#they also all have fine thick hair but Peter's is full of wax and or pomade etc.

[softgrungeprophet]

the real reason au kaine wears a braid suited up...to keep his hair from fluffing up with static electricity

[ghostofbambifanfiction]

Part 1 of ?????

Started writing this fic a while ago and then lost faith in it. Should I continue? Feel bad for not posting much lately so I thought I'd share this. Read on and weigh in.

COME OUT TONIGHT

NO

You don't have to fucking shout?

Said the pot to the kettle?

Oh you grandmother The caps were an accidental by-product of voice-to-text Blame Siri if you're going to blame anyone

You have a Samsung Galaxy S20.

HAD. It got smashed. Worst luck. Listen, come out with me tonight.

Urghhhhhhhhhhhhhh I'm tired!

https://www.boots.com/wellness/vitaminsandsupplements/vitamins-supplements-shop-by-ingredient/echinacea

Hah (indifferent)

Just come out with me! Isaac has to go see some godawful student performance of the Antigone in wherever the fuck Chichester is and it's Sirius's flatmate's birthday party so I have to go and I don't know any of his weird mates

You don't HAVE to go.

Have to/want to Semantics

I'm not in a birthday party mood. I'm having a stressful week. My arse has been tense since Tuesday.

I will wade into the deep and massage your arse if I have to, just come It's a swank pad in Belgravia! I bet they'll have all sorts of expensive nibbles!

I read that as expensive nipples.

Those too!

Partying it up with the children of wealthy Tories. Sounds super fun.

Just come out with me, for fuck I'll pick you up at 7 and we can steal their silverware if it's boring as the grave

URGH I'll go but I'm NOT dressing up!

You don't have to dress up!

FINE!

*

take the drawings down please i'm begging you i'm actually begging you

Nah mate

siriusssssssss pleeeeeease

Nah

PLEASE

Nah

PLEASE ffs it's MY birthday!!!! there are going to be PEOPLE there! standing around! AT EYE LEVEL

I don't see what the problem is.

EVERYONE will see what the problem is! they literally will not be able to IGNORE what the problem is!

Sounds like a recipe for lively discussion to me tbh

that is NOT what i want people talking about at my birthday!

If I take them down, I'll have to take all the nails out and that'll leave nail marks all over the walls. It would be unsightly.

MORE UNSIGHTLY THAN YOUR DICK, SIRIUS?

My dick is bewitching.

DIE

*

She walks in expecting to find herself the infiltrator of a Made in Chelsea/Royal Ascot/Henley Regatta netherworld, filled with a gaggle of giggling, SW-postcode socialites wielding suspiciously powder-edged Harrods Amex cards in the place of horses and boats, but that's not what actually greets her on the other side of the lacquered front door.

What greets her is really quite ordinary.

Aside from the naked drawings of Kingsley's mate, which aren't.

Otherwise, the whole affair is pretty relaxed. People her age are clustered in their small groups, swigging beers. There's a table of oven-heated party foods, salty snacks and rapidly depleting ramekins of guac. She spies more band shirts than there are dress shirts. There's a round of Fortnite in full swing on the TV.

It's all just...startlingly normal. A normal birthday party.

And that's sort of embarrassing, really.

Where are all the visible Tory toffs, she wonders? Where is the braying laughter? The Eton alumni reunion? The glimpse of hunting-happy tweed and shotgun barrels as a coat cupboard door swings shut? Where's the indelible air of sneering superiority, of "we're richer and more privileged and better than you, so fuck the NHS and death to foxes!" that she'd been expecting? There's a fucking Henry Hoover in the corner of the hall, for Christ's sake. Lily came here to smile through her teeth at them all, to listen to the champagne problems privilege that bubbled from their lips and tell herself that she was the one who knew better, who thought better. Her plain white tee and skinny jeans and scuff-toed, high-top trainers were supposed to be a statement, a subtle setting-apart, but she's not even the most underdressed person in the room.

She pre-judged a house full of people. What's that about?

There's a lesson to be found in this. Perhaps.

*

James covered all of the dicks in Paw Patrol stickers that he bought from the newsagent on his way home from his mum's, but Sirius peeled them all off while he was taking a soothing lavender bath, so what's the bloody point in birthdays anyway?

It's early in the evening, and he's wedged—against his will—between the dining room bar and Shane Ruttle, who has just pointed at one of the many lamentable dicks and asked, "Is this one of yours?" which James kind of wants to thump him for. It's bad enough that he looks like a madman who stuffed his house with naked drawings of his brother, now people are actually assuming that he drew the damn things, even though most of the compositions are appallingly far beneath his skill level. He's a professional illustrator, for the love of god, and Shane is really standing before him like the posturing prick he is, asking him if he's the one who drew Sirius with one arm disproportionately longer than the other.

He knows that he should cheer up.

It is his birthday. There is cake.

Good cake, too, not the kind that gets buried in too-thick fondant that he has to pick off before he can eat what's underneath.

The problem is, there's also a party, and his friends are his friends, Peter and Sirius included, and Peter and Sirius can both get drunk much faster than James can. When Peter and Sirius get drunk, serious injuries tend to follow, Remus tends to fuck off in a flash and James tends to be the one who calls for an ambulance or mothers them back to health—physical, mental or otherwise. He has just turned twenty-six, and these repeated, drunkenly dramatic medical emergency scenes are starting to wear a little thin.

Can't a man get comfortably drunk and have a laugh at his own birthday party?

No, he can't, because Peter's already halfway to trashed, wobbling unsteadily towards the French doors that lead to the terrace, wearing that look on his face that says I'm definitely going to vomit or maybe even shit myself like I did on that one night we all spent in Munich with the Belgian handball team and the creepy tour guide who couldn't keep his sleazy hands to himself. For the sake of sparing the lawn such a punishment, James hastily removes himself from Shane, grabs Peter by the collar, shoves him in the direction of the downstairs loo and retreats to the safety of the living room, where there are, at least, no naked drawings of Sirius gracing the walls.

Most of the people in here are transfixed by Saffy Stephens, who is down to the last three in her Fortnite game and cursing like a sailor, but there are a small pile of birthday cards on the end table where James and Sirius normally keep their keys. He perches on the sofa arm, sets his half-drunk beer bottle on the carpet, pushes his dark, disheveled hair away from his forehead and begins leafing through them. It's a necessity when one lives with Sirius, who thinks nothing of swiping gift cards when the mood strikes him and he's had enough to drink.

They're mostly from his female friends, and all pretty standard, until he reaches the middle of the pile and finds a card bearing a picture of a moustached tabby and the caption: Have a Purr-fect Birthday!

The inscription inside is written in a lovely, swirling hand.

To Jasper/Jack/Jason/maybe Ja Rule?/J-something idk

(see above: everything I've learned about you from the friend* I came here with, verbatim)

(*who can't remember your name)

Happy Birthday! Thank you for (not) specifically inviting me, a stranger, to your party to celebrate this momentous event in your life. Please enjoy this festive card/social nicety/convention from me to you. My friend brought rum which you may prefer.

I'll be around. Not that you'll know.

LE

James lowers the card and twists on the sofa arm at once, eyes darting around the room in search of its author, as if they might be laying in wait to watch him read it and see how he reacts. Nobody appears to have ducked behind the couch, however, so the situation merits further scrutiny.

Obviously, he needs to meet this person.

A mystery! At his birthday party!

He perks right up after that.

*

She's coming out of the downstairs loo when a short, blonde man in a garish Hawaiian shirt barrels past her and pukes all over the chequerboard tiled floor, narrowly missing her jeans.

"Oh no," he moans into his wet hands. "Oh no—"

"There there, mate," says Lily consolingly, never one to judge somebody for getting drunk early at a party. She pats him on the back before squeezing past him and rejoining Kingsley, who is standing in one of this meandering Georgian house's many hallways, chatting to a bloke in a houndstooth sweater vest and holding two glasses of something very, very sparkly that she must try at once.

"It's like...it's like everything and nothing at the same time," Houndstooth Bloke is saying when Lily draws close, gesturing to a huge canvas painting of a rain-soaked fairground at night.

"Is it?" Kingsley asks.

"Mmm. Very." Houndstooth shakes his shoulders like he's slipping out of a robe. "Meant to be esoteric, I suppose."

That sounds suspiciously like pretentious bullshit to Lily, who doesn't find the concept of a merry looking fairground all that difficult to absorb. Kingsley knows more about the art world than she does, but he must agree with her assessment because he grunts and shoves her glass into her hand when she stops beside him, and more roughly than she deserves, as if she's the one who landed him in this mess of a conversation to begin with.

Trust him to find himself stuck with the only dick (not etched by a 4B Steadtler graphite pencil) in the building, and trust her to be stuck with the person who got himself stuck with King.

"What are we talking about?" she asks brightly, just to fuck with him.

"Drink your champagne, there's a good little hen," King mutters, his teeth clenched together, hallway lights bouncing off the smoothly waxed dome of his bald head.

"We've been discussing this piece." Houndstooth nods to the painting, but his limpid eyes narrow on Lily's face. "Christ, you're very redheaded, aren't you?"

It's decided. She'll wait 'til Houndstooth is drunk and trip him up with Henry Hoover's hose.

"Ergo soulless, yes," she agrees.

"And you...enjoy that?" he asks, as if being redheaded is her profession.

"Very much, thanks."

"Hmmp. Well. I came here with Saffron," he announces, pronouncing it Sef-ron. As if Lily is supposed to know who that is. "Platonically, of course. Actually, we're some sort of cousins, I think. What do you think the artist is trying to convey?"

He's very pointedly asking her, so Lily blinks at the painting, her eyes on the outstretched arm of a child on the carousel.

"I like the pretty colours," she decides aloud.

"Right," says Houndstooth, "but that's not—"

"And the lights, too. The lights are really pretty."

"But—"

"I love funfairs, actually," she brightly continues, finding a strange satisfaction in playing dumb in front of Houndstooth and his overbleached fade. Although she does really like the colours. "Haven't been to one in years!"

"Yes, good, whatever, but what is the artist trying to convey?"

"What artist?" comes a voice from behind them.

Lily glances over her shoulder and finds herself looking up at the man whose penis she's spent the past thirty minutes avoiding eye contact with, though he is taller, better proportioned and infinitely more beautiful than any of those crudely drawn depictions could possibly convey. He is also beplumed and bejewelled like a pirate, wearing a sumptuous velvet jacket over a loose white shirt, numerous rings on his fingers and an assortment of silver chains around his slender neck, while his grey eyes and elegantly high-set cheekbones are framed by a tumble of black hair that genuinely looks like silk.

The man is so beautiful, in fact, that Lily immediately wonders why he's been taking sketches home from the life drawing class that he and Kingsley pose for—hence their acquaintance and Lily's presence at this party—when nothing she's seen tonight has done him any justice.

Most happily, his penis is tucked safely out of sight.

"Alright, Sirius?" says King.

"Alright, Marvel?" Sirius claps a hand to the taller man's massive shoulder. Kingley's muscles bulge in a way that cannot be hidden by modern habiliments. "What are we talking about?"

"Not much." Houndstooth looks put out by the arrival of yet another person. "We were just mesmerised by this piece."

Lily refrains from gesturing to the painting with both hands and a "ta-dah!" choosing instead to sip her champagne.

It's very good champagne. Mmm. Yes.

"Oh, yeah, it's really something," Sirius agrees. He brushes past Kingsley and runs a finger over the illegible squiggle of a signature on the canvas. His nails are beautifully manicured. "Local guy, young up-and-comer. I assume you've heard of Algernon?" he asks Houndstooth, fixing him with a steely-eyed stare.

"Er, yes." Houndstooth's gaze slides from Sirius to the painting. "I know him."

Sirius's eyebrows lift. "Know him personally?"

"Well—"

"That's so weird, I heard he never speaks to people."

Houndstooth chews on the inside of his cheek, weighing up the challenge. "How…funny."

"Funny?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just, I know I've spoken to him before, and since you've bought his painting I assumed that you'd have—"

"That is funny, actually," Sirius interrupts, "because the artist is my brother, and Algernon is the name of his cat."

Kingsley has been tugging on his earring and almost rips it out of his ear as his body convulses, champagne spraying from his nostrils, while an alarming red flush sweeps across Houndstooth's face and he begins to sputter on his own self-importance. Sirius has clearly decided that he's done with all of that noise, however, because he turns back to Lily instead, looking her up and down with great and sudden interest.

"Who's this then?" he asks Kingsley, cocking his head to one side. "James's present?"

The champagne glass swings down and Lily fixes him with a deadpan stare. "Excuse me?"

Sirius slants a grin at Kingsley, a quick flash of teeth. "This one's queenly, isn't she?"

Kingsley wipes his nose with the back of his hand and laughs again. "Hardly."

"This is Primark, mate," Lily retorts, tugging on her t-shirt.

"Queenliness is a state of mind," says Sirius, "not a state of wardrobe."

"You had me marked down as a prostitute not ten seconds ago."

"Oh, that. I was only joking," he sighs, and grips her arm at the elbow, his long fingers cool against her skin. "But still, you're far too attractive to stand here talking to this clown. Come with me and I'll find you someone better."

*

James's friends are useless.

And drunk. Useless and drunk—or sort of drunk, in Saffy's case. Remus is certainly already pissed, but Remus is on meds so often that he drinks but once in a blue moon. One cocktail is usually enough to set him off, and he's been hard at the gin since he turned up with Peter at six.

"I don't know anyone with those initials," Saffy declares, once she has read, examined and even sniffed the birthday card for clues. "Except for Lisa Edelstein."

"Who's Lisa Edelstein?"

"Cuddy from House," says Remus, lowering the negroni from which he has been drinking deeply.

James pulls a face. "What the fuck is a Cuddy?"

"Oh, actually, it could mean le?" Remus suggests.

"Yes!" Saffy points at him like he might be onto something. "Like the French word for the?"

"Exactly, like—"

"It doesn't mean that!" James interrupts, unwilling to allow such profanity in his home. "That doesn't make sense, why would somebody sign their name as the?"

"Now you're asking me to explain how French people think?" says Saffy derisively, adjusting her bra strap beneath that burnt orange waistcoat she loves, the one that makes her look like she's directing a pornographic movie in the 70s when she pairs it with her tortoiseshell-framed aviators. It clashes wildly with her electric blue buzz-cut. "Am nooooo drunk enough for that."

"They could be one of those one word moniker pop stars, I suppose," Remus pipes up, smiling slyly. "You know, like Madonna?"

They think James doesn't realise that they're taking the piss out of him, but neither of them are sober enough to attempt their gambit with any kind of subtlety or grace.

"You know that's actually her real Christian name?" says Saffy.

Remus turns towards her with interest. "What, Madonna?"

"Yeah!"

"Really?"

"Yeah!" Saffy repeats. "I thought it couldn't possibly be her real name because, I mean, Madonna, yeah? But then I looked it up and apparently that's the name her mummy gave her, just goes to show—"

"I'm sorry," James interrupts, "but is Madonna relevant to this conversation?"

"Yes, always," says Saffy.

"She's an international pop megastar," Remus seconds.

James stares at his friend incredulously. "Drinking really chips away at your wit, y'know?"

"Does it?" Remus grins lazily and jiggles his cocktail in the air. "Oh, well, I'm negronly joking."

Saffy does a spit-take without the spit and clings helplessly to Remus's shoulder as she laughs, knees buckling, bangles tinkling, but James fights his own urge to start snickering.

"It's not that funny," he lies, and Remus eyes him with an alarmingly teacher-like shrewdness, despite the tellingly intoxicated flush that has crept into his thin, freckled face.

James's love of puns is tragically well known.

"You didn't get it." Remus points at his drink. His speech is starting to slur. "This is a negroni, what I said was—"

"Yeah, I got that part, I just—"

"Jesus fuck, look at her!" Saffy suddenly hisses, staggering sideways into Remus and sending him into the wall in a flurry of giggles—Remus giggling?—her voice hushed and urgent. "Who the hell is that?!"

James does look, following the direction of Saffy's gaze. Sirius has just entered the living room, casually clutching the elbow of a……

……goddess.

An actual. Like. Goddess.

A goddess. In James's house. In his living room. In the place where he eats his chocolate boulder cereal and rewatches Scrubs (even season 9, which is hilarious, and very unfairly disparaged by Joe Public) on Saturday mornings.

She's a goddess. A real one, and cleverly disguised as a mortal, sure, with her slouchy white t-shirt and her big hoop earrings and her light blue jeans that are torn at the knees, wearing her shoulder-length red hair half up, half down and slightly messy, but that doesn't hide what she is.

"Oh my god," he murmurs. His heart is pounding all of a sudden, which is so...utterly bloody stupid, but Saffy's right, bloody look at her, Jesus fuck.

"Surely she can't be with Sirius?" Saffy murmurs back.

"No, she—" He watches Sirius lean down to mutter something in the redhead's ear. A ghost of a laugh flits across her beautiful face. "She's not his—he isn't—"

"D'you think—"

"No, I—"

"Good," says Saffy firmly. She lets go of Remus and rises, lengthening her spine. It is a battle stance of some sort, presumably. "Because I saw her first."

"No!" James cries, wounded, and the redhead shoots him a curious look with a pair of eyes that are startlingly emerald green, even from all the bloody way over here. He spins to face Saffy and lowers his voice, face burning. "It's my house!"

"What are you arguing here, ownership rights?"

"No but it—it's my birthday!" James retorts, jabbing at his own chest. "And, actually, and—"

"It's in the bloody post!"

"—you didn't get me a present!" he finishes in triumph, not that he knows what he's arguing for, because the likelihood is that his tongue will glue itself to the roof of his mouth if he even dares to look in her direction one more time. "Plus I set you up with Vanya Petrich, with whom, as I recall, you enjoyed four years—"

"Stop throwing that in my face!"

"—four blissful years—"

"Is it my fault that you've never fancied any girl I've set you up with?!"

"—promised me an Easter ham for setting you up with her and I never got it—"

"So now you'll trade a woman for a ham?" Saffy accuses, though her face is too lit up, her brown eyes too crinkled at the corners—she's having fun with this and she isn't going to fool him and she knows it. "That's so low, even—"

"Don't start with that," James scathingly cuts in. "You offered me Sean Connery's autograph for Bonnie Grogan's number—"

"Which you never gave me!"

"Because you forged the bloody signature!"

"And now she's bloody married!"

"Yeah, well, Isabella wouldn't give me a counterfeit present, would she?" he retorts, and Saffy lets her shoulders drop, smirking. "This is pointless, Saf, we can't—"

"She's just left with Sirius," Remus informs them, and burps.

[expensiveglasses]

Charming Chapter One

Summary: Prince Jungkook was as infuriating as he was beautiful. In line to one day be king, he requested your guidance in the ways of his people. In turn he will make you laugh, give your family fine gifts, and become an invaluable friend. Unfortunately, he will also make you fall in love with him. But the most unfortunate thing of all was his betrothal…to Snow White

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Fantasy, Angst, Snow white/au

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 4538

Warnings: None for this chapter. Future warnings are TW: Major character “death” TW: Thoughts of suicide TW: Attempted suicide. Nothing is graphically described. Chapters will be noted when these things take place.

.

.

It was during the spring that you felt the most content. Everything was reborn, blossoming from the frozen winter. The village came to life with music, new animals, and the sweet smell of fresh bread.

It had been this way since you were a child, no taller than your mother’s hip and only aware of how acutely you spurned the winter. With chapped fingers and lips, you watched bitterly as your friends, Peter and Else, played, squealing loudly as they threw snow at one another.

The three of you, friends since you could remember, filled to the brim with laughter, scraped knees, and all as plain looking as could be. This suited you fine, and there was little to disappoint you but short moments of impassioned arguments with your two best friends and a brief encounter with the very silly king and his very silly son.

As the only daughter (and indeed, the only child) of the villages master tailor, you found yourself often around the regal and ridiculous. So it was of no surprise when the king himself requested your father’s services and you were required to help him carry his materials to the castle where the king greeted you with his only heir, a son, wearing the silliest hat you’d ever laid eyes upon, a red feather sticking from the top.

You were as different as two people could be and with your simple manners and upbringing, you could not begin to understand the pomp and circumstance of such a silly little boy with rounded cheeks and a chest puffed much too high.

He strutted and flounced about the castle as a peacock would its park and the sight was all together ridiculous for your 9 year old eyes to behold. He’d called you peasant girl and remarked on your general lack of beauty and at 13 years old himself, you felt he had little to offer either, aside from a sizeable kingdom to trump the bed of straw and sheep’s skin you called your own.

For his 13th birthday, Prince Jungkook of Löhrenstein, would have a party, in which all the nobility and sovereigns of the land would be in attendance with their young princesses, and little duchesses, hoping to secure a treaty with his father, a contract between two kingdoms; a betrothal of a prince and a princess.

Of course, you would know nothing of this sort of formality or indeed the contracts of marriage. Your education was as broad as tending a home, carrying your father’s supplies, making flower crowns, and helping to herd the cows during the Viehscheid.

So, while the prince was living in a castle and throwing parties and sneering down his nose at near everybody, you were busy helping your father to sew his clothes. At least you could still play in the fields when the sun was high and warm and the flowers were just beginning to bloom.

And this was how you spent your years, watching as Else became beautiful and elegant, long brown hair thick and wavy, tied back in braids as she went to work in the village at her father’s bakery and you watched in quiet envy as all the boys took notice, bringing her fine milks and cheeses as tokens of their affection while you stayed plain. Even Peter had become mildly handsome as he grew into his gangly limbs, erasing the once mousy appearance for a broad shouldered, sun freckled young man.

You told yourself you didn’t mind so much that you were still plain while she was beautiful, but of course you did a little. To be poor but beautiful afforded you more than being poor and plain. Peter often told you that you were just as beautiful as Else, and while you were happy with the compliment, you knew it was because of his childhood love and devotion to you.

You believed that was why he chose to become apprentice to your father, to someday seek your fathers blessing for your hand. While you did not love Peter the way that he loved you, you could not deny the appeal of continuing with the comforts that you were already accustomed to. After all, you were the only daughter to the king’s tailor…that did afford you some small comforts. You supposed someday when he asked for your hand, as he inevitably would, that you would accept.

When you turned 18, however; there was a small gift from the gods, in the form of a late blooming. A glow to your cheeks and a blossoming of beauty. You were, of course, no Else, but you could certainly hold your own and found that you had more than just Peter as an admirer; much to his chagrin.

Perhaps that’s why you feared that any day now he would ask for your father’s permission to court you because then your path as his future wife would be decided. You were in a strange position as the daughter of the king’s master tailor. You were neither peasant nor nobility so while your ability to choose your spouse was more under your control, you were still held to the standard of your father and who he deemed fit to represent his family, and in turn, the kings.

.

.

The sun had just risen to its fullest height, waxing hot as it commandeered the sky, blue and shivering with the heat. It was sweltering and crowded in the square; noisy with life. The baker’s wife was out shouting, calling attention to the freshly baked rolls sitting just passed the door of the bakery. Else stood beside him, batting her eyelashes and looking pretty; using charms her father could not to entice more customers and you smiled.

The sheep were drinking from the water trough in the center, surrounded by red and yellow poppies in full bloom. The clock tower struck one and you glanced up, eyeing the time wearily. You stood under the archway of a building painted green as a melon, hoping to escape some of the day’s heat.

A woman chased a boy from her garden, chickens flying around in aggravation and you peered after the child as he sulked down the lane, feet dirty and bare. “You hungry, boy?” You called and he looked to you, face caked with dirt from playing and a nod as answer. “Here.” You tossed him the apple you held in your hand and he thanked you, running back into the bustling of the town.

The crowd quivered with conversation and your attention was suddenly captured by the gossip of two young ladies as they passed you. “Yes, the king’s carriage has already left the castle. Apparently, the prince is to be fitted for a ball.”

“I wonder if we shall see him.” The other remarked and your eyes swung to the road, spotting the carriage, scarlet curtains billowing from the windows as it made its descent into town. You gasped, grabbing the skirts of your dress and dashing mad towards your home.

Your father would whip you if you were late. You ran through the fields, cutting through tall shrubs and across dirt paths. A childhood spent playing in this winding village afforded you the intimate knowledge of all its byways.  

You arrived at your home, gasping and covered in dirt and your mother came out, fussing loudly over your appearance, bustling you into the home and towards your room. Your father sighed loudly as you passed, eyes scanning your dress, soiled with the toil of your morning.

“This is no way to greet your king.” He remarks as your mother pulls you behind the wooden room divider, helping you to strip from your clothing and wiping you down quickly with a wet wash cloth.

“My dear, you are not fit to be seen!” Your mother scolded, washing roughly at your face and you grimaced, shivering in the chill of the room. “You knew they were coming today.”

“They are early.” You complained and your mother’s lips smacked in irritation.

“A king is never early. He always arrives exactly when he means to. You would do well to remember that, Y/N.”

Your mother helped you to dress in something new quickly, repining the last piece of your hair just as the crunch of gravel from the royal carriage wheels could be heard rounding the corner and the two of you rushed from the room and to the front door to wait with your father.

You took a deep breath, head bowed into your chest as you heard the carriage come to a stop in front of you. It was abnormal for the king to come to your home, far too busy with his royal duties to condescend to see a peasant, but his son and only heir had recently returned from…well, to be sure, you did not know where he actually had been, but rumor said he was poorly behaved and had gone somewhere far away to teach him the ways of a king.

This would not surprise you, were it true; he’d been a ghastly child. You could only imagine him now, in adulthood. Upon his return, his father had announced his desire to reacquaint his son with their kingdom and your father being his master tailor would receive the special privilege of his presence, it seemed.

The king stepped from the carriage first, and you watched his feet move towards your family.

“Your majesty!” Your father bowed and pleasantries were exchanged as the prince himself disembarked from the carriage.

You kept your eyes trained fast on the ground; the bottom of your dress already smudged with dirt from where you stood.

“My son,” The king announced and your father bowed once more, both your mother and yourself curtsying deep.

“You remember my wife and my daughter?” Your father said and it was now that you felt it was safe to lift your eyes from the ground.

“My, yes,” Said the king turning his gaze towards you, “you have grown well, girl.”

“Thank you, your majesty.” You replied, soft; bowing your head and he smiled, pleased.

“You remember my son?” He asked, pointing his hand to the figure by his side and you allowed your eyes to slide over to him.

It is unfortunate, in this life; that some people are just born with everything the heart could desire. Good fortune, health, money and comfort and to have all that and still be handsome? Well, truly life was unfair.

He stood tall, face angular with deep set brown eyes and rounded lips. You were under no illusion that he was anything but blessed by the gods. They must have looked upon him very favorably, indeed.

“Yes, your highness.”

The prince looked at you curiously, head curved to the side as your father beckoned them into your home and you watched the king and prince follow after him. You heated with shame as you entered after, watching the prince survey your home while your father and the king conversed.

He must think this was so beneath him; to stand in the home of a pauper. The floor, though it had been swept, was still covered in a layer of dirt and the furniture was old and matted, worn with use. You had more than others in your village, but compared to a king, this was true poverty. It must have seemed you had nothing at all.

“Florian, come look at these colors.” The king beckoned and the prince was quick to walk to his side, looking over the fabric your father had assembled as options for his ball.

“These are exquisite.” He remarked, voice low and serious. “I wonder, sir, my father says you will come to the castle tomorrow to prepare my clothing.”

“Yes, your highness, with my apprentice in training, Peter.”

The prince’s eyes flickered to you in surprise and you looked back down at the floor. “Not your daughter? I remember she used to join you when I was a boy.”

“Yes, my daughter would come to help me carry my things, but since I have acquired an apprentice, I have found that quite unnecessary.”

“I would very much like if you would bring her tomorrow, along with your apprentice, of course.” The prince smiled and you couldn’t help but look up in surprise.

“A woman?” The king laughed, loud and joyful and you bowed your head once more, flushed with shame. “What purpose would a woman have in a man’s business? She should stay here and help tend the home, Florian. Don’t be unreasonable.”

“I should very much like to have her return to the castle, for reminiscence sake, father. That is, if her mother can spare her.”

“Of course, your majesty.” She bowed.

“She can carry some of the fabric.” The prince smiled, eyes flickering to your bowed head, “like when she was a child.”

“You have a very strange sense of humor.” The king chortled and you closed your eyes, willing the humiliation from you. “Very well then, we shall see you on the morrow with your apprentice and your daughter. You know the time, I presume?”

“Yes, of course, your majesty.” Your father smiled, escorting them out the door and your mother and you stood in the kitchen, eyes trained on the floor.

So, it would seem he had not changed. Like a dog at his table, you had been summoned. So amusing, was it, to watch a woman carry fabric and needles for a man and stand in the background. Always to be seen, but never to be heard.

Your heart bled with the thought and you listened carefully as the carriage resumed its journey. Your father stepped through the threshold of your home and you could feel his eyes on the crown of your head.

“Now come, girl, there is no need to be so downtrodden.” Your father remarked lightly and your throat burned with emotion.

“Y/N.” Your mother said softly and you shook your head, turning to walk away.

“I wish to be alone.” You murmured, fleeing to your room.

The window was open, soft breeze fluttering through the soft white curtains, now dirtied from the dust of the road. You closed your bedroom door softly behind you, walking towards the window where you sat at your stool.

Laying your arm across the lip of your window, you rested your chin in the palm of your hand and sighed. To feel like a bartering chip in the world of men was difficult. To never be in charge of your own destiny. Destiny, for you, was to be nice to look at and the ability to spread your legs. You wanted more than that; wanted to be heard, wanted your thoughts and feelings to be considered.

A knock at your door called your attention and your mother stepped through the door, smiling softly. “It is an honor to be called back to the castle.” She remarked and you sighed once again, returning your gaze back out the window.

“Mother.” You frowned and she sat down on your bed. “You should understand…as a woman. We’re not objects to be played with.”

“My dear,” she tutted and you looked over at her. “Men are simple creatures, if they’ve nothing to look at, they don’t know what to do with themselves.”

You chuckled, sitting up straighter, hands dropping into your lap. “Then what are we to do with them, mother?”

“We guide them, darling. They like to feel useful, so we help them feel so. We know our worth, we don’t need to be reminded. Men, they need to feel powerful; what else do they have? They may be the head of the family, but we are the neck and they turn where we will it.”

“I have the feeling a prince would be harder to guide.” You smiled and she shrugged.

“Perhaps. It just makes it more fun; more of a challenge.”

You frowned, staring back out the window and into the forest just beyond your gate. The air rippled with heat and you watched as a rabbit hopped from your garden and into the shade. “I don’t want to go, mother.” You admitted.

Your mother’s fingers closed around your hand at the window and you turned to look at her. “My dear…I’m afraid you’ve no choice.”

.

.

The morning was hotter than usual and your dress stuck uncomfortable to your back. Peter was thrilled at the prospect of meeting the king and you realized belatedly that he’d never met him before. As the daughter of the king’s master tailor, you were in a unique position within society; neither pauper nor noble.

You’d had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting both the king and his son and you didn’t particularly care for either. “Imagine the palace, Y/N.” Peter sighed, eyes distant and smile pleasant as he threw an arm around your shoulder.

“I don’t need to imagine it.” You huffed, pushing his arm from your shoulder and readjusting the wrappings of fabric in your arms. “I’ve been there, remember?”

“Yes, I do. You never told me much about it, though. Always so secretive.”

You watched as he paused, tucking the edges of the tarp back around the rest of the fabric on the cart before resuming the journey. Your father walked steadily in front of the two of you.

“It was never a secret; I just didn’t particularly enjoy my time there.” You said carefully, eyes focused on the back of your father’s head. He’d beat you if you misspoke of the king.

“Yes, you did mention the prince was rather…interesting.”

“It seems nothing has changed.” You hummed softly, staring down at your feet, dusted yellow from the road.

“Then why are you coming today? If you dislike the prince, why come?” Peter questioned. The castle came into view, large and imposing against the backdrop of the mountains. White brick stood tall, the spires topped with a deep blue and for a moment you allowed yourself to admire the view.

Though the people within the castle were not to your taste, the palace itself was beautiful. Draped on every side by the mountain range and a large lake nestled in its cove, it was one of life’s true pleasures, gazing at its majesty.

“I think you will find, Peter, that I don’t have much of a choice. The prince requested his dancing monkey.” You replied, the words bitter on your tongue.

Your father called Peter forward and you spent the rest of the walk in silence, listening to the creak of the cart’s wheels as they cracked over rubble and dirt. Your mother had attempted to make you look pretty today, though you could not think why; presentable should be good enough for any man who wasn’t looking to choose a wife.

Your hair had been done and pinned beautifully, your most beautiful dress resting against your skin. It was certainly nothing to a noble, to be sure, but it was not unpleasant to look at and flattered the shape of your body.

It was hot, though, unbearably so, and you suffered dearly under the harsh rays of the late spring sun. Your mother insisted beauty had a price, but you weren’t quite sure why you were being asked to pay it.

The shade of the drawbridge was a welcome relief and you pulled a handkerchief from your bag and mopped at your face and neck. You didn’t need to offer the prince anymore reason to mock you.

You were escorted to the kings fitting rooms where you gently placed the fabric from your arms on top of what your father and Peter had carried from the cart. You patted at your neck once more as you watched Peter’s eyes scan the room excitedly. Absently you wondered if your father had taught him how to behave when the king was in the room.

Your father motioned you over and you slipped your handkerchief back in your bag and went to stand by his side. It wasn’t long before the king entered and you curtseyed deep, eyes trained on the floor.

He and your father spoke loudly as introductions were made and you could practically feel Peter vibrating from where he stood. He was excited, at least. You resisted the urge to pat at your cheeks, flushed with heat from the walk. Your throat felt like sand, dry as you swallowed and you wished more than anything for some water.

The men spoke noisily as they congregated around the fabric and it was decided that the king would be fitted first. You waited quietly as your father began his measurements, your fingers bunching tight in the fabric of your dress.

The room was overly warm, large windows allowing the sun to enter liberally and you felt yourself wilting in the heat. Voices muffling like you were under water, you watched as the gold, cerulean and cobalt of the room became nothing more than puddles of grey before fading into black.

.

.

Your brow felt cool, wet with the brush of a damp cloth and your eyelashes fluttered open, taking in the surrounding room.

Deep mahogany filled your vision, blue and white canopy drapes traveling the length of the rail. Walls painted in beautiful scenery drew your gaze and you reached up to feel the cloth against your brow.

“You’re awake.”

You inhaled sharp, turning to find the source of the voice. You were surprised to find the prince sat beside you, a basin of water resting on a table next to him and a small smile as greeting.

“I’m sorry to have startled you.” He said softly and you lowered your hand, attempting to sit up. “Please remain as you are, Y/N. You need just a moment to recover.”

“What happened? Where am I?”

“You are in one of the spare bedrooms in the palace. It seems you over heated and became faint.”

You closed your eyes tight, shame filling your breast. It was one thing to faint in general, but in front of the king and his son. Mortification was a bitter friend.

“Where is the doctor?” You asked carefully, peaking one eye open and glancing around the room. The prince smiled watching as your gaze flittered everywhere but him.

“I asked him to step outside for a moment. I wanted to make sure for myself that you were well.” He replied, watching your brows furrow in thought.

“Why is that, your majesty?” You pondered, looking up at him and he removed the cloth from your head, soaking it back in the basin before wringing it anew and placing it back against your brow.

“We are old friends, are we not?”

He stared down at his lap, seemingly unsure himself of his statement and your mouth parted in surprise. “You would consider us friends, your highness?”

The prince smiled, wry, before chuckling with a shrug. “Perhaps friends is too liberal of a word. I know I wasn’t the most…pleasant to be around when I was a child. I was selfish and cruel and it’s why my father sent me away. I’m very sorry to have ever been cause for discomfort.”

He paused to gauge your reaction but at the moment you weren’t sure what to think. It had seemed so unlikely to ever receive an apology and now that you had it, you weren’t quite sure what to make of it.

“I was hoping we could begin again…become real friends.” He admitted.

“Please pardon my confusion, but I find myself very surprised. Why would you wish to be friends with a pauper, your majesty?” You finally asked, looking over at him and his smile was gentle, gaze shifting to the open window, the afternoon’s breeze composing a dance among the curtains.

“You are not a pauper, YN” He said, watching as a small starling landed on the balcony, head twisting side to side as it chattered excitedly. “But even if you were, I would still wish to have your friendship. It is my father’s intention to make me king someday and after so many years as a selfish child, I am ashamed to admit that I know nothing of the people in my kingdom. The sorrows, the trials, the joys…I want to be a good king. I want people to know they can depend on me to help, even if I’m not perfect or don’t always have the answers. I want my people to trust me.”

You watched the starling yourself now, hopping across the wood of the balcony, a song puffing his chest wide. “And you think I can help you with that?” You asked softly, watching as the bird resumed flight and soared into the distance.

The prince looked back down at you, reaching his hand out to press against your cheek and you flinched. “My apologies, I only meant to see if your skin was still flushed. May I?”

You nodded, watching as his fingers extended back to your face, the back of his hand pressing gently across your cheek and neck. He hummed, retracting his hand and smiled. “Your temperature has reduced. How are you feeling?”

“Better.” You admitted, “Though I would love to have some water.”

“Yes, of course, I will have some fetched for you. Can I help you sit up?”

He held his hands out for you and you allowed him to pull you gently into an upright position. The world spun for a moment before settling and he moved to the door, calling for a water.

“As an answer to your earlier question,” he said, coming to sit across from you once again and you watched as he set the cloth and basin further away from the bed, “Not only do I wish to make amends, but I want to learn about my people and my kingdom and I believe that spending time with someone who knows the kingdom so well could only benefit that cause.”

“Spending time with me?” You questioned before pausing as a maid entered the room, handing the prince the water before leaving the room once more, door closed tightly behind her.

“Here,” he said, handing you the water which you took happily, clear and cool to the taste. “Yes, spending time with you. Getting to know all about you and my people.”

He paused to allow you a moment to think and you took the opportunity to finish your water, staring down into the cup once you’d allowed it to settle in your lap. It seemed unreasonable to refuse his offer if he really was trying to make a change.

The kingdom could only benefit from having their future king know them and care for their wellbeing. Perhaps the prince would make a very decent king after all, not the tyrant you’d assumed as a child.

“What say you?” He asked gently, holding his hand out for your glass and setting it on the table with the basin.

You looked up at him with a nod, smile tucked in the corner of your lips. “Very well. I can’t see how it would hurt. I will do as you request, your majesty.”

“Wonderful.” He smiled. “And please, call me Jungkook.”

.

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You guys! Welcome to my page. I’m so happy you’re here and I’d absolutely love to know what you think of my new series! Go ahead and leave a cheeky comment, my loves   😘 See you soon!

Chapter 2

Copyright © 2021 by ExpensiveGlasses. All rights reserved.

[taeken-my-heart]

Charming Chapter 1

(Banner by the incredible @xjoonchildx​ ! Thank you so, so much. I love it!)

Summary: Prince Seokjin was as infuriating as he was beautiful. In line to one day be king, he requested your guidance in the ways of his people. In turn he will make you laugh, give your family fine gifts, and become an invaluable friend. Unfortunately, he will also make you fall in love with him. But the most unfortunate thing of all was his betrothal...to Snow White

Pairing: Seokjin x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Fantasy, Angst, Snow white/au

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 4538

Warnings: None for this chapter. Future warnings are TW: Major character “death” TW: Thoughts of suicide TW: Attempted suicide. Nothing is graphically described. Chapters will be noted when these things take place. 

~~</3~~

It was during the spring that you felt the most content. Everything was reborn, blossoming from the frozen winter. The village came to life with music, new animals, and the sweet smell of fresh bread.

It had been this way since you were a child, no taller than your mother’s hip and only aware of how acutely you spurned the winter. With chapped fingers and lips, you watched bitterly as your friends, Peter and Else, played, squealing loudly as they threw snow at one another.

The three of you, friends since you could remember, filled to the brim with laughter, scraped knees, and all as plain looking as could be. This suited you fine, and there was little to disappoint you but short moments of impassioned arguments with your two best friends and a brief encounter with the very silly king and his very silly son.

As the only daughter (and indeed, the only child) of the villages master tailor, you found yourself often around the regal and ridiculous. So it was of no surprise when the king himself requested your father’s services and you were required to help him carry his materials to the castle where the king greeted you with his only heir, a son, wearing the silliest hat you’d ever laid eyes upon, a red feather sticking from the top.

You were as different as two people could be and with your simple manners and upbringing, you could not begin to understand the pomp and circumstance of such a silly little boy with rounded cheeks and a chest puffed much too high.

He strutted and flounced about the castle as a peacock would its park and the sight was all together ridiculous for your 9 year old eyes to behold. He’d called you peasant girl and remarked on your general lack of beauty and at 13 years old himself, you felt he had little to offer either, aside from a sizeable kingdom to trump the bed of straw and sheep’s skin you called your own.

For his 13th birthday, Prince Seokjin of Löhrenstein, would have a party, in which all the nobility and sovereigns of the land would be in attendance with their young princesses, and little duchesses, hoping to secure a treaty with his father, a contract between two kingdoms; a betrothal of a prince and a princess.

Of course, you would know nothing of this sort of formality or indeed the contracts of marriage. Your education was as broad as tending a home, carrying your father’s supplies, making flower crowns, and helping to herd the cows during the Viehscheid.

So while the prince was living in a castle and throwing parties and sneering down his nose at near everybody, you were busy helping your father to sew his clothes. At least you could still play in the fields when the sun was high and warm and the flowers were just beginning to bloom.

And this was how you spent your years, watching as Else became beautiful and elegant, long brown hair thick and wavy, tied back in braids as she went to work in the village at her father’s bakery and you watched in quiet envy as all the boys took notice, bringing her fine milks and cheeses as tokens of their affection while you stayed plain. Even Peter had become mildly handsome as he grew into his gangly limbs, erasing the once mousy appearance for a broad shouldered, sun freckled young man.

You told yourself you didn’t mind so much that you were still plain while she was beautiful, but of course you did a little. To be poor but beautiful afforded you more than being poor and plain. Peter often told you that you were just as beautiful as Else, and while you were happy with the compliment, you knew it was because of his childhood love and devotion to you.

You believed that was why he chose to become apprentice to your father, to someday seek your fathers blessing for your hand. While you did not love Peter the way that he loved you, you could not deny the appeal of continuing with the comforts that you were already accustomed to. After all, you were the only daughter to the king’s tailor…that did afford you some small comforts. You supposed someday when he asked for your hand, as he inevitably would, that you would accept.

When you turned 18, however; there was a small gift from the gods, in the form of a late blooming. A glow to your cheeks and a blossoming of beauty. You were, of course, no Else, but you could certainly hold your own and found that you had more than just Peter as an admirer; much to his chagrin.

Perhaps that’s why you feared that any day now he would ask for your father’s permission to court you because then your path as his future wife would be decided. You were in a strange position as the daughter of the king’s master tailor. You were neither peasant nor nobility so while your ability to choose your spouse was more under your control, you were still held to the standard of your father and who he deemed fit to represent his family, and in turn, the kings.

~~</3~~

The sun had just risen to its fullest height, waxing hot as it commandeered the sky, blue and shivering with the heat. It was sweltering and crowded in the square; noisy with life. The baker’s wife was out shouting, calling attention to the freshly baked rolls sitting just passed the door of the bakery. Else stood beside her father, batting her eyelashes and looking pretty; using charms her father could not to entice more customers and you smiled.

The sheep were drinking from the water trough in the center, surrounded by red and yellow poppies in full bloom. The clock tower struck one and you glanced up, eyeing the time wearily. You stood under the archway of a building painted green as a melon, hoping to escape some of the day’s heat.

A woman chased a boy from her garden, chickens flying around in aggravation and you peered after the child as he sulked down the lane, feet dirty and bare. “You hungry, boy?” You called and he looked to you, face caked with dirt from playing and a nod as answer. “Here.” You tossed him the apple you held in your hand and he thanked you, running back into the bustling of the town.

The crowd quivered with conversation and your attention was suddenly captured by the gossip of two young ladies as they passed you. “Yes, the king’s carriage has already left the castle. Apparently, the prince is to be fitted for a ball.”

“I wonder if we shall see him.” The other remarked and your eyes swung to the road, spotting the carriage, scarlet curtains billowing from the windows as it made its descent into town. You gasped, grabbing the skirts of your dress and dashing mad towards your home.

Your father would whip you if you were late. You ran through the fields, cutting through tall shrubs and across dirt paths. A childhood spent playing in this winding village afforded you the intimate knowledge of all its byways.  

You arrived at your home, gasping and covered in dirt and your mother came out, fussing loudly over your appearance, bustling you into the home and towards your room. Your father sighed loudly as you passed, eyes scanning your dress, soiled with the toil of your morning.

“This is no way to greet your king.” He remarks as your mother pulls you behind the wooden room divider, helping you to strip from your clothing and wiping you down quickly with a wet wash cloth.

“My dear, you are not fit to be seen!” Your mother scolded, washing roughly at your face and you grimaced, shivering in the chill of the room. “You knew they were coming today.”

“They are early.” You complained and your mother’s lips smacked in irritation.

“A king is never early. He always arrives exactly when he means to. You would do well to remember that, Y/N.”

Your mother helped you to dress in something new quickly, repinning the last piece of your hair just as the crunch of gravel from the royal carriage wheels could be heard rounding the corner and the two of you rushed from the room and to the front door to wait with your father.

You took a deep breath, head bowed into your chest as you heard the carriage come to a stop in front of you. It was abnormal for the king to come to your home, far too busy with his royal duties to condescend to see a peasant, but his son and only heir had recently returned from…well, to be sure, you did not know where he actually had been, but rumor said he was poorly behaved and had gone somewhere far away to teach him the ways of a king.

This would not surprise you, were it true; he’d been a ghastly child. You could only imagine him now, in adulthood. Upon his return, his father had announced his desire to reacquaint his son with their kingdom and your father being his master tailor would receive the special privilege of his presence, it seemed.

The king stepped from the carriage first, and you watched his feet move towards your family.

“Your majesty!” Your father bowed and pleasantries were exchanged as the prince himself disembarked from the carriage.

You kept your eyes trained fast on the ground; the bottom of your dress already smudged with dirt from where you stood.

“My son,” The king announced and your father bowed once more, both your mother and yourself curtsying deep.

“You remember my wife and my daughter?” Your father said and it was now that you felt it was safe to lift your eyes from the ground.

“My, yes,” Said the king turning his gaze towards you, “you have grown well, girl.”

“Thank you, your majesty.” You replied, soft; bowing your head and he smiled, pleased.

“You remember my son?” He asked, pointing his hand to the figure by his side and you allowed your eyes to slide over to him.

It is unfortunate, in this life; that some people are just born with everything the heart could desire. Good fortune, health, money and comfort and to have all that and still be handsome? Well, truly life was unfair.

He stood tall, face angular with deep set brown eyes and rounded lips. You were under no illusion that he was anything but blessed by the gods. They must have looked upon him very favorably, indeed.

“Yes, your highness.”

The prince looked at you curiously, head curved to the side as your father beckoned them into your home and you watched the king and prince follow after him. You heated with shame as you entered after, watching the prince survey your home while your father and the king conversed.

He must think this was so beneath him; to stand in the home of a pauper. The floor, though it had been swept, was still covered in a layer of dirt and the furniture was old and matted, worn with use. You had more than others in your village, but compared to a king, this was true poverty. It must have seemed you had nothing at all.

“Seokjin, come look at these colors.” The king beckoned and the prince was quick to walk to his side, looking over the fabric your father had assembled as options for his ball.

“These are exquisite.” He remarked, voice low and serious. “I wonder, sir, my father says you will come to the castle tomorrow to prepare my clothing.”

“Yes, your highness, with my apprentice in training, Peter.”

The prince’s eyes flickered to you in surprise and you looked back down at the floor. “Not your daughter? I remember she used to join you when I was a boy.”

“Yes, my daughter would come to help me carry my things, but since I have acquired an apprentice, I have found that quite unnecessary.”

“I would very much like if you would bring her tomorrow, along with your apprentice, of course.” The prince smiled and you couldn’t help but look up in surprise.

“A woman?” The king laughed, loud and joyful and you bowed your head once more, flushed with shame. “What purpose would a woman have in a man’s business? She should stay here and help tend the home, Seokjin. Don’t be unreasonable.”

“I should very much like to have her return to the castle, for reminiscence sake, father. That is, if her mother can spare her.”

“Of course, your majesty.” She bowed.

“She can carry some of the fabric.” The prince smiled, eyes flickering to your bowed head, “like when she was a child.”

“You have a very strange sense of humor.” The king chortled and you closed your eyes, willing the humiliation from you. “Very well then, we shall see you on the morrow with your apprentice and your daughter. You know the time, I presume?”

“Yes, of course, your majesty.” Your father smiled, escorting them out the door and your mother and you stood in the kitchen, eyes trained on the floor.

So, it would seem he had not changed. Like a dog at his table, you had been summoned. So amusing, was it, to watch a woman carry fabric and needles for a man and stand in the background. Always to be seen, but never to be heard.

Your heart bled with the thought and you listened carefully as the carriage resumed its journey. Your father stepped through the threshold of your home and you could feel his eyes on the crown of your head.

“Now come, girl, there is no need to be so downtrodden.” Your father remarked lightly and your throat burned with emotion.

“Y/N.” Your mother said softly and you shook your head, turning to walk away.

“I wish to be alone.” You murmured, fleeing to your room.

The window was open, soft breeze fluttering through the soft white curtains, now dirtied from the dust of the road. You closed your bedroom door softly behind you, walking towards the window where you sat at your stool.

Laying your arm across the lip of your window, you rested your chin in the palm of your hand and sighed. To feel like a bartering chip in the world of men was difficult. To never be in charge of your own destiny. Destiny, for you, was to be nice to look at and the ability to spread your legs. You wanted more than that; wanted to be heard, wanted your thoughts and feelings to be considered.

A knock at your door called your attention and your mother stepped through the door, smiling softly. “It is an honor to be called back to the castle.” She remarked and you sighed once again, returning your gaze back out the window.

“Mother.” You frowned and she sat down on your bed. “You should understand…as a woman. We’re not objects to be played with.”

“My dear,” she tutted and you looked over at her. “Men are simple creatures, if they’ve nothing to look at, they don’t know what to do with themselves.”

You chuckled, sitting up straighter, hands dropping into your lap. “Then what are we to do with them, mother?”

“We guide them, darling. They like to feel useful, so we help them feel so. We know our worth, we don’t need to be reminded. Men, they need to feel powerful; what else do they have? They may be the head of the family, but we are the neck and they turn where we will it.”

“I have the feeling a prince would be harder to guide.” You smiled and she shrugged.

“Perhaps. It just makes it more fun; more of a challenge.”

You frowned, staring back out the window and into the forest just beyond your gate. The air rippled with heat and you watched as a rabbit hopped from your garden and into the shade. “I don’t want to go, mother.” You admitted.

Your mother’s fingers closed around your hand at the window and you turned to look at her. “My dear…I’m afraid you’ve no choice.”

~~</3~~

The morning was hotter than usual and your dress stuck uncomfortable to your back. Peter was thrilled at the prospect of meeting the king and you realized belatedly that he’d never met him before. As the daughter of the king’s master tailor, you were in a unique position within society; neither pauper nor noble.

You’d had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting both the king and his son and you didn’t particularly care for either. “Imagine the palace, Y/N.” Peter sighed, eyes distant and smile pleasant as he threw an arm around your shoulder.

“I don’t need to imagine it.” You huffed, pushing his arm from your shoulder and readjusting the wrappings of fabric in your arms. “I’ve been there, remember?”

“Yes, I do. You never told me much about it, though. Always so secretive.”

You watched as he paused, tucking the edges of the tarp back around the rest of the fabric on the cart before resuming the journey. Your father walked steadily in front of the two of you.

“It was never a secret, I just didn’t particularly enjoy my time there.” You said carefully, eyes focused on the back of your fathers head. He’d beat you if you misspoke of the king.

“Yes, you did mention the prince was rather…interesting.”

“It seems nothing has changed.” You hummed softly, staring down at your feet, dusted yellow from the road.

“Then why are you coming today? If you dislike the prince, why come?” Peter questioned. The castle came into view, large and imposing against the backdrop of the mountains. White brick stood tall, the spires topped with a deep blue and for a moment you allowed yourself to admire the view.

Though the people within the castle were not to your taste, the palace itself was beautiful. Draped on every side by the mountain range and a large lake nestled in its cove, it was one of life’s true pleasures, gazing at its majesty.

“I think you will find, Peter, that I don’t have much of a choice. The prince requested his jester.” You replied, the words bitter on your tongue.

Your father called Peter forward and you spent the rest of the walk in silence, listening to the creak of the cart’s wheels as they cracked over rubble and dirt. Your mother had attempted to make you look pretty today, though you could not think why; presentable should be good enough for any man who wasn’t looking to choose a wife.

Your hair had been done and pinned beautifully, your most beautiful dress resting against your skin. It was certainly nothing to a noble, to be sure, but it was not unpleasant to look at and flattered the shape of your body.

It was hot, though, unbearably so, and you suffered dearly under the harsh rays of the late spring sun. Your mother insisted beauty had a price, but you weren’t quite sure why you were being asked to pay it.

The shade of the drawbridge was a welcome relief and you pulled a handkerchief from your bag and mopped at your face and neck. You didn’t need to offer the prince anymore reason to mock you.

You were escorted to the kings fitting rooms where you gently placed the fabric from your arms on top of what your father and Peter had carried from the cart. You patted at your neck once more as you watched Peter’s eyes scan the room excitedly. Absently you wondered if your father had taught him how to behave when the king was in the room.

Your father motioned you over and you slipped your handkerchief back in your bag and went to stand by his side. It wasn’t long before the king entered and you curtseyed deep, eyes trained on the floor.

He and your father spoke loudly as introductions were made and you could practically feel Peter vibrating from where he stood. He was excited, at least. You resisted the urge to pat at your cheeks, flushed with heat from the walk. Your throat felt like sand, dry as you swallowed and you wished more than anything for some water.

The men spoke noisily as they congregated around the fabric and it was decided that the king would be fitted first. You waited quietly as your father began his measurements, your fingers bunching tight in the fabric of your dress.

The room was overly warm, large windows allowing the sun to enter liberally and you felt yourself wilting in the heat. Voices muffling like you were under water, you watched as the gold, cerulean and cobalt of the room became nothing more than puddles of grey before fading into black.

~~</3~~

Your brow felt cool, wet with the brush of a damp cloth and your eyelashes fluttered open, taking in the surrounding room.

Deep mahogany filled your vision, blue and white canopy drapes traveling the length of the rail. Walls painted in beautiful scenery drew your gaze and you reached up to feel the cloth against your brow.

“You’re awake.”

You inhaled sharp, turning to find the source of the voice. You were surprised to find the prince sat beside you, a basin of water resting on a table next to him and a small smile as greeting.

“I’m sorry to have startled you.” He said softly and you lowered your hand, attempting to sit up. “Please remain as you are, Y/N. You need just a moment to recover.”

“What happened? Where am I?”

“You are in one of the spare bedrooms in the palace. It seems you over heated and became faint.”

You closed your eyes tight, shame filling your breast. It was one thing to faint in general, but in front of the king and his son. Mortification was a bitter friend.

“Where is the doctor?” You asked carefully, peaking one eye open and glancing around the room. The prince smiled, watching as your gaze flitted everywhere but him.

“I asked him to step outside for a moment. I wanted to make sure for myself that you were well.” He replied, watching your brows furrow in thought.

“Why is that, your majesty?” You pondered, looking up at him and he removed the cloth from your head, soaking it back in the basin before wringing it anew and placing it back against your brow.

“We are old friends, are we not?”

He stared down at his lap, seemingly unsure himself of his statement and your mouth parted in surprise. “You would consider us friends, your highness?”

The prince smiled, wry, before chuckling with a shrug. “Perhaps friends is too liberal of a word. I know I wasn’t the most…pleasant to be around when I was a child. I was selfish and cruel and it’s why my father sent me away. I’m very sorry to have ever been cause for discomfort.”

He paused to gauge your reaction but at the moment you weren’t sure what to think. It had seemed so unlikely to ever receive an apology and now that you had it, you weren’t quite sure what to make of it.

“I was hoping we could begin again…become real friends.” He admitted.

“Please pardon my confusion, but I find myself very surprised. Why would you wish to be friends with a pauper, your majesty?” You finally asked, looking over at him and his smile was gentle, gaze shifting to the open window, the afternoon’s breeze composing a dance among the curtains.

“You are not a pauper, Y/N” He said, watching as a small starling landed on the balcony, head twisting side to side as it chattered excitedly. “But even if you were, I would still wish to have your friendship. It is my father’s intention to make me king someday and after so many years as a selfish child, I am ashamed to admit that I know nothing of the people in my kingdom. The sorrows, the trials, the joys…I want to be a good king. I want people to know they can depend on me to help, even if I’m not perfect or don’t always have the answers. I want my people to trust me.”

You watched the starling yourself now, hopping across the wood of the balcony, a song puffing his chest wide. “And you think I can help you with that?” You asked softly, watching as the bird resumed flight and soared into the distance.

The prince looked back down at you, reaching his hand out to press against your cheek and you flinched. “My apologies, I only meant to see if your skin was still flushed. May I?”

You nodded, watching as his fingers extended back to your face, the back of his hand pressing gently across your cheek and neck. He hummed, retracting his hand and smiled. “Your temperature has reduced. How are you feeling?”

“Better.” You admitted, “Though I would love to have some water.”

“Yes, of course, I will have some fetched for you. Can I help you sit up?”

He held his hands out for you and you allowed him to pull you gently into an upright position. The world spun for a moment before settling and he moved to the door, calling for a water.

“As an answer to your earlier question,” he said, coming to sit across from you once again and you watched as he set the cloth and basin further away from the bed, “Not only do I wish to make amends, but I want to learn about my people and my kingdom and I believe that spending time with someone who knows the kingdom so well could only benefit that cause.”

“Spending time with me?” You questioned before pausing as a maid entered the room, handing the prince the water before leaving the room once more, door closed tightly behind her.

“Here,” he said, handing you the water which you took happily, clear and cool to the taste. “Yes, spending time with you. Getting to know all about you and my people.”

He paused to allow you a moment to think and you took the opportunity to finish your water, staring down into the cup once you’d allowed it to settle in your lap. It seemed unreasonable to refuse his offer if he really was trying to make a change.

The kingdom could only benefit from having their future king know them and care for their well being. Perhaps the prince would make a very decent king after all, not the tyrant you’d assumed as a child.

“What say you?” He asked gently, holding his hand out for your glass and setting it on the table with the basin.

You looked up at him with a nod, smile tucked in the corner of your lips. “Very well. I can’t see how it would hurt. I will do as you request, your majesty.”

“Wonderful.” He smiled. “And please, call me Jin.”

~~</3~~

OK, here’s the latest series! I’m unsure of how many parts this will have, at least three. I hope you enjoy it and please send in your feedback, I’d love to hear your thoughts <3

Next

Copyright © 2019 by Taeken-My-Heart. All rights reserved.

[qualitytacolover]

Dealing with a hairline

New Post has been published on https://www.easypromhairstyles.com/dealing-with-a-hairline.html

Dealing with a hairline

Besides losing "wood," nothing is as terrible for a man as losing his hair. A thick reetch has long, if wrongly, been associated with both masculinity and masculinity. Full hair is of course not related, but that doesn't stop men from worrying about their follicles. So much so that a recent survey found that over 70 percent of men are concerned about hair loss.

At the end of the day, most of us would rather keep the hair we have – if only because it's fun to have a hairstyle and comforting to have something to keep your bonce warm in winter.

Hair loss: the facts

The problem is, many things conspire to rob your scalp of its most valuable asset. Male hair loss, the hereditary condition responsible for 95 percent of men's hair loss, will affect up to half of us when we hit 50 and nearly 40 percent of men have had some hair loss by the age of 35.

Some men's hair will disappear from the crown; others will notice that the hair on the front goes back; while some unfortunate guys will see both affected areas at the same time. "The pattern depends on which hair follicles are genetically programmed with receptors for DHT (dihydrotestosterone) – the hormone that causes hair loss," explains trichologist Sally-Ann Tarver from the Cotswold Trichology Center and Theradome GB.

Other factors like stress, rough handling, and diet can take their toll on the thickness of your reed. "In addition to male hair loss, men can also suffer from telogen effluvium or 'diffuse hair loss', which is often due to lifestyle and health." This can range from stress and illness to poor nutrition and a lack of nutrients.

A man can of course live without a quiff, and a lack of hair never held back those like Patrick Stewart or Jason Statham. What's more, women don't find it turned off, and men think so too: in a recent WatchMyWallet.co.uk survey, 84 percent of women claimed that hair loss would not affect how attracted they were to their partner. But if you're not ready to hug the pate yet, here's all you can do to thicken, dress up, and style thin hair.

How to stop a declining hairline

Fortunately, there are things a man can do to at least slow down the hair loss process. "The key is to treat hair loss as soon as possible," advises Tarver. "It is much easier to keep the hair or slow the progress of the treatment than to restore the hair once it is lost."

So whether you have a receding hairline or a burgeoning bald spot, here's how you are one step ahead of hair loss.

Feed your head

According to Tarver, getting lots of protein is key to a healthy scalp. "Keratin, the sulfur-containing protein that makes up hair, relies on dietary protein for its composition," she says. "This is how a low-protein diet leads to fine, weaker hair." Men are pretty good at getting the protein they need, but they drop down when it comes to getting their five a day. If you consider mac and cheese as a side dish, you may not have all the other essential nutrients that keep hair strong and healthy.

Foods rich in B vitamins, zinc and iron (such as breakfast cereals, liver and apricots) and silica (bananas and – practically – beer) are particularly good for the health of the hair. "People with hair loss caused by problems other than male hair loss are often deficient in B12 vitamins," says Tarver, who points out that a vegetarian supplement can be particularly important because dietary B12 can only be obtained from animal sources ,

If you are concerned your diet is below par, think about popping a daily supplement aimed at promoting hair health like Wellman Hairfollic Man.

Choose your styling weapons

If you have thin hair, choosing the right styling products is crucial. "It's worth avoiding heavy products like clays, gels, and pomades and choosing mousse on wet hair instead, and structuring powder on dry hair," said Georgie Wynes-Devlin of The Wild Hare Barbier in London, the Redkens Full Effect Mousse used to replenish the hair and style the powder grip of the same brand very fine hair.

"Spray waxes are also good for thin hair because you can gently build up the amount of product you want."

Deal with dandruff

Dandruff isn't just a danger to your rep – according to Tarver, it can also make hair loss worse. “Dandruff is often seen alongside male pattern hair loss and healthy hair cannot grow from an unhealthy scalp. So if you're worried about hair loss, it's a good idea to make sure your scalp stays as free as possible, ”says Tarver.

To keep your scalp in a dandruff-free zone, use an anti-dandruff shampoo like zinc pyrithione or ketoconazole and don't be afraid to use it regularly. Lots of men worrying about shampooing will accelerate hair loss because they recognize stray hair in the shower, but we shed naturally between 40-100 hairs a day and shampooing can actually help minimize hair loss by adding fat, dirt, and dead cells to the hair can interfere with follicular function.

Pack in the gays

As if ashtrays, breath, cancer, and honking clothes weren't good enough reasons to pack the cigars, a study by the National Taiwan University showed that smoking also accelerates hair loss in men. Researchers discovered that men who smoke more than 20 cigarettes a day are more than twice as likely to have moderate or severe hair loss than men who have never smoked or given up.

The Boffins who conducted the study suspect that smoking can damage the blood vessels at the base of the hair follicles and can effectively starve your hair from nutrients.

Regaine your pride

There are many snake oil treatments for hair loss on the market, but Regaine is the only clinically proven over-the-counter treatment for hereditary hair loss. It works thanks to an active ingredient called minoxidil, which increases the blood flow around the hair follicles and stimulates and prolongs hair growth.

It doesn't work for everyone (Regaine herself suggests giving up treatment if you haven't seen results after 16 weeks) and it's best to start treatment as soon as you notice the hair thinning, but it is still the best everyday option on the market. The bottom is that it's expensive (a year of stock of foam will set you back around £ 172) and you'll use it for life because the minute you stop, your hair loss will return to normal.

The other option is Propecia: an over-the-counter treatment in the form of a tablet that contains finasteride, which impairs the body's ability to convert testosterone to dihydrotestosterone. It's even more expensive than Regaine (a year supply will cost you over £ 350), you have to take it as long as you want hair, and known side effects are reduced libido – which can knock your trust even more than hair loss.

Try a transplant

When Wayne Rooney tweeted, "Just to confirm to all my followers that I had a hair transplant," he changed how men viewed hair transplants forever in 2011. By looking proud of the follicular front, he made a transplant no more fancy than having your teeth white. So mainstream are transplants that, according to a survey by Asda Pharmacy, are actively considering 31 percent of men under the age of 35.

The most common treatment (and the one favored by Rooney) is follicular unit extraction: a minimally invasive procedure with local anesthesia, in which individual hair stems are removed from the sides and the back of the head (or breast, if applicable) and transplanted into existing, free hair follicles become.

The procedure itself takes between four and 16 hours (thousands of individual hairs will eventually have to be homed again), will cost you anywhere between £ 3,000 + 10,000, depending on the number of grafts needed, and occasionally transplants are needed for hair that doesn't take.

The best hairstyles for a receding hairline

In the same way that dressing in dark colors and matte fabrics can dress up a little extra poundage, the right hairstyle can go a long way to disguising a follicle-attacked thatch.

If hair loss is an issue, your first port of call should be your hairdresser. "An experienced hairdresser will give thorough advice to help you understand how to get the most out of your existing hairstyle, or suggest a style that absolutely has the receding hairline," said Tyler Peters, from the Shoreditch branch of the hairdressing chain Ruffians.

Here are four universally recommended hairstyles for a declining hairline.

The French harvest

A style that has seen a resurgence in popularity in recent years, even among boys who don't "need" it, the French crop is the perfect style to combat the "M" shape that a receding hairline takes on the front of your head creates.

"Your hairdresser will fade the back and sides deeply before mixing the upper weight, but the essence of this style is the fringe, which can be cut in a line, then layered to give texture," says Peters. "If your hairdresser hasn't suggested it yet, style it with a lightweight product that creates a messy but stylized finish."

The short cut

"This is an idea for those whose recession line hasn't crept too much and gives you a bit more versatility by keeping a little length on the sides with a little more on top," says Peters.

“Allowing a little more length on the top creates an almost inverted triangle look that positions the weight through the middle and makes the hair look fuller. Wear it rough and ready with a tone instead of slashing back with wet look products as they tend to reveal more of your scalp. ”

The buzz cut

"If you go back a lot, don't be afraid to go short," says Wynes-Devlin. "Leaving too much length behind can sometimes make the hair look thinner than it actually is."

If you want to avoid a buzz cut too short, she suggests asking your hairdresser to cut your hair instead of shaving it. “Clippers can sometimes make a cut that is too hard, so it's best to do these things gradually.” Moving the length towards the neck provides a softer, more natural finish.

The close shave

Sometimes the only way to cope with it is to get skinny, accept defeat and hug bald. "If you're going for a head shave, book with an experienced hairdresser safely with a razor to get your hair on your scalp," says Peters.

"Ideally, your hairdresser should cut existing hair to a minimum before using an exfoliating scrub and soothing hot towels to open your pores and ensure a closer shave."

Tips for dealing with a declining hairline

If you've just looked in the mirror and noticed that your hair isn't quite as thick as it used to be, here are some quick ways to make it look a little fuller.

Pump up the volume

Blow drying instantly makes hair look fuller and thicker. But don't grill your hair – a medium heat setting allows you to style without damaging the hair's structural proteins.

.kt-btns_34c21a-38 .kt-btn-wrap-0 margin-right: 5px;. kt-btns_34c21a-38 .kt-btn-wrap-0 .kt-button color: #ffffff; font-size: 40px; background: rgba (255, 105, 0, 1); border-color: rgba (85, 85, 85, 1);. Kt-btns_34c21a-38 .kt-btn-wrap-0 .kt-button: hover, .kt-btns_34c21a-38 .kt-btn-wrap-0 .kt-button: focus color: #ffffff; border-color: rgba (68, 68, 68, 1);. kt-btns_34c21a-38 .kt-btn-wrap-0 .kt-button :: before display: none;. kt-btns_34c21a-38 .kt-btn-wrap-0 .kt-button: hover, .kt-btns_34c21a-38 .kt -btn-wrap-0 .kt-button: focus background: rgba (252, 185, 0, 1);

BUY IT

Shampoo in some thickness

Thickening shampoos work by coating the hair with special volumizing polymers that make it appear thicker and fuller. The effects are temporary, but every little bit helps, doesn't it?

.kt-btns_5989c2-dc .kt-btn-wrap-0 margin-right: 5px;. kt-btns_5989c2-dc .kt-btn-wrap-0 .kt-button color: #ffffff; font-size: 40px; background: rgba (255, 105, 0, 1); border-color: rgba (85, 85, 85, 1);. Kt-btns_5989c2-dc .kt-btn-wrap-0 .kt-button: hover, .kt-btns_5989c2-dc .kt-btn-wrap-0 .kt-button: focus color: #ffffff; border-color: rgba (68, 68, 68, 1);. kt-btns_5989c2-dc .kt-btn-wrap-0 .kt-button :: before display: none;. kt-btns_5989c2-dc .kt-btn-wrap-0 .kt-button: hover, .kt-btns_5989c2-dc .kt -btn-wrap-0 .kt-button: focus background: rgba (252, 185, 0, 1);

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Dress up your problem

Dress Up Your Problem If a small bald spot is a problem, try dressing it up using electrostatically charged colored fibers that will network with your human hair to close noticeable gaps.

.kt-btns_a75518-e1 .kt-btn-wrap-0 margin-right: 5px;. kt-btns_a75518-e1 .kt-btn-wrap-0 .kt-button color: #ffffff; font-size: 40px; background: rgba (255, 105, 0, 1); border-color: rgba (85, 85, 85, 1);. Kt-btns_a75518-e1 .kt-btn-wrap-0 .kt-button: hover, .kt-btns_a75518-e1 .kt-btn-wrap-0 .kt-button: focus color: #ffffff; border-color: rgba (68, 68, 68, 1);. kt-btns_a75518-e1 .kt-btn-wrap-0 .kt-button :: before display: none;. kt-btns_a75518-e1 .kt-btn-wrap-0 .kt-button: hover, .kt-btns_a75518-e1 .kt -btn-wrap-0 .kt-button: focus background: rgba (252, 185, 0, 1);

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Use your fingers

Repeatedly combing thin hair can make it look flaccid and flat, while styling with the fingers adds volume and texture.

Grow a beard

Facial hair is brilliant to draw attention from the top of the head and down towards the face. It's a bit like pointing at the sky and asking, "What's that?" If you want to distract someone long enough to let your flies go. Try growing a beard. Beards are bad.

[easynaturalhairstyle]

Dealing with a hairline

Besides losing "wood," nothing is as terrible for a man as losing his hair. A thick reetch has long, if wrongly, been associated with both masculinity and masculinity. Full hair is of course not related, but that doesn't stop men from worrying about their follicles. So much so that a recent survey found that over 70 percent of men are concerned about hair loss.

At the end of the day, most of us would rather keep the hair we have – if only because it's fun to have a hairstyle and comforting to have something to keep your bonce warm in winter.

Hair loss: the facts

The problem is, many things conspire to rob your scalp of its most valuable asset. Male hair loss, the hereditary condition responsible for 95 percent of men's hair loss, will affect up to half of us when we hit 50 and nearly 40 percent of men have had some hair loss by the age of 35.

Some men's hair will disappear from the crown; others will notice that the hair on the front goes back; while some unfortunate guys will see both affected areas at the same time. "The pattern depends on which hair follicles are genetically programmed with receptors for DHT (dihydrotestosterone) – the hormone that causes hair loss," explains trichologist Sally-Ann Tarver from the Cotswold Trichology Center and Theradome GB.

Other factors like stress, rough handling, and diet can take their toll on the thickness of your reed. "In addition to male hair loss, men can also suffer from telogen effluvium or 'diffuse hair loss', which is often due to lifestyle and health." This can range from stress and illness to poor nutrition and a lack of nutrients.

A man can of course live without a quiff, and a lack of hair never held back those like Patrick Stewart or Jason Statham. What's more, women don't find it turned off, and men think so too: in a recent WatchMyWallet.co.uk survey, 84 percent of women claimed that hair loss would not affect how attracted they were to their partner. But if you're not ready to hug the pate yet, here's all you can do to thicken, dress up, and style thin hair.

How to stop a declining hairline

Fortunately, there are things a man can do to at least slow down the hair loss process. "The key is to treat hair loss as soon as possible," advises Tarver. "It is much easier to keep the hair or slow the progress of the treatment than to restore the hair once it is lost."

So whether you have a receding hairline or a burgeoning bald spot, here's how you are one step ahead of hair loss.

Feed your head

According to Tarver, getting lots of protein is key to a healthy scalp. "Keratin, the sulfur-containing protein that makes up hair, relies on dietary protein for its composition," she says. "This is how a low-protein diet leads to fine, weaker hair." Men are pretty good at getting the protein they need, but they drop down when it comes to getting their five a day. If you consider mac and cheese as a side dish, you may not have all the other essential nutrients that keep hair strong and healthy.

Foods rich in B vitamins, zinc and iron (such as breakfast cereals, liver and apricots) and silica (bananas and – practically – beer) are particularly good for the health of the hair. "People with hair loss caused by problems other than male hair loss are often deficient in B12 vitamins," says Tarver, who points out that a vegetarian supplement can be particularly important because dietary B12 can only be obtained from animal sources ,

If you are concerned your diet is below par, think about popping a daily supplement aimed at promoting hair health like Wellman Hairfollic Man.

Choose your styling weapons

If you have thin hair, choosing the right styling products is crucial. "It's worth avoiding heavy products like clays, gels, and pomades and choosing mousse on wet hair instead, and structuring powder on dry hair," said Georgie Wynes-Devlin of The Wild Hare Barbier in London, the Redkens Full Effect Mousse used to replenish the hair and style the powder grip of the same brand very fine hair.

"Spray waxes are also good for thin hair because you can gently build up the amount of product you want."

Deal with dandruff

Dandruff isn't just a danger to your rep – according to Tarver, it can also make hair loss worse. “Dandruff is often seen alongside male pattern hair loss and healthy hair cannot grow from an unhealthy scalp. So if you're worried about hair loss, it's a good idea to make sure your scalp stays as free as possible, ”says Tarver.

To keep your scalp in a dandruff-free zone, use an anti-dandruff shampoo like zinc pyrithione or ketoconazole and don't be afraid to use it regularly. Lots of men worrying about shampooing will accelerate hair loss because they recognize stray hair in the shower, but we shed naturally between 40-100 hairs a day and shampooing can actually help minimize hair loss by adding fat, dirt, and dead cells to the hair can interfere with follicular function.

Pack in the gays

As if ashtrays, breath, cancer, and honking clothes weren't good enough reasons to pack the cigars, a study by the National Taiwan University showed that smoking also accelerates hair loss in men. Researchers discovered that men who smoke more than 20 cigarettes a day are more than twice as likely to have moderate or severe hair loss than men who have never smoked or given up.

The Boffins who conducted the study suspect that smoking can damage the blood vessels at the base of the hair follicles and can effectively starve your hair from nutrients.

Regaine your pride

There are many snake oil treatments for hair loss on the market, but Regaine is the only clinically proven over-the-counter treatment for hereditary hair loss. It works thanks to an active ingredient called minoxidil, which increases the blood flow around the hair follicles and stimulates and prolongs hair growth.

It doesn't work for everyone (Regaine herself suggests giving up treatment if you haven't seen results after 16 weeks) and it's best to start treatment as soon as you notice the hair thinning, but it is still the best everyday option on the market. The bottom is that it's expensive (a year of stock of foam will set you back around £ 172) and you'll use it for life because the minute you stop, your hair loss will return to normal.

The other option is Propecia: an over-the-counter treatment in the form of a tablet that contains finasteride, which impairs the body's ability to convert testosterone to dihydrotestosterone. It's even more expensive than Regaine (a year supply will cost you over £ 350), you have to take it as long as you want hair, and known side effects are reduced libido – which can knock your trust even more than hair loss.

Try a transplant

When Wayne Rooney tweeted, "Just to confirm to all my followers that I had a hair transplant," he changed how men viewed hair transplants forever in 2011. By looking proud of the follicular front, he made a transplant no more fancy than having your teeth white. So mainstream are transplants that, according to a survey by Asda Pharmacy, are actively considering 31 percent of men under the age of 35.

The most common treatment (and the one favored by Rooney) is follicular unit extraction: a minimally invasive procedure with local anesthesia, in which individual hair stems are removed from the sides and the back of the head (or breast, if applicable) and transplanted into existing, free hair follicles become.

The procedure itself takes between four and 16 hours (thousands of individual hairs will eventually have to be homed again), will cost you anywhere between £ 3,000 + 10,000, depending on the number of grafts needed, and occasionally transplants are needed for hair that doesn't take.

The best hairstyles for a receding hairline

In the same way that dressing in dark colors and matte fabrics can dress up a little extra poundage, the right hairstyle can go a long way to disguising a follicle-attacked thatch.

If hair loss is an issue, your first port of call should be your hairdresser. "An experienced hairdresser will give thorough advice to help you understand how to get the most out of your existing hairstyle, or suggest a style that absolutely has the receding hairline," said Tyler Peters, from the Shoreditch branch of the hairdressing chain Ruffians.

Here are four universally recommended hairstyles for a declining hairline.

The French harvest

A style that has seen a resurgence in popularity in recent years, even among boys who don't "need" it, the French crop is the perfect style to combat the "M" shape that a receding hairline takes on the front of your head creates.

"Your hairdresser will fade the back and sides deeply before mixing the upper weight, but the essence of this style is the fringe, which can be cut in a line, then layered to give texture," says Peters. "If your hairdresser hasn't suggested it yet, style it with a lightweight product that creates a messy but stylized finish."

The short cut

"This is an idea for those whose recession line hasn't crept too much and gives you a bit more versatility by keeping a little length on the sides with a little more on top," says Peters.

“Allowing a little more length on the top creates an almost inverted triangle look that positions the weight through the middle and makes the hair look fuller. Wear it rough and ready with a tone instead of slashing back with wet look products as they tend to reveal more of your scalp. ”

The buzz cut

"If you go back a lot, don't be afraid to go short," says Wynes-Devlin. "Leaving too much length behind can sometimes make the hair look thinner than it actually is."

If you want to avoid a buzz cut too short, she suggests asking your hairdresser to cut your hair instead of shaving it. “Clippers can sometimes make a cut that is too hard, so it's best to do these things gradually.” Moving the length towards the neck provides a softer, more natural finish.

The close shave

Sometimes the only way to cope with it is to get skinny, accept defeat and hug bald. "If you're going for a head shave, book with an experienced hairdresser safely with a razor to get your hair on your scalp," says Peters.

"Ideally, your hairdresser should cut existing hair to a minimum before using an exfoliating scrub and soothing hot towels to open your pores and ensure a closer shave."

Tips for dealing with a declining hairline

If you've just looked in the mirror and noticed that your hair isn't quite as thick as it used to be, here are some quick ways to make it look a little fuller.

Pump up the volume

Blow drying instantly makes hair look fuller and thicker. But don't grill your hair – a medium heat setting allows you to style without damaging the hair's structural proteins.

.kt-btns_34c21a-38 .kt-btn-wrap-0 margin-right: 5px;. kt-btns_34c21a-38 .kt-btn-wrap-0 .kt-button color: #ffffff; font-size: 40px; background: rgba (255, 105, 0, 1); border-color: rgba (85, 85, 85, 1);. Kt-btns_34c21a-38 .kt-btn-wrap-0 .kt-button: hover, .kt-btns_34c21a-38 .kt-btn-wrap-0 .kt-button: focus color: #ffffff; border-color: rgba (68, 68, 68, 1);. kt-btns_34c21a-38 .kt-btn-wrap-0 .kt-button :: before display: none;. kt-btns_34c21a-38 .kt-btn-wrap-0 .kt-button: hover, .kt-btns_34c21a-38 .kt -btn-wrap-0 .kt-button: focus background: rgba (252, 185, 0, 1);

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Shampoo in some thickness

Thickening shampoos work by coating the hair with special volumizing polymers that make it appear thicker and fuller. The effects are temporary, but every little bit helps, doesn't it?

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Dress up your problem

Dress Up Your Problem If a small bald spot is a problem, try dressing it up using electrostatically charged colored fibers that will network with your human hair to close noticeable gaps.

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Use your fingers

Repeatedly combing thin hair can make it look flaccid and flat, while styling with the fingers adds volume and texture.

Grow a beard

Facial hair is brilliant to draw attention from the top of the head and down towards the face. It's a bit like pointing at the sky and asking, "What's that?" If you want to distract someone long enough to let your flies go. Try growing a beard. Beards are bad.

Dealing with a hairline

[kadobeclothing]

The Best Ways To Combat A Receding Hairline

Next to losing ‘wood’, nothing is quite as terrifying to a man as losing his hair. A thick thatch has long, if erroneously, been associated with both masculinity and virility. A full head of hair is related to neither, of course, but that doesn’t stop men fretting about their follicles. So much so that a recent survey found that over 70 per cent of men worry about hair loss.At the end of the day, most of us would rather keep the hair we have – if only because it’s fun to have a hairstyle and reassuring to have something to keep your bonce warm in the winter.Hair Loss: The FactsProblem is, lots of things conspire to rob your scalp of its most precious asset. Male pattern baldness, the hereditary condition that’s responsible for 95 per cent of hair loss in men, will affect up to half us by the time we hit 50 and almost 40 per cent of men will have experienced some hair loss by the age of 35.Some men’s hair will begin to disappear at the crown; others will start to notice that hair at the front is receding; while some unfortunate guys will see both areas affected at the same time. “The pattern depends on which hair follicles are genetically programmed with receptors to DHT (dihydrotestosterone) – the hormone which triggers hair loss,” explains trichologist Sally-Ann Tarver from The Cotswold Trichology Centre and Theradome GB.“Where you start to lose your hair is down to the genes you inherited from your parents – and genes of both mother and father are inherited in male pattern baldness,” she says, putting to bed the myth that baldness is inherited solely from your mum’s side.Other factors like stress, rough handling and diet can take their toll on the thickness of your thatch too. “As well as male pattern baldness, men can suffer from Telogen Effluvium or ‘diffuse hair loss’, which is often due to lifestyle and health issues.” This can be caused by anything from stress and illness to poor diet and nutrient deficiency.A man can live without a quiff, of course, and a lack of hair never held back the likes of Patrick Stewart or Jason Statham. What’s more, women don’t find it the turn off men think it is either: in a recent survey by WatchMyWallet.co.uk 84 per cent of women claimed that hair loss would not affect how attracted they were to their partner. But if you’re not yet ready to embrace the pate, here’s everything you can do to thicken, disguise and style out thinning hair.How To Stop A Receding HairlineLuckily, there are things a man can do to, at the very least, slow down the hair loss process. “The key is to treat hair loss as soon as possible,” advises Tarver. “It’s much easier to retain hair or slow the progress down with treatment than to restore hair once it has been lost.”So whether you’ve a receding hairline or a burgeoning bald spot, here’s how to stay one step ahead of hair loss.Feed Your HeadAccording to Tarver, getting plenty of protein is key to a healthy head of hair. “Keratin, the sulphur-containing protein that hair is made of relies on dietary protein for its composition,” she says. “Thus a low protein diet will result in finer, weaker hair.” Men are pretty good at getting the protein they need but fall down when it comes to getting their five a day. If you consider mac and cheese a side dish, you may not be getting all the other essential nutrients that keep hair strong and healthy.Foods rich in B vitamins, zinc and iron (like breakfast cereals, liver and apricots) and silica (bananas and – handily – beer) are especially good for hair health. “People with hair loss caused by issues other than male pattern baldness are often deficient in vitamins B12,” says Tarver, who points out that a supplement may be especially important for vegetarians since dietary B12 can only be obtained from animal sources.If you’re worried your diet’s below par, think about popping a daily supplement aimed at promoting hair health like Wellman’s Hairfollic Man.Choose Your Styling WeaponsIf you have thinning hair, choosing the right styling products is crucial. “It’s worth avoiding heavy products like clays, gels and pomades and instead opting for mousse on wet hair and texturising powders on dry hair to finish,” says Georgie Wynes-Devlin of The Wild Hare barber in London, who uses Redken’s Full Effect Mousse to plump up hair and the same brand’s Powder Grip to style very fine hair.“Spray waxes are good for thinning hair too, as you can gently build up the amount of product you want.”Deal With DandruffDandruff isn’t just a danger to your rep – according to Tarver it can exacerbate hair loss too. “Dandruff is often seen alongside male pattern baldness and healthy hair cannot grow from an unhealthy scalp. So if you’re worried about hair loss, it’s a good idea to ensure your scalp remains as free from scale as possible,” says Tarver.To keep your scalp a flake-free zone, use a shampoo containing anti-dandruff agents like zinc pyrithione or ketoconazole and don’t be afraid to use them regularly. Many men worry frequent shampooing will accelerate hair loss because they spot stray hairs on the shower, but we naturally shed between 40-100 hairs a day and shampooing can actually help minimise hair loss by removing grease, grime and dead cells that can interfere with follicle function.Pack In The FagsAs if ashtray breath, cancer and honking clothes weren’t good enough reasons to pack in the ciggies, a study by National Taiwan University revealed that smoking also hastens hair loss in men. Researchers discovered that men who smoke more than 20 cigarettes a day are more than twice as likely to have moderate or severe hair loss than men who have never smoked or have quit.The boffins who conducted the study suspect that smoking may damage the blood vessels at the base of hair follicles, effectively starving your hair of nutrients.Regaine Your PrideThere are scores of snake oil-style treatments for hair loss on the market but Regaine is the only clinically proven over-the-counter treatment for hereditary hair loss. It works thanks to an active ingredient called minoxidil, which increases blood flow around the hair follicles and by stimulating and prolonging hair growth.It doesn’t work for everyone (Regaine themselves suggest giving up treatment if you’ve haven’t seen any results after using their Extra Strength Foam for 16 weeks) and it’s best to start treatment as soon as you notice hair is thinning, but it’s still the best everyday option on the market. The down side is that it’s expensive (a year’s supply of foam will set you back around £172) and you’ll be using it for life because the minute you stop, your hair loss will revert back to normal.The other option is Propecia: a prescription-only treatment in the shape of a tablet containing finasteride, which hinders the body’s ability to convert testosterone into dihydrotestosterone. It’s even more expensive than Regaine (a year’s supply will cost you over £350), you’ll have to take it for as long as you want hair, and known side effects include a reduced libido – which may knock your confidence even more than the hair loss.Try A TransplantWhen Wayne Rooney tweeted, “Just to confirm to all my followers I have had a hair transplant”, back in 2011, he changed how men viewed hair transplants forever. In proudly outing himself on the follicle front he made having a transplant no more outlandish than having your teeth whitened. So mainstream are transplants now that according to a survey by Asda Pharmacy, 31 per cent of men under 35 are actively considering one.The most common treatment (and the one favoured by Rooney) is Follicular Unit Extraction: a minimally invasive procedure performed with a local anaesthetic where individual shafts of hair are taken from the sides and back of the head (or chest if need be) and are transplanted into existing, vacant hair follicles.The procedure itself takes anywhere between four and 16 hours to complete (thousands of individual hairs have to be re-homed after all), will cost you anywhere between £3,000 – £10,000+ depending on the number of grafts required, and occasionally repeat transplants are required for hairs that don’t take.The Best Hairstyles For A Receding HairlineIn the same way that dressing in dark colours and matte fabrics can disguise a little extra poundage, the right hairstyle can go a long way to disguising a follically-challenged thatch.If hair loss is a problem your first port of call should be your barber. “A skilled barber will conduct a thorough consultation to help you to understand how you can make the most of your existing hairstyle or suggest a restyle that absolutely owns that receding hairline,” says Tyler Peters, from the Shoreditch branch of barber chain Ruffians.Here are four universally recommended hairstyles for a receding hairline.The French CropA style that’s seen a resurgence in popularity in recent years, even with guys who don’t ‘need’ it, the French crop is the perfect style for combatting the ‘M’ shape a receding hairline creates at the front of your head.“Your barber will fade the back and sides down low before blending the top weight but the crux of this style is the fringe, which can be cut in a line then layered to give texture,” says Peters. “If your barber hasn’t already suggested it, style with a lightweight product that produces a messy yet stylised finish.”The Short Cut“This is an idea for those whose recession line hasn’t crept up too much and allows you a bit more versatility by maintaining a little length on the sides with a bit more on top,” says Peters.“Allowing for a little more length on top creates an almost inverted triangle look that positions the weight through the centre, making hair look fuller. Wear it rough and ready with a clay rather than slicked back with wet look products as they tend to reveal more of your scalp.”The Buzz Cut“If you’re heavily receding don’t be afraid to go short,” says Wynes-Devlin. “Leaving too much length can sometimes make the hair look thinner than it actually is.”If you want to avoid too-short a buzz cut she suggests asking your barber to scissor cut your hair instead. “Clippers can produce too harsh a cut sometimes, so it’s always best to do these things gradually.” Dropping the length towards the nape will provide a softer, more natural finish.The Close ShaveSometimes, the only way to deal with going thin on top is to accept defeat and embrace being bald. “If you’re going for a head shave, book in with a skilled barber confident with a cutthroat razor to take your hair to the scalp,” says Peters.“Ideally, your barber should cut down the existing hair to a minimum before applying an exfoliating scrub and soothing hot towels to open the pores and ensure a closer shave.”Tips For Dealing With A Receding HairlineIf you just looked in the mirror and noticed your hair isn’t quite as thick as it used to be, here are some quick ways to make it look a little fuller.Pump Up The VolumeBlow-drying instantly makes hair look fuller and thicker. Don’t BBQ your hair though – a medium heat setting will allow you to style without damaging hair’s structural proteins.Buy Now: £12.80Shampoo In Some ThicknessThickening shampoos work by coating the hair with special volumising polymers that make it appear thicker and fuller. The effects are temporary but every little helps, right?Buy Now: £7.95Disguise Your ProblemIf a small bald patch is a problem try disguising it with the help of electrostatically charged coloured fibres, which mesh with your real hair to fill in any noticeable gaps.Buy Now: £6.95Use Your FingersRepeatedly combing thin hair can make it look limp and flat whereas styling with your fingers adds volume and texture.Grow A BeardFacial hair is brilliant at drawing attention away from the top of the head and down towards the face. It’s a bit like pointing at the sky and asking “What’s that?” when you want to distract someone long enough to zip up your flies. Try growing a beard. Beards are badass. Source link

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