French Braid Novels & Stories

Maddie I stared at myself after I was done weaving my long chestnut hair into braids. Using my scrunchie I tag them at the end of the braid. Will Carlson love this? I found myself asking. Why do I have to do the things he loves? It should be Jamie dumpass.

"I'm so excited!" I squat down and brush the stray hairs from her beautiful face. "Did you do your hair yourself?" "Yes, Moms with the Luna. She told me not to open the door unless it's you. I brushed it and tied it up like you used to," she explains and twirls the crooked pigtails between her fingers. "Alright. How about I braid it? My friend Caroline taught me how to do a Dutch braid, can I show you?" Kendra's eyes beam.

The mirror in the employee lounge is screwed to the wall, so I'm forced to distort my body into weird angles trying to see the back of it, but the delicate complicated fishtail braid is stunning. It's like something I always asked my mother to give me when I was a child, but we didn't have YouTube tutorials back then and she always fumbled through, making up her own versions as she went along. "Wow, Cammie, this looks gorgeous. Thank you." "Fit for a princess and future queen."

The salon was bustling with activity, but our stylists, Rachel and Emily, greeted us warmly and led us to our stations. As we settled in, Rachel asked me about my hair preferences. "So, Charlotte, what are you thinking? A sleek blowout or something more elaborate?" I hesitated, unsure, but Sophie jumped in with her opinion. "Charlotte, you have to get a braided crown! It'll look stunning with your dress." I nodded, convinced, and Rachel got to work expertly braiding my hair.

Trisha asked excitedly. "Nope, I can't tell you until your hair is done," she answered. The two pups ran over to Marisa and sat down, waiting patiently. Marisa braided their hair in long French braids, and then they went over to Bianca, looking up at her eagerly. She reached into the top drawer of her dresser and pulled out two sparkly blue butterfly barrettes. They had light wings, so when Polly and Trisha moved, the wings looked like they were fluttering.

She’s so tense! “Y-yes… Shall I braid your hair?” She trembled. I sighed heavily and just nodded. She braid my hair, dividing it in between. She made a french braid that always amazed me! “You’re really talented, Agatha! I look so good at this!” I said while poking my honey like colored hair with my small fingers. She braid it so well and pretty!

It’s almost time for the teacher to come in. “‘Ey.. can I help you with that?” She tapped her on the shoulder. Phoebe leaned her head back. “Yeah.. I can’t seem to do it today..” Dawn stood behind her and took the hair brush from her hand and some hair ties. “Can I braid it?” “You know how? Yes, please..” She brushed Phoebe’s hair and used her long, slender fingers to divide Phoebe’s hair in sections. She started with a side French braid and ended in a textured fishtail braid that is super flattering, leaving a few strands of hair in the front as bangs.

Our wolves wanted to make a good first impression. “Give me five minutes!” I call down to Ollie as I loop a hair tie around my long French braid. I never wear my hair down, usually pulling it into a long ponytail. But, again, since today is the first day of school, I wanted to put in an extra effort. I had done two long French braids down either side of my head and wanted to curl the front pieces that I had pulled out to frame my face. Problem was, I have an impatient wolf at the foot of the stairs yelling for me to hurry up.

He looks up when I close the door and he moves towards the end of the bed. "I may ruin your hair," he says, obviously trying to brighten his own mood. "Don't worry, I can always get a wig ," I tease and he grins. "Now, do you want to learn one or two braids?" "One for now," he says and I nod before I brush my hair back. When that's done I sit on the ground in between his legs and lean my head back. "This is a French braid so you'll be putting one strand over the other. Oh and you'll be gradually adding more hair to each strand," I tell him.

For as long as I could keep my tongue off it, it looked pretty on me, too. We’d walk if the park was close by, catch the bus if it was farther. A different place every week, rolling on a roster. In quiet times, when the bus wasn’t too full, Momma took the seat behind me so she could put my hair up in a French braid. Separating it into a dozen smooth, straight sections, piece by patient piece. Undoing and redoing each fine weave until she had it just right. Those tight knots sat close against my skull, secured in looping patterns that gave me headaches that stretched out from my temples, long and taut. Like a rubber band noosed around my skull. But the braids k