#requests!!!

Long thick hair that tangled into themselves wildly all the way down your back.

Over the years you’ve gotten pretty used to it, learned how to tame it and make it your own. Sure, may have taken a bit of willpower and sweat, but you did it.

Today however— was not one of those days.

You stood in the bathroom of your room, staring down the broken off comb in your hair as you try to hold down the searing frustration from coming out in the form of a shattered mirror, battered fists, and a broken spirit.

Your eyes flicker to the small window, the sun showing its ugly head to you. The brightness blinding and the ugly reminded of just how long you’ve bee at this.

Your eyes flicker around the room, leave in conditioner, shedded hair and gel all over the sink leaving an over stimulating mess for you to clean up. The thought alone nearly causing your knees to buckle in exhaust.

“Fuuuckkk….” You let out within a sigh

Your options really were limited if you were being honest (if you didn’t want to go out with half slicked back hair today.) sure no one would judge you but damn it you had some type of pride.

Your hand searches languidly for the broken comb your hair was holding hostage from you as a figure approaches your now hunched over body.

Your lover In all his bleary eyed glory.

“Hey…” he yawned as he stumbled in, blissfully unaware of the absolute mess he just walked in on.

Slowly you peer up at him as half functional gears start to churn in your head. Your excitement almost juvenile as a secret third option just stumbled right into your pretty little palm.

“Hey” you chime.

He trudges into the bathroom languidly. His

eyebrow raises slightly as he takes in the desecrated room and the almost sorrowful expression on your face.

“You busy in here?” He asks rhetorically

as his mind tries to make heads or tails of what’s going on.

You chuckle. “You could say that yeah”

“Wanna help me clean up?”

…

Sadly, when he agreed he didn’t realize cleaning up also included what crimes the universe enacted against you this morning.

Truth be told— zanka had no idea what he was doing.

You sat between his thighs, the ugly light of day shining on him as he worked.

Dragging the rat-tailed comb down the middle of your scalp

Soft bruised hands gripped sections, held them tight in place as a rubber band wrapped around it.

Honestly, he didn’t know much about hair, he knew his hair but in general not very much but he knew he couldn’t rush, no matter how long It took.

“So— first you wet the section, then you comb from tip to root.” You coach gently.

“Why from tip to root?” He questioned, putting the comb down as he finished the last part, reaching for a water bottle

“It’s easier, plus it’ll snag otherwise.”

He made a little sound in acknowledgment as he followed your lead.

“Don’t be afraid to grip it either— don’t do it too hard though.” You quickly added.

His hands slowly smoothed over the section, gathering all of it before taking his left and gripping it with just enough firmness to make sure nothing falls.

You let out a little hum of pleasure at tenderness of his touch, a warm buzzing running through your veins. You reach up, taking his free hand and putting it to your lips, leaving a small cherry red shiny tint on it.

“Hey I need that.” He smirked, trying to ignore the sudden blood increase to his ears. He slowly slides his hand out of your grasp.

“Can’t help it…” you pout, leaning back into him more.

“Patience is a virtue you know?” He laughs, leaning down to your ear

“You can kiss me as much you want once I get done.” A promise he was sure to regret once he has to actually work with your marks all over his face.

“Shouldn’t take too long..” he murmured to himself as he pulled back. Continuing to melt the tangles with somehow such ease, it actually made you a little jealous.

His gaze was tender and his hands nimble as he took his time as if this was his daily routine, his prayer and daily worship. Completely entranced, The only sounds being the others outside getting ready.

“Got a style you want?” He perks up a mist the silence. You nod, you left hand reaching for the knob on a dresser. Fumbling inside for a moment before pulling out a hair magazine. He watches as you place it in between your thighs, swiping pages, skimming though until you found what you were looking for.

“There!” You cheered. He leans forward, looking at the picture you had Jammed your finger against, a woman with hair slicked back (with the exception of a few chunks in the front that framed the face) into a high ponytail.

You toss it up to him.

“Instructions in there.” You hum.

He rubs his eyes and squints at the page, skimming the words before setting it down next to him.

The both of you had almost completely forgotten about work that day, time seemed to stretched on for ever in the little world you two created, unbroken concentration and the smell of the warm food Zanka had bought you per your request (but god knows he would’ve done it with or without your encouragement)

“You sure you don’t want some?” You attempted to say through mouthfuls of food.

“I’m good, I don’t wanna poison myself or anything—“ he paused as a rotten picture of someone appeared in his mind for a split second.

“Too much gel on my fingers…and close your mouth while you chew..!” He scolded with false exhaustion. peering down at the instructions once more, looking at the images as if it was some secret to decode as his mind worked out what would be the best method, after all, he’d be damned if he got lazy on the most important part.

You quietly observed his behavior, god did he look cute when he was all focused, the soft scrunch of his nose and the glint in his eyes as he studied you as if you were the most fascinating thing since he landed on the damn planet.

You watched as he took the edge of the ratail and applying gel around your edges then swiping the excess on a napkin. Taking it back with a dense brush in long languid strokes near the top of your head, his fingers flexing around where he wanted the ponytail.

“Never knew a ponytail of all things requires this much precision” you finally teased just to see that imperceptive hue shift and the sense of pride in the twitch of the corners of his lips.

“Of course it does” he scoffs as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “Why wouldn’t it?”— everything matters when it comes to you.

“I dunno…I mean I just expected you to be wayyy lazier about it. Y’know considering the first thing in the morning and it’s a ponytail.”

He snorts half amused “Well you must not know me very well do you?” He reaches for a ponytail holder and wrapped it around 5 times. He slid off the counter.

“Stand up” his hand softly tugged yours coaxing you to stand up as he inspected.

“C’mon lemme see” you whined

“Nope, not until im sure” he spun you around.

“I’m gonna be late” you complained

“Oh? I never knew you cared about that.”

“Well! I do now!” You snapped

“How convenient.” He deadpanned

“My bad” you hum.

He shifted his position perhaps a thousand times before finding the perfect angle.

“Okay, you can look” he sighed

You turn, seeing a nearly perfect pony in place of where nearly an hour or so ago you were on the verge of tears about.

You can see him out of the corner of your eye, the way his hands twitched slightly in anticipation and the quiet begging and praying in his eyes. ‘Please like it…please tell me I did good’ was all that he pathetically hear in his head. In the grand scheme of thing it wasn’t that important. You’d wear it out for the day and at the end of a painstaking shift you’d take it out. But it made all the difference in the moment.

You hum softly, moving your head, watching as it swayed.

“So..?” He questioned, it taking nearly everything in him to hide his god forsaken nerves.

“It’s good” you crooned, spinning around like some school girl with a fat Cheshire grin on your face. Your arms wrap around his neck and pressed your lips softly against his cheek.

“Thank youuu” you sing.

He paused. You could almost see the gears turning in his head, his breath stuttered just once as he caught your grin and it didn’t escape you how his Adam’s apple bubbled either

“I—it’s nothing really…I mean it’s a ponytail it’s not that hard..” he murmured, craning his neck away slightly hoping you did feel the way he was sweating like a sinner in church.

“No it’s impressive really! Especially for your first time. To be honest..I didn’t expect you to be so good at this.”

… huh?

He can’t hide the small twitch of the corners of his mouth at the praise. God he was such a sucker for you…

He chuckled slightly “you asked for my help and you didn’t think I would do a good job?” He couldn’t be more grateful for the fat you can’t see the way he’s burning up.

“Y’know…if you like it so much…I wouldn’t be opposed to helping you a few more times.”

Overall beauty school grade: 8.4/ 10

Enjin pulled his sleeves back and lazily rolled his shoulders as if to prepare himself. Groaning as he tenseness of his muscles melted. Ciggerette pendulously between chapped lips, as it blew enough smoke to leave a lingering stench long after the two of you finish here. A mix of your hair products and the bitter smell of the smoke.

“You’re smoking? This early?…god your lungs are fucked.” You sighed

“Oh— like you don’t enjoy it? You don’t think it looks sexy?” He smirked, dragging in a deep taste of nicotine, eyes almost reverent at the sensation of the burn at the back of his throat.

“…that’s neither here nor there. Just— c’mon Jin, we don’t have much time.”

“Alright alright…what’d you need from me?” He slumped down behind you , his hand worming his way around your waist and pressing you close. You rattled off instructions as he half listened, his thumb pressing into the small of your back.

“Detangle and style.”

“Style and entangle” he repeated looking at the supplies you had very clearly laid out for him.

“Do I really need the comb?”

“I mean…no but if you care about being neat—“ no clue why you even bothered, before you could even finish, he nudged your head down so his thick tatted fingers could carve a path from north to south hemispheres of your head in a crooked line. You wince slightly as his fingers catches tangle after Tangle, your fingers digged into his thigh

“Slower!” You hiss.

“Shhh baby…I got ya I got ya…god I never knew you were so tender headed.” He cooed mockingly. Taking just a tiny bit of pleasure in the way your brows furrowed and the icy glare you shot his way. You almost thought that he was giving you a bit of a tough time just to see it. But nevertheless he yielded went slower. You took a breath.

Truth be told you don’t know what you thought was gonna happen when you asked Enjin to help you out.

You knew that Enjin wasn’t the gentlest around, although he tried. you were better off asking a myriad of people but you put your faith in him. Though like all good faith, it wasn’t to go without getting tested.

“And wet the section too. Doesn’t have to be soaking but damp.”you coached, his soothing motions apparently very effective to lull your mood. He did it without question, after all he was a sucker for when you got bossy.

He paused on combing, taking a moment to feel the dampness in your hair strands, soft bouncy curls in his palm all webbed together, he found an odd appreciation in them. Weather because they were simply gorgeous and perfect or because they belonged to you. Either way, he loved them.

he reaches back for the wide toothed comb, his free hand gently moving your head to different angles. He takes a breath before his hands go Back to smoothing over the section over and over, silky strands gaze over his calloused palm, gathering it all before combing it, a lot slower and softer as he Vaguely remembers you mentioning. (Hey give him credit he remembered anything at all, lot of words you were throwing at him. He seriously never knew just how much effort you put in for your weekly routine.)

The contrast was oddly nice, way more gentle than you thought he would be initially. You tilt your head up slightly, peering up at the undeniable focus in his eyes. It made your heart flutter slightly how much he was actually trying with this.

“Look at you” you chime as he clamps down another section. He snorted at the remark, lips curling upwards. He pulls you hair back slightly to see the smug look on your lips. “Hm?” His freehand sticks the comb in your hair before his index and his thumb pulled the cigarette from between chapped lips.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Yer’ not making fun of your poor sweet boyfriend are you? You mean the same one who is so graciously helping with your hair?”

You roll your eyes “please— what the hell were you doing otherwise huh?”

“Work.”

“Bullshit. You never work. In fact— I don’t even know why you get paid.”

“Well I don’t even know why I’m doing your hair.”

You snap your head so fast he swore your neck would fly off. “You abandon this ship you won’t get a kiss from me, you’ll never see this lips again.”

Enjin’s hands shot up, a wide grin on his face. “Woah woah woahhhh…no need to make serious threats.” Leaning back slightly to take another drag.

You shot him a look, a scowl on your glossy lips “You threatening to leave my hair like this is already a serious threat, I’m just giving energy back.”

Enjin hummed pressing a soft kiss to your cheek and then tilting your head to side, his thumb pressing against the plushness of your lips, blowing a small huff of smoke in your mouth. The bitter smoke burning the back of your throat as it enters your sinuses. You could see the glint in his eyes seeing you inhale it.

“Still mad?”

“Enjin.”

“Yeah?”

“Wrap this up and get the hell out of my face.”

He pouted like a child and with a sigh stubbed out his cigarette before leaning in once more, duck lips and all. Only to be met with a sharp cut of your eyes and the furrow of your brows that give him all the life he’ll ever need for the next year. He leans back in triumph before going back to his service.

If he was genuine about anything, it was in helping you though. He was taking his time, despite you both being extremely late. which has never really been an issue for him, but hey he’ll act all upset if it helps you.

“You got a style you want princess?”

You silently lean over to a drawer filled with miscellaneous things like hair ties, claw clips, flat heads, before pulling out a torn out magazine page which definitely looked like it’s been through some things. You hand it back over to him.

“Number 5.” You directed trying your damndest to still hold up an attitude. Enjins eyes trail down to the torn page. A high bun, not too hard right? Simple? Well, nothing can ever be too simple with Enjin could it?

You swore he had tried to do this stupid ass bun about 15 times. Bobby pins were scattered all over the counter, you had probably used about 50 of them at the point. Gel and edge control coated his fingers in thick disgusting globs from when he molded your hair down.

“Enjin baby, I could just pick another hairstyle. My hairs probably just getting too heavy” you assure with a sigh, eying a little owl clock in the bathroom, almost 9. There wasn’t a chance in hell someone wasn’t looking for you two by now (or at least you, it’s not very unusual he goes on his little disappearing act. Sometimes including you.)

“Nope, i got this” he persisted, now fully up and hunching over your figure, fingers stretching out maybe his 6-7th hair tie.

“Oh? Oooo I might got it!” A sudden shutter ran down your spine at just how joyous that exclamation is.

“Is that right?”

“Ahhh— ahhh! Look!” He lifts you almost effortlessly in his arms, showing off you to your reflection. You blink a few times as you see all his efforts combined into something pretty cute. The messiness making the curls look almost artistic and purposeful. You couldn’t help the small smile that shined through no matter how mad you were or pretended to be.

Enjin lit another cigarette, as if the whole room wasn’t reeking with him already. “Like what you see?”

“Mhm.” You Lean down and kiss the apple of his cheek bone. “ you Did a good job Superman.”

“I knew it…so…do I get a real kiss now?”

Beauty school rating: 7.2/10