Bjorn Ironside Hair Novels & Stories

she told him. "Huh, what do you mean?" "I mean that your hair is no longer blondish-white, its now a mix of red and white." She explained while will staring at his hair. He quickly rose up and went to a mirror stand. He was shocked when he saw that half of his hair was red and the other side was white. It was like the parting of the red sea, red on one side and white on one side. "Whoa, check out my hair" he muttered in awe.

He was a hard worker and was frequently recognized for his willingness to assist others with virtually any work-related task. Devon didn't know Isaac well, but they had chatted and joked around over various topics for years whenever they did happen to run into one another. One common topic of discussion between them had frequently been the style of Isaac's long, kinky hair, which he changed almost weekly. Devon and Isaac had shared many discussions about whether natural locks that formed from the long strands of his kinky hair should be braided into dreadlocks.

Stevie apologized profusely. "Do it again, and I'll murder you!" Jared snarled so hard saliva was flying. He sat on his expensive spinning chair from behind his desk and grabbed hold of his hair. He raised, and the entire mope was lifted off his scalp. Jared had suffered from a massive hair loss issue for a while now, and by 30 years old, he was balding. He shaved his head because of it, yet he could not seem to accept that as part of his image. Thus, he got himself a wig and wore it around. He had done so for so many years that not even his closest allies and colleagues knew he was bald.

His hair is styled to the side, neat but effortless, the front falling slightly over his forehead in a way that makes him look unfairly handsome, like he knows exactly how dangerous that soft look is. Then Caden is the second. His hair is parted cleanly at the side, smooth, framing his face perfectly. It sharpens his features, makes his eyes stand out more, gives him this calm, confident look that feels intentional like he’s stepping into a role he was born for. And then Gunnar. My breath catches. His hair is pulled back completely, bound tight into jet black perfection, every strand perfect, every inch of him composed. He looks colder like this, more distant, more powerful.

Her silver-streaked hair was twisted into a flawless bun. “Is this your girlfriend you spoke about?” she asked Rob like I was invisible. “Yes,” he answered without hesitation. What the fuck? He told her we were a couple? “She is very gorgeous. I’m Liana,” she finally turned to address me. “Bianca,” I said as politely as I could, still stewing from my dream. “She does not want to cut her hair. Is there something else we can do?” Rob asked. “Her hair is beautiful. I would not cut it. Three A texture. Long, curly, and healthy. We could silk press it or give her bigger curls, something vintage like the nineties,” Liana said, visibly excited.

He combed his hair backward which blocked his eyes a little, "Oh, doesn't it suit me when my hair is arranged like this?" “Nothing wrong, you're more approachable if you style your hair like that." I answered, "W-well, you're a CEO so you don't need to be approachable, right?... Also, whatever your hairstyle is, it suits you." He nodded before combing his hair back with his left hand again, "Then, I will keep my old hairstyle outside and I will only show you how this looks." "Huh?" I didn't quite understand what he said, he shook his head and walked to my side.

I quickly take a shower and change. I put on a black and red tank top (to match my hair. Like Knox having blue tips in his silver hair, I end up having red streaks in my black hair. It's totally wicked! And believe it or not, we were born like that.) and a pair of cut offs and my sneakers. I run a brush through my hair and put it up in a sloppy pony. I'm not impressing anyone, and I really don't give a damn about what I look like this morning. I'm too freaking tired to care!

Ryan’s POV It was finally the day. The engagement party was here and I spent the last week taking care of every single detail. This was our only chance. “Sir, what are we doing with your hair?” one of the stylists asked, holding a comb and a blow dryer like they were delicate instruments of war. I ran a hand through my hair, trying to keep my focus steady. “Keep it natural. Don’t overdo it. Just… something presentable,” I said.

He merely scoffed. Ivan stood behind them, his hands behind him as he paced back and forth, he was growing impatient, “Iris I think you have combed that hair enough already, it looks fine to me”, he turned to Cleopatra, “How do you have so much hair on your head with the way you are combing it right now?” He took the comb from Iris and parted her hair in the middle, he brushed it until it fell straight and framed her pretty face, “I think that is good”, he braided two pieces on each side and tied them behind.

He was, well, a breath of cum air. The man who stood before me was an imposing figure, easily towering over most others in the room. His height was truly striking, likely measuring somewhere in the range of 6 feet and 10 inches. His appearance was equally captivating, with a mane of sunflower blonde hair that he had meticulously braided into intricate cornrows. Rather than neatly tucking the ends of the braids, he had allowed the remaining loose strands to cascade freely, creating a wild, curly halo around his head.