Damon Albarn Haircut Novels & Stories

A reminder that I was not the same person I was a few months ago. I styled my hair into a stylishly messy bun, some strands of hair dropping down, and applied a light makeup. I walked out onto the patio, and my breath caught in my throat. Damian was standing by the railing, looking out at the ocean. He had changed into a pair of linen pants and a crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing a dusting of dark hair on his forearms. He turned around when he heard me, and his eyes widened.

The scent of hot pancakes fills the air as DAMON and L'OREAL discuss breakfast at the table and DEBORAH prods at her phone with determined vehemence. "DEBORAH, will you braid her hair?" L'OREAL asks hopefully. "No." "Braids are stupid," DAMON interrupts. L'OREAL shoots a resentful glance at her brother. "They are not!" "Do too!" DAMON yells. "Do not!" "Do too!" "Don't!" L'OREAL glares at him as if she'd stop the fires of hell. "And DAMON, if you want your stuffed crocodile brought to life this afternoon, you'd best not say anything more about her hair!"

But in here— In here it is just us. With his sleeves pushed up to his forearms and his jacket thrown away Damon sit across from me. His hair is still a touch moist, suggesting that he did not take the time to fully dry it. The dawn light catches droplets that cling to the ends. In a manner that Alphas seldom let themselves be he appears... human. Relaxed. Unarmoed. Without the weight of command pressing down on his shoulders. I stir honey into my tea watching him over the rim of the cup. The spoon makes soft clinks against porcelain.

And then I dabbed plenty of sunscreen on my skin to protect it from the harmful UV rays. When I was ready, I took a couple seconds to observe Damien as he slept on my bed. His dark hair was sprawled across his forehead making him look a lot younger than his age. I never really like it when men gel back their hair to create that sleek look. There was no doubt that Damien looked smoking hot in it, but he looked even better with dishevelled hair and the only time he lets ever a single hair get out of place was in the bedroom, when we get lost in each other.

I walk to the last place I saw some scissors, “I can’t set anyone on fire anymore… unless it’s worth it. I won’t forget. Now he’s going to cut my hair so it doesn’t look like this.” Just as she says that, I lift the scissors I just found. I make them go snip-snip. Berenice closes her eyes in stress. “Are you sure about that, Damon?” She asks, concerned, “Jessica might not like it. She can still take Amy to a salon and they can fix it. A girl’s hair is very important for…” “I don’t give a shit if Jessica doesn’t like it,” I interrupt her with an eye roll, “I’ll fix it myself. I’ll make her look gorgeous. Let’s go, Amy. To Daddy’s five star Salon.”

Linus stepped down and the faces of men, women, and children came into view. Damon blinked his eyes for the millionth time, he was looking at a man maybe a few years older than he was. He wasn't sure he was seeing right so he blinked and blinked. He was chained like every other but he looked different. Dark black long hair covered his face completely seeing that he hung his head low. The only place Damon had seen such midnight-colored hair was on his Queen, Lord Xrysos's wife. Shouts and bets were heard and Damon was this close to asking his master to buy the boy. ******

I smiled at her. “Alpha, Luna.” Damien bowed, he was not wearing his casual clothes, but decent khaki pants with a white beige shirt. He looked handsome.

"What? Is there something wrong with me?" Damien was staring at her bush, or more precisely, the lack thereof! There was no hair on her mons, just a thin strip of dark curly hair that started just above the hood of her clit, went up three inches and stopped. He was totally confused. He had never seen any woman that had just a thin strip of hair down there. It was either all over and thick; or if they were very young, not there yet, or just some fuzz. His head was cocked at an angle and his ears were fully forward, his forehead wrinkled as he tried to figure out why it looked the way it did. Elena saw his expression was one of confusion, not disgust as she had feared. She relaxed a little.

It was someone else's. "It isn't over." I ran a shaky hand through my hair, exhaling slowly. It was just a dream. That's all it was. And yet, deep down, I wasn't sure I really believed that. A soft rustling pulled me from my thoughts. I turned to find Damon sitting in the chair by the window, his gaze fixed on me. He was shirtless, his dark hair slightly disheveled, and the way the moonlight highlighted the sharp angles of his face made him look almost otherworldly.