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primaviva · 1 year ago

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baby hair princess; miles morales

featuring. miles g. morales x latina!reader

synopsis. you stumble upon miles in a state of frustration, aggressively tugging at his hair, and instinctively, you step in to offer your assistance. however, you make one specific request in return for your help—a favor you hope miles will grant you: doing his edges.

warnings. none just pure fluff and sassy miles !! for my not boricua readers, pretty sure the only word really different is “pinche” for hairpin (art credit: snoopminnie)

“boy, if you don’t stop tryna run away-”

miles instinctively moved backward, evading your attempt to grab hold of him and keep him still. his resilience and stubbornness were evident, leaving you to wonder if these were qualities he had always possessed.

typically, miles relied on his mother for assistance with his hair, including styling and maintenance. however, his stubborn streak had prompted him to take matters into his own hands, gradually attempting to style his own hair. yet, he had not yet mastered the art of caring for his own locks, which led to the predicament you found yourselves in.

within the confines of the shower, miles followed his usual routine. he delicately massaged the hair product into his strands, employed the appropriate brushes, and adhered to the techniques he had learned for his specific hair texture.

however, patience continued to elude him when it came to detangling and combing. convinced that knots were of little consequence, he clung to that belief until today, when the knots seemed to wage a battle of their own. miles understood that detangling in the shower typically facilitated the process for curly hair, which only added to his confusion when the water failed to alleviate the difficulty. frustration took hold, compelling him to forcefully yank the comb through his tightly coiled curls.

his efforts proved disastrous.

as the comb became entangled in his hair, his arm persisted in its pulling motion, resulting in a swift and painful injury to his wrist.

usually, styling his hair did not consume much time, and earlier that morning, he had told you that you could pull up in the afternoon. however, unbeknownst to him at the moment, senora rio had allowed you entry into his room, recognizing the close bond you shared with the morales family. when you entered, you observed miles struggling to maintain his grip on the comb, his pride, dignity, and remnants of masculinity on display.

and so, the scene unfolded with you and miles' situation as he scrambled to cover his head. your intentions were pure, simply attempting to assist miles in combing his own hair. however, miles, true to his stubborn nature, resisted your efforts with the tenacity of a pitbull, determined to maintain control over his own grooming routine and feelings of embarrassment.

“this is not a telenovela with your dramatic ass so leave the theatrics for english class,” you swiftly retorted, a hint of exasperation in your voice as your hands instinctively found their place on your hips. “take the bonnet off.”

you gracefully settled onto the edge of miles' bed, the mattress yielding beneath the gentle pressure of your legs. the soft fabric of the bedspread caressed your skin as you positioned yourself on your knees beside him, creating an intimate proximity.

with an audible groan, miles met your determined gaze, his eyes rolling in a display of stubborn defiance. the atmosphere crackled with a mixture of frustration and resistance.

"i can do this myself," miles declared, his tone lacking the reassurance he intended. with an abrupt motion, he forcefully yanked the comb through the tangled strands of hair, the sound of resistance echoing in the room. the sensation of hair being torn from the comb sent a shiver down your spine, a visceral reminder of the struggle at hand.

his words hung in the air, a plea masked as a command. "you didn't see anything," he insisted, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability beneath the surface. the weight of his unspoken plea lingered, an unspoken request for understanding and discretion. “understand?”

you regarded him with a stoic expression, your features carefully neutral. "i understand that you're in need of some serious assistance," you stated, your voice devoid of inflection. as you took a deliberate step closer, an electric wave of nerves filled the air he breathed. lookin’ like them kids that get embarrassed by they mama on facebook live for misbehaving. let me help, te suplico por favor.”

extending your hand, your fingertips grazed the edge of the purple bonnet, the fabric cool and smooth against your skin. locking eyes with him, you held his gaze, ensuring that miles focused solely on your expression. with deliberate intent, you offered him a gentle smile, a silent reassurance that your intentions were rooted in love and support. it was a subtle gesture, one that conveyed your unwavering commitment to help him through this, especially since you had always excelled in the art of hairstyling.

miles' eyes remained fixated on you, their intensity betraying a roiling mix of emotions. the heat of embarrassment colored his cheeks, suffusing his face with a noticeable flush.

"fine, i'm letting you help, but only because i can't get the knot out," he conceded, defeat lacing his words.

a mischievous smirk stretched across your face, a subtle display of triumph at his reluctant surrender. with a fluid motion, you maneuvered yourself behind him, a slight shiver of anticipation dancing along your spine. as you sat up, your hands found their place on his shoulders, offering physical support.

the proximity between you was palpable, each breath shared in the confined space. your head tilted to the side, and your words grazed his ear, their gentle cadence resonating against his skin. a tingling sensation rippled down his neck, a delightful shiver provoked by the intimacy of your closeness.

surprise mingled with satisfaction as you observed the ease with which he acquiesced. normally, miles would put up a greater fight, but the direness of his situation was evident at a glance. you couldn't help but notice that he was attempting to comb his hair dry—dryer than his texts, even.

"you're doing this because i am your boyfriend and you care. not out of pity, okay?" he stated, his words carrying a hint of self-assurance that seemed more like an attempt to convince himself rather than you.

you responded with a nonchalant hum, acknowledging his statement without verbal confirmation. your gaze remained fixed on his hair, carefully examining it without yet laying your hands on it, teasing the anticipation in the air.

restless fidgeting overtook miles as he squirmed under the weight of your scrutiny, a palpable sense of judgment lingering in his mind. the passing seconds stretched into what felt like agonizingly long minutes, further heightening his humiliation in his eyes.

"just don't laugh," miles demanded, his plea inadvertently causing you to stifle a giggle that bubbled up uncontrollably.

"i can't promise that," you replied, laughter still tugging at your words.

with determination, you began to gently pull at his hair, your fingers seeking out the knotted areas hidden within. the absence of matting provided a small relief, knowing that the problem was limited to knots alone. you pulled back his hair, carefully inspecting the sides, the back, and even searching for any residue or soap that may have clung to his roots.

curiosity flickered in his eyes as he glanced back at you, his voice betraying a hint of impatience. "how long is this going to take?"

with a playful yet assertive response, you couldn't help but let a touch of sass color your words. "stop acting like a diva," you retorted, the hint of amusement evident in your tone. "it's gonna take as long as it needs to, especially since you been putting your hands on your hair like you chrisean rock. now, turn around."

taking charge, you gently guided his head away from you, redirecting his gaze back to his lap with a firm yet tender touch of your hands. with your focus regained, you returned to the task at hand, your fingertips lightly exploring and assessing the core areas that harbored the most stubborn tangles. each delicate touch was a sensory exploration, searching for the knots that required the most meticulous attention.

with a curious and investigative spirit, you allowed your fingers to delve deeper into his hair, purposefully seeking the sensation of his scalp beneath your touch. it was a tactile exploration, a quest to uncover any remnants of shampoo buildup or dandruff that may have intertwined with the knots.

as you did so, miles let out a deep sigh. you sensed his annoyance, understanding that your playful banter and sassy remarks could sometimes test his patience. but you both knew that the exchange of playful banter and sass was a known part of your relationship—a back-and-forth dance you both engaged in. bickering was woven into the fabric of your relationship, something you both embraced. he, in your words, was the "leader of the sassy man apocalypse," despite his inevitable protestations as any self-respecting sassy man would. however, this particular sigh carried a different meaning.

as your fingers traversed through his damp curls, a subtle shudder coursed through his body, reverberating in the sanctuary of your hold. "that feels good, ma," he breathed out, the admission slipping from his lips almost unconsciously.

stunned by his unexpected confession, you momentarily paused, your fingertips suspended in their exploration. the weight of his words settled upon you, a surprising revelation that bypassed your awareness.

"really?" you questioned, surprise laced in your voice. tentatively, you allowed your fingers to resume their gentle exploration, cautiously delving deeper into his hair, trying to recreate whatever he let slip from how good you seemed to be.

the electrifying sensation of your fingers weaving through his hair was potent enough to derail his train of thought. a feeling of bliss surged through him, coaxing his eyes to flutter shut, surrendering to the pleasure that pulsed from your touch. his head found a resting place in your capable hands, a gesture of trust and vulnerability as you continued your ministries.

witnessing the effect you had on him, satisfaction rippled through your being; it was almost as if you physically felt your ego boost and the arrogance that swelled within you. the tension in his muscles melted away, dissipating into the air, as a sheepish smile tugged at his lips. it was a physical manifestation of the pleasure and relaxation that enveloped him, a silent testament to his peaceful state.

in that fleeting moment, a pang of guilt grazed the edges of your conscience.

you almost felt bad for knowing that you were about to disrupt this serene moment for miles.

almost.

as you skillfully worked your hands through his hair, a contented hum escaped his lips, affirming your success. a mischievous smirk played across your face, well aware of the satisfaction you had brought him.

"well, nice you enjoyed it while it lasted," you sarcastically remarked, abruptly halting your ministrations. "because from this point forward, it's going to be red eyes and shaking," you teased, alluding to the potential discomfort of untangling knots in his hair.

the moment you ceased massaging him, he remained blissfully unaware, lost in the depths of relaxation. his eyes remained closed, oblivious to your smirk. however, at the mention of the word “knots,” his eyes fluttered open, nerves piqued. he observed your preparations, mild concern evident in his gaze.

"wait, what do you mean-" miles began to question, but before he could finish his sentence, you deftly dragged your fingers down through the knots at a fast pace, eliciting a wince of discomfort from him.

a deep chuckle escaped you, a private amusement at the reaction you had provoked. using your hand as a comb, you carefully untangle the knots in that particular section, providing him with a subtle reminder of the purpose behind your actions.

"that's exactly what i mean," you replied, your tone laced with playful satisfaction.

you turned your attention to his cómoda, scanning the array of hair products with your eyes, searching for the water bottle that would serve as the catalyst for dampening his hair. each spritz would prepare his curls for the upcoming detangling process.

despite the discomfort he felt, he mustered his best effort to endure the pain, determined to ignore the laughter that escaped your lips. his gaze followed your movements as you delved into his drawers and retrieved the spray.

"what are you doin’?" miles inquired, his voice carrying a hint of shakiness, still recovering from the sting inflicted upon him moments ago. yet, he couldn't tear his eyes away from you, observing your unwavering focus on his hair.

reading his anticipation, you knew he anticipated the impending combing with a mixture of dread and curiosity, fully aware of the potential discomfort it would bring.

"necesitas mojarte el cabello," you stated, placing a gentle hand on his jaw, tilting his head slightly to ensure thorough coverage with the spray. "y cus’ of that, i'm spraying the shit out of it because your whole head dried during that hour-long battle where your hair was kicking your own ass, and you lost miserably. so, forgive me if i find it a lil’ funny that you're treating me like an inexperienced stylist, considering the miracle i'm performing right now."

with the final sprays, you set the water bottle down, keeping it within reach in case individual strands require extra attention during the detangling process.

placing the spray in the hands of his frog build-a-bear plush, memories of your mall date resurfaced. you had convinced miles to get matching frogs, despite his initial reservations. seeing his green frog nestled among his deep black covers, contrasting with your pink one, brought a genuine giggle to your lips. your imagination wandered, picturing miles donning a purple bonnet, cuddling the little plush as he slept.

as you playfully turned him to spray different sections of his hair, he fought back a laugh, savoring the lightheartedness of the moment. he felt a deep sense of gratitude for your assistance and admired the care you took as you continued to spray his locks. each mist of water touched his hair, eliciting a subtle coolness and leaving a faint scent in the air. he kept his eyes closed, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks out of a mix of appreciation and mild embarrassment.

when the spraying finally ceased, he opened his eyes, curious to assess the state of his hair. he couldn't help but chuckle lightly at your comment, attempting to defend himself. "i didn't lose that hard," he protested playfully.

amused, you responded with a teasing tone, "if having a comb stuck in your hair isn't losing to you, then i don't know what to tell you, mi rey."

a sigh escaped his lips, accompanied by a raspy chuckle, his laughter mingling with the sound of the running water. it was another blow to his ego, a reminder of your witty banter that often left him both amused and challenged.

you reached for a nearby towel, presumably the one that had once rested on his neck, and deftly adjusted it over the shoulders of his white tank. this thoughtful gesture ensured that his back remained dry, sparing him any discomfort.

glancing back at the array of hair products, you carefully selected a detangling spray, knowing it would help soften his hair. the chaotic tangle of strands, a result of miles' frustrated attempts at untangling, called for some extra care and attention.

"mí rey," he softly repeated to himself, savoring the endearing nickname. although it was said in jest, it warmed miles' heart whenever you called him that. a smile spread across his face as he gazed at you with wide, affectionate doe eyes. "you're enjoying this too much, aren't you?" he questioned, his glance filled with both amusement and adoration.

as you carefully draped the towel over him, creating a barrier to protect his back, miles couldn't help but notice the tenderness with which you carried out this simple act. it touched a chord within him, a gentle reminder of your thoughtfulness. he found himself captivated, his eyes fixed on you, appreciating not only your efforts but also the person you were.

"of course i am," you responded, a playful smile gracing your lips. "bullying men is fun," you added sarcastically, the mischievous glimmer in your eyes betraying your lighthearted intent.

with the detangling spray in hand, you began to work your magic on miles' hair. each spritz released a fine mist that enveloped his curls, saturating them with the product. the light-catching droplets bestowed a subtle and enticing shine upon his locks. taking a moment, you sprayed some of the product onto your palm, rubbing it between your hands to ensure even distribution, before gently scrunching his hair, coaxing the detangling spray deeper into the strands.

"ready?" you asked, giving him a moment to prepare himself. the anticipation hung in the air as he readied himself for the untangling process, knowing that your skilled hands would soon navigate through the intricate maze of his hair.

a soft giggle escaped his lips at your playful bullying comment, finding it endearing rather than offensive. his eyes remained fixated on you as you meticulously sprayed his hair, the mist enveloping his senses. nodding in response to your question, a hint of wariness flickered in his gaze, unsure of what awaited him in the next moments.

"i'm ready, amor. just don't pull too hard, alright?" he requested, his voice carrying a note of vulnerability and trust.

with a reassuring smile, you replied, "i'll be gentle," your words offering the comfort he longed for. the weight of his anticipation lifted slightly, replaced by a glimmer of hope that you would navigate this challenge with care.

as your fingers began their task of untangling his hair, the knots seemed to have woven themselves into a formidable labyrinth within his curls. yet, you remained undeterred, driven by a determination to restore order and softness to the hair he loved almost as much as you.

again, almost.

his hair resisted your touch, each knot presenting a unique challenge. he emitted sounds of mild discomfort, a testament to the sensitivity of his scalp and his desire to endure the process without feeling embarrassed. your heart swelled with tenderness as you witnessed his effort to maintain composure in front of you, further igniting your resolve to handle his hair with utmost gentleness.

you embarked on the task of unraveling the knots, starting from the bottom where the tangles were most stubborn. with your fingers as your gentle guides, you skillfully released the friction between neighboring sections of hair, diligently working your way from the base to the crown. the surface-level knots surrendered to your patient touch, as you meticulously separated each strand with care. however, as you traversed his hair, it became apparent that the majority of the knots ran deeper, demanding a more thorough approach than initially anticipated. the need for a brush became imminent sooner than expected.

delicately, you began to divide his hair into six distinct sections, methodically parting each portion to facilitate focused attention. "dame un pinche," you commanded miles, and he silently complied, passing you a bag of hairpins and clips. a glimpse into his world, the assortment of cute-colored pins and clips hinted at their sentimental value, likely passed down from his mother.

with miles holding the bag for you, your fingers danced above the contents, contemplating the best choice. after careful consideration, you selected five firm metal clips, their purpose clear in your mind. as you divided his hair into the necessary sections, you secured each one with the clips, fashioning little buns that held the strands aloft. this strategic maneuver ensured that the rest of his hair remained out of both of your ways, sparing him the annoyance of wet locks clinging to his face or water trickling down his neck longer than necessary. you understood his preference for a fuss-free styling experience, catering to his needs. after all, he is your boyfriend.

equipped with a wide-toothed comb and the spray bottle in hand, you prepared the hair once more by saturating it with a fine mist. the water droplets danced upon his strands, awakening them with renewed moisture. the stage was set for the comb to work its magic.

starting from the tips, you delicately guided the comb through his hair, gradually making your way towards the middle and then the top. with one hand, you held his hair in place, providing stability as you applied a bit more force, determined to conquer the stubborn knots that lingered.

a hushed "ouch" escaped miles' lips, his eyes instinctively fluttering shut in response to the fleeting discomfort. sensing his reaction, you paused your combing and turned your head to face him.

"cállate! you tender-headed baby, i ain’t even pulling that hard," you reprimanded, a hint of exasperation lacing your words. the desire to avoid his dramatics for the remainder of the thirty minutes propelled your stern response.

"ight," he muttered under his breath, bitterness coating his tone.

unfazed by the interruption, you had already completed the first section while he voiced his complaints. with the hair still saturated, you gave it one last thorough brush, observing with satisfaction that the knots had vanished, leaving behind tightly coiled curls ready to bounce back to their full glory. the comb glided effortlessly through the now smooth strands, the sound of its gentle strokes harmonizing with the sigh of relief that escaped both of you.

with precision and determination, you continued your task, skillfully releasing the clip from the neighboring bun of hair you had previously created. as you secured it in a new bun, the section was neatly isolated, awaiting its turn to be untangled. following the same method as before, you began from the bottom, working your way to the middle and then the top, unraveling the knots with practiced finesse. the repetitive yet rhythmic motion of your combing became almost meditative, a soothing cadence that echoed in the small room.

yet, as you approached the crown of his head, meticulously brushing downward to release any stubborn knots near his scalp, a delightful surprise caught your attention. delicate strands of hair, small and wispy, dared to defy the boundaries of the meticulously sectioned locks. they sprouted from the front area of his face, cheekily eluding confinement within their designated sections. a knowing smile crept upon your lips, for you knew they were baby hairs—duh! you had some of your own along with others that you either slicked back or styled with a touch of eco gel.

however, there was something distinctly enchanting about miles' baby hairs. while they retained their petite stature, you couldn't help but marvel at their surprising length. they cascaded delicately, framing his forehead in a regal manner that evoked images of princesses gracing the grandest of pageants. these miniature strands possessed an ethereal quality, as if they held a secret whispered only to those who took the time to observe.

does miles have princess worthy baby hairs? you couldn't help but notice his long, beautiful lashes one day while cuddling. in a moment of hope, you jokingly asked to do his makeup and apply mascara, but he looked at you with a bewildered expression. he had been blessed with naturally striking features, and it made you feel a twinge of envy—even with him being a man. however, a mischievous idea suddenly popped into your head, and a wicked smile formed on your lips.

with a sense of accomplishment, you declare, "all done," as you delicately remove the clips, allowing the sections of detangled hair to cascade down, revealing his now liberated curls. your fingertips instinctively caress his tresses, relishing in their newfound freedom. "do you want two braids as always?" you inquired.

he feels the gentle touch of your fingers running through his hair, a comforting sensation that brings a wider smile to his lips. in response to your question, he nods, affirming his desire for the familiar twin braids.

"por supuesto, bebé. two braids, just like always," miles responds, settling his head comfortably on your lap, ready to surrender to your skilled hands.

the endearment he uses warms your chest, evoking a tender, fuzzy feeling that envelops you. "como tú quieras," you reply, honoring his request.

taking hold of a nearby comb, you flip it to its sharp end, aligning it with his forehead to ensure a symmetrical part. carefully choosing a starting point, you use the opposite side of the comb to create a clean divide, guiding it down the center of his head. to refine the symmetry, you rise slightly above him, positioning yourself on your knees, hovering with precision. with the comb, you deftly lift sections of hair from the part and sweep them to either side, harmonizing the flow of his locks.

once satisfied with the balance, you employ the original part to separate his hair into two equally thick halves. one side is gently draped over his shoulder, allowing you unobstructed access to work. with practiced fingers, you divide each braid-to-be into three distinct sections, intertwining them skillfully, creating a seamless braid that reflects your meticulous handiwork.

he closes his eyes, surrendering to the soothing rhythm of your braiding technique. a blissful sigh escapes his lips, the tension melting away as the sensation of your touch envelops him—he enjoys having you as his own personal hairstylist.

"gracias, mami," miles murmurs, his head turning slightly to meet your gaze, a genuine smile gracing his lips.

"you don't have to thank me," you assure him, focusing your attention on the other side of his hair now that one braid is complete. with practiced ease, your nimble fingers continue their dance, skillfully weaving each strand. "but... there is one way you can thank me."

intrigued, he maintains silence, his curiosity piqued by the mischievous tone in your voice. he remains seated, patiently awaiting the revelation, his eyes fixed on your reflection in the distant mirror. a sheepish smile plays at the corners of his mouth as he eagerly anticipates your next move.

"and what would that be?" miles questions, his tone curious.

rather than answering, you choose to maintain silence, your focus shifting to the final touches of his second braid. stepping away from the bed, you position yourself in front of him, cupping his face in your hands, your touch tender and affectionate.

“y’know miles, i never noticed what beautiful baby hairs you have…” you remark, a subtle segue into your true intentions, a rogue glint in your eyes.

his eyebrow began to slowly raise at how vague your demeanor was. “and? okay little red riding hood. ‘what big teeth you have, abuela’ head ass.”

you fixated your gaze on him, eyes widening in surprise at his comment, struggling to maintain a serious expression despite the humorous undertone. suppressing a laugh that threatened to escape, you attempted to project an air of seriousness.

"you think you're funny, huh?" you retort, your voice carrying a stern tone as you cross your arms over your chest, attempting to conceal any hint of amusement.

a low laugh escapes his lips, the sound resonating with a raspy quality. "oh, i'm hilarious," he corrects, his half-lidded eyes meeting yours, a mischievous smirk gracing his face. it was evident that he took delight in teasing and playfully testing your composure. it was more than a delight, he loved it.

you clench your teeth, a tinge of bitterness surfacing as you lick your lips, a subtle gesture of frustration mixed with a hint of intrigue. the playful banter between the two of you created a dance you both enjoyed, even in moments like these.

“it’s so funny you say that because i know a man with baby hairs longer than ella mais’ is not talking to me,” you yelled back as a rebuttal.

miles found himself at a loss for words, his mouth slightly agape as he stared at you in astonishment. your bold response had caught him off guard, revealing a side of you with a sharp wit that he hadn't fully expected. he couldn't help but respect your ability to hold your ground. with curiosity etched on his face, he continued to observe, wondering where this playful exchange would lead. he knew you wanted to style his baby hairs, but the question lingered: just how far would you take it? could he trust you with something so personal? miles could only wait and see.

arms crossed, he maintained a composed stance as he awaited your response. "you've got some bite to you. what happened to being gentle?" he questioned, a hint of amusement lacing his words.

you sighed, understanding that you needed to convince him. taking his hands into your own, you cupped them lovingly, locking eyes with him. the intensity of your gaze was difficult to resist.

"miles, pretty pretty please, let me style your edges," you pleaded, your eyes employing the irresistible charm of puppy dog eyes. you knew he couldn't refuse such a request.

however, to your surprise, he did refuse.

"edges? nah, you trippin’," he repeated to himself, his shock at such an ask evident as his mouth fell open slightly and his eyes widened. miles attempted to free his hand from your grasp, but you held on firmly.

at that moment, you realized there was no other choice but to resort to your final tactic. you brought his hands closer to your chest, leaning down to kiss him gently. the touch of your lips against his was tender, a moment of surprise that slowly transformed into shared synchronization.

as you pulled away, your eyes met his once again, filled with a pleading expression, silently asking permission to style his edges. "please?" you repeated.

the weight of your intimate kiss lingered in the air, leaving miles feeling captivated and unable to deny you any longer. the sensation of your lips meeting his had transported him to a realm of enchantment, where time seemed to stand still. as you leaned away, a flicker of disappointment crossed his face, longing for more of the intimate connection you had just shared. however, your irresistible gaze and the allure in your eyes made it impossible for him to utter the word "no."

his eyes fixated on your hand, realizing that he had been defeated by your charm. his arms dropped limply to his sides as he simply stared at you, a mix of surrender and anticipation coursing through him.

"fine, you win," miles admitted, a sense of defeat in his voice.

a smile spread across your face as you jumped up, radiating joy. "you're the best boyfriend," you exclaimed, wrapping him in a tight hug before playfully springing off his lap. with determination, you rummaged through the cabinets of his cómoda, searching for the holy grail—his eco gel.

"yeah, yeah," miles mumbled, his smile concealed but unmistakably present. as your arms enveloped him in an embrace, he savored the warmth and comfort they provided.

knowing that he slicked his hair back, you were confident he had a brush somewhere. your persistence paid off as you soon discovered the gel amidst your exploration. as you gathered all the necessary items in front of you—the gel, the 3-in-1 edge brush, and your trusty spray bottle.

a whisper escaped your lips, revealing your anticipation. "you don't know how long i've waited for this moment," you murmured, standing before him with the array of products, excitement emanating from every fiber of your being.

"go crazy,” miles added, giving you the green light. the gel in your hand held the power to transform his hair at your will, and he willingly surrendered himself to your creative freedom. his gaze remained fixed on you, as if he could anticipate your every move.

"bet," you confidently responded, reaching for the comb. your determination was evident, and he knew you were about to go all out. "you already know."

approaching him, you delicately used the comb to separate the baby hairs, skillfully tucking away any excess strands and seamlessly blending them into the braids. the edges received your attention next, as you meticulously brushed and styled them, lightly misting them with water to ensure they were dampened for the gel, all the while ensuring it wouldn't touch his forehead.

repeating the process on the other side of his head, you effortlessly extracted the baby hairs, leaving behind a clean and polished look, carefully arranging the longer strands that may have become entangled in the process.

now, the moment had arrived. with a glimmer of excitement in your eyes, you eagerly picked up the gel, locking eyes with miles.

as you finally held up the gel, his eyes widened, captivated yet nervous by your ecstatic expression. he had no inkling of your forthcoming plans, and his heart raced with anticipation of what was about to happen to him, caught in the enchanting gaze you shared once again.

"this feels like when sza finally dropped shirt," you playfully remarked, closing the distance between your faces. the anticipation in the air was palpable as you dipped the bristles of the edge styler brush into the gel, then pulled it out to reveal a perfect, medium-thick coating. "prepare to radiate fabulousness."

he couldn't believe the level of dedication you were putting into this moment. "i can't wait to see this myself," he responded, his tone laced with a hint of sarcasm. "my edges gon’ be on fleek?"

you made a shushing sound with your mouth, drawing even closer to him. his hands instinctively found their way to your hips, slowly gliding up to your waist as your bodies now stood inches apart.

"what, can't hold onto your girl anymore?" miles teased, a sly smile playing on his lips. "consider it me supporting your...balance."

a natural grin spread across your face, despite your attempts to resist it, for he had that effect on you—the power to make you smile effortlessly, just by being himself.

you delicately applied the gel to his hair, savoring this moment as an image in your mind. the weight of the occasion was undeniable, as he rarely allowed you to partake in such intimate grooming rituals. as the gel made contact with his strands, you felt a cool and smooth sensation tingling against your fingertips, heightening the sensory experience.

with precise movements, you began pulling the hair out from his hairline, brushing it towards you, allowing the gel to guide and shape each strand. the rhythmic dance between your finger and his hair created a tactile symphony, showcasing your control and finesse. the subtle resistance of the hair against your touch provided feedback that you relished, further immersing you in the moment.

however, this endeavor was about more than just tending to his edges; it had to be extraordinary. you understood that this opportunity might never come again, so you were determined to make it truly memorable. a flicker of inspiration sparked within you, warming your heart and fueling your creativity. you decided to put your heart into it.

continuing the sweeping motion, your finger glided along the edges, seamlessly blending and smoothing the gel with each stroke. you repeated the process with meticulous care, moving from one hair to another, ensuring a harmonious flow. when you reached his temple, a decision took shape. you divided the hairs into two distinct sections, applying the gel as you normally would. however, instead of sweeping them to the side, you gently smoothed them down, guiding them to face each other with an overexaggerated curve. the sensation of the gel-coated strands conforming to your touch brought a sense of satisfaction that words couldn't capture.

"perfect," you whispered under your breath, affirming your accomplishment with a contented smile.

the same process awaited the other side of his face. swiftly, you dipped the tip of the brush back into the gel, ensuring a fresh and generous coat for the opposite side. with deftness, you brushed the gel-soaked bristles down to his hair, feeling the slick texture of the gel melding with the strands. carefully, you laid the hair against the side of his head, relishing the tactile connection between brush, gel, and hair.

you gracefully swooped down the last bit of hair, a sense of accomplishment washing over you. it felt surreal, almost dreamlike, to witness the transformation you had achieved. slowly, you took a step back, feeling the corners of your mouth ache from the tightness of your grin. you observed your work with a keen eye, much like a painter admiring their canvas.

"done," you declared, your voice soft yet filled with a triumphant undertone.

bending down, you retrieved your purse, unzipping it and retrieving your phone. the anticipation in miles' gaze was palpable, as he eagerly awaited your permission to glance at the mirror.

"can i see the results?" he asked impatiently, his curiosity getting the better of him.

emerging from the floor, you tilted your head and regarded him with a mischievous glint in your eyes. "nah, you gotta wait. this photo i'm about to take of you comes first," you spoke, relishing the suspense.

miles' face transformed into a slight pout at your words, the anticipation clear in his expression. you swiped right on your phone, opening the camera app, and positioned the focus on miles' face. the act of preparing to capture the moment added to the unreal experience, as you adjusted the settings and framed the shot.

"well, hurry up then cus’ i'm tryna see this masterpiece," miles urged, attempting to rush you. though he tried to conceal it, his eagerness to see your handiwork was unmistakable.

you couldn't help but notice that, despite his efforts to hide it, miles genuinely appreciated the care you put into styling his hair, just as he enjoyed when you attended to his skincare and other personal grooming routines. he couldn't deny that it made him feel special, particularly when it was you who took the time and effort to do it.

you shot him a cold, sidelong glance, effectively silencing his complaints.

"smile," you commanded with authority, expecting compliance. miles obliged with a soft smirk, clearly relishing the attention. however, this response irked you.

"hey, don't make this look like those instagram reels where them lash techs make their clients cry with crushed red eyes from the weight of them five pound lashes," you warned, your irritation seeping into your words. "i did you good, so don't make me repeat myself when i say smile."

your firm tone conveyed your insistence on capturing a genuine smile, free from any depressed or forced expressions.

miles adjusted himself, fixing his posture up straight and doing a cute little smile only a facebook mom could get out of their son.

“que lindo,” you added as your thumb kept tapping the photo button repeatedly, capturing as many shots as you could. it was an opportunity you had to seize.

once satisfied, you decided it was time. “okay,” you spoke as you went up on your tippy toes to put your hands over his eyes, wanting to do a surprise reveal. “you can look now.”

miles leaned down a little, lowering his tall figure to your height to make it easier for you to cover his eyes. you moved forward while still covering his eyes, urging him to follow as you propped him in front of the mirror.

you smiled to yourself as you looked at him through the reflection before without warning moving your hands down and revealing his reflection.

his mouth was agape as his eyes widened slightly. there were his edges, laid to perfection. you did them just as most looked, with graceful swoops to the side that perfectly blended to his braids. but there was a subtle difference at his temples, one that you did specifically for him. you felt a warm sensation in your abdomen as the butterflies fluttered against your stomach as you watched his lips curl into a knowing smirk followed by a chuckle. it was the hearts that got him. symmetrical to each side you had given him little hearts made from his baby hairs with the eco gel.

miles couldn't help but admire his reflection, marveling at the artistry and care that went into his edges. he ran his fingers gently over the intricate hearts, his embarrassment giving way to a sense of warmth and appreciation for your thoughtfulness.

"they actually… don’t look half bad," he finally managed to say, surprise and delight in his voice. "i’m almost mad that i kinda like it, lowkey."

you grinned, ignoring his “lowkey” comment and feeling a sense of pride in your handiwork. "i'm glad you like it even tho’ you had no other choice but to," you replied with a little giggle, unable to hide the satisfaction in your tone. "i wanted to do it a lil’ special for you."

as if on cue, the two of you instinctively reached for your phones, ready to capture the moment. you held up your phone and asked, "can we take a pic’ together?"

miles hesitated for a moment, a playful blush creeping onto his cheeks knowing you wanted to take another one of your pinterest worthy relationship goals photos to add to the album of you two. "well, i don't mind taking the photo, as long as you don’t go posting me as always," he said sheepishly. "i'm not tryna get clowned in the locker room because my girl wanna be funny."

you nodded understandingly, respecting his wishes. "c’mon, miles. i wouldn’t even do nothing like that," you assured him, wanting to make him feel comfortable.

with wide smiles and playful poses, the two of you snapped several adorable mirror selfies, capturing the joy and affection radiating between you. miles couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness, grateful to have someone like you in his life to always keep it interesting and be there for him.

in his mind, he had acknowledged countless times that it was these moments, born out of the mundane and unexpected, that truly illuminated his love for you as his girlfriend. in those instances, he couldn't fathom the strangeness of a life without you by his side.

hours later, as you scrolled through your friends' instagram stories, you couldn't help but chuckle mischievously. miles had no idea what was coming. without thinking, you swiped left to make a post on your story and went to your camera. scrolling through the recents of your photos you found your favorited of the photos you and miles took. selecting a song of your choice, ranging from partynextdoor to had posted one of the mirror selfies, showcasing his impeccably styled edges and the sweet hearts adorning his temples.

it didn't take long for miles to notice. his phone buzzed with notifications, and curiosity piqued, he opened your story. his eyes widened in disbelief as he saw the photo, his cheeks flushing with a mix of surprise, embarrassment, and a hint of affectionate annoyance.

"yo," he exclaimed, a playful protest in his voice. "you said you wouldn't post it!"

you turned to him, a mischievous grin on your face. "who would i be if i didn’t flex our relationship goals on the story every now and then? crazy you even thought i was being for real about not posting," you replied, unable to hide your amusement. "don’t press me when we both look cute, especially you. everyone loved it anyway and the swipe ups are even better."

miles shook his head, but a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. deep down, he appreciated how you flaunted your relationship, knowing that it came from a place of love and admiration—knowing that if you could, you would show him to all of new york.

as the notifications continued to flood in, miles found himself instinctively snuggling up to your side, finding comfort in the warmth of your presence as you busily responded to all the messages you received. despite his stubborn facade, you knew deep down that miles wasn't upset in the slightest. in fact, you couldn't help but hope that this playful incident might soften him up, eventually granting you the opportunity to work your magic on his lashes next time.

DO NOT STEAL, COPY, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK. ALL WRITING IS @PRIMAVIVA.

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