#FRONT STREAK HAIR DYE

[dumkana16]

ja vs chęć rozjaśnienia włosów z przodu jak jakaś tiktokerka

[viyojo]

You're a kid now…🧍‍♂️still a kid now!

[vivid-vices]

was i supposed to find out that my skin/hair condition has a name from a tiktok about akutagawa or

[livefromthegallows]

used to dye

it's so weird to me that everyone on this website is a human person outside of their weird internet niche so rb this with a random bit of your lore

[xo3lena]

I miss my blonde hair streak

[fredthedemonpartner]

My hair is finally getting back to the length where I can do French braids (specifically two braids from my neck up to my forehead) and I once again get to live my high school hair cycle of washing and styling overnight and looking like this:

Except this picture is like 4+ years old and the braids are much smaller now, but I’m not gonna get up and take a picture right now it’s past 4am.

[hello-sweetheart]

Dog Groomer Eddie

Eddie who faces the facts that he needs a skill besides music to make money because he loves the band, loves playing, but man the pay is shit. And he’s a dog person, never been able to have a dog and his apartment doesn’t allow pets either so he tries his hand at dog grooming.

He’s actually like, really good at it. Works at a groomers for a couple of years, wins contest that rewards him with some cash and the notoriety needed to find an investor and start his own dog salon.

Fast forward, Steve is visits a dog groomer that was recommended to him by a friend called Metalhead Groomers. The place has metal playing from the speakers which is a weird choice, but it sticks true to the name. The guy at the front has the name tag ‘Jeff’ who has piercing and tattoos, large guy, very intimidating.

But the place looks clean, it has 5 stars, and when Jeff checks in Antoinette he’s actually super nice, like a gentle giant. So Steve’s like, “I don’t particularly care for a cut, you can do whatever.”

“Do you want the full package? It includes a bath, full hygiene routine, dye job, and a specialized cut.”

And steve does not process the ‘dye’ part and agrees.

So see, Eddie, and by extension Metalhead Groomers, is known for their really eccentric and creative work. It’s how Eddie won his first contest after all. And the best worst thing you can give an artist is full reign. But free rein of a standard poodle?? A dog groomers dream come true.

When Steve goes to pick up Antoinette, Eddie hands her over and…

Her ears are curled and dyed in pastel colors with bows and sparkles. Stands of hair above her eyes are streaked pink and look as if they’re some type of falsie lash. Her legs and tail have been dyed a pastel blue ombré. The rest of her body shaved down except for some plush detailed work of large light pink hearts on her sides and a detailed bow on her lower back . Her tail is fluffed and cut into the shape of a heart.

“What the fuck did you do??”

“Dude, you asked for the full package and said ‘do whatever you want’ so… tada! I took some inspiration from her name, but this is kinda mild compared to my other work tbh.”

It takes Eddie explaining that that it’s pet safe dye, she wasn’t hurt, and actually enjoyed all the attention she received for Steve to calm down.

Fast forward a week and Steve comes back into the shop to apologize for blowing up on Eddie. Turns out Antoinette (Nettie for short) is a service dog and her look actually helps people be more aware of her. Steve also feels safer that she’s more identified cuz apparently there’s actually people that steal service animals?? Eddie was not aware of that. Plus, Steve works with young kids and they love Nettie’s look, it makes them more comfortable and engage more.

[robo-writing]

DOFP! Logan trying to dye his grey streak because “it makes him look older” with a girlfriend that threatens to break up with him if he so much as opens the bottle ❤️

The scene before you almost sends you into cardiac arrest—no, it almost sends you to the pearly gates at the mere thought. Questions swarm you, plague your mind with endless why’s and how’s but soon you narrow it down to one definitive question—

“Logan, what the fuck are you doing?”

He stands in front of the mirror, brush in hand, still unsure whether or not he should raise or lower his hand—or rather, if he’s even allowed to make a move at all. “I’m…dyeing my hair?”

You scoff, moving towards him in what feels like a single step. “Yeah, I can see that—why?”

The words are pointed, accusatory. You can see the hint of a smirk rising on his lips before it’s quickly extinguished by the smoldering look you give him. For once, he decides not to be a smartass and give you a straight answer.

“Well, it’s kind of dated, ain’t it?” He sighs, running his fingers where the silver stands against the black. “Makes me look like I’m ancient.”

“That’s because you are ancient,” you retort.

He scoffs, eyes rolling back. “Funny—but I’m serious doll. I don’t want you to look at me and see an old man.”

The thought never crossed your mind that Logan might be self-conscious, confusion written on your face. “Old man?”

“Yes, old man,” he continues. “It’s…a reminder. Like I’m not good enough.”

Your confusion is at an all time high, but he continues anyway. “I know you could probably find someone better—younger, for sure. I just…I don’t know. Just want you to stay, I guess.”

His words ring in your ears, but they take a while to register. The absurdity of it, even the concept of you leaving him…it almost makes you laugh. Almost.

“So, you think I’m gonna leave you just because of a grey streak?”

“That’s the gist of it, yeah.”

You shake your head, pulling the brush from his hands. Your fingers trace his face, the crows feet that line his eyes when they close, the slight wrinkles that form when he leans into your touch with a smile.

“Lo, you are an old man.”

His eyes open, eyebrow raised towards you. “Way to boost my confidence—“

“—Shh,” you interrupt. “I’m not finished.”

Lips pursed, he nods and stays silent as you continue.

“You’re an old man Logan, but you’re also my old man,” you whisper. “I love you for all of you—and everything that comes with you isn’t something I’m willing to part with. You could be as wrinkly and grey as you want and it wouldn’t change a damn thing.”

The change is instant, his face softening as you pour your heart out. The sudden confidence practically glows from him, large hands reaching up to cradle your face. “You really mean that, huh doll?”

A nod. “Every word.”

His eyes dart to the bottle of hair dye, and with a shrug he snatches it from the counter and throws it into the trash. “Guess I won’t need this anymore.”

“Good choice.” You say, walking back into the living room. “Besides, grey looks good on you.”

————————————————————————

“Oh, and Logan?”

“Yes doll?”

“If you ever try a stunt like that again you’ll be sleeping on the couch for a month.”

“….Yes ma’am.”

[dvrcos]

Thinking about the Foxes dying their hair orange for finals. Like it starts with the girls doing orange highlights/Renee dying the tips of her hair orange during death matches

And then Matt and Nicky rope themselves in because they think it’s cool as fuck and they want to be apart of it. So Allison and Renee help them bleach their hair and Dan watches for moral support. They dye the tips of Matt’s hair and give Nicky chunky highlights

They try to convince Neil next and it doesn’t work until Matt asks and then he hesitantly agrees. They give him just a little streak of orange right at the front and it just looks like his normal hair but a bit brighter

Kevin is the next to join in because he’s superstitious as fuck and would think if half the team is already doing it than the whole team has to for good luck. Allison and Renee give him a nice ombré of orange over the tips of his hair

The twins are the hardest to convince by far. Kevin and the entire team hound them for a week. Aaron agrees finally just so Kevin stops bitching at him every spare breath and somehow Neil gets Andrew on board because he’s Neil and “just asked”

Aaron dyes the undercut of his hair orange and Andrew gets little fox paw prints on the shaved part of his head (so he can shave them off as soon as the seasons over). The orange is bright as fuck on their hair too since their natural hair is so light. And they both think it’s obnoxious but are team players

It definitely becomes a tradition after that and if they make it to finals Wymack and Abby surprise them by dying their hair (and Wymack temporarily dyes his beard)

[elixirina]

# in my prime — jason todd x fem!reader

synopsis — jason gets awoken with a little surprise.

warnings — none just tooth rotting fluff

notes — was just thinking about jason’s white streak so yk

please please please reblog and like 🤍

© elixirina — all rights reserved. my work is never to be reposted, translated, modified, etc, even if i am credited.

the early morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow that gently woke you. you lay there for a while, listening to the quiet hum of the world outside the window and the sound of jason’s steady breathing beside you. he was still asleep, his face peaceful and relaxed, like he didn’t have a care in the world. the way he slept so soundly always made you smile. it was a rare thing, something he didn’t often let himself have—peace.

you turned your head slightly, your gaze falling on him. his dark hair, always messy, was sprawled across the pillow in a way that made him look like he belonged in people's sexiest man alive. but there was something more that caught your attention today—something different, something you couldn’t ignore.

near the front of his hairline, you noticed a small streak of white running through his otherwise jet-black hair. it was subtle but striking. you blinked, sure you were imagining it. maybe it was just the light. but no, there it was—clear as day, like it had always been there.

your heart did something funny in your chest, a fluttering sensation that you couldn’t quite explain. the streak was so... unexpected. it was small, but in that moment, it seemed to transform him. there was something beautiful about it, something raw and real. it wasn’t like any hair dye or accidental bleach job, and it definitely wasn't a grey hair—it felt like it was a part of him. maybe it was a mark of everything he’d been through, a silent reminder of the battles he’d fought, both internal and external.

and you found it... well, you found it perfect. you couldn’t help but love it.

you leaned in closer to get a better look, your fingers hovering just above his hair. you wanted to reach out and touch it, but you knew that would be an invasion of his space. so instead, you just let yourself admire it, that little streak of white against his dark hair, wondering where it had come from. it made him seem so much more... human.

suddenly, jason groaned, his body shifting as he stretched out beneath the covers. his eyes fluttered open, blurry with sleep, and the grogginess in his voice made you chuckle. “mornin’, baby.”

you grinned, the teasing glint in your eyes barely contained. “good morning, silver fox.” you couldn’t resist the nickname now that you had the perfect ammunition. a snicker escaped your mouth, despite your best efforts to stop it.

his brows furrowed as he blinked at you, trying to focus through the haze of sleep. “what? what’re you laughing at?” he muttered, his voice still thick with the remnants of sleep. "what did you do?"

you couldn’t hold it back anymore, your grin growing wider as you gestured to his hair. “i didn't—you might want to look in the mirror, old man.”

jason’s hand shot up immediately, fingers running through his hair as he tried to figure out what you were talking about. his eyes widened in confusion as they found the streak. “what the fuck?” he exclaimed, his voice a mix of panic and disbelief.

you bit your lip, trying not to burst into laughter. his reaction was priceless—he was so caught off guard, and it was adorable. you leaned back into the pillow, watching him scramble to get out of bed and rush to the nearest mirror.

“what the actual—?” jason muttered, pulling at the streak like he could just... remove it. “tell me this isn’t real. did you do this?”

you couldn’t contain your laughter anymore and let it burst out, echoing around the room as you sat up on the bed. “no! baby, i swear, i woke up and you were like that,” you teased, your voice thick with amusement. “and honestly? i think it looks good on you. very distinguished.”

jason’s head snapped around to look at you, his eyes wide. “good? angel, i look like—like—” he gestured to his hair wildly, eyes wide in disbelief. “i should be in a nursing home! no! i’m still in my prime!”

you bit your lip to stop your grin before collecting yourself. “you look like jason todd,” you said again, this time your voice softer, more earnest. “you’re allowed to look however you want. and right now? you look...” you paused for a moment, choosing your words carefully as you stared at him. “you look perfect.”

jason froze for a moment, his fingers still tangled in his hair. you could see the gears turning in his head. the way you were looking at him—the soft way you always looked at him—was disarming. he felt it in his chest, that warmth that he never quite knew how to deal with.

he grumbled, not knowing what to say. “still not funny.” he took a deep breath, still trying to act like it wasn’t bothering him, even though the faintest trace of a smile was tugging at his lips. he walked back over to the bed, finding his place next to you once more.

he grumbled, not knowing what to say. “still not funny.” he took a deep breath, still trying to act like it wasn’t bothering him, even though the faintest trace of a smile was tugging at his lips. he walked back over to the bed, finding his place next to you once more.

you shrugged innocently, your grin unwavering. “maybe you’ll learn to love it. i’m pretty sure it’s a keeper.”

his voice softened as he tucked your head beneath his chin. “you think it looks good?”

you nodded, your hand resting on his chest. “i do. it’s... you, jason. just another layer to who you are.”

jason didn’t respond at first. instead, he just lay there, the two of you sharing a peaceful silence for a while. but when you looked up at him, you saw the warmth in his eyes, that softness that only ever came when he was around you.

“thanks, baby,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. there was something vulnerable in it, something rare, and you realized it wasn’t just the streak that was making him feel this way—it was you, and the way you always saw him for everything he was.

“no problem, silver fox,” you teased again, pressing a soft kiss to his chest.

jason rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile that broke through. maybe the streak wasn’t so bad after all. and maybe—just maybe—he didn’t mind looking distinguished for you.

[mysteriesmuse]

You’re hiding in your Hiding Place — Bakugou Katsuki’s bicep 💪

In your later years at UA, Bakugou Katsuki ends up with an —unusual reputation within class A. He’s got a notoriously famous mean streak, but in 1-A he’s also got a reputation for having a strangely nutty tough-love aura about him — which makes him a decently good person to come run to when things go wrong. Naturally, not anyone’s top pick or anything, but a good one for when you need cry your heart out, or something. And, Bakugou usually knows, which is why he’s not all too surprised when you plow into his midsection in the middle of the hall. He’s headed upstairs from a later dinner because of his internship when he sees you. You’re coming straight from the dormitory showers, a chrous of familiar caterwauling floating out from the boys side. That’s why he took his showers in the morning, if he could help it, because at least Iida didn’t attempt to sing. You look soft and malleable stepping out from the bathroom. An old tye-dye shirt boasting participation of some kind of annual charity run and a pair of sweatpants on. The cuff at you ankles revealing your — now, slightly pink house slippers due to a washing mishap that happened last week in the dorms with a certain Shitty-Hair’ed guy and his red-themed hero costume. Your arms and face are dewy with what he presumes is that moisturizer that all you girls like to lather up in daily — and your hair is still on the verge of wet and stringy, but also frizzy and fuck, you look so very tired and soft right now. Katsuki pauses, red eyes squinting at your face; your nose is pink and your face is dewy, but those aren’t fingerprints left in the wake of moisturizer — it’s old tears that’s streaked over it. He huffs from his nose, nostrils flaring before he takes his hands out of his pockets and flexes his fingers at you where they hang by the side of his hips. And it’s then that he sees your shoulders slacken slightly before you’re suddenly pressed up against his front. All causal and warm — pressed as far into his abdomen as you can get, and he can feel your boobs smush against his chest because you’re very clearly not wearing a bra — and also because he’s earned a reputation for being a decent fucking human and for being nonchalant about that stuff. Bakugou is one of three guys in the dorm you guys deem trustworthy and reasonable enough to do that with. (The other two being Shouji and Todoroki.) And thus, he’s been grappled into many squishy-boob hugs by all you shitty girls. And your cheek is pressed against the hard plain of muscle that is his chest and your arms are wrapped around him — just under his shoulder blades in an action that lifts him and pulls Bakugou in towards you just a little bit. Your fingertips pressing into the muscle on his back and he hopes you don’t feel the way his heart is lub-dubbing inside his chest at the action. And suddenly Bakugou pulls you closer to him. A bicep circling protectively beside your chin, as a big palm comes to rest atop your damp hair. His other arm squeezing around your mid-section like a python and it’s a good thing too because as soon as he puts his arms around you Bakugou can feel that strength seeping from you and it feels like he’s holding you together. And that’s when the sniffles start.

“I’m so pathetic,” you whine. “As soon as you put your arms around me I felt my knees buckle.” And you’re pressed so close Bakugou can feel the way your lips move to form the words right against his chest. And instead of Bakugou saying anything mildly helpful in this situation his says, “I have that effect.” With a slight shrug that brings the top of your head pressing against his jaw, which might just be him engulfing and cradling you completely, but who knows? And Bakugou has no fucking idea why he said that. Or how he managed to say something so flirtatiously cringy with such calm, but all you do is attempt to shake your head against his hold and mumble, “yeah, that makes sense. I’ve seen the other girls around school.” Which you punctuate with a snort, an arm moving from his back to swipe at your face. Bakugou has no idea where this is going — except for you to start “hilariously deflecting” from whatever problem is at hand. “There’s this one girl,” you start with a breath, “she’s always hanging around the hallway between classes. She’s definitely trying to catch you at your locker, but she always just ends up next to mine and Momo’s — saying something random before running off. She’s definitely into you.” You look up at him, still completely weak in his hold and Bakugou scrunches his nose at you. An action that you find looks unnatural and awkward on the sharp features of his face. You frown, hoarsely laughing, “Stop that.” About his facial expression. Bakugou can’t imagine any girls wanting to be with him. Surely he’s a terrible catch at a boyfriend.

He face curls into a snarling scoff, “Nope. Can’t see it. You must be imaging things.” He declares forcefully pressing your head back into the cocoon of him. He settles his head back on top of yours and you’re now squirming like a damn worm. And you find some strength as you manage to peek your face out and blink at him with furrowed brows. And maybe it’s cause you’re in a vulnerable state with a good friend and maybe it’s because you’ve been harboring a little bit of a recent crush on the boy, but you blurt out, “You’re a catch. You know that, right?” And again his stupidly handsome face scrunches into that weird shape again before his red eyes are staring into yours. The hand on your back clutches at your shirt fabric before he says, “You really think that? You’re not just fucking with me?” You snort, wiping a few more stray tears from an entirely different problem than the internal one that the blonde is currently having. “Yeah I really think that, Bakugou.” And there’s a little quip on the side of his mouth that might count as a Bakugou smile, but it’s gone before you can tease him about it. The explosive murder god boy being unsure about his status as attractive is entirely too precious and far too laughable a situation — which is probably why your aggressively smooshed back into his chest and why he starts waddling side to side. For some damn reason the gently rocking from foot-to-foot placebo affects you into crying it all out. Some remnant of being a baby you suppose, but it’s still annoying how Bakugou’s managed to peg it on you so easily. And you’re damn right Bakugou’s doing it on purpose because you very clearly have a problem of your own or you wouldn’t be clutching onto him for dear life like you are right now. And despite this revelation that Kirishima may be right in the fact that’s he’s attractive he’s still whirling at the thought that you think he’s a catch. Because you’re the only girl he’d probably ever want thinking that — but Bakugou tucks that piece of knowledge into the back of his brain when Momo comes out of the showers next. A giant frilly nightgown on as she scampers over — talking and whispering to you gently from within your little hiddie-hole formed by his curled bicep and forearm. And he just huffs, and continues to cocoon you in his embrace rocking back and forth like a damn rocking-chair as you rattle off whatever’s been on your mind.

What’s on his mind is for another day . . .

[hyuburt]

I think Fantasy High would look good animated in the total drama style since they’re both chalk full of chaotic sweaty teenage energy. Here are the bad kids on their first day of school

[ID: Two images of the same lineup of characters, with the top one being the colored version and the lower one being the line art. They depict the six main characters from D20′s Fantasy High from tallest to smallest; Gorgug, Fabian, Kristen, Adaine, Fig, and Riz. They are all drawn and colored mostly in line with canon, with some slight variations to accommodate the total drama style. Gorgug’s eyes were stylized into two white dots with slight bags underneath, and he is standing upright with his hands nervously brought up to his chest with a slightly timid expression on his face. His hoodie is a slightly de-saturated purple with grey sweatpants and purple sneakers. He has dark green skin and black wavy hair that falls above one eye. His wobbly, down-turned mouth has a tusk poking out of the higher side (he normally has two, it’s just the way his expression was drawn made it so only one was visible.) His face shape and nose are rounded to give him a softer appearance and there are two little lines indicating the beginning of teenage stubble on his chin. Next to him on the right is Fabian, who stands with his arms crossed and his head turned haughtily to the right, a smug expression on his face. He is wearing his red owlbear jacket with white sleeves, greyish brown loose workout pants, a black undershirt, and red sneakers. He has brown skin and swept back white hair that is shaved on the sides. His nose slopes downwards and he has two eyelashes under both eyes to denote that he is a fancy, pretty boy. He is drawn with a strong, square jawline and a build that is both muscular yet nimble.To his right is Kristen who has a stocky, more rounded build and is wearing a rainbow tie dye shirt with a simplified corn logo in the center, denim shorts, green flip flops, and a rainbow bracelet. She has curly orange hair that curls around her round face, light tan skin with freckles, bushy orange eyebrows, an upturned nose, and dark green eyes that are upturned in a smile. To her right is Adaine, who is slouched slightly with her arms crossed and an unhappy expression on her face as she looks off to the ground. She is wearing blue circular glasses over her round blue eyes, her blue two-piece hudol uniform, knee-high grey socks, and black mary jane shoes. She has light brown skin and short, straight blonde hair swept back from the front of her face in a widow’s peak. She has a small, pointy nose and a circular face with a small pointy chin. Above her is a version of her face without her glasses. To her right is Fig, who is standing proudly with one hand on her hip and the other in a finger gun. She has light reddish skin and brown hair in a braid that has a bright purple streak in her bands and at the end of her braid like it was dipped in paint. She has a long, pointy face and a slightly hooked nose. Her eyes are a dark pomegranate color and slightly upturned. She is wearing purple lipstick, a short leather jacket with a cropped grey shirt underneath it that has a picture of a horned skull on it, a black choker, fingerless gloves on both hands, a plaid skirt and belt with black leggings underneath, dark brown boots, and a single fishnet coming up to her calf on her right leg. To her right is Riz, who is holding a magnifying glass up to his face with one eye squinted to see through it and his other hand on his hip. A single fang peeks through the corner of his small smile. He has a green tail that swishes in front of him. He is wearing his signature brown cap and two piece suit with mauve pants, vest, and tie. His skin is light green with freckles under his eyes, his eyes are light greenish-yellow with slits for pupils, and his hair is dark green and swept back under his cap. Above him is a version of his head without his cap, showing that his hair is swept back from the front and curls away from his face, giving him a windswept appearance.]

[nightsmarish]

Summary: you and Sirius think James would look hot with blonde highlights

Poly!prongsfoot x reader (James Potter x reader x Sirius black) | 500+ words

A/n: I am so sorry this is so short omg, I've been weirdly busy the past few days and it's been hard to find time to write

Tw: rave mentioned, reader has dyed their hair before, sleepy James, I am still learning to write James, illusions to possible smut at the end

⊹₊ ✰ ⋆★⋆｡°⋆𖦹✮₊⊹₊ ✰ ⋆★⋆｡°⋆𖦹✮₊⊹₊ ✰

Sirius' record player is on in the background, softer than usual. James is resting his head on your stomach. Both of you splayed out on the sofa.

Sirius is sitting on the ground, the coffee table moved to the side to make room in front of him as he makes his next outfit for a rave he mentioned, likely also planning on how to get you to let him make one for you as well.

James is barely coherent at this point; a long day making him sodding exhausted and extremely prepared for the weekend. Your nails rake through his curls, still slightly wet from his shower.

"You know, Jamie, you'd look good with dyed hair."

Jamse barely gives a sign he heard you, tightening his hold on your back and burying his face further into your shirt like he wants under your skin.

Sirius looks over at you two, "you're right, he'd look bloody hot with blonde streaks or something."

You move James head so you can see his face, squishing his cheeks, glasses already discarded on a side table. "You would look fucking hot with blonde streaks, dear Merlin."

Your other boyfriend places down the wire and needle nose pliers he's using to move closer to the couch, "you want some blonde in your hair, baby?"

He moves his face out of your hands, laying back on your stomach. "wha' 'ver you wan'" James' voice is slurred with sleep.

ᯓ★

That's how you got her a week later; you sat on the counter top of your bathroom sink, and Sirius putting on his latex gloves to mix bleach.

James sits on a wooden stool, that has seemed to make its way around the entire house since you bought it, wearing a extremely stained shirt both you and Sirius have worn while dying your own hair.

"Any regrets, lover boy?" You shimmy on the counter to sit infront of the tanner of the two boys.

"I think that it's unjust for you to manipulate me in my sleep to get me to dye my hair." James grabs your ankles, hands rubbing up and down your shins.

"You could talk; it's got to count for some kind of awareness to what's going on." Sirius grins at his counterpart, mixing the bleach and walking behind James.

"So cruel, both of you, so cruel." He juts out his bottom lip, looking up at you with a pout.

"You haven't pulled out yet, so I'm starting to believe this is just a cute little act." Your grin is nearly identical to Sirius'.

"Don't talk to him about pulling out, love, we won't be able to finish before he gets restless." The darker haired boy laughs as he adjusts James head.

"Both, so, so bloody cruel."

ᯓ★

James' hair took to the dye pretty well, only ending up needing two rounds of bleach.

And fuck, you where right. He looks fucking hot. The blonde, thick, streaks that curl perfectly into his brown hair pattern.

"Bloody hell-" Sirius talks between kissing James "your look-" kiss "fucking delicous"

Sirius pauses for a second to look at you walking through the door of your home, throwing your bag to the ground and toeing off your shoes. "Come here, doll."

[yestrday]

WAIT NO IMAGINE YAN ACADEMY AND READER DYEING THEIR HAIR TO MATCH !! LIKE GETTING RED STREAMS TO MATCH ITTO

hehehe i got a bit too silly with it. i like incorporating some good ol comedy in my yandere aus to remind people that they're still high schoolers and they're still stupid (also it gives a very heavy sense of conflict knowing that these goofy highschoolers have blood on their hands tehe)

you might like: yandere! genshin academy ft itto

"oh gosh he's gotten [y. name]."

you're a popular one within the academy, the charity case who has high grades but still a bit naive about how high society works. too naive, in fact, that when someone snidely insults you to your face you just ask them what do they mean with the most wide and trusting eyes. it only takes a monster to continue with the insult (and a fool to begin with with all the glaring eyes on him).

you're as easily influenced as you are naive, so everybody can't help but despair at the sight of you trotting down the halls sporting a red streak on your bangs. there's only one man who'd be pushy enough to get you one just to match with him.

everyone whips their head around to see arataki itto following closely behind you, a self-satisfied look on his face. they're not surprised. of course, the arataki itto would drag you into his shenanigans.

"were they bullied into it?" "you think anyone would bully them?" "but it's itto." "he's an idiot... and so are they."

when you enter your classroom, there's a circle of students who's immediately putting a barrier between you and the big man. they're not just your harem, but normal classmates who know that they can't afford losing their answer sheet to the wrong path. everyone starts questioning him, accusing him of somehow corrupting you. it's just a lock of hair dyed red, but they're already acting like you've been initiated into the arataki gang.

"if [y. name] starts skipping classes with you then who am i supposed copy off of at the next history quiz?!" one angry classmate jabs a finger into his chest. they wince.

itto puts his hands up, startled at the angry mob before him. "woah woah woah, guys it's just hair dye—"

"just?!" your classmate cries out, affronted. "do you know how much i need them to tutor me? i won't allow your gang to to take them away."

"well, they're not initiated yet—"

"yet?!"

"guys, guys, calm down." thankfully, thoma's kind voice helps abate the angry mob's fuming. he's fixing your hair, gently making sure to style it in a way that best shows off your red lock. "don't be too harsh on the big guy. as he said, it's just hair dye."

itto looks sparkly-eyed at thoma, touched at his coming to his defense. "thoma, my bro...!"

"that said." thoma's smile turns sharp. "if i hear another word about you initiating [y. name] into your gang, i'll tell ayato and it will be community service for you and the arataki gang, okay?" his green eyes are kind, but itto doesn't miss the heavy warning behind them. he gulps and quickly nods his head.

"yes, sir..."

meanwhile, you're checking yourself in your front camera, delightedly patting your hair down as you admire thoma's handiwork. hmm... this shade of red looks particularly good on you. should you dye your entire hair instead?

some halls down, diluc sneezes and kaeya gives him a look because the diluc never sneezes.

[itslynzbitxh]

purple || sal fisher x gender neutral reader

fluff

1.1k words

I unlock the door with shaky hands before stepping into our shared apartment.

"Are you sure?" I say, turning to Sal as I kick my shoes off at the door. He nods and unbuckles his prosthetic, setting it down on the coffee table.

"You don't have to, you know," I mumble as I head to the bathroom with the paper bag.

"I know," he says matter-of-factly, trailing behind me. I roll my eyes as I set the bag on the sink before kneeling down to rummage through the cabinets for my supplies. "But I wanna match," he grins lopsidedly into the mirror, running his fingers through his pigtails.

I chuckle softly and stand up with two hair dye bowls in hand. Sal wraps his arms around my waist and rests his head on my shoulder, watching me. I smile softly, leaning into his touch.

"Why do we need two?" he asks curiously.

"Well, you got a lotta hair, babe. The dye's not gonna all fit in one bowl," I explain as I reach into the paper bag and pull out two bottles of hair color: Ppl Eater and Front Row from Good Dye Young.

I look up into the mirror, taking in both of our reflections. My hair was a freshly-dyed vibrant red-violet. It had been blue for months until I decided to dye it purple on a whim yesterday. Sal came home from Larry's that night and pouted, complaining that we didn't match anymore. This morning, he'd asked me if I would help him dye it purple. I hesitated at first as he'd only ever had blue in the time I'd known him, but he badgered me until I agreed.

I run my fingers through his blue hair one last time.

"I'm gonna miss it. Larry's not even gonna recognize you," I chuckle. Sal grins and tightens his grip around me.

"Larry can kiss my ass for all I care. I wanna match with my beautiful partner." He presses a kiss to my neck, eliciting a soft giggle from me. "Can't have you looking better than me, can we?" he teases.

"Watch yourself there, hotshot," I say with a smirk, rolling my eyes. Sal laughs, the sound reverberating into my back.

I start to squeeze the color into the bowls and mix the two colors together, trying to match the red-violet shade of my own hair. After a few minutes, I've gotten as close as I think I can get. I look up at Sal.

"Whatcha think?" I hold the brush up, letting a glob of hair dye fall back into the bowl. It makes a loud plop, splattering several droplets on the white sink. I grimace.

"I think we're not getting our deposit back," Sal quips. I stick my tongue out at him.

"That was gone the first time I dyed my hair in this apartment," I reply. Sal chuckles.

"I'm ready now if you are." I look at him.

"Fuck yeah," he says excitedly, nodding.

"Sit down, and we can get started." I gesture to the closed toilet seat lid. He kisses my cheek and lets go of me, sitting down. I gently pull the ponytail holders out of his pigtails.

"Ow!" he exclaims dramatically. I roll my eyes.

"So whiney," I tease. He pouts playfully at me. I laugh and take out the second pigtail. I rustle his hair a little. He smiles up at me.

"Gotta say goodbye to my blue-haired boy."

"Hey, you didn't let me say goodbye to my blue-haired lover," he reminds me.

"I've been a thousand colors, love. I didn't think you'd be so attached to my blue," I say as I section his hair up with a claw clip.

"Well, when you dyed it blue, I couldn't look at my hair without thinking of you," he says softly. "I liked that."

I blush slightly, my heart fluttering at his sweet words. I smile at him softly and press a gentle kiss to the top of his head.

"You're sweet. Now's your last chance to back out though," I tell him as I give the hair color one last stir before grabbing the brush and bringing it towards his head.

"Nope." He shakes his head with a grin. I laugh and apply the first streak of color onto the back of his hair.

I carefully start working the color into his blue hair, being more attentive than when I'm doing my own hair.

"This is gonna take a while. Wanna put on some music?" I ask as I apply the color in sections.

Sal nods, pulling out his phone and connecting to my speaker. After a moment, one of my favorite songs, "Black No. 1" by Type O Negative, starts playing. I chuckle softly.

"This song always reminds me of you," he smiles up at me.

"I haven't had black hair in years though," I tell him. He shrugs.

"Maybe we can do that next."

"Oh, a black-haired Sally Face would be unstoppable," I grin at him. He blushes slightly.

"You think?" he says softly. He always struggled to receive compliments, but so did I.

"I know. You'd be the ultimate emo boy," I tease, biting my tongue.

"I am NOT emo!" he exclaims. I laugh loudly. "I am punk rock, you bastard."

I laugh again as I apply more color.

"Uh-huh." He glares up at me. I grin. "I know you're not." He nods, satisfied by my answer. "But you know what song reminds me of you?"

He glares up at me again with a playful and curious expression in his eyes. "What song?"

I giggle and gesture for his phone. He sighs and hands it to me. I laugh to myself as I add a certain song to the queue. I set his phone down with a mischievous grin. He narrows his eyes at me.

"What song?" he asks again.

"Patience, Sally," he rolls his eyes at me. I continue coloring his hair, finishing up the back and moving on to a new section.

The Type O Negative song continues, and I forget that I added a song to the queue until after the eleven-minute song finishes. "Emo Boy" by Ayesha Erotica starts playing. I laugh to myself as Sally groans and blushes, glaring at me.

"I hate you," he mumbles, trying to suppress the smile tugging on his lips.

"Sure you do."

He shakes his head playfully and laughs, grabbing my hips and pulling me towards him to stand in between his legs. He wraps his arms around me and rests his head on my chest.

"You're lucky I love you," he mumbles into me. I yelp slightly, cold purple hair color getting on my white shirt.

"Sally!" I groan. He laughs and looks up at me with a smirk.

"Oops," he says sarcastically.

"You're lucky I love you." I repeat his words with a smile, not really caring that much about the shirt.

"Yes, I am," he says softly as he pulls me closer.

~~

this is my first tumblr fic ! (i wrote on wattpad back in the og days)

hope y'all enjoy! should i do a nsfw part two?

also requests are open !

<3

[theemporium]

OMG reader has dyed streak in her hair and it’s like silver and sirius or james things it’s so cool and want a matching one so reader dyes them a matching one in their hair !!!!

this is making my wee percabeth heart all qbdkjbkwjefkewjfb thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Positive.”

“Like, one hundred percent?”

“A million, actually.”

“James,” you said with a pointed look. You stood behind him in one of his manor’s many bathrooms, a stool placed in front of the sink and a variety of products sprawled over the counter. You had plastic gloves on, a small bowl of already mixed bleach in hand that was starting to burn the inside of your nose. “This is serious.”

He tried to suppress his grin, but it was difficult to do so. “Baby, I trust you,” he said, his words laced with sincerity, even if your theatrics were amusing him. It did warm his heart how concerned you were. “You did it to yourself, you can do it to me.”

Your eyes briefly glanced up at your own reflection, the dyed strip standing out from the rest of your hair. It had been an impulsive decision, and one that thankfully played off. You had been far more obsessed with it than you thought you would be.

And it turned out, your boyfriend was too. So much so that he wanted a matching one of his own. 

“What if the bleach ruins your curls?” you muttered, your gaze now focused on the head of thick, brown curls your boyfriend was practically known for.

“Then I’ll shave my head,” James joked.

You glared at him through the mirror. 

“Geez, tough crowd,” he commented before turning on the stool so he was actually facing you. His hands gripped your thighs, giving them a comforting squeeze as he smiled up at you. “Princess, it’s gonna be fine. It’s just one strand of hair.”

“I don’t wanna mess it up and you blame me for looking shit,” you admitted.

James snorted. “You could drop that whole bowl on my head and I wouldn’t blame you. Let’s be serious here, baby.”

You rolled your eyes, but he could see the smile twitching at your lips. “You really wanna match?”

“Hell yeah I fucking do,” James puffed his chest out. “I wanna match with my girl.”

You laughed. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” James’ hands wrapped around your thighs, tugging you between his legs as his chin pressed against your stomach. “We can even dye them different colours, and match every week with a new look.”

“You’ve thought this through,” you teased as you ran your free hand through his curls. 

“A lot of my thoughts are about you, princess.”

Your cheeks flushed in response as you cleared your throat, pretending to ignore the massive grin on his face. “Alright, turn around, Potter. Let’s do this.”

“Finally!”

“Your mum won’t kill me for this, right?”

“Please,” James scoffed. “She loves you. It will be me she will kill.”

“Reassuring, James.”

“Always, baby.”

.