I used to legitimately worry about whether I had the “right face shape” for short hair, until one day it dawned on me that short hair is compulsory for all men here in the US and nobody gives a shit whether they have the “right face shape” for it. And I’ve never heard any beauty advice implying that there is a “wrong face shape” for long hair on women either.
Despite the artistry that does goes into the beauty industry, it exists first and foremost to enforce societal standards, and fuck that noise ok, the face shape bullshit is clearly dishonest and biased at best and a total myth at worst. Cut your hair any way you damn well want to and if it doesn’t look good it’s because you have a shitty ass barber ok not because you weren’t the right shape for it }:/
“Your mother’s coming …” he said quietly. “She wants to see you … it will be all right.. . hold on… .” And she came… first her head, then her body… a young woman with long hair,the smoky, shadowy form of Lily Potter blossomed from the end of Voldemort’s wand, fell to the ground, and straightened like her husband.
A/N: This is the first of many that I’m going to write about Jeff Atkins. It’s going to be a ‘Jeff x Reader’ relationship series. First kiss, fight, breakup, etc. There won’t be any death or suicide- none of that, but there will be A LOT of drama. I’m taking requests as well, so feel free to send some in! :)
You stared at yourself in the mirror, horrified at what you saw. Your hair was a complete wreck. The curls weren’t holding, it was frizzy as hell, and it was starting to tangle at the ends. And it’s not like you could jump in the shower to fix it, you didn’t have enough time. Your date said he would pick you up at seven and it was already six forty-eight. God, you weren’t even dressed yet. A knock on your door pulls you from your thoughts. Your brothers bleach blonde head pops in.
“Jeff’s here, he’s waiting in the- what the hell,” he says when he notices your state. He points a finger at you and laughs. “You look like shit.”
He dodges the comb you throw at him. “Shut up,” you growl. “Go tell him that I’ll be down in a few minutes,” he’s still laughing when he leaves your room. “And don’t embarrass me, Alex!”
You sit at your vanity, attempting to brush the knots out of your hair when theres another light knock on your door. “Alex, I swear if you-” you’re cut off when the door opens, and to your horror it’s not the dumbass you call a brother, it’s Jeff, your date.
“Jeff,” you say nervously. “Hey.”
He smiles at you and closes the door behind him. “Alex said you were running late,” he takes a step forward. He looks amazing, you notice. As always. “Can I help?”
You make a mental note to strangle your brother when you get the chance. “It’s my hair,” you point to the mess that sits on your head. “It’s being difficult.”
“Here, give me your brush and a hair tie,” he holds out his hand. “We got this.”
You smile as he begins to brush your hair gently. “You know,” he says after a few minutes of silence. “Even on your worst bad hair day, you’d still be the most beautiful girl I know.”
Your eyes meet his in the mirror and he gives you another dazzling smile. He ends up braiding your hair into a single braid, and he’s surprisingly good at it. He grins, “Now,” he says turning to the mess of clothes on your bed. He pulls out a pair of shorts and solid baby pink shirt. “Wear this. I like the way you look in this color.”
You leave him in your room to change in the bathroom. As you do so you think of the way it felt when he touched you as he did your hair, and the butterflies that were still in your stomach that started once he stepped into your room. What guy would do your hair, and help you pick out something to wear when you were running late for your date? Damn it, he was perfect. You chew on your lip as you walk back into your room. He’s sitting on your bed and raises his head when you step in. He grins.
“You look amazing, ________.”
You don’t reply. He watches you with curious eyes as you walk up to him, cup his face in your hands and lean forward, brushing your lips against his. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss you back, pressing his lips harder against yours. He stands slowly, never breaking the kiss and wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer. Your bare feet on his shoes, tiptoeing to reach his mouth. The kiss starts off slow, gentle as if the two of you are testing the waters. But once you get a taste of him, you lose it. Your fingers tangle in his soft hair, tugging at it as his teeth bite down on your lip. The kiss becomes crazed, explosive, fervent as the two of you poor everything into it. You pull away first, face flushed, panting softly.
“Well,” Jeff says after catching his breath, voice husky. “Isn’t that supposed to happen after the first date?”
You chuckle softly. “Who says it won’t?”
Another beautiful smile appears on his face. “Let’s get this show on the road then, yeah?”
And that’s when you knew, you were probably going to fall in love with Jeffery Michael Atkins.
You pass Alex on the way out, and as you pass him you punch him in the arm. He yelps, rubbing his arm. “Asshole!”