Yahooใฝ(โยดฮต๏ฝโ)ใ, came to request smth for Twst, may I? Of course u can reject the idea, it's up to you.
but can I req second years (if you have character limit, you can do just Jamil, Jade and Silver) with fem!s/o (established relationship) who wants them to brush her hair and maybe even style it? Not bc she can't do it but more like she wants domestic moments with them, y'know, calm and intimate moment? But she's way too shy to ask cuz she thinks it's silly.
I hope you got it, i kinda sucks at explaining stuff and English ain't my first language
It's up to you to do it, no pressure, have a nice day and take care(^ะท^)-โ
หส ๐ชผษห๐ธ๐๐ ๐ด ๐ญ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐ณ๐๐๐?หส ๐ชผษห
silver, jade and jamil x female reader
The first time Silver noticed it, he didn't think much of it.
You had been standing in front of the old mirror in Ramshackle Dorm after returning from class, absently running your fingers through your hair as you stared at the wooden brush resting on the vanity. Your hand reached toward it before stopping halfway, your shoulders drooping with the smallest sigh. A moment later, you simply picked it up yourself.
It happened again the next evening.
And the evening after that.
Each time, your eyes would drift toward him for the briefest moment before darting away as if you hadn't meant to look at him at all.
Silver wasn't the sort of person to pry. If there was something on your mind, he trusted you would tell him when you were ready. Still, he couldn't help quietly wondering what had you looking so conflicted over something as ordinary as a hairbrush.
By the end of the week, he had begun to suspect it wasn't the brush itself that held your attention.
The realization came so naturally that he almost felt foolish for not understanding sooner.
You wanted to ask him something.
You simply couldn't bring yourself to do it.
The opportunity finally came one peaceful evening when the two of you were alone in Ramshackle. The ghosts had wandered off somewhere upstairs, Grim had fallen asleep after eating far more tuna than anyone reasonably should, and the old dorm had settled into an unusual, comforting silence. Warm light spilled through the windows as the sun began its slow descent, bathing the worn wooden floors in gold.
Silver looked up from the book resting in his lap just in time to see you standing in front of the mirror again.
Your fingers hovered uncertainly over the brush before retreating.
A small smile tugged at his lips.
"You've been looking at that brush for several minutes."
You startled so badly your shoulders nearly touched your ears.
Silence settled between you, and somehow it only made your embarrassment worse. You fidgeted with the sleeves of your sweater, unable to meet his eyes.
Silver quietly closed his book and walked over, stopping beside you without crowding your space. His gaze flickered from your reflection to the untouched brush before returning to your face.
"Would you like me to brush your hair?"
"I..." Heat rushed to your cheeks almost instantly. "How did you know?"
His answer came with the same gentle honesty he always carried.
"But I hoped I had guessed correctly."
You laughed nervously, hiding your face in your hands.
"I know it sounds silly."
"I just..." You let out an embarrassed groan. "I know how to brush my own hair. It's not like I need help. I just thought... maybe..."
"You wanted a quiet moment together."
Silver's expression softened so completely that it made your chest ache.
"There is no need to blush," he said, picking up the brush with careful hands. "Requesting my presenceโor my handsโis never a silly thing. If this brings you comfort, I am more than happy to do it."
"You thought I would laugh?"
When you gave the tiniest nod, he looked genuinely surprised.
The single word was firm, leaving no room for doubt.
"Taking care of you is a privilege I hold very close to my heart."
"Please," he continued with a warm smile. "Sit down in front of me."
You did as he asked, settling onto the stool while Silver pulled over a chair behind you. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The quiet wasn't uncomfortable. If anything, it wrapped around the room like a warm blanket, making the old dorm feel smaller and safer than it ever had before.
Silver gently gathered your hair into his hands.
"Your hair really is beautiful," he murmured, almost to himself. "I should admit that my hands are much more accustomed to holding a sword than a hairbrush."
His reflection met yours in the mirror.
"But I promise to be as gentle as possible."
The first stroke of the brush was so careful that you barely felt it. He guided it from the top of your head all the way to the ends of your hair in one smooth motion before repeating the movement just as slowly. There wasn't the slightest tug, only the quiet whisper of bristles gliding through your hair.
"The rhythm of the brush..." Silver spoke so softly that his voice blended with the evening breeze drifting through the cracked window. "It's very peaceful, isn't it?"
"Just hearing your breathing like this makes the rest of the castle feel very far away."
You smiled without realizing it.
Another slow stroke followed.
"If I happen to pull too hard, please tell me. I'm trying to be careful, but I worry my strength might hurt you."
His hands moved with patient concentration, never rushing despite the simplicity of the task. You could tell he was paying attention to every little knot, every strand that caught against the brush. Somehow, something so ordinary had become one of the most comforting moments you'd shared together.
"It is very quiet," he said after several minutes. "Moments like this... they allow me to let my guard down."
You looked at him through the mirror.
"You always seem so calm."
"I've had a great deal of practice."
There was a small smile on his face, but it carried a trace of weariness.
"I don't often realize how tired I am until I'm with you."
Without thinking, you reached back until your hand found his wrist.
"I'm glad you can rest with me."
Silver looked down at your hand before smiling in a way so soft it almost made him look younger.
The brushing continued in comfortable silence until the motion behind you suddenly stopped.
You turned your head just enough to find his eyes closed.
A tiny smile escaped you.
Before you could say anything, his eyes opened again.
A faint blush dusted his cheeks.
"Forgive me. The warmth of the room and the scent of your hair made my eyelids heavy for a moment."
"I am awake now. I promise."
He resumed brushing, though this time he let out a quiet yawn halfway through.
"Your hair is incredibly soft," he admitted. "It feels almost like silk."
His fingers carefully gathered it over one shoulder.
"Holding it like this only reminds me how much I wish to protect you."
Your cheeks warmed all over again.
When every last tangle had disappeared, Silver set the brush aside.
"I would like to try something else."
"Lilia once taught me how to braid rope while we were preparing camp supplies."
"I don't think hair and rope are quite the same."
"No," he agreed thoughtfully. "But the idea seems similar enough."
His brow furrowed in quiet concentration as he separated your hair into three even sections. Every movement was deliberate, careful enough that you hardly felt his fingers as he slowly worked the strands together. Once or twice he paused, undoing a section that didn't look quite right before trying again with patient determination.
When he finally tied the end with your favorite ribbon, he leaned back to admire his work.
"It may not be perfect," he admitted. "How does it look?"
You ran your fingers over the braid before smiling brightly at his reflection.
The relief on his face was immediate.
After a brief pause, he reached forward to brush a loose strand away from your face, his fingertips lingering for only a heartbeat.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
His smile was gentle enough to make your heart flutter.
"If you ever want to sit like this again, you only have to ask. You never need to be shy around me."
"I don't think I will be anymore."
Neither of you stood. You simply remained where you were, the evening settling comfortably around you as the last rays of sunlight filtered through the old windows.
After a long moment, Silver spoke again, his voice little more than a whisper.
"Seeing you so relaxed makes all of my fatigue disappear."
You leaned back until your head rested lightly against his shoulder.
For just a second, he went completely still before letting out the quietest laugh.
"I was hoping," he admitted, closing his eyes with a contented sigh, "that you might do that."
The room fell silent once more, neither of you feeling any need to fill it with words. The braid rested neatly over your shoulder, tied with your ribbon, while Silver remained behind you with the brush still loosely in his hand.
Home, you realized, had never been Ramshackle Dorm itself.
It was the quiet comfort of knowing that whenever the world became too loud, too dangerous, or simply too exhausting, there would always be someone waiting to make even the smallest moments feel precious. And for Silver, there was nowhere he'd rather be than right there beside you, content to stay for as long as you wished
Jamil noticed because that was simply what he did.
Years of serving Kalim had trained him to catch the smallest shifts in someone's behavior before they ever spoke. A glance held a second too long, a sigh that sounded just a little heavier than usual, fingers hesitating over an unfinished taskโnone of it escaped him.
It was a habit he had never managed to shake.
So when you began lingering in front of the vanity every evening, your hand hovering over your hairbrush before your gaze drifted toward him, Jamil noticed immediately.
At first, he assumed you were simply tired after classes.
Night Raven College wasn't exactly known for making life easy, especially for someone without magic. Between Crowley's endless requests, Grim's constant antics, and the chaos that seemed to follow you wherever you went, exhaustion had become almost routine.
But then it happened again.
Every time, you looked as though you wanted to say something before quietly deciding against it.
He knew what it felt like to swallow your words before they ever reached your lips. Pressuring you into speaking would only make you retreat further, so instead he waited, pretending not to notice while paying attention all the same.
Eventually, your silence became answer enough.
One evening, the two of you found yourselves alone in Ramshackle after dinner. Grim had wandered off in search of another snack despite insisting he was too full to move, and the ghosts were busy arguing over some decades-old disagreement upstairs. The old dorm was unusually peaceful, filled only with the sound of rain tapping gently against the windows.
Jamil was seated at the table, sorting through a small bundle of herbs he'd brought from Scarabia, when he caught you staring at the brush resting on the vanity once again.
You reached for it, but stopped and Let your hand fall back to your side with a quiet sigh.
Without looking up from the herbs, Jamil spoke.
"You've been trying to ask me something for almost a week."
"...Have I really been that obvious?"
"To most people? Probably not."
He finally glanced in your direction, one eyebrow lifting.
Heat rushed to your face.
"I was hoping you hadn't noticed."
"I noticed on the second day."
You let out a defeated groan, burying your face in your hands.
"Please don't tell me you've known this whole time."
"I've had a pretty good idea."
He watched you for another moment before his expression softened almost imperceptibly.
"If you want me to brush your hair, just ask."
Your hands slowly lowered.
"You've been staring at that brush every evening."
He gave you a small, amused smile.
"It wasn't exactly difficult to figure out."
You looked away, suddenly finding the floor fascinating.
"I can brush my own hair."
"I just..." You rubbed the back of your neck, struggling to find the right words. "Sometimes I see couples doing little things like that for each other, and I thought... maybe it'd be nice."
Your voice grew quieter with every sentence.
"But it felt embarrassing to ask."
Jamil set the herbs aside and stood.
When he walked over, there wasn't the slightest hint of impatience in his movements. Instead, he simply picked up the brush and turned it over once in his hand.
"You've been staring at this thing for five minutes every night."
His tone was dry, though the corners of his mouth tugged upward.
"If you wanted me to do it, you could've saved yourself a week's worth of embarrassment."
You laughed despite yourself.
He nodded toward the chair.
You obeyed, sitting down while he moved behind you.
"You don't need to look so guilty," he said as he gathered your hair into one hand. "There's nothing strange about wanting a quiet moment together."
The first stroke of the brush was effortless.
"You're really good at this."
"I've had years of practice."
The answer came automatically before a faint, almost sheepish smile crossed his face.
"I suppose this is one skill I couldn't avoid learning."
His hands moved with practiced precision, carefully working through every strand without pulling even once. It was obvious he knew exactly what he was doing, yet unlike the rushed efficiency you'd imagined from someone accustomed to preparing another person every morning, his pace was unhurried.
There was no schedule to keep.
No impatient voice calling his name.
"Your hair is incredibly soft," he murmured after a while. "If I'm pulling too hard, tell me."
The brush continued its slow rhythm.
"I'm used to rushing to get someone else ready."
His voice was thoughtful now.
"I don't mind taking my time."
The steady motion of the brush, combined with the quiet rain outside, made your eyelids grow heavy.
"You look tired," Jamil observed.
"I didn't realize how much until now."
"You don't have to do anything for a while."
"Just sit still and let yourself rest."
Somehow, hearing those words from Jamil carried more weight than they would have from anyone else.
He was always doing something.
Solving everyone else's problems before they even realized they had them.
To have his complete attention focused on you like this felt almost unreal.
After several peaceful minutes, you spoke quietly.
"I hope this doesn't remind you too much of work."
For a moment, neither of you said anything.
When Jamil finally answered, his voice was gentler than you'd ever heard it.
"Don't compare this to my work."
You opened your eyes, meeting his reflection in the mirror.
He resumed brushing your hair.
"Out there, taking care of people is expected of me."
A small sigh escaped him.
Another slow pass of the brush.
"But taking care of you..."
His eyes met yours through the mirror.
"I don't do this because I have to."
His smile, though small, was genuine.
"I do it because I want to."
The room fell quiet again, but this time the silence felt warmer somehow.
"I spend most days thinking three steps ahead," Jamil admitted after a while. "Watching what I say. Planning what comes next."
His shoulders eased ever so slightly.
He looked at you with quiet affection.
"I can actually breathe."
You reached back, your fingers finding his free hand.
When every tangle had disappeared, Jamil set the brush aside and picked up one of the ribbons lying on your vanity.
"You usually wear your hair braided, don't you?"
He divided your hair into even sections with the same practiced confidence he'd shown while brushing it. His fingers moved deftly, weaving each strand together into a neat, intricate braid that was somehow even prettier than the ones you usually managed yourself.
"You've definitely done this before."
"Only a few hundred times."
He tied the ribbon securely before smoothing one last loose strand into place.
You looked at your reflection, smiling immediately.
You turned just enough to look up at him.
"You make it look perfect."
For a brief second, genuine surprise crossed his face before he looked away with a quiet huff.
"You really don't know how to take a compliment without giving one back, do you?"
The fondness in his voice completely undermined the complaint.
He reached out, brushing a stray strand away from your face before his hand lingered lightly against your cheek.
"If you want moments like this again," he said quietly, "just tell me."
His thumb brushed gently across your skin.
"You never have to feel embarrassed asking."
You smiled, leaning into his touch without thinking.
A comfortable silence settled between you once more as rain continued to patter against the windows. Neither of you seemed eager to move, content to simply enjoy the rare stillness.
Jamil looked down at you, his expression softer than the guarded mask he wore around almost everyone else.
"Life gets... busy around us."
"So let's keep making time for this."
His hand slipped from your cheek only to intertwine your fingers with his.
"Just quiet moments between us."
His lips curved into one last gentle smile.
For the first time that day, neither of you had anywhere else to be, and for Jamil, thatย simple, peaceful moment spent caring for the person he loved felt less like another responsibility and more like the kind of home he'd been searching for all along.
Jade noticed long before you ever gathered the courage to ask.
It started with something so subtle that anyone else would have overlooked it. Every time the two of you spent a quiet afternoon together in Ramshackle, your eyes would inevitably drift toward the hairbrush sitting on your vanity. You never picked it up immediately. Instead, you'd stare at it for a few lingering seconds before glancing at him, only to quickly look away when you realized he might catch you.
The first time, Jade thought little of it.
The third time, he grew curious.
By the sixth, he already knew.
You wanted him to brush your hair.
Not because you needed help. He had watched you braid it countless mornings before class with practiced ease. No, this was something else entirely. A quiet wish you couldn't quite bring yourself to voice, tucked away beneath layers of embarrassment.
He found it utterly adorable.
Jade had always considered himself a patient man. There was no need to corner you into confessing something that clearly made you flustered. Instead, he simply waited, observing with the same careful attention he devoted to everything he found interesting.
Eventually, he decided you had suffered enough.
The opportunity arrived on an unusually peaceful afternoon. Floyd had wandered off in search of entertainment elsewhere, Azul had buried himself beneath another mountain of paperwork, and Ramshackle was blissfully quiet save for the occasional creak of the old building settling around you.
You sat at your vanity, absentmindedly staring at the brush once again.
Jade looked up from the book resting in his lap, smiling to himself.
"My, you are staring rather intently at that brush."
His voice carried its usual pleasant politeness, though the knowing gleam in his eyes made your face immediately warm.
"I merely wondered if something was troubling you."
"It isn't troubling exactly..."
You looked everywhere except at him.
The words caught in your throat.
Jade closed his book with quiet finality before standing. His footsteps were measured as always, stopping behind your chair with enough distance that you never felt crowded.
"If your arms are feeling fatigued," he said pleasantly, picking up the brush before you could protest, "you know you only have to ask."
He gently rested a hand against the back of the chair.
"Allow me the honor of tending to your hair."
"You've known this whole time?"
"I believe your expression has answered that question for me."
A tiny groan escaped you as you covered your burning face.
"Oh, this is so embarrassing..."
"There is no need to look so terribly embarrassed."
His laugh was soft, almost melodic.
"Did you truly believe I would find such a request silly?"
"I find it rather charming."
You peeked through your fingers just in time to see his smile soften into something unexpectedly warm.
"In fact..." he murmured, "...I was rather hoping you would ask."
"I just wanted..." You fidgeted with the hem of your sweater. "One of those quiet moments couples have, I guess. It sounded nice."
His answer came without hesitation.
"A wonderfully sweet notion, if I may say so."
You slowly lowered your hands.
"So... you really don't mind?"
His gloved fingers brushed yours as he accepted the hairbrush.
His voice lowered into something almost soothing.
"Sit comfortably, and allow me to take care of the rest."
You obeyed without another word.
Jade stood behind you, gathering your hair with remarkable gentleness. You had expected his hands to feel cool, but instead they were pleasantly warm as they separated each section with practiced precision.
The first stroke of the brush surprised you.
There wasn't the slightest tug.
The bristles glided through your hair so smoothly that you barely noticed the movement.
"You've done this before," you murmured.
His answer was deliberately vague.
"I've always believed that anything worth doing deserves one's full attention."
The brush continued its slow, steady rhythm.
"I must admit," he said after a comfortable silence settled between you, "seeing you this flustered has been quite entertaining."
"I knew teasing was coming."
You caught his reflection smiling.
"You wanted a quiet, domestic moment?"
Your cheeks immediately grew warmer.
"If you continue hiding your face every few moments, however, I won't be able to admire how lovely you look."
Despite the teasing, his touch never faltered. Every stroke remained impossibly careful, his fingers gently detangling any stubborn knots before the brush reached them. It struck you how strange the contrast was. These were hands capable of frightening strength, hands that could wield magic without hesitation.
Yet now they handled something as delicate as your hair with unwavering patience.
"I always find contrasts fascinating," Jade said suddenly.
"You appear wonderfully relaxed."
His smile became almost imperceptible.
"Your shoulders have lowered. Your breathing has slowed considerably."
The brush slid through your hair again.
"You've stopped fidgeting."
"...You noticed all that?"
For some reason, instead of making you nervous, those words filled you with warmth.
He really had been paying attention.
Not to gather information.
Simply because it was you.
Silence settled once more, broken only by the soft whisper of the brush moving through your hair.
Eventually Jade set the brush aside, his fingers carefully separating your hair into sections.
"You enjoy braids, don't you?"
His movements became even more meticulous as he began weaving each strand together. Watching his reflection in the mirror, you could see the quiet concentration in his expression. Every crossover was perfectly even, every strand neatly smoothed before he continued.
"You make it look effortless."
"I've had practice with tasks requiring dexterity."
There was undoubtedly more to that answer than he intended to reveal.
Within a few minutes, he secured the finished braid with the ribbon you'd left beside the brush.
He gently adjusted one loose strand before stepping back.
"I believe this suits you rather well."
You turned toward the mirror, your eyes widening.
The braid was neat, elegant, and exactly how you usually wore it.
"I'm pleased you approve."
"No," you corrected, smiling up at him. "You made it beautiful."
For just a fraction of a second, genuine surprise flickered across Jade's face before his usual composed smile returned.
He reached down, carefully brushing a stray lock behind your ear before letting his fingers linger briefly against your cheek.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
"For trusting me enough to indulge such a simple wish."
His thumb brushed lightly against your skin before falling away.
"Domestic moments like these are often overlooked."
His smile became gentler than you'd seen all afternoon.
"I think they're rather precious."
Before you could answer, he leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against the crown of your head.
It was so unexpected that you froze.
When he pulled back, amusement danced in his golden eyes.
"You've become quite red."
"...Whose fault do you think that is?"
"I couldn't possibly imagine."
You laughed despite yourself, the sound filling the quiet room.
Jade's smile softened at the sound.
There it was againโthat nearly imperceptible warmth that only ever seemed to appear when the two of you were alone.
"If you ever find yourself staring at that brush again," he said, offering you his hand as you stood, "I would much prefer you simply tell me."
His fingers intertwined naturally with yours.
"You needn't hide something so sweet from me."
His smile widened ever so slightly.
He lifted your joined hands just enough to press a gentle kiss across your knuckles.
"...being entrusted with your quietest wishes is a privilege I have no intention of taking for granted."
