickery
Request: anon asked “I was wondering if you would write one for Tommen Baratheon were the reader and him are really close, both having feelings for each other but Tommen is unsure if breaking a bond with the Tyrell’s will cause out-rage and you are too shy and insecure but he finally makes up his mind to drop the betrothal and tells his mum (who is overjoyed) and rushes to tell you, but you have literally fallen fatally ill and the maesters don’t know if you’ll live or die so he spends time showing love to you. Thx!”
and another anon asked “I am literal trash for this idea… But I have a HUGEE annoying crush on Tommen and I was wondering if you could possibly write one were the reader is whom Tommen becomes engaged too/ his best friend and out of anger and feelings of betrayal , Maragarey attempts kill the reader with the same posion that killed Joff, but Cersei now carries and attidote around out of fear so she is able to save her, Tommen rushes to Y/n and fluff fluff please!!! Thank you very much”
Warnings: serious illness, assassination attempt
Word Count: 1581
Notes: that moment when ur computer keeps autocorrecting tommen to tome…changed up some of the request in a couple minor ways. enjoy!
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Anonymous asked: I wanna request a King!Tommen imagine where reader is a summer isle Princess that he’s betrothed to him cuz her familys army is huge and at first he’s regreting it cuz he knows nothing about her and he didn’t even want to be married yet but when he meets her it’s in the gardens and she’s playing with Ser Pounce who has been following her all day and likes her now more than Tommen. To which he calls him a"furry traitor" and spends the whole day with her and falls for her and it’s just fluff
Here ya go, lovely! I do not own Tommen Baratheon or Ser Pounce. They belong to George R.R.Martin. (Game of Thrones requests are currently closed.)
Warnings: None, it’s a bit short.
Pairings: Tommen Baratheon x fem!reader
You felt your heart clench when the ship docked in King’s Landing. You were far too young for this. Marriage. You were betrothed to King Tommen and you hated the idea. The only reason the two of you were promised to one another was because your family had a large army. Tommen wasn’t happy about it either. He wasn’t ready to get married yet either. Still, he greeted you at the docks just outside the Red Keep. He greeted you stiffly and you returned it just as uncomfortable.
Leon doesn't do a lot of real dating, which he warns you of whenever the two of you start seeing each other.
He likes the dates at your apartment where it's quiet and nothing disturbs the two of you.
You surprise him after missions that keep him away for weeks or months at a time with a nice, home-cooked meal and some pampering.
Leon isn't afraid to let you take care of him in ways that guys you had been with before didn't let you.
Whenever the two of you get to spend more time together, he joins you for your self-care nights and eventually adds some things into a daily routine.
His hair has always been nice, but you help him take it to another level.
Leon gets pulled away a lot for emergencies, but he always makes it up to you later.
He takes you out on fancy dates every single time that he comes back, and the two of you get to pretend that your lives aren't so chaotic for a bit.
Leon doesn't talk much about his work with you, instead wanting to hear about the things you get up to in the labs with Rebecca
Leon is surprisingly domestic. He can't cook very well, but he's always right there to do the dishes and help clean up. Generally a lot of the fixing things is left to either you or a professional if you don't have time for it.
You don't go over to Leon's very often, mainly because he hasn't been there long enough to make it homey.
Leon stays over whenever possible, but asks you every single night if it's actually okay with you that he's there.
Your job isn't as action-packed as his, but he knows that you deal with a lot of agents and operatives, so some alone time is nice.
Leon doesn't sleep unless he knows that you're safe. It doesn't always have to be in his arms, but he constantly checks on you in the night.
You like cuddling, which he claims not to at first. However, within a week of staying over, Leon often finds himself waking up in the morning wrapped around you like a koala.
He falls asleep instantly if you run your hands through his hair, and sometimes, you trick him into getting more rest by doing that while you're watching something together or reading.
note. fluff and soft stuff in delivery! love him sm i couldn't help it so there you go :) please feel free to request <3
Dick was a fool for you, and everyone knew it pretty well. You could have done absolutely anything, even the worst thing possible, he would have found a way to defend you. In his eyes, you couldn’t do anything bad. You were too perfect for that. The prettiest girl he ever saw, the smartest he ever talked to ; you had the qualities a human could have and even more. It was easy to say that Dick was putting you on a pedestal.
To his defense, you were actually really sweet. The type of person who helps others without asking for something in return, even if you had quite your own character. You weren’t afraid to say what was wrong, and if you had to fight, then you would never step back. You were everything Dick could dream of, even if your friends saw you as a pitbull sometimes.
Dick didn’t have the bravery to ask you out on a real date. Yes, the Nightwing himself was scared of rejection from the girl he could have died for. So he kept on inviting you to go out together but always as friends and nothing more. Sometimes, he even told you to bring other people to not make it too weird ; even if he only had eyes for you.
This time, it was only the two of you. You were sitting in front of him in the coffee shop, your hot drink between your hands as you were talking. He wasn’t sure if he was still listening to what you were saying or if the sound of your voice was simply soothing his mind ; but his gaze didn’t leave your face for a second. His cheek was resting in the palm of his hand and his eyes were observing every detail of your face.
Suddenly, you stopped talking and it got him out of his thoughts almost immediately. “Is something wrong?” He asked you the second after, a hint of worry in his eyes. You sighed slowly as you looked away. “Sorry, I talk too much.” You told him and he swore he never saw you like this before. Who ever told you that? Not him, that was for sure, because he could have listened to you talking forever. Dick grabbed your hand in a gentle move, stroking the back of it.
You met his eyes again, and you felt your heart skipping a beat at the look he was giving you. Since when did he look at you with so much adoration? You were sure you never noticed it before, but you couldn’t ignore it now. “It’s never too much. Please, talk all you want. I’ll listen anyway.” The soft smile that appeared on his lips after his words could have brought the tears to your eyes if you weren’t fighting them. Your grip on his hand slightly tightened before you nodded softly.
“Thanks Dick,” you told him, and he left a kiss on the back of your hand as an answer. It caught you off guard, and you had some trouble going back to what you were saying after that. If one thing was sure, you wouldn’t be able to forget this look in his eyes for a while.
After that day, you noticed all the little things that Dick was doing toward you, and you felt dumb for not noticing what was going on earlier. How he was always complimenting you on what you were doing, or how he always made sure that you were feeling comfortable about everything. He kept on taking care of you without being too intrusive and it broke your heart to think that he was probably sure that his feelings weren’t mutual.
This is why you decided to talk to him. You asked him to come over at your place, and this is how you ended up sitting on your couch together. Dick looked at you, a bit worried. He could feel that something was off, but he didn’t know what it was. “You wanted to tell me something?” He asked, and you quickly nodded, turning around to face him.
“Listen, I’ve thought a lot. About everything, but mostly about us, and we can’t…” He didn’t let you finish, his voice going out a bit more desperate than what he thought. “Did I go too far? I’m sorry, I’ll stop. But please, please don’t leave.” He took your hands between his and you didn’t expect this reaction from him. You slowly put your hand on his cheek, stroking it gently.
“Hey, hey. Calm down, okay? I’m not going anywhere.” Your voice was so soft, like sweet music to his ears. He melted onto your touch, looking in your eyes as he waited for you to keep going with what you wanted to say. “I wanted to say that we can’t keep going like that, because I can’t stay your friend.” His grip on your hand got a little tighter but your gentle smile calmed all his worries.
“I like more than that, Dick. And if you let me, I’d love to be more than your friend.” He was sure that he felt his heart stopping into his chest when you stopped talking. It was a dream, it couldn’t be otherwise. There was no way you were really saying those words to him. “Really..? You really want to be… my girlfriend?” He asked, and you only answered with a nod.
You didn’t have the chance to say anything because Dick cupped your face with his hands so his lips could meet yours. It was so sweet, your lips feeling like honey against his own. When he let you go, you were quickly stuck into his embrace. He was holding you tightly, nose in your hair. “I’ll make you the happiest girl on Earth, just like you’re making me the happiest man alive.” His eyes met yours right after that, and the smile on his lips made your stomach do a flip. He really seemed to be the happiest right now.
You sure took your sweet time to realize your own feelings, but now, you knew that nothing could make them disappear.
