Level 9 Bleached Hair Novels & Stories

She was standing outside my bedroom door, with a pie in her hand, and her mouth on the floor. "Mom, relax. I just bleached them a little," She stepped closer and began assessing my hair more carefully. "You had beautiful brown hair and now it's all... white. Like old people white," "It's called platinum blonde," "What did you do that for?" "Well, tomorrow's the first day back to school. I just feel like it's time for a little change..." My whole high school career had been somewhat... bland. Zero love life, no dramas, and no fights. That sounded peaceful, yes, but also very boring.

I added. Rui frowned. "Bleach for what? The bathroom?" I shook my head. "For hair."

They were enough to make any girl jealous. I couldn't help but wonder if it was real or bleached. I treasured my raven-colored hair and had never bleached it before but at the moment I couldn't help but consider the thought of having my hair bleached, I mean what could be the harm in giving it a try? Seeing it properly now, the man's hair had to be bleached, yes! there's no way a person's hair could look like golden flames but now the question is where did he get the products from?

What a timing because the shooting will be tomorrow. I get it and put it on the mixer. I squeeze its content and put the oxidizing lotion and blend it together. I’ve been wanting to achieve ash gray before. That is the reason why I decided to bleach my hair until to level 10. My mistake is I put first the blue one instead of this. I don’t know what will be the result of this after. “My sister will scold me again,” I said while mixing the mixture of the hair color and oxidizing lotion.

“THIS IS JUST like when we were teenagers.” I grin up at Bryce, who scowls because I moved. She has a pair of scissors in one hand and a lock of my hair in the other, and she’s thinning the edges like a professional hairstylist. I’ve bleached my hair to a respectable housewife blond, and now, Bryce’s giving me a shoulder-length layered ‘do. “Remember when you shaved the side of my head and dyed the bangs purple?”

“Convenient for him, isn’t it? His troublesome wife slips out of the picture just as he’s settling down with his true mate.” Clara resumed working on my hair. “We still don’t know that for sure, Alpha.” “We don’t know otherwise, either.” We fell silent after that. Clara continued bleaching my hair, section by section, until my entire head was covered. Then came the waiting, followed by rinsing, toning, and more waiting. Finally, after what felt like hours, Clara washed the last of the chemicals from my hair and dried it. When I looked in the mirror, I barely recognized myself. My once raven-black hair was now an almost white blonde. It made my gray eyes look pale and empty, and it didn’t fee

And I should reapply what I have left of that scent masking spray. With this thought in mind, I went into a convenience store nearby and bought a pair of scissors, hair bleach, and then some hot pink hair dye. The bleach is to lighten my hair, so I get the pink I want. I will finally have the hair I WANT, and I think it will make for a perfect first step to my new life of freedom.

“I’m here now. While I can keep my presence and eyes hidden, I cannot disguise our hair. Tell them you dyed it. After this birthday, we’re enrolling in Camp Elysium to be closer to our mate.” (“I like that plan. I like it very much,”) I replied, excitement bubbling within me. *** The next morning, I woke to find my hair transformed to a brilliant white, a striking contrast to its former hue. The curls remained, but the whiteness was unmatched. Giddy with anticipation, I dressed quickly and bounded down the stairs for breakfast, a bounce in my step.

"No one as pitiful as you doesn't merit nice things or good looks." That Lanaya's stunning blue-black hair glistened in the sunlight like a bird's wings was the one thing her foster mother detested. They slathered her head with bleach after they slashed her hair off to destroy what was left. The destruction lasted a whole year before one of the housekeepers offered assistance to Lanaya. She was an elderly Black woman and had brought some of the unique hair ointment her grandmother used. The housekeeper's grandma had Shaman training and developed her remedies. Lanaya's hair had become smooth and shining again with the help of the maid's treatment.

she asked kindly. I didn’t even blink. “I want to bleach my hair. All of it. Cut it, too.” She raised a brow, a grin tugging at her lip. “You sure? You’ve got pretty hair.” “I don’t want pretty,” I said. “I want different.” An hour later, the woman in the mirror barely looked like me. My long, curly hair had been chopped into a blunt shoulder-length bob that made my neck look longer and drew every attention to my face. My dull black hair had been dyed strawberry blonde.