♡ 𐐪 ◜𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒◞ 𐑂 ♡

𝗷𝗲𝗮𝗻 𝗽𝗶𝗲𝗿𝗿𝗲 𝗽𝗼𝗹𝗻𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗳

【 ʟᴏɴɢ-ʜᴀɪʀᴇᴅ!ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ 】
❝ 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵/𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 ❞
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                       I will never understand bougie people. You deadpan at the sight before your eyes.

Several hair products and equipment, from washing to styling, under different company labels ranging from $30 to $200 litter the long surfaces on either side of your boyfriend's bathroom sink. You didn't even know half of these appliances existed or that they were meant for hair. The fact there are two small shelves mounted on the left wall holding more products, which you also never heard of, just completely melted your brain at the thought that he used these every morning, noon, and night.

Whatever. You sigh as you remove your pastel pink turban wrap towel to release your moist, (hair color) locks that elegantly drape along your back. Your fingers comb through the strands one last time. "Seriously, though, how much does one man need?" You still find yourself still commentating on this aspect of your boyfriend, though.

There is being metrosexual and there is being obsessive with your looks, something you have always known about Jéan from your first ever date when every fifteen minutes he slapped globs of hair gel on his head. Not in his hair, on his head. What made it weirder was you caught him talking to his hair in the mirror.

But honestly, it's not like you entirely hate this part of Jéan. He is always more than happy to pamper you with mock salon services he'd play up for both your amusement and relaxation. You even came to learn from a flustered Jéan that same night that he was just really nervous about the date and didn't want to seem "ugly" in front of you. That's why he kept talking to himself; he was trying to boost his confidence so he would seem charming, which worked because you found his reasoning super cute and is what led to supplementary dates.

Now that you have that memory fresh in your mind, you might choose to have him treat your hair tonight. You never really knew how to take care of your hair, especially with its length and extreme thickness, so it's quite common for you to put yourself in his hands. Not to mention Looking at his appliances tired you out from the overwhelming amount your brain had to register all at once.

"There's my beautiful Darling~" Two strong arms engulf your now-clothed body ― you always have your folded, pre-chosen on the nearby laundry basket to change into after taking a shower. A pair of lips press a dramatic kiss against the side of your face. "Muah! How was your shower, my love?"

"It was nice." You can't help but giggle at his dramatic actions. How can you say no to his hugs? "You think you can do my hair tonight? I'm not really in the mood." It's your turn to become dramatic as you loosen your body to fall lifelessly in your lover's embrace while releasing an exhausted sigh.

"I'd be more than happy to, Mon Ange~" He grabs your left hand ever so gently and lovingly after releasing your form to place a short kiss on your ring finger. His large but soft hand intertwines with your fingers to guide you over to his baby-blue vintage vanity desk. "Your treatment awaits, my dear." You take a comfortable seat on the faux fur backless chair before directly facing the large mirror with curved sides and hand-carved bronze flowers, leaves, and birds lining it. Its desk is covered with a navy-blue, pastel-orange, and baby-blue argyle-patterned sheet pooling around more sets of brushes, combs, and other appliances for dry hair and everyday use.

Sometimes you get pissed off that your boyfriend is both more well-versed in hairstyles and tricks than you are, forget the immaculate beauty furniture. You can't really find the place to complain, though. It does make for fun date nights where he teaches you simple hairstyles or you two just spend all evening watching satisfying hair transformation videos. Those instances do worry you considering he becomes determined to replicate whatever he sees on the internet despite the extreme transformations, but luckily he chickens out, as he also does when he asks you to try styling his hair.

That is neither here nor there. Right now, you are simply enjoying the soft seat while Jéan quickly runs into the bathroom. Upon his return, he holds a standard-sized brush, a rose gold cordless hairdryer, a matching cordless hair (straightener/curler), and a black half-long-half-short-bristled comb decorated with pink and yellow flowers.

"I see you're giving me your platinum service, Monsieur." You smile at him through the mirror. His big yet gentle hands are already performing treatment to your follicles, starting with the hairdryer.

"Only the best for my platinum Darling~" He returns the smile with a wider, closed-eye one. You laugh again, releasing one last sigh afterward. "Do you mind if I trim your hair a little?" he asks, momentarily stopping his actions after feeling how rough your ends are.

"Hmm, why not?" You stretch your arms and legs. "Just don't cut any farther than my middle-back." His movements continue, now with a thin pair of silver scissors lying on the vanity's surface he eventually picks up once your hair is dried and combed. This is nice.