#Best Silk Scrunchies

[finelinefae]

sunshine girl (tutor!harry)

synopsis: y/n struggles to concentrate and harry offers to help

word count: 6.6k

contains: reader has adhd, fluff, mentions of mental health, brief mention of medication, shy harry

a/n: i haven't written a soft girl sunday concept in a while and this was requested on wattpad quite some time ago. I personally do not have adhd but I've tried my best to research as much as i could in order to write this. if there's anything wrong or anything i need to change, pls let me know as I'm completely open to understanding and learning more !!!!! <333

. . .

Harry’s eyes darted to the seat next to his as the professor stood in front of the class to begin the lecture. His notebook was open, his pen in hand already prepared to take notes on the current book they were studying for their literature class. He chewed the inside of his cheek, his left foot adorned by a high-top, black Converse shoe tapping against the floor. 

His ears pricked when the door clicked open and his sunshine girl walked into the room, bringing the light in with her. “Hi,” Y/N blushed, bowing her head down in hopes it would divert people’s attention back to the professor and not to her tardiness, “Sorry I’m late,” 

The professor didn’t seem surprised but was no more impressed by her lateness. He shook his head and returned to his place in the presentation.

Harry stiffened as she slid into the seat beside him, catching the sweet smell of her perfume. It smelt exactly like the cinnamon latte he had that morning and the salted caramel ice cream he ate after dinner last night. All the sweet things he came across reminded him of her. 

Her baby pink ballet flat accidentally hit against the tip of his beaten, old Converse. He inhaled, sensing her attention on him and finally looking at her face. “Hi Harry,” She whispered, smiling. Her cheeks were still pink from how flustered she was walking into class. Her hair was in a messy braid, secured with a silk scrunchie on the end and she looked so cosy in the pink, knitted sweater and blue jeans she had decided to wear. 

“Hey,” Harry replied. He wouldn’t often find himself replying to people in class - not that he spoke to many people anyway - but he’d always respond to Y/N, always. 

Y/N grinned, pulling out her notebooks from her backpack and placing them on the desk. The corner of Harry’s lips tugged upwards when he saw each of her notebooks labelled in pink sharpie pen with the names of her classes scribbled across them. 

“Oh no,” She huffed, “I left my literature notebook on my desk,” 

Before she could even ask, Harry was already scrambling to tear out a few pages from the back of his notebook. “Here,” Harry offers, sliding the paper to the side.

“Thanks Harry,” Y/N beamed, taking out her pen which had a little charm dangling on the end and began to write the date in the top corner like she always did at the start of a new lesson. 

Throughout the lecture, Harry remained wholly focused on the professor who began to go through Act 2 of Shakespeare's ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’. Literature had always been his favourite class not only because he got to sit next to Y/N but also because he loved to read. It was all he ever did whenever he had a moment spare, a book was never out of reach wherever he was. 

Speaking of Y/N, Harry glanced across to see if she’d taken any notes during the lecture. He looked down at her piece of paper only to find her scribbling doodles along the lines and edges of the page he had given her. He wasn’t surprised, Y/N always seemed to lose interest midway through the lecture, but he was concerned especially since they were so close to exams. 

“Um, Y/N?” Harry whispered, her head darting in his direction, “Do you want to copy my notes?”

She frowned, looking down at her piece of paper and then over at his notebook where he had filled up three pages with writing. “Oops,” She murmured, “I must have drifted off,” 

“S okay,” Harry assured, “Y’ can take pictures of my notes if y’ want after class,” 

“Are you sure?” Harry could sense her frustration from the dip between her brow, “I’ll take notes for the rest of the lecture.”

Harry nodded, turning his attention back to the professor, hearing Y/N’s pen scribbling against the desk as she vigorously took notes. Which lasted all of fifteen minutes. 

When the lecture finished, Harry caught Y/N gazing out the window, her attention fixed on the clouds drifting across the bright, blue sky. “You can collect your assignments on the way out,” The professor dismissed the class, chairs scraping against the floor as everyone made their way for the door.

“Um, Y/N?” Harry tapped her shoulder. 

“Hm?” She spun around, her big, pretty eyes looking right up at him.

Harry motioned to the front of the class where the students had emptied out, “The class is over,”

Y/N’s eyes darted around the room. She straightened her shoulders when she realised they were the last two people in the room like she had just snapped out of a daze, “Oh, already?”

Harry didn’t want to tell her that the class was two hours long so he just nodded. He waited patiently, even though he had another class to attend, not wanting to leave her behind. Y/N rushed to pack her things away, scrunching the paper he had given her which was covered in doodles and a few sentences as she tried to stuff into her backpack. 

On the way out, they both collected the assignments they had handed in before the weekend. Harry sighed in relief to see the big 95 written in red ink on his paper. He wasn’t one to struggle often with the literature homework but this one had been particularly challenging. 

“Oh no,” A tiny whimper escaped her lips as she held the paper in her hands.

Harry’s eyes looked down to see the 60 circled in the top corner of her paper. “How could this happen?” 

“I-it’s okay Y/N,” He was terrible at comforting people, “A 70 is good, you still passed.”

“Barely,” Y/N whined, creasing the edges of the paper from how hard she was gripping onto it. “What am I going to do? I can’t seem to focus at all during the lesson, maybe it’s Newton being so boring but everything seems to go through one ear and out the other.” 

Harry watched her flail her arms as she explained how much she struggled in all her classes, especially literature. He had noticed how she’d often drift off somewhere in her own head whenever they had a presentation or how she’d forget things or turn up late because she was wandering off somewhere or getting completely distracted. 

Despite the little time he had on his timetable, Harry piped up, “I can tutor you, i-if you’d like I mean.” 

Y/N paused, “Really? You’d do that?”

He nodded, “Yeah, I have a free afternoon on Wednesdays.” It was his only free afternoon throughout the whole week. Harry always looked forward to his afternoons off on a Wednesday which he dedicated solely to spending time doing things he enjoyed or relaxing. 

“Are you sure? You must be so busy already with all your other classes and clubs,” His cheeks warmed, wondering how she knew he had very little time and whether it meant she watched him as much as he paid attention to her. 

“O-of course, I really don’t mind.” Which was the truth.

Harry had been secretly crushing on Y/N ever since she had stumbled into their literature classroom on the first day of University. She was like a fresh breeze that cooled the last bit of summer humidity as she walked straight over to the seat beside him in the lecture hall and introduced herself to him. He didn’t know how all of a sudden he’d find himself all flustered whenever he was in her vicinity but for someone who wasn’t really a ‘people person’, he enjoyed her company very much. 

“I can’t say it’ll be easy,” Y/N murmured, looking down at her shoes in what felt like shame or embarrassment.

“You can’t be that bad,” Harry joked but she just smiled awkwardly. 

“I have ADHD,” She admitted like it was something to be ashamed of, “I-I’ve had it since I was little. It’s why I often find myself drifting off or forgetting things. I just can’t seem to focus on one thing. It's like my brain is constantly overlapping words and sentences and pictures and moments and I can’t organise them into their separate spaces.”

Harry’s face softened. He’d known people with ADHD before. A boy in his class back in high school who was constantly disrupting the class and was taken out of class whenever the teacher didn’t have the knowledge to know how to deal with it.  “I’m good at literature Harry, really I am. I just struggle to show it. I started the essay the night it was set but then I lost track of time and I didn’t pick it up again until yesterday.”

“Y/N,” Harry said, “It’s okay, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. ‘S not a bad thing, it’s just something y’ have to learn to deal with.” 

Y/N felt at ease at his words of comfort, a small smile curving on her lips, “Are you sure you still want to tutor me? It’s okay if not, I know I can be a little difficult but I promise I’ll try and remember everything and turn up on time and I won’t interrupt you when you speak or go off topic because I know I do that a lot. In fact, one time I was having a conversation with my roommate Lila and we were talking about what pizza toppings we preferred and I somehow ended up talking about women’s rights.” 

Harry grinned at her rambling, “I still want to tutor you, Y/N. We can start tomorrow? Is that okay?”

She nods, “That sounds good. Thank you, Harry. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

“Okay,” He nods his head once, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“O-Okay! Tomorrow,” She beams, “Oh! And do you want my phone number? Just in case,”

Harry’s lips parted, pausing for a moment to take in what she had just said, “S-sure, yeah sure,” He stumbled to grab his phone from the back pocket of his jeans. His fingers brushed against her soft hands as he passed the phone to her so she could type in her number, he watched as she put a pink heart next to her name. 

“Okay, I’ve got to go but I’ll text you later!” She grins and rushes to get to her next class.

Harry stands in the same spot for a moment, rubbing the pad of his thumb over his phone screen. He looks down at her name almost in disbelief that he actually had her phone number. He then notices the time and curses aloud, realising he’s fifteen minutes late to his next class. 

. . . 

From, Y/N:

Hey Harry, completely forgot to ask where we were planning to study tomorrow ?? x

From Y/N: 

That’s if you’re still up to tutor me. Totally okay if not !! x 

From Y/N: 

It’s okay if you have other things going on x

From Y/N:

It’s Y/N by the way x

Harry felt the vibrations from his phone resting right next to his head as he lay on his bed with his laptop propped open and an episode of Big Bang Theory playing quietly on the television screwed to his wall. 

As soon as he lifted his phone, the screen lit up and he caught a glimpse of the pink heart emoji on his lock screen. He shot up in bed, reading the text messages sent to him only five minutes ago. His pulse hastened at the little kiss at the end of each message, he wondered if she sent those to all her friends. 

From Harry:

Hey, it’s fine. I’m happy to tutor you Y/N :) 

From Harry:

We can meet up at the library, I can reserve one of the study rooms if that helps? 

It wasn’t long before he received a reply. 

From Y/N: 

Oh good !! The library sounds good. Thank you again for doing this Harry, I can’t thank u enough x

From Harry:

It’s okay! Honestly it is. Don’t need to keep thanking me love x

He didn't think twice before sending the message, and by the time he realised what he’d written, she had already read it.

From Y/N:

Thank you Harry xx

From Y/N:

Oops

From Y/N:

Can’t wait to see you ! xx 

Harry released a long breath after reading her last text message. He threw his phone across the bed and fell back, running his fingers through his hair a few times. 

He resumed his work on his computer, trying his best not to pick up his phone again as he eagerly waited for tomorrow to come. 

. . .

Harry was ten minutes early to the library even when he had tried to be right on time. 

The school’s librarian, Heather, was no stranger to his presence as he walked through the doors with his backpack over one shoulder and a tote bag on the other. He walked straight towards the study room he had booked last night for this afternoon in particular. 

It was nothing but a desk and empty walls with a window looking out to the car park. Harry had thought it best to minimise distractions for Y/N to stay focused. He pulled out the things he had packed in the blue tote he carried, highlighters and sticky notes and an old planner he had in his desk drawer that he scribbled her name on. 

Not long after he had set everything up, a small knock sounded at the door and in walked Y/N. She was wearing light blue jeans and a lilac hoodie that was covered in some kind of grey paint, “Hello,” She smiled, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her, “Sorry, I had a pottery class off-campus and didn’t have time to change,” She motioned to the stains on her clothing. 

“That’s okay,” Harry’s heart palpitated as she stepped into his vicinity- that sweet-smelling perfume replacing the dusty air, “I didn’t know you did pottery.” He didn’t know much about her other than what they had talked about in class, a rush of excitement overcame him at the thought of getting to know her more. 

Y/N sat down, putting her bag at her feet, “It’s just a hobby,” She shrugged it off, glancing at the things Harry had neatly laid out in front of her, “So what’s all this?”

A dusty pink glow spread across Harry’s cheeks, “I-I did some research last night,”

A dip formed between her brows, “Really?”

Harry nodded, “I spent some time researching the best ways for people with ADHD to focus and learn the best they can. A lot of it was setting realistic goals and breaking things down but it also helps to use colours which is why I bought my sticky notes and highlighters in case we have to take any notes.”

Y/N was pretty sure her pupils had carved into hearts as she looked at him and listened as he explained the things he had been researching. “I thought we could study for about an hour and a half today and work in twenty-minute increments with ten-minute breaks in between.” Y/N was at a loss for words. She couldn’t remember the last person who had gone out of their way to learn these things for her. 

Harry waited for her to reply, seeing the way her eyes glossed over, “I-is that okay? No problem if not, we can always find a different way of working-”

“No,” She placed a hand atop his, the tips of his fingers flinched and brushed the palm of her hand, “It sounds perfect.” 

Harry smiles, “Well okay, shall we start off with Midsummer Night’s Dream?” 

. . .

“Hey Y/N?” Harry waved a hand in front of her face. They were coming onto the last twenty-minute sprint of studying and Harry had noticed Y/N suddenly starting to zone out a little more. 

“Oh sorry,” She blushed, “I was thinking about the banana milkshakes they’ve put on the menu at the cafe where I do my pottery classes.” 

Harry closed his notebook, “They have a cafe?” 

“Mhm,” Y/N grins, “I can show you if you’d like. Maybe after we finish studying.” 

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. This was their first time hanging out together off-campus. Something he had been daydreaming about whenever she sat beside him. He’d been mulling over the idea of asking her on a date for weeks and despite the fact she’d invited him to her favourite spot as a friend, he couldn’t help but feel a mixture of nerves and excitement at the prospect of getting to spend even more time with her. 

Harry pretended to glance down at his watch, “Seems like we’re coming to the end already, w-we could go now if you want to?” 

Y/N closed her notebook shut, “Okay then!” 

Harry tugged on his jacket and piled all his books into his backpack. Following her out of the library and towards her pottery studio.

He couldn’t help the smile on his face as she walked with a slight pep in her step as they walked side by side. Harry had never been much of a talker but there was never a moment of silence between the two as Y/N rambled and wandered off into every topic of conversation she could possibly think of. 

“So I’ve started making plates for my mum’s birthday—oh, she got a new car, by the way! It’s an old, vintage blue Beetle. She sent me pictures the other day, and it’s so pretty. For a moment, I wanted to take driving lessons just so I could drive one, but I’ve got terrible coordination. Honestly, Harry, I can’t ever seem to tell my lefts from my rights these days and—oh, what was I talking about again? Yes, the plates I made for her birthday. So, I’m going to paint them baby blue to match the car and—”

Harry listened intently, hanging onto every word she said and mentally filing it away under her name. Occasionally, he would share his own stories, but for the most part, he was content to listen to her voice. In fact, it thrilled him to know how comfortable she was to talk about anything and everything with him. 

They eventually stopped outside of a small building with ‘Paisley’s Pottery Studio’ written on a wooden plaque above the door. 

Y/N pushed the door open, the bell chiming as she stepped inside with Harry close behind her. She offered to take Harry’s jacket to hang up on the coat pegs and switched it over for two aprons already covered in dried clay stains. 

“Come on, I’ll show you what I’ve been working on,” Y/N said, a hint of excitement in her voice as she led Harry through the studio. The space was filled with shelves of pottery in various stages of completion, the air rich with the earthy smell of clay.

They reached a small workbench near the back of the studio where a few plates were laid out, each one uniquely shaped.

“Here they are,” Y/N said, picking up one of the plates. “This is the baby blue I was talking about. I’m trying to match it perfectly to my mum’s car. What do you think?”

Harry took the plate, admiring the soft, pale blue colour that coated its surface. “It’s beautiful, Y/N. You’ve done an amazing job. The colour is perfect.”

Y/N beamed, her eyes sparkling with joy. “Thank you! I’ve been trying to get it just right. And look, this one has little daisies around the edge,” she said, pointing to another plate. “My mum loves daisies.”

Harry smiled, appreciating the delicate details. “You’re really talented. I didn’t know you were into pottery.”

“It’s kind of my escape,” Y/N admitted. “It helps me focus, you know? It’s one of the few things that can hold my attention for hours.”

Harry nodded in understanding, “I-I’ve been meaning to ask before we left to come here, did you find the study session useful today?”

Y/N immediately nodded, “I learnt so much Harry. I know you said I don’t need to thank you anymore but you’ve been so kind. My parents have hired tutors for me ever since I was little but they always got frustrated with me. I was worried you’d feel the same way.” 

“No one should make you feel like you’re not worthy of their time just because it requires more patience,” Harry says.

Y/N’s eyes shine with emotion, “You might be the kindest person I’ve ever met,” She says, “Which is why I wanted to bring you here. I’ve never shared my pottery with anyone.”

Harry’s cheeks flushed, “Really?” 

Y/N’s smile softened. “Really. And now I get to share it with you. Do you want to try making something?”

Harry’s eyes widened in surprise. “Me? I’ve never done pottery before.”

“That’s okay,” Y/N chimed. “I’ll teach you. It’s fun, I promise.”

Harry hesitated for a moment, “Alright, let’s do it.”

Y/N led Harry to a nearby pottery wheel, explaining the basics as she set up the clay. Whilst he sat on one side, she sat opposite him, straddling the seat and grabbing a thick, piece of clay in her hands.  “Just relax and let the clay guide you,” she said, her hands gently shaping the mound of clay on the wheel.

Harry watched, captivated by the fluid movements of her hands. He took a deep breath and placed his hands on the clay, feeling its cool, pliable texture.

“Like this?” he asked, glancing at Y/N.

“Exactly,” she replied but then placed either of her hands over the top of his. “Just keep your movements steady and even.”

Harry tried to remain neutral as the soft skin of her hand touched his fingers. He’d try to keep his attention on the way she moved the clay but every now and then he’d feel himself overwhelmed at the simple touch of the girl he had been enamoured with for far longer than he’d like to admit. 

Minutes turned into an hour, and Harry found himself enjoying the process more than he expected. The feel of the clay, the steady rotation of the wheel, and Y/N’s gentle words of encouragement. 

“It’s good!” Y/N held the clay bowl up in the palm of her hand. 

Harry scoffed but smiled, “You’re just saying that it looks more like a plate than a bowl.” His first clay creation was meant to look like a bowl but some might deem it to be a little more like a wonky flying disk. 

Y/N giggled, “At least you could still eat food from it.” She walked over and placed it on a tray with Harry’s initials carved into the bottom. “These will be put in the kiln later. I can bring it to you in class once it’s ready?”

“O-okay,” Harry nodded, “Or I could just come by and get it? I think I’d like to have another try maybe,” That and he wanted to spend more time with her even if it meant taking up a new hobby in the little spare time he had. 

Y/N didn’t mask the surprise on her face which gradually transformed into the biggest smile he had ever seen. He swore it hit him like an arrow piercing straight into his heart, “Really? You’d want to come back?”

“Of course, maybe I could teach you English lit and you could teach me y’ pottery?” He offered.

“I’d love that.”

. . . 

Wednesday’s had become Harry’s favourite day of the week. 

It was funny how quickly the days went by when you had something to look forward to. When it wasn’t Wednesday, Harry was always counting down the days until it was. 

In the afternoon, he’d meet with Y/N outside of the library so they could walk inside together to their study room where he’d tutor her for a good two hours. Afterwards, they’d walk down to the pottery studio in the nearby town where Y/N would teach Harry how to make clay pots. 

His own kitchen was becoming a museum of clay creations he had made and painted himself. Each one served as a reminder of a particular Wednesday he’d spent with Y/N, triggering a memory or conversation they had shared. 

His feelings only seemed to heighten the more they fell into conversation, talking about everything and anything they possibly could. He cherished every moment he spent with her and even then he couldn’t get enough. Whenever it wasn’t Wednesday, he craved her presence and the sweet-smelling perfume she wore. 

Harry was already heading towards the library one particular Wednesday afternoon when he received a text from Y/N.

From Y/N:

Hey Harry, I’m really sorry but I don’t think I’m going to be able to make today’s session. I left all my work last minute and now I have three classes to catch up on before tomorrow. So sorry, I really wanted to make it xx

Harry frowned as he read the message, feeling a pang of disappointment quickly replaced by concern. 

From Harry: 

It’s okay! We can just pick up where we left off from next week. Is there anything you need help with? 

From Y/N:Hm, don’t suppose you’re any good at poetry? xx

From Harry:

I’ve dabbled here and there ;)

From Y/N: 

Dabbled? Perfect!! Would it be okay if you stopped by? I’m STRUGGLING xx

From Harry:

I’d be happy too 

From Y/N:

Okay! I’ll text you my address. Thank you so much, you’re a lifesaver truly xx

Harry felt a thrill of excitement as he watched Y/N’s address appear on the screen. He quickly typed the address into Google Maps and began making his way towards her apartment, anticipation building with each step.

Along the way, he stopped by a flower shop, the words ‘Sweet Juniper’ written on the window and a large display of beautifully arranged flowers decorating the front. He found it rather humorous when he saw the tattoo parlour next door, the dark aesthetic completely differing from the pastel colours of the flower shop. 

Sometime later, Harry stood at the entrance, taking in the charming exterior of Y/N’s apartment building. As he pressed the buzzer, his excitement mingled with a touch of nervousness. “Hello? Harry?” Y/N’s voice crackled over the speaker. 

“H-hey,” He said, “S me.”

“Oh! Stay there, I’ll come get you.”  He did as he was told, standing beneath the porch as he waited for Y/N. 

It wasn’t long before Y/N pushed the glass door open and stood in front of him. It was the first he’d seen of her all day and she looked so cosy and soft in her grey sweatpants and pink sweater, a pair of black slip-on shoes on her feet that she’d put on to come downstairs in. 

“Hi Harry,” She smiles, the sight casting away the grey clouds. 

“Hey Y/N,” He returns her smile and holds out the flowers for her, “I bought these for you, figured they might cheer y’ up.”

Y/N’s whole face lit up as she took the bouquet from him, “They’re beautiful,” She gasped, “I’ll put these in my room,” 

He followed her upstairs and to her apartment, making light conversation along the way. He laughs at something particularly funny she said about a conversation she had with her mother last night which reminded him he needed to call his own mother, who he hadn’t spoken to nearly as much as he should have these past few weeks. 

Closing the door behind them, Harry took in the exterior of her apartment. It was small, the perfect size for two people, most of the furniture was from the tenant who used to live there before they moved to France. 

“My roommate is away so it’s all good,” She says, leading him to her room. 

Y/N’s room was closest to the living room. As Harry stepped inside, he felt as though he was entering a cosy, intimate space that truly reflected her personality. The room was a soft haven of pink hues and delicate decor. The walls were painted a gentle blush, complemented by sheer white curtains that allowed light to filter through softly, casting a warm glow over everything.

“Sorry about the mess,” She cringed, kicking something underneath her single bed which was covered in papers and notebooks much like the small desk in the corner. She placed the flowers in an old vase on her windowsill, replacing the old ones that were losing their petals. 

“S okay,” Harry stood awkwardly, not knowing where to sit. 

Y/N made space for him on the bed, patting the spot beside her with a welcoming smile. Harry tried to play it cool as he sat down next to her, but inside, his heart was racing. The reality of being so close to her in such an intimate setting was overwhelming, and he struggled to keep his excitement in check.

The bed felt soft and warm beneath him, a perfect match for the cosy atmosphere of the room. He glanced at Y/N, who seemed completely at ease and took a deep breath, trying to relax. Her presence was comforting, and he reminded himself to savour the moment rather than overthink it.

She grabbed a purple spiral notebook which she seemed to have ripped a few of the pages out of and threw them in the trash can beneath her desk, “I have to write a poem to present to my creative writing class,” She says. Her sock-covered feet dangled off the bed as they sat next to each other with their backs against the wall. 

“O-Oh and it has to be handed in tomorrow?” He asks. 

Y/N huffs, “I thought I had way more time so I’ve just been putting everything off. I’ve also been given new ADHD meds which I don’t know have been helping very much.”

A wave of understanding rushed over him. Harry had never been prescribed daily pills before other than the antibiotics he was given in the winter when he had a chest infection that plagued him for almost two weeks. Although he couldn’t relate to her situation, he knew having to take pills repeatedly was no easy task especially when they had an impact on your ability to carry out day-to-day things. 

He took the notebook and pen from her lap and ripped out a bit of paper to write on. “Well luckily for you, you picked just the right person to help you out.” He teased, trying to lighten the mood because he knew she was beating herself up over all of it.

Y/N’s lips quirked, “You’re that good at poetry?”

“I was writing poetry and putting them into girl’s lockers when I was seven years old. Let’s just say, I’ve had practice,”  

“Okay Bukowski, I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Harry chuckled, feeling a bit more at ease. "Alright, challenge accepted," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He took a moment to think, twirling the pen between his fingers as he glanced around the room for inspiration. The soft glow of the fairy lights, the cosy blanket draped over the bed, and the serene expression on Y/N’s face all seemed to meld together into a perfect moment.

He began to write, the words flowing easily once he found his rhythm. He stole glances at Y/N as he wrote, drawing inspiration from her presence and the warmth she radiated.

After a few minutes, he put the pen down and handed the paper to Y/N. "Alright, here goes nothing. Don't laugh, okay?"

Y/N took the paper with a playful roll of her eyes. "No promises," she teased, but her expression softened as she began to read the words on the page written in his scribbly handwriting. 

Every word she took in had her heart dancing within her chest. 

‘She is sunshine, light pours from her’ 

‘She is sweeter than my own solitude’ 

There was beauty in every line. Everything he had written pulled and tugged at her, evoking this feeling that flooded through her that she had spent the past few weeks trying to keep at bay until she reached the final line. 

‘I watch her hands create beauty from the earth’s clay, 

Does she know I also spin on the wheel, feeling her hands mould me, shape me, bend to her desire any way she wants?

“Is it good?” Harry asked, not enjoying the extended period of silence they were in as she read the poem. He had only tossed words together in hopes of creating something good enough for her to present to her class, he wouldn’t be surprised if she hated it. 

But instead, Y/N looked up at him, her eyes glistening with an emotion he couldn’t place. “D-did you write this about someone?” She asked.

Harry’s face heated, “U-um, not that I can think of,” He lies. 

Y/N nods, “Do you know a lot of girls who do pottery in their spare time?”

Harry’s eyes lock with hers, an invisible connection passing through them. The air thickened around them, his heart suddenly pounding against his chest, desperate for something he had been wanting for far too long now. 

“O-Only one,” He admits.

Y/N’s eyes sparkled looking like the fairy lights on the walls of her bedroom. Harry’s eyes darted down to her lips and then back up again. “Harry,” Y/N whispers, fiddling with the bit of paper with his poem written on it, “T-this is a really pretty poem.” 

“Y-you think your class will like it?” 

“I don’t think I want to show this poem to my class,” She set the poem aside carefully, as if it were a precious treasure, and shifted closer to Harry on the bed. 

“Yeah,” Harry’s voice lowered, “It’s not very good anyway.”

“That’s not the reason,” Y/N's lips curved into a warm, genuine smile, “I think I’d much rather keep it for myself, if that’s okay.” 

Harry's heart raced as he looked into her eyes, seeing the depth of her feelings mirrored in his own. "No, that’s okay.," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. 

She set the poem aside carefully, as if it were a precious treasure, and shifted closer to Harry on the bed. Her eyes searched his, “Harry?”

“Wha’s wrong?” He swallowed the air he breathed. 

“C-can I kiss you?”

Harry felt a lump form in his throat as he searched for the right words, his heart pounding in his chest. Every moment seemed to stretch on indefinitely, each breath feeling heavier than the last. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing thoughts. He knew he couldn't hide his feelings any longer, not from her. With trembling hands, he reached out to gently cup her cheek, his touch tender and hesitant. 

“H-Harry,” Y/N’s voice was barely above a whisper. 

Unable to find the words, he leaned in, his heart pounding in his chest until their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss. It was sweet and gentle. Whilst one hand cupped her cheek, the other moved to her waist gripping it hard and tugging her in closer. One of Y/N’s hands gripped the back of his neck, pulling him in so she could deepen the kiss. 

He couldn’t help but smile the longer his lips pressed against the plush, soft touch of hers. Y/N felt his lips curve and smiled too, a breathy laugh escaping her, “What?” 

Harry shook his head, his eyes hazy and lips pinker than usual, “Nothing,” He shook his head but his smile never faded, “Jus’... I’ve been dreaming of this moment for what feels like forever.”

“You have?” Y/N smiles, her cheeks flushed.

“Mhm,” He kissed her again quickly, “I’ve liked you for so long.”

Y/N tugged on the sleeve of his sweater, fiddling with a loose thread, “I like you too Harry,” She admits and suddenly his world felt a little less lonely and a whole lot brighter.

. . .

“Sunshine,” Harry slurred against her lips as they moulded together. She was sitting on the table in an empty classroom with him standing between her legs. “We’ve got to get to class,” he murmured, trying to sound stern but failing miserably as his hands roamed her waist and hers tangled in his hair.

Y/N’s legs brushed against his as she swung them back and forth. If they were to leave the comfort of the quiet classroom, there was no doubt people would know what they had been up to. They had been walking to their English Lit lecture together when Harry recited a line from the play they were studying. Without warning, Y/N had dragged him into the nearest empty classroom and kissed him before he even had time to register what was going on.

“But we could stay here?” she heaved, pulling away and pouting.

Harry smiled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I know, but we’ve got a test coming up soon.”

“And you’ve already taught me all I need to know,” she countered, her eyes twinkling.

Despite dating now, their tutoring sessions hadn’t ended. They saw each other every single day, spending time at each other’s apartments and trying to meet up whenever they both had a free period so they could sit and eat lunch together or make out somewhere. But Wednesday afternoons were still dedicated to tutoring, and then Y/N would take him down to the pottery studio afterwards where they’d decompress.

He still hadn’t mastered the art of creating bowls or plates in the same way Y/N had, but the cupboards of his kitchen were slowly filling up with wonky cutlery and multi-coloured dishes. 

Harry smiled lazily, feeling the cotton of her pink cardigan between his fingertips. “C’mon sunshine,” He murmured. 

“Fine,” She huffed, pressing another kiss to his lips before sliding off the desk. “Oh no, I forgot my notebook again,” She huffed.

Harry laughed, reaching for her hand and threading their fingers together, “Don’t worry I bought an extra.” He always packed extra everything whenever he was with Y/N because it didn’t matter how many times he reminded her, she always seemed to forget. 

“Thank you,” Y/N grinned, “I swear I packed it with me last night when we were watching that movie which by the way you’re going to have to explain to me the ending because I was too busy,” Harry was going to remind her he had tried to get her attention back to the film but she was focused on playing a game on his phone the entire time, “Oo and tonight when you come to my place we can finally try that new ice cream flavour I bought from the store and- oh yeah the movie, so I basically stopped watching at the point where the girl falls into the water. Wait, what was I talking about before that again?”

Harry smiled, “The notebook,”

“Oh yeah, the notebook.” She rambled, continuing to explain all the places she could have left it even though Harry knew exactly where it was. 

By the time they got to class, they were ten minutes late. They took the walk of shame to their places in the back, holding hands beneath the table as Harry took notes and Y/N rested her head against his arm, rubbing her cheek against his soft, navy blue sweater. 

He smiled, kissing the top of her head and basking in the warmth of his sunshine girl. 

[bengals-barnesbabe]

Imagine your first wash day at Joe's...

word count: 1.1k

a/n: JB9 taglist is now open, if you’d like to be on it comment 'tag me🏈’ and you’ll be added. If you want to be taken off at any point dm me -babe :)

main masterlist

When you first started dating, Joe had only ever seen your hair in a protective style or wrapped in a scarf, granted you met in the summer so those were your safest options.

As time went on and you grew closer, you began to wear your hair out more which required much more work, so you left a mini hair care bag at his place. It only had a few essential items like a leave in, edge control, mini spray bottle, some hair oil and a pack of silk scrunchies. Since you spent the majority of the time at his place he believed that was all you needed to maintain your 4b/4c hair.

You moved in with him a month ago, and today is your long awaited and very much needed wash day. The weather in Cincinnati finally cooled down enough for you to let go of the braids, so you planned to do mini twists. You wanted to start as soon as possible, so when Joe left at 8 in the morning you gathered your bucket of haircare products and locked yourself in the bathroom.

♡ ♥︎ ♡

It was about noon when Coach Taylor let his players out, they had a game that Sunday so he didn't want to run them too ragged. Joe, Tee and Ja'Marr decided to grab a bite to eat before heading to Joe's to cool off.

The moment the 3 men enter your living room is the exact moment you remember that you may have neglected to tell your boyfriend of today's significance.

"Hey babe, we stopped by that place you liked so I brought you- woah." Joe looks wide eyed at the organized mess of different combs/brushes, gels and bottles of hair products with you in the center of it.

You nervously smile at the trio. "Hi." You quickly finish the twist you're on and pause the movie you're 'watching'.

"Are we interrupting something- ohhh yea mhm got it. Let's go, Tee." Ja'Marr says assessing the situation.

"Yo wait, can you do mine next? You know, when you get a chance." Tee asks.

"Man, she aint doing yo crusty ass fade. I'm definitely next."

"There ain't nothing wrong with my cut." The two wide receivers argue on the way out.

You chuckle before turning back to your boyfriend, "I may have forgot to tell you today's wash day." You say sheepishly.

"You think?" He shakes his head and takes a seat on the cleanest spot next to you. "This is a lot, when did you get all of this?"

"I've had it the whole time, most of it stays in the closet a majority of the time." You shrug moving around some of the products so he can stretch out. He gladly scoots in closer and analyses your work in progress.

You had just finished the back before they walked in, your hair is pretty thick and a decent length so washing it took about 2 hours. Then you decided to make your life easier by making the process harder and blowing out the entire thing, that took another hour.

"The line in the back is crooked, but its look pretty nice overall."

You immediately smacked his chest. "Joey, what the hell."

"What'd I do? Do you not want me to be honest?" You glared at him.

"You've been hanging out with Ja'Marr for too long."

He chuckles and presses a kiss to your head, "baby you are the most talented, amazing and most beautiful woman I've ever had the pleasure to meet. And you are doing an absolutely fantastic job on your hair."

"Much better, now let me wash my hands before I see if you actually got my order right." You teased.

"I know you better than I know myself Y/n, you need to stop doubting my 'boyfriend skills'."

While you're gone he couldn't help but look at every single product in his vicinity. Trying not to knock over any of the open bottles of oil, he spots a bright blue gel-cream and reaches for it.

"Doo Gro, well I am growing out my hair." His curiosity getting the best of him, he scoops some out of the jar and sniffs it for safety reasons. Unable to place the scent, he rubs it in his hands then rakes his hands through his hair.

"Joe, what are you doing?" He jumps at your voice, effectively knocking over your bag of combs.

"Shit, baby. What does it look like?" He says now cleaning the mess of combs, in shapes and sizes he'd never seen a day in his life.

"It looks like you wanna be a giant grease ball." You snort picking a handheld mirror off the floor and putting it in his face.

"Jesus, I didn't put that much in." The dollop he picked up had somehow multiplied and made it look like he'd meant to slick back his hair.

"Aww my poor greasy baby, I hope you rubbed it into your scalp as well." You said picking up your plate and shoving the food in your mouth.

"I think I got that covered, does this stuff wash out- Y/n baby calm down it's not going anywhere." He stares wide eyed at the plate that's been half eaten in mere seconds.

"I know, I just haven't eaten since like yesterday. It probably does, just not all of it. At least you'll get thicker hair out of this," You can't help the giggles coming out as you continue to look at your boyfriend's head.

"It's not that funny." He bites his bottom lip as his own start to take over.

"You look like the kids that cover themselves in vaseline and peanut butter." The room's completely filled with your laughter to the point that everything has been forgotten.

"If doing your hair has always been this fun, let me help all the time." He smiles as the laughter subsides.

You shake your head, "I'll let you wash it next time and we'll see if you still wanna be included. Even with your giant football arms, you'll be tapping out before we get to deep conditioning."

He smirks, "all I hear is that you like my arms."

You scoffed and gave him a good once-over, "oh I like more than your arms." Biting your lip, you sit yourself in his lap.

"Oh yea, tell me more." His eyes blazed with desire as your hands run up his arms and down his chest.

"I love how big you are, but you already knew that." You smirk.

"Fuck." He growls pulling your lips flush against his.

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

a/n: inspired by my HS self making the fact that I learned to do my hair during quarantine and mastered mini twists enough for it to become my entire personality. she was very humbled when they became a trend lol, I still love them tho and my nephew who covered himself in vaseline not once but 3 times. :)

[miniwheat77]

Baby Blue. (Simon Riley.)

!CW! NSFW, fluff, blood, injuries, near death, sorry if I missed any.

Baby Blue is the first color Simon Riley sees when he meets you for the first time. He had walked into Price’s office without knocking, accidentally walking into his first meeting with you, you were joining the base. He didn’t miss the baby blue scrunchy you had wrapped your hair up with.

Baby Blue is the color that stood out the most from the dark man. His icy eyes staring down at you, muttering out an apology about barging in, but a recruit had gotten a little rambunctious and hurt himself so he needed his Captain right that second. While Price went off to handle it, he introduced himself to you. The first thing he noticed about you is how pretty you were, and sweet too. You stuck your hand out for him to shake, and you had a firm grip. You knew you were in trouble from that very moment.

Baby Blue is the color he remembers most about you, when you stumbled into the hallway, running right into him. You rubbed your tired eyes, complaining about a nightmare. Your silk pajama set was baby blue, a stunning color that complimented the tone of your skin. He was in trouble. “Cmon, I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.” He sighs, leading you into your room. Keeping you company until your breaths evened out, but you had a tight grasp on his sweatshirt. He was stuck.

Baby Blue is the color that made him realize he had to keep you safe. His hands were soaked with blood, the baby blue undershirt you had under your long sleeve shirt and vest, turning a sick shade of red as your blood seeped into it, through the bullet hole in your side. He was trying not to panic but the thought of losing you ate him up inside. He had to keep you safe, away from all of this. He couldn’t do this. He had to tell you how he felt before something happened. Lifting you up off of the ground and running with you, dodging gunfire and getting you to safety. “Stay with me darling- please stay with me.” He pants, setting you down. Tearing his shirt into pieces and wrapping your wound with it.

Baby Blue is the color of that hospital gown you were covered with. When you’d woken up days later in the hospital and Simon was right there at your side, hadn’t missed a day. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked tired. You smiled at him. It was weak and lazy, but to Simon? You’d never looked more beautiful. He was quick to move to your side. Right then and there is where he confessed his feelings for you. Told you every ounce of pain you’d caused him by being unconscious, near death. You shared more things about each other, and you told Simon you liked him just as much. If not more. His hands shook, and you took them into your own. Holding onto him. “Here.” You smile. Tugging the blue scrunchy out of your knotted hair. You pushed it onto his wrist. “So you’ll always have a piece of me with you, but be careful. That’s my favorite.” You smiled.

Baby Blue was the color of his bow tie, and the ribbons sat in your hair. The entire task force and Laswell sat in the front row as you said ‘I do.’ Simon tilting you to kiss you. Being extra. He was so nervous that morning getting ready alongside Johnny, who stood next to him as his best man. He reassured him the entire time, and Simon messed with the scrunchy that sat on his wrist more than ever.

Baby Blue is the little hat and sock set that your Captain had gotten you as a gift that adorned your newborn son. Along with a set of mittens Laswell had thought of, nobody wanted the little guy to scratch himself. You had your baby in your arms, Simon played with the scrunchy nervously, he was a dad now. He had to be someone his son could look up to. And if theres one thing he wants his son to understand, is how much he loves his mum. And how much he adores that goddamned blue crunchy that started the mess in the first place.

[cowboycherry]

☆ || pain in my teeth!

summary! // tasm! peter parker x autistic! reader who has some very prominent and unfortunate sensory issues regarding a certain super suit.

inclusions/warnings! // gender of reader is not specified. reader’s sensory issues make their teeth hurt to a point where they have to use a stimulation (in the form of a rubber straw) to make it better, peter feels guilty about it which then causes reader’s empathy sensitivity to spike, reader says i love you and peter says it back, i don’t know how to end a fluffy blurb!! <3 no use of ‘y/n’ but uses of baby, sweetheart (for reader) and pete, petey (for peter) i wrote this based on my personal experiences with autism, so it may not be something that every person experiences!

not proofread! // please let me know if there are any mistakes/things that i should work on! and my inbox is open for any requests, or just a chat!

possession! // all of my work is my own. do not copy, translate, or repost any of my writing.

word count! // 700+

enjoy my lovelies! <3

。 ♡ 。　　♡。　　♡ {peter’s version}

peter honestly wasn’t sure what had happened to get to this point.

about 3 seconds ago you were fine, basking in his spider-man awesomeness and doting on him being the “coolest and best boyfriend ever!” and now you’re making a scrunchy face and uncomfortable noises.

because of his spider senses (but actually because he is the best boyfriend ever and knows what you’re feeling before you can even comprehend it), he jumps into action. as he moves closer to hold you and ask what’s wrong, what had suddenly changed to make you upset, you hold a hand up to stop him.

he frowns slightly, “are you okay? what happened, baby?” you shake your head in response.

“i’ve never felt your suit before.”

he completely stops, confused for a moment as to why that has anything to do with this and then it clicks. the texture.

you’ve always been super irritated by textures: velvet, corduroy, silks, and many many others. while you aren’t quite sure what horrendous type of spandex fabric peter’s blue and red superhero costume was made out of, you know that it hurts. badly.

“just made my teeth hurt really bad, ‘s okay, though. ‘m okay now, pete.” you try to smile widely at him to let him know that it’s fine but you cringe and purse your lips again as you watch him as he removes the suit hurriedly, ridding the thing causing you to not touch him.

“no! i, ugh! i should’ve thought about it and let you feel the suit a little bit first before i hugged you like that, sweetheart, i’m sorry.”

you shake your head fervently, mumbling assurances that it’s fine as you begin to bite onto the silicone straw in your cup to reduce the aching of your teeth. “really it’s fine! it just… threw me off. y’know how i am, pete. but it’s better now! my teeth aren’t even hurting anymore!” they definitely were, but you can’t stand to see him feel so guilty about something that isn’t his fault.

he throws a t-shirt over his head (one that he knows you never have a problem with) and he strides towards the bed. “i still feel bad, though. ‘specially ‘cause i know you well enough to know that they’re still hurting.” he grumbles as he lays next to you, covering his face with a pillow.

you reach behind you, still chewing on your straw, to rub a hand across his stomach. “really ‘s okay, peter! i’ll be fine in a minute. just please don’t feel bad.” your voice sounds a little strained with worry and that makes him feel even worse knowing that he’s affecting your empathy sensitivity as well.

“okay. okay, it’s fine. you’re okay. can i touch you, please?” his voice is dulcet as he whispers to you. you nod, humming in relief when you feel his hands settle on your hips.

your teeth finally rid of their ache after a few more minutes, and you turn to peter with a frown on your face. “no, no baby, why that face?” he pouts, rushing his hands to cover your cheeks and try to rub the frown away.

you mimic his pout, mumbling through his palms, “oou wor ‘sposed to tae me to swang frew da cidy!”

he giggles and removes his hands, “one more time?”

you crack a little smile, still frowning slightly.

“you were supposed to take me to swing through the city, petey! and now you can’t because ‘m sensitive!” you throw yourself dramatically onto the bed with a wail.

“oh.” he pauses for a minute as he turns to face you. “well, we could… go without my suit? like to somewhere where there aren’t many people or we could go at night! or! i could just wear the mask, then you don’t have to touch the whole suit!”

your heart swells at the boy in front of you. he’s so so sweet and you know that he’d do anything for you, and you would do the same for him.

“i think that sounds really nice, peter. i love you, by the way. thanks for always putting up with me.” you snuggle into his warmth, wrapping you fingers into his hair as you kiss little pecks onto his skin.

“yeah, ‘f course, baby.” you can hear his grin through your kisses. “i love you too.”

[happyk44]

Bianca and Nico used to switch clothes as kids because Bianca liked pants when she was playing (no scuffed knees!) and Nico liked twirling around and making the skirt swish swish.

Hazel looking through old photos of Nico and Bianca that Hades saved, then popping off to the nearest shop to put something together, showing up hours later in front of the Hades cabin in a pressed suit that's just a little on the big side. Her hair is slicked back into a low bun, scrunchie making some threats beneath her hat.

Nico leans against the doorframe. "You look interesting."

She hands him a dress bag. "Get dressed, doll. I'm taking you out on the town."

With an amused grin, he takes the bag. "Does this surprise come with the right jewelry?" He gestures to his hole-worn, bedhead, sleepless form. "A girl's gotta look right in mixed company, you know."

She snorts and pulls out a silk bag. "Would I ever do you wrong, kitten?"

He rolls his eyes but disappears back into the dark of the cabin. It's a few minutes before he remerges, shadowy tendrils clingy to his neck as the wisp and weave his hair into a soft braid. Most of them dispel away in the low light of the slowly setting sun.

He spins around and pulls his hair to the side. Pulling the necklace out, she clips it around his neck. The pearls look nice against his skin. His thumb slides against one.

"Oh, they're real," he murmurs.

"Of course they're real!" She looped their arms together. "I'd never let my best filly hop around with fakes." He rolled his eyes. "I'm not a crumb, Nico." She flicked his cheek. Then tugged him off to the nearest shadow. "Now let's shake a leg and go have a bang!"

[lilly-onthevalley]

Tips for my girlies in university and early work

I decided to make this post based on what has made my life easier these past few years. Every woman wants to cultivate beauty; make themselves put together, be taken seriously, and find a partner who is equally yoked if you're into that. As an old tumblr girl shifting in and out of the scene, I wanted to make another tip post like the old times that's accurate to what helped me.

A lot of the older/retired girlie's where amazing advisors, however one thing that created a barrier was that they were were endowed with large wealth and their society paved a path for them, and there's absolutely nothing wrong with that, I love to see it actually. I wanted to make a post looking back to what has helped me make my own steps to now be able to utilise the old girl's advice as it was supposed to.

Hair

Learning a basic blow out is necessary. If you're starting out, you don't need all of the fancy brands, and you'll notice that technique is what differentiates the quality of a blowout. Get a good round brush that conducts heat well, mid range but reliable (Babyliss) blow driers, flat irons, and curling rod. Invest in a heat protectant too. Sweet talk the hair dressers and ask where they get their stock from. Get yours hands on some pro hair sheers to get your own trims and layers going.

Silk scrunchies and pillow cases are an underrated and feminine must-have. I'm a lazy girl who always has a silk press if my hair is out and I can get away with collapsing onto a silk pillowcase with no head wrap and still manage to have a lovely style in the morning. I would say order these from a small business. Many girls have businesses dealing with small textile projects like scrunchie packs and average size pillow cases, support them! :)

Learn to do your own cornrows and invest in a half wig especially if you're busy with classes and don't have time for the whole round brush ordeal.

Don't be scared of wigs, and don't be ashamed of not having enough time to pull off a dazzling natural masterpiece. There's a reason why wigs are in high demand from women of all races. People are all over busy. You can start with a natural synthetic and move on to better hair.

I learnt the art of hair when I was 15, so I've been doing it for a while. However, because of this, I can tell you the importance of having a lovely crown on your head. I have received hundreds (not joking) of compliments from years, whether my hair was real or fake, and that shows how important it is for a first impression.

Nails/Feet

Don't forget to take care of them. Walking all the miles, wearing the mandated courts, sitting in one place. You will indeed develop calluses, perhaps even athletes' foot and hyperpigmentation from a lack of circulation.

Get yourself a basic pumice stone or a scrubber and use them when need. Massage yourself as well to maintain mobility and flexibility.

If you can, get yourself an affordable gel set. It might seem a bit expensive, but it'll save you the time and money of the upwardly costly nail appointments. You'll find out when you get up and socialise more that what tops the cake of classy is a glossy basic nail. Natural nudes and whites are always a go to.

Scent

Scent connoisseurs are going to absolutely hate me for this, but girlie's, if you can't get that Jean Paul Gaultier or Baccarat Rouge, get the damn arabic fragrance. Back in high-school when me and my girls were starting up, setting ourselves apart and getting invited to important places, Lattafa was our favourite. Social media is currently finally going crazy for them. (The African/Arab girls got them first 🤭.) I loved my floral Haayati with a mix of Zakra (other brand, heavy masculine oud tones for my peace of mind), and my best girl loved her gourmand Yara and her vanilla oils.

I love to talk about fragrance because it talks first for you. Nothing is better than a delicious light smell accompanying your presence. It shows you hold yourself to some esteem.

Skin

Face Essentials - gua sha stone, gentle cleanser, exfoliating cleanser or serum, sunscreen, thick moisturising butter, anti fungal or bacterial essential oil, lip moisturiser, clean cloth.

These will help you start out on a basic level to having healthy looking skin. Exfoliating is very important towards a glow. When you're stuck working with a bright light in your face, soaking up the harsh morning air full of car exhaust, sweating as the hours go by - what will make the difference is making sure that you get rid of that excess dead skin every 3-7 days.

Gua sha is amazing for getting rid of the stress if you clench your jaw during moments of stress. Say you have to present an assignment or address and debate a crowd, that takes a tole on the jaw and the facial muscles. Using a gua sha is great for ironing those knots and that tension out.

On the topic of massage, spas can be unaffordable at times, time is could also be a problem. Get into a habit of using every minute you have. That 5 minutes that you sit and doom scroll on tik tok, take out a wood tool, grab a moisturiser, and press those muscles to release built-up tension. Taking care of the vehicle you have is so important. Your body and mind are separate but complimentary. Take care of her, and she will take care of you. Don't forget that every second, she's pumping the blood that facilitates your social meetings and work hours.

When it comes to body, get yourself exfoliating mits or an abrasive rag. Once again, exfoliation, exfoliation, exfoliating. It's great for blood flow and circulation as well as moving your muscles and tissues that may be constantly seditary from a desk.

Dry brushing is something I also swear by. Once again, absolutely wonderful for circulation and waking the skin up.

Get yourself a foam roller... I press such an emphasis on these tools that stimulate the muscles because we often forget how much our bodies are taking multiple hits from working. Joint issues are something that's prevalent when you're a working girl, coming straight out of high-school and going into the world outside the home of your care taker. Roll those legs out, release that back into the grooves. It makes a world of difference!

Clothing

I loved to dress like a blank canvas back in my early days when I decided I want to make something of myself. Nothing beats good denim pants and a white t-shirt. Especially when you're starting out and want to begin establishing outfits for everyday, you'll notice the blank canvas approach will prevent you from looking crazy on crazy days. Stock up on 3 white tees, white and blue jeans, yoga pants, well fitting good quality skin tone lingerie, a belt, a watch, some fake pearls, black or white dress, a ring and a necklace and my all time favourite, a pair of shades.

Ugh, I can't get enough of combinations like this. I grew up and was educated by women who followed this but fancied it up with a bold Goyard St Louis, a 3 stone engagement ring with a gold band, a local pure and heavy polished silver bracelet and some Loro Pianas. Absolutely gorgeous women, who knew how to constantly present themselves as nothing less than reliable, stylish and beautiful.

You might say that, 'Omg Lilly, that's so boring', that's not the point here 😂. As a green girl with a good head on your shoulders, you're going to get a lot of new opportunities. Whether it's internships, parties, socials with the girls or the guys, dates, fund raisers, club representative workshops, you're going to be expected to show up well and put together. Say you have a social evening at a club house, in the morning you have an internship and the next day you have to manage and represent your society. Those 3 white shirts paired with a rotation of basic bottoms and versatile shoes will make things a lot easier for you especially if you're starting out in a foreign country where you don't know what is to be worn exactly.

Makeup

Those who have known me are well aware that I'm a retired goth girl and was killing it with the cut crease and James Charles tutorials back in the day. Makeup is something that has seamlessly became part of my life. Unfortunately or fortunately, I grew out of that creative phase and started wondering what actually makes my natural features and face pop. What presents me as healthy, bright, and hyper-feminine (in contrast to the basic clothing)

I came up with the recipe of 'Biology' makeup. Blush because it signifies healthy blood flow and interest in the person you're interacting with. Healthy full eyebrows, non-matte evenly toned skin with naturally bronzed dimensions. A healthy hydrated pink lip. Some extras are a little liner to enhance the eye, flirty lashes from carefully applied mascara and/or lashes and some depth and glitter to draw attention at the eyes.

Very basic, very safe, very attractive, very reliable. This is a routine that can be executed within 8 minutes.

Moisturiser -> sunscreen base -> full coverage foundation or concealer watered down with sunscreen to make it more glowy and allow the natural dimensions of the face to peer through->bronzer/darker powder-> semi heavy blush combined with some loose banana powder to calm down the concelar-> light wing-> lashes-> wipe the lips and eyebrows-> fill both in and end with a natural colour applied to both.

Inspo below

E.T.C

Other important notes:

Yoga, cardio and pilates to maintain mobility, lubricate those joints, crack those bones back into place. Sweat is amazing to get those toxins, lose a bit of unnecessary weight, blow off steam, improve skin health, get your blood pumping and much more.

Save your money, all these things are meant to make life simpler for you so you are in a place where you are investing into things that are truly important like rent, food, tuition, remittances, dental work, medical aid, insurance, etc till you have someone who could assist with that :)

Remember to keep a balanced diet. Oh lord, when I went out to a new country, thank god I was young, but I became close friends with the local McDonald's and knew all of the door dash delivery men by name. Please, for the love of God, buy your fresh food and meal prep. The temptation is so real after a long night, to drop a bunch of pounds or euros on a quarter pounder and some zinger wings but it will not nourish you to survive another active day with decent cognition and drive. Especially if you were living alone and stressing out about making your own path, don't feed the delivery demon. You'll lose useful money, and mess your hormones up.

Instead to reward yourself, buy your place some flowers. If you want to eat go to a restaurant which serves whole food. Buy some new fancy stationery, party, get a spa or cosmetic treatment that you've been wanting, travel or take a train to somewhere scenic! Perhaps I'm too harsh but addiction to quick fixes is real when you first drop into a state of independence whether it's financially or physically. Don't abuse it by splurging. Understand moderation through strict monitoring then after a while, go get that Wingstop or whatever after knowing how to access real food and that it's an affordable and doable option first! (me and my guy friends literally never ate any real food for a month straight while gallivanting in Europe because we were so codependent on Taco Bell and used our lack of knowledge of the city as an excuse to take the easy way out 🤣.)

If you can do something really well, make a mini business out of it.

Network, network, network. Ask questions, ask for opportunities, get numbers and business cards.

Self defense starter kit (Google it according to the laws of your nation)

Lastly, make friends, call family, volunteer at an animal shelter every now and then to remind you of what love is 😂 because in the fast paced assimilation into new environments, you do forget and only notice when suddenly you're sadder than usual, and have anxiety during basic interactions.

⭐️

[femmefatalevibe]

Hi! Do you have an easy peasy guide to skincare and hygiene for depressed dummies? 😃

Hi love! Sharing a high-level, basic skincare routine and hygiene tips to follow:

Morning Skincare:

Gentle facial cleanser & water

Vitamin C serum + hyaluronic acid

Facial moisturizer

Sunscreen designed for your face (at least SPF 50 – I think that this La Roche Posay SPF 60 choice is the best option for the money)

Apply sunscreen to your hands, neck, and any parts that will be exposed to the sun (Don't forget to use an SPF lip balm, too!)

Nighttime Skincare:

Remove any makeup (I love these Simple makeup wipes!)

Gentle cleanser

Toner/serums (only use AHAs like glycolic acid or lactic acid and retinol/retinoids at night, using them during the day can increase chances of sunburning)

Facial moisturizer (can be heavier than the one you use during the day, especially in the winter or if you have dry skin)

Spot treatments (if needed)

Eye cream

Skincare Extras:

Exfoliate your face 2-3 times/week (I love the First Aid Beauty Radiance Pads but the CeraVe Renewing Salicylic Acid Cleanser is a great drugstore option!)

Always use disposable cloths instead of a regular towel on your face to reduce bacteria, breakouts, or infections (I love the Clean Skin Club ones!)

Exfoliate your body 2-3 times a week using a dry brush or a scrub (I love the CeraVe Salicylic Acid Body Cleanser, but my favorite is the OUAI Sugar Scrub) and follow it up with a hydrating body moisturizer

Always exfoliate and moisturize before shaving, waxing, or other body hair removal treatments (look up the timeframes for the type of hair removal you choose)

Scrub under your nails daily with antibacterial soap & water and a nail brush

Vaseline is a versatile staple item that can be used as an affordable alternative to an eye cream, cuticle oil, lip balm, or hand cream, and can be used to treat any dry, cracked, or rough patches on the skin

Use a hand lotion and moisturizer on your feet with socks every night before bed

Aloe vera and coconut oil are great skincare staples to keep on hand to soothe burns, irritation, or inflamed skin

Haircare Tips:

Shampoo your skull, condition the rest: Focus shampoo on your roots and work it through your scalp; concentrate conditioner on the ends and work your way up until you reach the base of your skull - around your upper ear lobe

Always comb, never brush, your hair when wet: Gently use a wide-tooth comb, from root to tip, on wet hair to prevent breakage

Use a special towel to dry your hair: My favorite is from Crown Affair (pricey for what it is but worthwhile in the long-term), but a Turbie Twist from the drugstore works infinitely better than a regular towel that weighs down and causes frizzy, damaged hair

Always use a heat protection spray before blow drying or straightening/curling your hair: (Briogeo and Oribe products are my love for all haircare products, including their blowdry creams – also love R +Co. for a heat protection styling mist)

Choose your hair ties wisely: Use seamless or silk hair ties exclusively to prevent breakage or awkward creases on your hair. Wear a silk scrunchie if you prefer. These hair ties from Amazon are my holy grail (only $7 for 100 hair ties!), and they come in a portable ziplock bag

Use dryer sheets to minimize hair frizz and water or Vaseline to slick back fly-aways

Other Hygiene Tips:

Brush teeth, floss, & skincare (2x/day); Get a water pick, too, if you can!

Use a toothbrush cover at all times; Close the toilet seat before flushing

Wash your body towels at least once a week

Wash your pillowcases weekly and sheets at least once every 2 weeks

Throw out and replace your mascara every 2-3 months

Change your underwear and socks daily or more after sweating/working out

For those who menstruate, change your pad or tampon every 3-4 hours

Vulva owners: Use a fragrance-free soap on the outside, only water to clean the inside – no fancy wipes or douching. Wipe front to back!

Wear cotton underwear whenever possible; Find a fabric that breathes

Have a similar buttocks cleansing routine that you do for your face to prevent embarrassing zits or acne

Don't shave between waxes; Use tweezers if necessary a few days after your hair removal treatment

Always wash your hands before touching your face

Hope this helps xx

[river3000]

An overview of Rachel Elizabeth Dare’s hair, and her hairbrush (and why the hairbrush should be appreciated more)

I’ve seen lots of people saying that Rachel bringing a hairbrush is unrealistic, and people with WAVY hair (which is way different from curly hair) saying it's unrealistic too, so this post is telling them why they’re wrong. So I LOVE Rachel, not just because she looks like me (same pasty, easily sunburned skin, and plethora of freckles; her poor bank account, spending so much on sunscreen), but also because I relate to her so much! One reason I relate to her is that HER HAIR LOOKS EXACTLY LIKE MINE, HER OFFICIAL ART HAIR LOOKS EXACTLY LIKE MY HAIR, way too curly, way too frizzy, and easily tangled. So, for all the straight-haired people reading this (also I will be showing this to all my friends, all of whom have straight or wavy hair, except one of them has two waves down the back of her hair and is delusional because she thinks her hair is curly) this is my hair brushing routine and other things about my hair so you understand what I mean when I say that taking care of hair like that is HARD:

I take a shower and use curly hair-specific shampoo (which is expensive)

I also do a wash-out untangle thing to make it easier to brush

I use curly hair-specific conditioner, a detangling spray, and two hair mask things to make the brushing easier

I use either a WET brush or a detangling brush, but usually the WET brush

I keep a spray bottle on hand to keep it wet the whole time

It takes at least 30-45 minutes for me to brush my hair

I wash my hair out again to get the conditioner and hair masks out

I use a wide tooth comb after that because water makes it a little tangled

Sometimes after that, I use a leave-in conditioner, but not often

If I brushed it for a fancy event or something then I use my diffuser to dry it, if not I braid it and go to bed because I take night showers unless it's a fancy event or sometimes a weekend

I sleep in a silk bonnet and use only a silk pillowcase

I can only brush my hair wet

I can’t run my fingers through it a lot

I have to go to a haircut place that specializes in curly hair

I can't brush it in the morning or casually

I brush it every three days because I can’t get it wet lots because that's bad for it

To get the Frizz™ that’s on the top of my head every morning to calm down when I put it up I wet it with my sink water

The only hair ties I can use in my hair on a normal basis are scrunchies

I only wear my hair down the day after or after I brush my hair

I wear it up every day

My friends can't do my hair a lot of the time unless I instruct them or find a tutorial video of a style of curly hair like mine, and they call me controlling when I do that

My friends with wavy hair say that wavy hair is harder to take care of than curly hair and I hate it because they don’t know what they’re talking about

If I don’t brush my hair it all becomes one giant matt on the back of my head and if that goes on too long it becomes painful and I get a scalp rash

Buying products is an expensive necessity

One I hadn’t brushed my hair for a week and when I took it down to redo my bun my friend looked at me in Horror™

Only one of my friends actually puts in the work to do my hair and helps me with it because she enjoys styling it and understands it’s hard to take care of after helping me brush it a few times, surprise surprise she’s my best friend

No hair clips, they get stuck in my hair

Once I was brushing it and my hairbrush just broke in half

I have an undercut that you can’t see with my hair down, just to make it easier to deal with; it’s an inch-or-half-an-inch-idk-which-one-thick, inch tall stripe that’s right above the back of my neck, at the base of my skull

I shed like a fucking dog

My hair also becomes so frizzy it looks like I brushed it dry when it's humid, and I live in a humid and hot place

Ginger hair makes you sunburn easier (and unable to tan)

I got bullied in school for being ginger because there’s something wrong with that in the minds of middle schoolers (I was also bullied for being gay and not ashamed of being queer but that’s not the point)

I would be called a leprechaun a lot as a kid, Saint Patrick's Day was and still is hell

Every time someone with straight hair complains about their hair being frizzy, I die a little more inside

Being pale an ginger, doing makeup, dying hair, and literally buying clothes is hard

especially makeup

I use the palest concealer they have at Target (it's called porcelain)

That’s all I can think of right now but I know there’s more. It’s entirely realistic that Rachel would bring a hairbrush because she has experienced all of this, and all of this started to happen to me when I was years younger than her. I said that I couldn’t brush my hair dry and Rachel could have had to, or maybe she would have waited for a part of the labyrinth with water to wet it and then brushed it, or had Percy use his water powers to wet it (Platonic Perachel is amazing, and I need more of it, they’re one of my fav brotps). So anyways guys, respect Rachel and stop questioning her hairbrush, they were in the labyrinth for a while, she needed that thing and it had done its fair share of service. That hairbrush has done more than being thrown at Kronos' eye.

[kamiliora]

Too people who want to get "prettier" and have a "glow up" Do NOT expect it to go over night.

Plenty of people believed that you just become pretty with no effort like you see on TV. It's never that easy. It takes steps, processes and Discipline. Always start with the basics like :

Hygeine

Make a skincare routine for your skin

Know your skin type and build you skincare routine from there

body care for the entire body

Scrubs , lotions and body butters are a must

Exfoliate 1-2 times a week

haircare (hair is everything even if u have a hijab hair care is still possible)

Oil train your hair and know you hair porosity to know what products to use

Use a non sulphate or silicon shampoo

Conditioner and a hair oil of your choice based on your hair problem

Hair mask 1 times a week

Know ur hair pattern to be able to use the right products and not damage your hair pattern

Do not straighten your hair everyday!!!

Use Silk pillows and silk scrunchies instead of elastics!!!

Getting a closet and hair cut for you

Find your best colors and body type

Therefore you would know which colors make you shine the most as well as

Find your seasonal color and which fraction ur in (like winter bright , summer light and etc)

Find which type of hair cuts and bangs suit your facial featured and face shape most

I recommend looksmaxing or the Yt channel Dear Peachie to help you including makeup tutorials, which archetype you are and which closet you can do

Look for styles that match your personality and makes you stand out

Build up a hobby

like sports photography, drawing, crocheting, dancing, and etc.

Doesn't have to be time consuming just something to do when ur bored or free even

Also depends on your time to be careful on what you commit to

Try to explore more options without much costs before fully committing to something that isn't for long-term

Exercise ( unless you already do)

Exercise requires discipline for you to be able to do it continuously for progress

If you can't afford a premium membership take a walk/jog/run around the block,street,park

If you feel unsafe you can do a YouTube work outs as they are effective depending on your goal

I recommend channels like :Madfit ,Hinafit, Shirley kim, April Han, ema wong, and Chloe ting

Take time for yourself (not all the time)

If you dont have time for yourself your body and brain will get stressed (from experience)

It can be as simple as drinking your daily detox water, green juice, coffee, tea or reading a book

Get 8 hours of sleep

Make sure not to stress for something so complete a task when given no matter how far the deadline is!!!

Reduce screen time to 3 hours a day (outside of school/work related stuff)

Diet

Never go too extreme like you see those people online do

Unless you are talking to professionals such as dieticians, Nutritionists and etc. (Bc most public figures do have professionals that they seek help too for these types of situations)

stick to a healthy diet like the 80/20 method

Or you can also do keto/greek/high carb or protein just never go extreme as it will slow down your metabolism

Find who you really are and trying to be better

People never really open up to try different things you should try more to find what you like most or which you are most stable with

See the perspectives on how you act im different situations and see what your mistakes are to try to avoid doing them again

Fix your mentality (watch wizard Liz, Song Jia,) and read quotes to inspire you to do better and the most you can

Always Analyze the situation before commenting or doing action unless its an emergency

Do not let people decide for you or get to your head it is their opinion not yours. You opinion is never invalid and justified in your perspective

Confident vs Arrogant vs Egoistic

Confident people never brag nor do they drag people down. They know they are THAT person and will NOT care about your opinion of them.

Arrogant people like to Brag about something that they have and thinks their all That. They bring down people for not having the luxury they have. But when someone has more and better than them they always try to avoid them, argue with them or get annoyed by them as They want to show supremacy

Egoistic people tend to make fun of people. Self-centered people that only think about themselves without knowing or thinking that they hurt others. Their too preoccupied with themselves to think of others helps or needs

(Sorry its so long and unorganized I made this at 2:30 am bc idk and these are just some tips)

[vampyr3wife]

Hiii ♡♡ u should make a hair FAQ or like a hair routine masterpost

r u a psychic anon T-T bc as I got this ask I was already typing out a hair masterpost…. I‘ve been getting a lot of asks abt hair lately but all of the info has been very scattered so here it is :] ⊹ ࣪ ˖ the hair masterpost ⊹ ࣪ ˖ I will preface this by saying it’s important to do research on what will work for your own hair type! I am still working on it >.< but this is just what I currently do for my fairly fine, naturally wavy hair. I hope this helps ^-^

ᴾʳᵒᵈᵘᶜᵗˢ :

⊹ ࣪ ˖ Walgreens brand therapeutic shampoo

⊹ ࣪ ˖ L’Oréal EverPure moisture conditioner (always looking 4 a better conditioner :/ )

⊹ ࣪ ˖ Infusium original leave in conditioner

⊹ ࣪ ˖ Beyond the zone heat protectant

⊹ ࣪ ˖ Jojoba oil (optional : add a couple drops of rosemary oil)

⊹ ࣪ ˖ Tangle teezer ultimate detangling brush

⊹ ࣪ ˖ Silk scrunchies + claw clips

⊹ ࣪ ˖ Silk pillowcase

ᴿᵒᵘᵗᶦⁿᵉˢ :

I wash my hair about every 3 days n I frequently give myself scalp massages, especially during shampooing. I focus the shampoo on my roots, then conditioner on my ends and leave it on for at least 10 minutes. I use a large cotton t-shirt instead of a towel to squeeze out my hair because it’s much more gentle. Leave in conditioner + heat protectant and then blow dry on low heat.

I do my best to do my oil treatments every other time I wash my hair but I’m not perfect abt it >. .< .. there are tons of YouTube videos that will do a better job of explaining than I will but basically. focus the oil into your roots and massage.. work it through your hair and ends.. avoid using 2 much oil. I usually leave it on for like an hour or longer. When you wash it out you will probably want to shampoo twice ♡ other times if my hair feels dry I will rub 2 drops of oil in my hands and distribute it through my ends.

I probably don’t trim it as much as I should, n I don’t really have any time routine for this. I do it myself and just take an inch or so off the ends.. it’s also important 2 use hair cutting scissors! I use antique hair cutting scissors tht cut womens’ hair in my family for generations.. not required obviously lol but I think little magics are important.

ᴼᵗʰᵉʳ ᵗᶦᵖˢ :

⊹ ࣪ ˖ To avoid damage, twist your hair up into a loose bun or claw clip while you sleep (see silk pillow case + scrunchies)

⊹ ࣪ ˖ Be gentle w ur hair! I treat it like my little creature.. take ur time w detangling, avoid harsh heat tools, try protective styles, try hair masks, learn about your hair type..

⊹ ࣪ ˖ Hair health not only starts from the scalp n roots but from ur insides.. greens n lentils n fats r good for hair growth. there r also vitamins that are known to improve hair growth but none of it will work much if u r not taking care of urself (u_u)/)♡

ᴴᵃᶦʳ⁻ᵈʸᵉ :

I am occasionally asked about my hair dye so I will include this little bonus section! The hairdye I use is L’Oréal Hicolor black onyx H21 with volume 10 developer. It’s permanent so I only touch up my roots every month or so.

[averagejoesolomon]

Wowza! What a doozy. Thanks for your patience on this one—lots of moving pieces. I hope you're enjoying the action as much as I am. If you're new here, you can read Full Circle from the beginning on Ao3. Happy Friday!

Chapter Six

As a general rule, Matt’s not afraid of a little silence. These days, a good silence has a way of bringing him back to the ranch, on a cool morning after he’s let all the animals out to graze. He used to spend hours in that barn all by himself, cleaning the stalls and filling the feeds, interrupted only by the occasional bird or barn cat. There was a peace about it—the sun cresting over a windy wheat field, sparkling across the morning dew, as muscle memory took over and left his mind to wander. The silence gave him space to think. Gave him time to take a step back and appreciate the little things in life. A silence, when done right, is a lot like a prayer without any of the effort.

This is not one of those silences.

In the twenty minutes since a man named Edward Townsend—apparently of MI6 and apparently not scheduled to arrive in Moscow midway through a mission—was dragged by his collar into the Baxters’ scanned and secured bedroom, Matt hasn’t heard one peep from his London partners. Hasn’t heard a peep from Rachel, either, which is far more disconcerting given there ain’t an inch of soundproofing between the two of them. She’s always had a way of making her silences seem loud, but this one has a bite to it. There’s frost in her features. There’s ice in her eyes. She’s a frozen pond too late into spring, closer to cracking by the second.

She’s furious about the hubbub at the Bolshoi—at least, Matt supposes so, if her car ride spent glaring at Townsend is any indication. The second they got back to the safe house, she changed from black silk to denim-on-denim, and dove straight into a pile of passports. She’s elbow deep in the accompanying paperwork by the time Matt completes his scan of the main room and approaches the small dining room table, wishing he knew how to thaw her out. “Hey,” he starts, with a clumsy clearing of his throat. “Don’t beat yourself up about how tonight went. This place has a way of taking the best laid plans and shoving them through a meat grinder.”

This is probably an understatement, given the scene they caused by rushing out of the theatre during the second act, and Rachel doesn’t miss the opportunity to say so. Pencil still looping through a sloppy and efficient cursive, she glances up from the top of her eyes. “That wasn’t a meat grinder,” she says. “That was a slaughterhouse.”

It’s nice to see her back at her usual level of cynicism. He slides easily into the seat opposite her, resuming his role as the silver lining to all of her gray clouds. “Nah,” he assures her, leaning onto the hind legs of his chair. “I’ve seen slaughterhouses, and there’s always a lot more bloodshed. All of your people are alive, and that counts for a lot. Plus, we got what we came for, didn’t we?”

He gestures toward her small collection of emerald and navy vinyl, every booklet placed neatly in a grid. Knowing her, they’re alphabetized by last name and he wonders which one reads Morgan. Wonders how his own name fits into her report. “We did,” she agrees. “And then some.”

Cold front, moving through. Her severity fractures throughout all of her features. A crease in her brow. The appraising squint of her eyes. Her not-quite dimples are back, carved from a tight frown, and Matt reckons she must know something he doesn’t. With Rachel, it’s always a pretty safe bet. 

Even so, he’s got this urge to chip away at her and get back to the softness he saw at the Bolshoi. She’s nearly there, hair tied up in a baby pink scrunchie, pins and jewelry stripped, but there’s still something at the core of her that needs a little more work. “See?” he says. “That’s good news you can take right back to Virginia.”

This doesn’t land the way he hopes. In fact, it winds her up even more. Rachel takes on a particular type of grace when she’s trying hard to appear calm. It’s the kind of subtle thing that might go unnoticed by most, but Matt is in the business of noticing Rachel Cameron and he has been for years. He spots it in her now, moving with the practiced ease of forced fluidity, rather than the natural, absentminded elegance she usually keeps. It’s an act. It’s spycraft.

With steady, thoughtful hands, she collects each of the passports one by one. They sit neatly in her grip, a manicured hand wrapped around their spines. Intention guides her every move as she tucks them back into the beaten up messenger bag. “Matthew?”

He rocks on the unsteady lean of the chair, entirely thoughtless. “Yeah?”

“Why isn’t your passport in this bag?”

Now it’s his turn to freeze, right where he sits, midway through a rock. She doesn’t meet his eyes, focused instead on latching the patinated golden buckles that secure the bag’s leather flap. “What do you mean?” he says. “It’s not in there?”

When she does finally look up, dark brown eyes hold the depth of the mountains, long after the sun goes down, when the whole world feels black and imperceptible. She doesn’t reply with a yes or no, but she doesn’t need to. More of that bitter silence bleeds into the open air between them, and her expectant pause is answer enough.

“Well that’s more good news,” he tries, but he spots a pulse in her jaw, something tight and terse with all kinds of hesitation. All at once, it feels like Townsend isn’t the only one being interrogated, so Matt jumps in with a question of his own, just to even the scales. “That is good news, isn’t it?”

Her hands settle onto the table, folded into a purposeful clasp. “It could be,” she says, and now her words have adopted that same careful cadence as her movement. He wants to shake it out of her, and loosen her back into something genuine. “But it’s my job to consider other possibilities.”

“Other possibilities,” he cautions, but it leaves too much space behind. He doesn’t want her to fill it in on his behalf—Heaven knows the sort of nonsense she’ll think up. He supplies his own nonsense instead. “As in, someone else might have it? Took it before the trade?”

“Maybe.” It drives him crazy, the way she holds everything back. Each of her sentences have their very own miniature silences hidden in the cracks between each word. “Or maybe it was never there to begin with. Maybe, despite all of the work you do in the East, despite years spent dancing behind the Iron Curtain, despite the file Langley has on you, three inches thick, your passport was never going to be traded to the Soviets.”

She has a remarkable talent for making good news sound bad. “In other words, nobody wants me dead today,” he says. “In my book, that’s a success.”

“It’s not about whether you have enemies that want you dead,” she challenges. “In Moscow, with your mission history, that’s a given.”

“Then what is it about?”

“It’s about whether you have friends keeping you alive.”

Crack. His chair’s front legs land loud against the tile, sharp as a gunshot. Rachel doesn’t even flinch, and all it only makes him want to draw it out of her. Maybe she doesn’t know how scary he actually is. Maybe he ought to show her. “Hold your horses, here,” he says, cresting toward anger. “I don’t think I like what I’m being accused of.”

She meets him right at the edge. “I would think not,” she huffs.  “Most people don’t like being accused of treason.”

He leans in, elbows poised on the table. “I don’t have friends in the Soviet Union.” 

She mirrors him. “You have friends everywhere. You’re friends with everyone you meet.”

Unbelievable. “I’ve got allies and informants, but I don’t have friends. Not here.”

 “My intel says you’re a top target. And all of those unsanctioned missions—”

“You’re serious?” But of course she’s serious. She’s always serious. “God, you’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Matthew.”

His name on her lips sends a burning buzz through his bones. “You’re impossible, y’know?” He jumps up, trying to shake the feeling from his body, but it’s no good. This is what people mean, when they talk about their blood boiling. “What the Hell happened to reliable and trustworthy? Remember that?”

She bolts up beside him. Maybe she’s boiling, too. “Well, what am I supposed to think?” she hollers. “Some of the CIA’s top Soviet agents are on the verge of exposure, and your name is conveniently left off the list?”

He ain’t usually the type of guy to pace, but she brings it out of him. “Let me get this straight,” he says, and his own movements get the better of him. He’s not sure how to stop it. Hands flying. Shoulders shaking. “It’s a problem when my identity is getting sold, because it suggests I’m a Soviet spy. But it’s also a problem when my identity isn’t getting sold, because it suggests I’m a Soviet spy. Is there any scenario here where I’m not accused of being a Soviet spy?”

She’s totally still. Got fists where her hands ought to be. “Where did the woman go?”

His hands, running through his hair. “What?”

Her jaw, set in place. “Don’t play the fool, Matthew. I saw her. I saw a woman with the passports, and you let her go.”

“I didn’t—Christ, I didn’t let her go. Townsend came bursting in—”

“Do not treat me like an idiot.”

“Then don’t act like one.”

This, at long last, gets something real out of her. None of that performance she puts on for the profession. Her jaw drops, and her cheeks flush, and Matt’s finally looking at the woman instead of the spy. “How dare you—you complete…you—” It can’t be the first time he’s ever heard Rachel fumble over her words, but he’s hard pressed to remember another. “Argh! You have a lot of nerve calling me an idiot when you—”

“Alright, alright.” He holds out a halting hand, drowning her voice in his own before she can say something she regrets. Lord knows it’s already too late for him, which is why he drops back down to something softer. “You’re right. That was out of line. I’m sorry. Name calling ain’t gonna get us anywhere, it’s just—I mean—” He spins on his heel until he’s firmly facing her, wringing out the heat in his veins for good. “God almighty, what are we even fighting about?”

More silence. He misses mornings in Nebraska. “I don’t know,” she admits, small and sincere. “But I think we’ve been having this same fight for years.”

It’s just another thing she’s right about. Another thing Rachel can see from her mile-high view of the world, that Matt wouldn’t stand a chance at spotting from his place down in the day-to-day dirt. “Yeah,” he realizes, thoughts stretching back to Baltimore, and a Chicago ballgame, and a bathtub in Italy. “I think so too.”

The safe house soaks up all the sound in the room, and it’s just her, waiting for him, waiting for her. This is usually the part when she tells him what’s next. When she gives him an outfit to wear, or a list to follow, or a codeword to use later on. For as long as they’ve known one another, she’s been the lady with the blueprints, telling him which ducts to crawl through and when. She’s supposed to hear all, see all, know all. But obviously there are some things not even Rachel can understand, because she asks, “So how do we stop having it?”

And in matters like these, Matt’s inclined to turn toward the experts. “Well,” he starts. “My mama always says that fights ain’t nothing but friends who can’t say what they’re really thinking.”

She nods, slowly, like maybe that sounds right after all. “Okay,” she says. “So what are you thinking?”

It’s the same thing he’s been thinking since he arrived in Moscow. Since her phone call. Since Baltimore. Now seems like as good a time as any to finally say it, because in a life led with nothing to lose, Matt’s starting to feel like he doesn’t want to lose her. “I’m thinking that I’m sorry,” he says. “For everything. For all of it. I’m sorry about how we left things after that big fight and I’m sorry you’ve always got to tell me what’s right and what’s wrong. I’m sorry for all the hollering. For all those nasty things I said. I’m sorry I can’t tell you everything. And I’m sorry I keep asking you to look the other way, because I know—I know—you can see when I’m lying through my teeth. But I hope you can also see that I’ve got a good reason for it.”

He doesn’t mean to say all that. Doesn’t even mean to say half of it. The truth of it all sends his heart racing, and the telltale taste of adrenaline sparks in his mouth. Matt’s been shot at, chased down, stalked, and beaten to bruises, but none of it holds a candle to the white hot overwhelm zinging through his every muscle in this moment.

When Rachel doesn’t answer, frosting up around her edges once more, Matt takes a crack at her before she can turn back to ice. “What are you thinking?”

The words don’t come as easy for Rachel, caught like hose water in the middle of March. “I’m scared that I was wrong about you—that I’m still wrong about you,” she starts, and it sounds like honest torture, the way she has to pull it out of herself. “I’m scared that the best double agents are the people you never suspect, and I’ve never suspected you for a second.”

This sounds like the end of it, but the momentum builds up, and she clears away whatever block keeps her words down, one second at a time. “And I’m scared that I don’t know you anymore,” she goes on. “Or that maybe I never knew you to begin with. Or that, worst of all, I’m wrong about being wrong, and you’re actually exactly as good as I think you are. That you’re kind, and smart, and humble. That in a world of liars, you’re the first one I’ve met who doesn’t find any glory in it. That in a world of men who don’t listen to me, you do. That you’re loyal, loyal, loyal all the way down. And I’m scared that I’ve gone and messed it all up and now… now you won’t even call.”

In the past five years combined, Rachel hasn’t said anywhere close to the number of kind things she’s just spit out in the past ten seconds. The whole thing leaves Matt’s head feeling a little dizzy, though he can’t name why. There’s too much to pull apart, so he starts with the last thing. The most important thing. “I’ll call,” he promises, and he reaches a hand out to her arm just to make sure it lands. “I didn’t know you wanted me to call.”

Her brown eyes strike again. This time, she’s looking up at him, and the light catches on flecks of glassy gold. “These last two years, I was scared I’d spend my whole life waiting for you to call again.”

She’s been waiting for him. “I didn’t know you cared about me that much.”

“Well,” she sniffs, “don’t you care about me?”

“Of course I do.”

“Of course you do.”

And that’s his answer. He should have known. He should have just done what Abby told him to do ages ago and manned up. Made the call. “I’ll call.” Two years. They’ve wasted two perfectly good years. “I’ll always call.”

Her breath falls. With it, her shoulders. She’s been holding that one in for a mighty long time. “I’ll be waiting.”

There’s more to say. They’ve got years to catch up on, after all, but they don’t get the chance. Just like that, a door opens and they’re all out of time. 

Abe’s voice booms into the small room. “Well, the good news is, he’s not a double agent,” he says, leading Townsend out of the bedroom by the crook of his elbow. “Bad news is, he’s a bloody idiot.”

Abe shoves Townsend into one of the dining chairs with the sort of force that makes it clear Townsend won’t be getting back up without permission. This doesn’t stop Townsend from tearing his arm out of Abe’s grip, then crossing both over his chest. With a scoff and the roll of his eyes, he grumbles, “Why on earth you would think I’m a double agent, I have no idea.”

Grace struts into the room at her usual lean and limber pace. “Honestly, Townsend,” she trills. “We’re waiting for the second half of a trade, then you walk through the door. You do the maths.” 

“You know me.”

“Yes, I know you,” Grace allows. “I know you to be an Oxford prick.”

This prompts another roll of Townsend’s eyes, this one even bigger than the last. The movement suits his boyish features, pairing nicely with the too-long curl of his hair and his perpetually turned up nose. Unfortunately for him, Townsend probably still has another year or two before he fully fills into himself, and his lankiness undercuts any weight he might be trying to throw around. Matt says a quick prayer of thanks for the fact that he himself is no longer in his early twenties, and never will be again.

Rachel, who has never been one to let youth stand in the way of a good lecture, locks on to Townsend like she’s got his heat signature on radar. “So,” she says, taking the seat opposite Townsend. “You’re the one who broke into the Bolshoi.”

Townsend sits up a little straighter, accepting her challenge. “And you are?”

Oh boy.

Matt’s ready to restrain her, in the event that this kid sends her teetering over the edge, but Rachel remains cool as ever. Rather than justify his question with a response, she shoots back one of her own. “What were you doing at the theatre tonight, Townsend?”

He slides his stare up to Abe, looming nearby. “I already explained that in great detail to your friends—”

“I’ll find out what you told them,” she assures him. “Right now, I’m interested to hear what you’ll tell me.”

Townsend is all huffs and puffs, with a tantrum just below a perfectly posh surface. “Fine,” he relents. “The woman you saw tonight? I’ve been tailing her for eighteen months.”

“Why?” says Rachel.

“That’s classified,” says Townsend.

For the first time all night, Rachel smiles. It’s a wry, amused sort of thing, which she immediately cuts in half. “Listen, bub, you just busted into the middle of my mission.” Townsend, who has almost definitely never been called bub once in his life, actually startles at the shift in her tone. “And because I’ve spent a lot of time planning that mission down to the minute, I can guarantee that you weren’t supposed to be there. In fact, I’d bet my salary you aren’t even supposed to be in the country, so you’ll tell me why you were tailing her, or so help me god, I will have MI6 open up an investigation on you that’ll have you sitting at a desk for so long, you’ll forget what fieldwork feels like.” 

A fella’s got to admire the way Rachel can humble the Hell out of a guy, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Maybe it’s the light, but Matt swears he sees Townsend blush a little. “I have reason to believe this particular woman is working within an underground network of compromised agents.” 

Freeze. Panic. Joe, Joe, Joe.

Every shred of Matt’s awareness wraps around Townsend’s voice, as though he can somehow tie it up and tug it away from the others. He runs through each word, picking out the important ones—woman, network, compromised—and hoping beyond hope he can yank them straight into the shadowed parts of his soul, where no one else can spot them for what they really are.

But before Matt is able to cut in, Townsend continues to explain. “I was attempting to corner her tonight, before she could trade the passports, but—”

“But instead you scared her off and made us look like fools in front of half the Russian government,” Abe finishes. “Job well done, mate.”

Townsend cuts Abe a look. “She’s slippery,” he defends. Then, with a renewed spark in his tone. “But she’s also desperate, and we have something she wants.”

When Townsend’s eyes fall to the messenger bag, everyone else in the room follows suit. Silently, a plan starts to form in Matt’s head, and he realizes that Townsend isn’t as inexperienced as he looks. This mission suddenly takes on a whole new meaning, slotting itself neatly into the behemoth of a mission that has run Matt and Joe’s lives for years. Moscow, in an instant, feels so much bigger.

Rachel’s laugh cuts through the thought, short and sharp. “Absolutely not,” she says, grabbing hold of the messenger bag and  “These are going straight to Langley, no detours.”

“Send them back to Langley and they’ll end up right back in her hands,” Townsend argues, and Matt knows he’s right. But Matt also knows that Rachel ain’t likely to be swayed, once her mind is made up. “This is bigger than the passports. This is about a network of spies infiltrating our agencies and—”

“No detours.” There it is. Rachel’s nos are dense, immovable things and this one weighs down the room. “Especially not at the recommendation of someone I just met.”

“This is important.”

“Bring it up with your superiors, Townsend,” she says. “In the meantime, I trust Langley more than I trust you, not least because they’ve been around longer.”

“And this network has been around longer than your beloved CIA.”

“It sounds like you’re an expert. And you know exactly how to find them without our help.” She stands, slinging the strap of the messenger bag over her shoulder. “Although, next time, I recommend giving your agency a heads-up before you endanger the lives of everyone around you.”

“You have to listen to me.”

“No, you listen to me,” she says. “You’re going to spend the night here, with one of us keeping watch over you all night—because we don’t trust you—and then you’re going to get on a plane with Abe to London. After that, I’ll let MI6 decide what happens to agents who blow covers and cause potential international incidents.”

Townsend seems to shrink where he sits, and Matt recognizes the look. Months of hunting the Circle of Cavan, thrown aside in the span of a moment. It’s a special brand of fury and frustration, mixed with the sort of despair only a spy can ever truly understand. It's the sense that something is bigger than oneself. The sense that something is more urgent than anything else. And the sense that no one will ever truly understand the way you do, because nobody is allowed to know everything you know.

But Matt understands. So maybe that’s why he says, “I can take first watch.”

Betrayal crashes across Townsend’s face, with the realization that everyone else in the room is against him. Matt hates to think the kid was holding out hope.

Rachel eyes Matt, then lands back on Townsend. “Fine,” she says. “I need to get all of this hairspray out of my hair anyway. I’ll be nearby if you need anything.”

“Sure thing,” he says. Then, to Townsend. “You want some coffee?”

“Coffee,” Townsend sneers.

Matt gets to work anyway, and it has just the effect he hopes for. Rachel retreats to her room and the Baxters, uninterested in what Abe once called “Matt’s bean water” find far more entertainment in one another, and lock themselves into their government-funded honeymoon suite until further notice. It takes time, but eventually it’s just Matt and Townsend.

Matt brings a cup of hot water and a tea bag to the table, as a peace offering. “You’ll have to forgive my partner,” he says, taking a sip from his own mug. “She’s been working on this for more than half a year.”

Townsend doesn’t take the tea. Instead, he props his head into his hand, listless. “I’ve been working my op for three times that long.”

If Matt can play this right, it'll be the biggest break in the Circle mission yet. “Sounds like you really know your target.”

Townsend huffs. “Understatement of the century.”

It's almost too easy. “Do you really think she’d come for the passports, if we offered them?”

“Not a doubt in my mind," says Townsend, and the facts fall out of him easy. Matt's mama always said he just has one of those faces. "As far as I can tell, she’s about as low as it gets on the totem pole, and she’ll do whatever she can to crawl her way up the ranks. Suppose it is a bit of a long shot though. I don’t know how to reach her.”

Joe, Joe, Joe. “What if I told you," says Matt, "I could deliver a message to her.”

Townsend smiles, his hope in Matt apparently restored as he drops the tea bag in his mug.

[isonbeauty]

How to take care of your hair after Keratin Treatment

Introduction

You’ve just invested time and money in a keratin treatment, and you’re eager to flaunt your newfound, silky smooth hair. But hold your horses! The secret to long-lasting, luscious locks lies in proper aftercare. Let's dive into the world of post-keratin hair care, busting myths and providing expert tips to keep your hair looking its absolute best.

Understanding Keratin Treatments

Before we dive into aftercare, let's quickly recap what a keratin treatment actually does. Keratin is a protein naturally found in your hair, but over time, external factors like heat styling, pollution, and chemical treatments can deplete it. A keratin treatment replenishes this protein, smoothing the hair cuticle and reducing frizz.

Essential Wait Time for Keratin Hair

One of the most critical aspects of keratin treatment aftercare is the waiting period. This typically lasts 2-3 days, during which you should avoid:Water: This includes washing, swimming, or even getting caught in the rain. Heat styling: Say goodbye to your beloved curling iron and straightener for a few days. Hair ties or clips: These can create creases in your hair.

Washing Your Hair Post-Keratin

Once the waiting period is over, it's time to introduce your hair to its new washing routine.Sulfate-free shampoo: Sulfates can strip the keratin from your hair, so opt for sulfate-free options. Cold water: Washing your hair with cold water helps to seal the cuticle and preserve the keratin treatment. Gentle washing: Avoid scrubbing your scalp vigorously. Instead, focus on massaging the shampoo into your hair.

Deep Conditioning

While keratin treatments add a protective layer, your hair still needs deep conditioning. Look for products specifically formulated for keratin-treated hair. These will help maintain moisture balance and prevent dryness.

Heat Styling

Heat styling can gradually break down the keratin treatment, so it's essential to use it sparingly. When you do style, always apply a heat protectant.

Smart Hair Tie and Accessory Picks

Opt for gentle hair ties like scrunchies or silk bands to avoid creating creases. Avoid metal hair clips as they can snag your hair.

Protect Your Hair While Swimming

Chlorine and saltwater can damage your keratin treatment. If you're planning a swim, wet your hair with clean water before entering the pool or ocean. This will help minimize the absorption of harmful chemicals.

Protect Your Hair from the Sun

Just like your skin, your hair needs protection from the sun's harmful rays. Use hair products with SPF or wear a hat when spending extended periods outdoors.

Keep Hair Healthy with Regular Trims

Regular trims are essential for removing split ends and preventing breakage. This will help your hair look its best and maintain the benefits of the keratin treatment.

Professional Touch-Ups

To prolong the effects of your keratin treatment, consider getting professional touch-ups every 2-3 months.

Common Keratin Treatment Myths Debunked

Myth: Keratin treatments damage your hair. Fact: When done by a professional with high-quality products, keratin treatments can actually improve hair health by sealing the cuticle. Myth: You can't curl or style your hair after a keratin treatment. Fact: While it's best to avoid heat styling immediately after the treatment, you can curl or style your hair once it's fully dry. Myth: Keratin treatments are only for straight hair. Fact: Keratin treatments can be used on all hair types, from straight to curly.

FAQ

What is keratin treatment? A keratin treatment is a hair smoothing process that involves applying a keratin-based solution to the hair. Keratin is a natural protein found in hair, and the treatment aims to replenish and strengthen the hair's structure.

How long does a keratin treatment last? The results can last anywhere from 3 to 5 months, depending on hair type and aftercare.

Can I color my hair after a keratin treatment? It's best to wait a few weeks before coloring your hair to allow the keratin to fully bond.

Is keratin treatment safe for pregnant women? While some keratin treatments contain formaldehyde, there are formaldehyde-free options available. It's best to consult with your doctor before undergoing the treatment.

Is keratin treatment good for hair? Keratin treatment can be beneficial for many hair types, especially those prone to frizz or damage. It can smooth the hair cuticle, reduce frizz, and add shine. However, it's essential to choose a reputable salon and opt for formaldehyde-free products to minimize potential risks.

Does keratin treatment straighten hair? While keratin treatments can significantly reduce frizz and create a smoother appearance, they don't necessarily result in completely straight hair. The degree of straightening depends on your hair's natural texture and the specific keratin treatment used. Some treatments offer more straightening power than others.

Conclusion

Investing in a keratin treatment is a fantastic way to achieve smoother, healthier hair. By following these aftercare tips, you can extend the life of your treatment and enjoy beautiful hair for months to come. Remember, consistency is key! For more information on our hair care products, visit our products page.

[gxhaode]

Chapter 28: The scrunchie

As you stood outside the entrance of the house, you were feeling two emotions: excitement and anxiety. This was an opportunity for you to gather Beomgyu’s attention and hopefully push him to make a move on you, but at the same time, you weren't exactly a party person. Yeonjun had taken you to a house filled with sweaty strangers, lots of alcohol, and loud music that was going to damage your ears. Yeonjun noticed how your body stiffened and your eyes were pretty much shaking as you looked at the house. Despite this, you didn't want to back out now, so you forced a smile on and tried to shake off the negative feelings that you had.

"You okay?" Yeonjun asked, noticing your unease.

"Yeah, just not really a party person," you replied.

"Well, you are one tonight," Yeonjun said, grinning.

As you were about to start walking into the house, Yeonjun swiftly grabbed your arm. "Wait, before we go in, let me take this." He took the pink silk scrunchie that was on your wrist. "It's a thing. You know guys who wear their girlfriends' scrunchies on their wrist? Just a cute thing." You weren't going to argue with him on this one since it did seem like a cute thing that couples would do. After putting the scrunchie on his hand, Yeonjun grabbed your hand and interlocked your fingers together. "Okay, let's go in now, shall we?"

As you two walked through the halls full of people chatting and drinking, you couldn't help but feel your face heat up at your guys' hands. Your 10th-grade self would surely be screaming right now. As you two finally arrived in the big living room, one of Yeonjun's friends came over to you guys. "Yeonjun bro, you finally arrived," the person said before their eyes diverted to you. "Ah, and you must be the famous Y/N we've been seeing on Twitter. I'm Wooyoung, one of Yeonjun's friends." You were barely able to muster a "hi" before Wooyoung dragged Yeonjun away to play beer pong. "Great," you thought to yourself. "So much for sticking together." With that, you decided to just sit on one of the sofas and wait for this night to be over. Unfortunately, luck wasn't on your side as soon enough, two girls sat next to you - Karina, Yeonjun's ex and your ex-best friend, and Minjeong, Karina's best friend.

"So, I see Yeonjun brought you to this party. Get prepared since he's gonna bring you to a lot more. That's what he used to do when we were together," Karina said to you, breaking the ice.

You bit back a snarky comment since you really could not be asked for drama tonight and instead opted to just nod.

"So, what's up with you and Yeonjun?" Minjeong asked, being nosy as always.

Before you were able to even say anything, Karina spoke. "Don't push her, Minjeong. She's shy."

You felt your blood pressure rise at that comment, almost as if she was mocking you. Instead of staying silent, you decided to entertain Karina and Minjeong. "What do you wanna know?" you asked.

Karina raised her eyebrows at that, and Minjeong continued, "Everything. When? How? How far have you guys, you know? H on B? H on C? H up and down on P? T on C?"

Minjeong looked at you expectantly, her words falling on deaf ears. You couldn't help but just look at her like she was speaking some weird language. "I'm sorry, what are we talking about?" you asked, hoping to catch up to the conversation.

Karina let out a laugh, clearly amused by your confusion. "You know what? Forget it. They clearly haven't done anything," she said, dismissing the topic altogether.

You couldn't help but feel frustrated by Karina's attitude. "How would you know that, Karina?" you asked.

"Because I know Yeonjun," she replied, a hint of smugness in her voice. "And I know you, Y/N." With that, she got up from the couch and left the room, Minjeong following her like a lost puppy.

"Well, that couldn't have been more awkward," you sighed, finally managing to get some sort of peace. But your moment of solitude was short-lived as you felt the couch dip next to you."I seriously hate that bitch," Sunghoon said, voicing your thoughts. "Always talking like she's better than everyone and Minjeong being her little minion."You let out a laugh, feeling relieved that you weren't the only one who felt that way. "Couldn't have said it better," you replied, grateful for Sunghoon's company.

But the peace was once again interrupted by the elephant in the room. "So, those letters huh?" Sunghoon asked, getting straight to the point.

Your face heated up at the mention of the letters. "So he told you, didn't he? You gotta keep it a secret," you pleaded, hoping Sunghoon would understand the gravity of the situation.

"Your filthy secret is safe with me. Now, how 'bout we go get some drinks?" Sunghoon said, grabbing your arm and pulling you up from the couch.

As the night wore on and the drinks flowed freely, Yeonjun excused himself for a quick trip to the restroom. But as he washed his hands, he was surprised to see Karina walk in and close the door behind her.

"So Y/N L/M, huh?" she asked, crossing her arms and leaning against the door.

Yeonjun let out a sigh of frustration. "Why do you care?" he asked, his tone clipped.

Karina smirked as she took the scrunchie Y/N had given Yeonjun and tied her hair with it. "Aww, this is so cute," she cooed. "Is this hers?"Before Yeonjun could respond, Karina turned to the mirror and admired her new hairstyle. "How do I look?" she asked, turning back to him with a smile.Yeonjun couldn't help but feel a sense of defeat wash over him as he looked at her. "You look good, Karina, you always look good." he said, his voice barely above a whisper.Satisfied with his response, Karina left the restroom, scrunchie still firmly in place. Meanwhile, downstairs in the living room, Y/N and Sunghoon were having a surprisingly good time.

"Come on, try it," Sunghoon urged, pushing a colourful cocktail towards Y/N.

Y/N wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Yeah, not gonna lie, that sounds disgusting, Sunghoon," she said, shaking her head.Before Sunghoon could protest, Yeonjun came downstairs, earning a dirty look from Sunghoon. The tension between them was palpable, but Y/N didn't seem to notice as she gathered her things to leave.

As they said their goodbyes, Y/N didn't realise that the scrunchie that was supposed to be on Yeonjun's wrist was now missing, taken by Karina as a small victory.

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Taglist: @ghostfacefricker6969 @yumilovesloona @il0vebeomgyu @curly-fr13s @blueishwoodz

[wolkewatcher]

saw someone tlk abt how silk scrunchies tend to slip out your hair n i think tht so conscisely sums um the it girl capitalism it's just a bunch of faux luxurious objects n products tht are at best on par with the regular alternative n at worst so much fucking worse

[timandlucy]

Everything with a 3 or a 7 😘

3. do you leave the window open at night?

Sometimes, in the warmer months. But I'll often have to close it because I'm right next to the forest and the sounds just make me nervy 😂

7. hair-ties or scrunchies?

Used to swear by hair ties, but I discovered silk scrunchies and I never looked back.

13. when was the last time you ate?

Unless coffee counts as a meal, last night at dinner.

17. are you farsighted or nearsighted?

Neither. I see well, the only thing is that one of my eyes sees slightly better than the other one so I have to wear glasses (which I often forget) because the less seeing eye gets lazy which leads to me being charmingly cross-eyed.

23. how do you feel about chilly weather?

Define chilly? Okay you know, nevermind, I don't like chilly weather.

27. about how many hours of sleep did you get?

Around 9 or 10. 😎

30. is there dishes in your room?

There is a bowl that I ate grapes from the other day.

31. what type of music keeps you grounded?

Taylor Swift. It's just familiar and comforting.

32. do you have a favorite towel?

Yeah! It's yellow.

33. the last adventure you’ve been on?

I have no idea. Legit I can't remember.

34. is there a song you know every word to by heart?

Most of Taylor Swift's catalogue. A lot. Of Abba songs. My boy Frankie Sinatra. I sing along a LOT. So yeah, lots.

35. what’s your timezone?

Central European Time

36. how many times have you changed your url?

Too many to count.

37. someone in your life, other than a relative, you’ve known for 10+ years?

Yess! One of my best friends I've known since we were 7, so that's 23 years.

38. a soap bar that smells good?

I love lavender.

39. do you use lip balm?

Daily!

43. what’s your take on spicy foods?

Love them. Burn my mouth.

47. what was the last message you sent?

"can't sleep?"