Ellie liked to keep her hair short. Any time it got longer, she felt it just got in the way. She’d gotten pretty good at cutting herself. Not too choppy. Not too short. Except for the one time she had to walk around with a hat for weeks just to grow it back out. Never again.

When you brought up how her hair had gotten longer, she’d run her fingers through wincing at the idea of doing it herself. Patrol had taken a toll on her lately. Everything really. She’d have to shelve it until—

“You wanna cut it?” She asked with wide eyes. She tucked her hair behind her ear as she briefly weighed the pros and cons. “Yeah, sure. Let’s do it.” She agreed all too fast, imagining her sitting below you with your hands in her hair. The pair of scissors didn’t matter. (Even though it really did. Please, don’t fuck up her hair.) She had faith in you.