Alastor Haircut Romane & Geschichten

Napatitig ang dalaga rito. Halata sa mukha ng lalaki na may lahi dahil sa asul na mga mata nito. He has this messy taper fade haircut. Matangos na ilong at mapupulang basang labi na parang nangaakit na 'to ay halikan.

I taunt, hoping to get him to reveal more. He walks up to me, a beguiling simper sitting on his lips. "Aren't you the curious cat, Luna?" I wince as he buries his hand in my hair. My tight bun comes undone, and my hair plummets in a shower. A curtain of inky locks covers half of my view, but only for a thrice until Absalon, the dickhead, pulls them back away from my sight. No gratitude to him for that, as my hair was fine in its bun before he messed it all up.

Mom’s head tilts suspiciously. “I, uh, I had a bit of a crash out, so I changed it up, Beta.” Charlotte pulls at the ends of her hair. “Ainsley did it in my bathroom. Kayla found some pictures and a tutorial on ViewFind. It’s called a wolf cut. Do you like it?” “Yeah, it’s great. Frames your face really well.” Mom glares at Charlotte. A flush is creeping up her neck. She licks her bottom lip slowly as if she’s contemplating something.

Alkane arrived with a stunning beauty. She's dressed in a long white gown that reaches all the way to the floor. Her pitch black hair was sloppy, as if it were rippling behind her. I looked at her face as if she were an angel. Red heart-shaped lips that appear to be both charming and soft. Runny nose and flushed cheeks, and she had round eyes with long lashes and black orbs. I didn't realize we were both staring at each other. “She's here,” “Mate,” we both said at the same time.

Horror was written all over his face as he stomped over to snatch the clippers from my hands. “Get your head out of your ass. I told her to do it,” Iris muttered, with her eyes still shut. I ignored Alastor as I dusted Iris’s head, neck, and shoulders with a washcloth. I was done anyway, so I wasn’t going to fight him for the clippers. “Why?” Alastor’s face screamed confusion as to why she would ever want her head shaved in the first place. “You would rather I look like a lawnmower ran over me?” Her eyelids flipped open to reveal a scowl. If looks could kill, Alastor would have hit the ground.

Not talk, not deal with everything that had just happened. But before I got the nerve to speak, Atalanta did. “You are mad at me.” “A tiny bit.” “I’m sorry.” I sighed, kissing the top of her wet hair. “I know.” I grabbed a bottle of shampoo and began washing her hair. She had so much less hair now, and there were some patches of hair totally burned off. Artemis had healed her skin, so there were no scars, but it takes a while for hair to grow back. The hairdresser had done a great job, though. Atalanta told me the hairdresser had given her something called a wolfcut, which made her laugh. But it had different lengths of hair, which worked perfectly.

It was definitely beautiful as Alexis neared it and spotted Alastair's back in the greeting area. He turned towards Alexis' footsteps and Alexis stared at him in awe. His face was much brighter and his hair which usually was just combed down was now gelled back revealing his full face, which was, if one could say unbelievably gorgeous. His brows were so beautiful and thick. The shape so perfectly arched and his eyes that were fully exposed looked amazing in the sunlight. She almost forgot to greet him. "A-Alastair, you never told me that people were visiting" she stuttered out, trying her best to look past his bewitching appearance.

He grabs Anastasia by the hair lifting her off her feet. “That was foolish young witch,” says Alastor. “Maybe so but at least Malayah doesn’t have more blood on her hands.” Anastasia moves to strike Alastor but he uses his claw to slit her throat and drops her. We can hear her struggle to breath before finally finding peace. She knew she was going to die and still saved my daughter from having to be the one to kill her. Alastor turns to the camera. We surprisingly look very similar. I would think we were twins.

I turn to look at him, my eyes as wide as saucers. “Did your Alpha just smack my ass?” A few hours later, Sierra is putting the finishing touches on my hair. I groan as she pins the final silver clip into place, sealing the style with a mist of holding spray. My entire scalp aches; every strand has been tugged, curled, and manipulated to fit the "Lunar Princess" aesthetic. The result is a masterpiece of high-society wolf craft. My hair is swept up in elaborate, shimmering coils that leave my neck exposed—a vulnerable, yet defiant statement in a room full of predators.

“Now, let’s get on with this. If I’m going to endure this sham of a wedding, I’ll do it on my terms.” The hairstylist completed her work in under 40 minutes, transforming my usual straight black hair into a cascade of voluminous curls. Each curl was perfectly defined, framing my face beautifully before flowing effortlessly down my back, just above my waist. The result was stunning, even by my own high standards.