Unkempt Hair Crossword Novels & Stories

She ran a hand over her blanket, as if holding onto it could somehow shield her from the unknown. Everleigh stood before the old mirror propped against her wall. Its surface was scratched and spotted with age, but it showed enough of her reflection for her to make herself presentable. She lifted her brush and began untangling her hair, pulling the bristles carefully through each knot. Her long, medium-blonde hair caught the sunlight, glinting faintly as she worked through the stubborn tangles. She twisted the ends into loose waves, leaving the top smooth and neat. Today, she decided to leave it down, letting it flow freely over her shoulders—a silent act of defiance against the control the L

Scarlett touched her long, straight hair that was nearing her waist and replied to Chuck in an irritated voice, “What’s wrong with my hair? It’s perfect. As if touched by God himself!” “Get in the car! Let’s do something to your tacky hair first!” Chuck sped up the car and ran it on the highway. “Tacky? Isn’t it true that men like women with long hair?” Scarlett couldn’t believe someone used the word “tacky” to describe her hair. She wanted to curse at him, but she was afraid to offend him too much. “Long hair? Yes. But not limp like yours is.” Scarlett had never been offended so directly, so she stared at Chuck and retorted, “You expect me to help you out after you insult me like that? What

My sight again fell on her black mole and I lowered my gaze. "Open your hairs, Begum Sahiba" Barber said. Following her direction, she slowly pulled the hairpin out and her huge, voluminous hair fell down till earth. I was finished at that moment. My eyes stuck open and my mouth hung open. Her hairs were shiny and slightly curly at the edge. A thought instantly hit my mind. "Unki zulfe khuli kuch is qadar... Ki jese dariya me sailaab aa gaya ho, Unki ek ek lat hazaroo me bikhar gayi...

Her beautiful, loose hair flowed freely in the morning breeze, moving as perfectly as if the wind itself were dancing with her. For a brief second, his heart seemed to stop. Some of her hair had blown across her face, obstructing her vision, and she was trying awkwardly to brush it away with her dirt-stained wrists. She shook her head, hoping the strands would fall back into place, but they stubbornly refused. Letting out a soft sigh, she stood up from the ground and wiped her grimy hands on a small towel nearby. She gathered the thick mass of her hair and twisted it up into a messy bun. Still, a few loose tendrils escaped and framed her face, making her look somehow even more breathtaking.

Noble women had beautiful hair. Concubine candidates had extraordinary hair — I had seen them described in the pamphlets that circulated through the servant quarters of Ruen's minor noble houses, the selection notices with their painted illustrations of graceful figures in elaborate robes, their hair a particular feature of description: lustrous, long, cultivated, worthy. I thought of the selection notice I had found tucked into the trash behind the tax collection house six days ago, smoothed it out and read it by lamplight so many times I had memorized it without intending to.

The simple yet stylish choice of attire hinted at a certain casual sophistication, a trait she couldn't help but admire. His jet black hair, still damp from a recent shower, framed his face in a way that added an alluring touch to his overall appearance. The dark strands seemed to glisten under the soft glow of the room's lighting, creating an almost ethereal effect. Veronica couldn't help but notice the subtle contrast between the wet and dry portions of his hair, a detail that heightened his innate charm.

The 'or something' turns out to be right. "What do you think?" Barbara asks, turning towards me. My mouth gapes open. Holy shit! Her pubic hair is a perfect triangle, coiffured with crisp edges all around and a flat surface that reminds me of a well-manicured lawn, or Grace Jones' haircut. It is the most erotic sight I have ever seen. Her tightly curled hair creates a smooth, thick covering nearly half an inch thick. "I just did it a week ago," she adds apprehensively when I don't answer. "Do you think it's too much?"

she murmured lazily. We got up, and I combed my messy hair, then put it in a bun again. My brown curly hair was so dry because I didn’t use any shampoo for a long time after they threw me in the barn. The other night, I dared to steal shampoo and conditioner from the packhouse because my hair was all tangled and frizzy.

His usually slightly ruffled hair is too flat and unkempt. “I need your words of wisdom.” He runs fingers through his hair in agitation and I notice his shirt is more than a little rumpled. His face isn’t its usual clean-shaven self either, he’s sporting Jake’s designer stubble and on Hunter it looks odd. He’s too blonde to pull it off. “Leila?” Jake asks with his sharp instincts and I immediately zone all attention on Hunter again. I have learned from watching Jake that only woman issues could make a man go to hell like this.

She watched the baby still sleeping and she tried her best to get out of the bed without making any noise. She took a quick shower, brushed her teeth, and had an exasperated breath when she saw the state of her hair. She forgot to take them out of the bun to take a shower yesterday night. Now it looked like a bird's nest after a huge storm. She wanted to detangle her hair but never found a brush or a comb. « It’s ok, you got this. » She said looking at herself in the mirror. As soon as she managed to take her hair out of the rubber band she used to hold her bun, a little wail started in the bedroom. « Well… let’s just go like this… » She just packed all her hair on the top of her hair and di