Bjorn Ironside Hair Novels & Stories

Beside me, Bjorn pushed himself up onto his elbows, still fighting to catch his breath. “Mom...” he said, staring at me, “can I ask you something?” I looked at him. “What is it?” “For a moment back there, was your hair... silver?”

She wasn’t familiar with the other measures taken but she’s heard enough to know that the security was as heavy as that of Fort Knox. As much as fans would love to see their favorite artist walk down the aisle, they’ll have to wait for the official photographs to be released. A fact her mother would complain to anyone who listened, especially to the media. “By the way, why did you change your hair color?” Ren took a stray hair from her bun and tucked it in her ear. Andrea’s long wavy hair which used to have its natural dark brown color that fans described as flowing chocolate has been drained into a dry ash blonde. A decision that surprised many.

And cut. I don't cry. I don't hesitate. This hair was the hair Aureliano stroked. This was the hair Spadino buried his face in. This was the hair Ciro held when he fucked me. It has to go. When I am done, my hair is a jagged, chin-length bob. It looks rough. Angry. I take out the box of hair dye. Jet Black. I mix it in the sink. The chemical smell burns my nose. I slap the black sludge onto my head, rubbing it into my scalp until it stains my skin.

I found the way he moved with a confident, yet not overly so, posture alluring. He was close enough that I could vaguely smell the traces of sweat from hard work and something about that sent my hormones into overdrive and I felt my body tingle ever so slightly. I drifted my gaze away from his concentrated expression to his hair since I felt that it would be the safer option. His hair was neither long nor short but somewhere in between and it was completely dishevelled and slightly windswept which was probably the result of running away from the rest of our year. While both our hair was red, mine was more of a flaming coppery red colour. My hair was vibrant and somewhat similar to the sun wi

“Look at my hair, Patrick—it’s a mess!” “Well, duh. You chopped it off yourself. Of course, it looks bad—like you got into a fight with Edward Scissorhands. But is that a problem? Let’s fix it right now. Thank God we have RTA-connected salon experts in the country.” He stood and pulled her up. “Come on, I got you.” Ingrid kept telling herself she’d get used to it while she was at the office, constantly running her fingers through her hair. She now had an inverted layered bob with side-swept bangs. According to Pat, it was the only way to save the hair she had murdered with kitchen shears. She even had new highlights in the colors mahogany and honey.

He cuts me off annoyed “Would you stop counting and just sit down already.” He sits on a stool, lifts an eyebrow, and pulls off his hood revealing his perfect face and hair. His hair is a medium brown color, short on the sides and longer on top by a few inches, it’s parted on one side and styled back. The hood made it a bit messy so he takes a tattooed hand through it and brushes it back with his fingers.

His parents were attentive and understanding and all, but he craved something more. He put a plan in place, hoping to lure Edwardo here sooner rather than later. It didn't match the season, but yesterday, he did a quick photoshoot with a very blatant lemon and raspberry theme and posted the pictures to Instagram this morning, working in the omega symbol to support the movement. He'd painted his nails, but used a wig instead of his natural hair. It was way past time to get it re-dyed, but going without his best friend seemed wrong somehow. He had it presentably styled now, sure, but it was faded and his roots were showing. With everything going on, the thought had even crossed his mind once o

I had a date to attend. I combed my hair, noting that it was a little unruly since I had slept with it still wet yesterday. To tame it, I decided to put it in a french braid, starting on the left side of my head, wrapping around the back and spilling over my right shoulder in a loose, messy configuration of strawberry blonde hair.

He had single eyelids, and his bone structure was prominent. He had a more cold look. He was different from the young men nowadays. So he had kept his hair short and neat. But Janine thought it wasn’t impossible to try something new. After all, with his pale skin, that hair color would suit him perfectly. “Dye his hair,” said Janine. “The length of his hair is just right, so you don’t need to trim it. You just need to dye it.”

“I won’t cut the hair and Dad gives me some grief about it whenever I see him.” She shrugged. His pretty gaze softened. “It’s beautiful. Anyone is foolish who wants you to cut it. I don’t know how anyone could find it annoying. I have long hair. It’s not nearly as long as yours but long hair for a man isn’t fashionable it seems, from what I’ve been told by our media consultants. I also refused to cut my hair short but I do allow them to keep it at this length. I am responsible and hope humans see me as such. I hope you leave