Forcing Connor to do things that annoyed him entertained you to no end. Today, that thing was braiding his hair. You had been begging and begging to do it, and finally today you caught him in a tired, complainant state and he let out.

“Sit still.” You huffed out, tugging his hair gently. You never thought you’d see Connor sitting between your legs letting you do his hair, but here it was, “gods your hair is so greasy.” You mutter again, though it doesn’t stop you from continuing.

“Why did I let you do this again?” Connor mutters, wincing at the hair pull even if it didn’t hurt at all.