Honkai Star: Rail x Reader Oneshots

Braiding Hair | Dan Heng (Imbibitor Lunae) x Reader

The room is bathed in the soft glow of distant stars, their light filtering through the curtains and illuminating Dan Heng's silhouette. He sits in front of you, his back straight yet relaxed, long black and teal hair cascading down like a river over his shoulders. You reach out tentatively, fingers brushing the strands, feeling the subtle warmth radiating from him. He closes his eyes, leaning ever so slightly into your touch, though his expression remains as composed as ever.

"Are you sure you don’t mind?” you ask, voice a gentle murmur in the quiet.

He doesn’t turn, but you catch the slight lift at the corners of his mouth. "If I minded, I wouldn’t have let you anywhere near my hair." he replies, his tone dry but soft. There’s a faint vulnerability in his voice, a rare crack in the stoic armor he always wears.

As you begin, you gently separate his hair into sections, working with a delicate precision to respect both the silkiness of his hair and the intimacy of the moment. The sensation of your fingers threading through each lock feels like a gentle rhythm, something ancient and soothing, like waves against the shore.

“Does this remind you of anything?” you ask, curious if he’s had his hair braided in the past, perhaps in some distant memory of his life as Imbibitor Lunae.

For a moment, he’s quiet. When he finally speaks, his voice is softer, his guardedness just a little less present. "There was a time… long ago. When braiding hair was a part of ceremony. But it wasn’t a memory of peace," he murmurs, a faint sadness threading through his words. “I remember… friends. Comrades. We were preparing for battle. For them, braiding meant unity, a promise to stand together…”

You’re quiet, fingers still working through his hair but gentler now, as if honoring the weight of his memories. "Maybe this can be different,” you offer, “A new memory. Just the two of us. No battles, no promises to keep. Just… here.”

The suggestion makes him go still for a moment. He’s processing, you can tell, but you don’t rush him. Instead, you weave the braid with quiet care, each motion soothing and unhurried. Your hands pause, lingering for just a moment on his shoulder. The silence between you feels thick with unspoken words, emotions caught somewhere between his past and this fragile moment.

When you finish, you let your hand linger against the nape of his neck, gently adjusting the braid. “There," you murmur, leaning forward just slightly. "I think it suits you."

Dan Heng finally turns to look at you, his vivid green eyes catching the low light, soft but intense. His expression, usually so guarded, is something else now—something open, vulnerable. You can see the barest hint of a smile, the gratitude in his gaze.

“Thank you.” he whispers, his hand moving to cover yours for a fleeting moment before he lets go.