Frank Iero Hair Novels & Stories

“I am a good capo. Having a wife or not doesn’t change that. For fuck’s sake, stay the fuck out of my life. I will not be saying this again. I won’t fucking marry Mariella.” His eyes flicked past me. “Great. Another one to fiddle with my nerves,” he snorted. I twisted my head to see Eros, his dark hair gelled to perfection, his suit ironed and stature tall with pride as always. The only thing that differed was the dyed fringes of his hair in the front. “I could see you both arguing from the other end of the room. If you think no one’s watching or understanding what’s going on, you’re very wrong,” Eros said with his forever-smug smile.

A smattering of freckles danced across his nose, adding a touch of boyishness to his otherwise brooding demeanor. His hair, the color of burnished copper, was artfully tousled, as if he'd just run his fingers through it in exasperation. It framed his face like a halo of fire, throwing his eyes into even sharper contrast. A single lock, longer than the others, fell across his forehead, adding a touch of rebellious charm.

He groans heavily running his large hands over his face and through his thick jet black curls. "Look, I don't know what to do. But we gotta do something!" He sounds and looks just lost as I am. But so handsome in this water. I love his hair it's in the style of a faux hawk fade and I really want to run my fingers through it. He has the Puerto Rican flag shaved into the left side of his head and 'Boricua' shaved on the right. His barber has mad skills. I'm thinking about taking my brothers to him for their back to school haircuts.

And if she wanted pink hair, she would have pink hair. Another stylist wandered over — a young man with immaculate eyebrows and a shirt unbuttoned one button too far. He looked at me like I was something to eat. "And who is this?" He circled me slowly, eyes roaming. "El, you've been holding out on us." "Hands off, Mario. He's mine." "The good ones always are." Mario sighed dramatically, then brightened. "But look at this hair." He reached toward my head, and I leaned back instinctively. "Oh, don't be shy. Is this natural? This color?"

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.

The main reason for that was… I sucked in a breath and held it as I watched EROS throw the scarf that he had around his neck on the floor before he headed for the table, grabbed a bottle of water and started pouring water onto his blond hair. I had to admit that EROS dumping water onto his hair and shaking his head about was a very sexy sight to behold; however, that wasn’t the key issue here. --To be continued…

Eric paused and raked a hand through his crazy hair. For some inexplicable reason she wanted to run her fingers through it too. Like a work of art, Eric Stick’s hair demanded attention. It was long on one side—something to hold on to. The other half was sheared off short. She imagined it would feel soft and silky beneath her fingertips. A row of inch-long spikes ran from forehead to nape, separating long locks from short fuzz. It was shiny and ebony except for the long lock that curled around his throat and hung down to his left collarbone. By some strange coincidence it was dyed the same blue she’d chosen to dye hers—for the sole purpose of ticking off her mother—not a week ago.

After a while Eros shaked his head to get rid Rid of extra water droplets from his hair. He went to his closet and pulled out a brown colored suit. It’s just 9 o clock in the morning so Eros is dressed up wearing his watch and his expensive rings along with new Piercings and chains. After setting his hair with gel He was definitely looking like heart throbbing but An dominanting mafia Boss.

he asked, feeling scared. Hierro looked at him. What Iero said made sense. But… “Was your hair white in the first place?” he asked, referring to when Iero was born. Iero was taken aback. “Yes. I was born with my hair white.” He answered. Hierro’s brows are knitted. “The reflection in the lake shows our real self.” He said. Iero was shocked. “Our real self?!” he said and looked back at his reflection again. “But, why is my hair black in the reflection? I have white hair!” he said, feeling very puzzled.

He says before winking at me. “Since when are you the expert on married life Casanova?” Gio shoots back elbowing the man in the ribs who gives him a mock hurt expression. I observe the man he was strangely familiar to me somehow. At first glance he did resemble Gio so much they could be twins. But after searching his face more I could see the subtle differences between them. Where Gio’s eyes were dark blue, his were a cool teal color. His hair was in a similar stylish hipster cut like Gio’s. But his was styled in tight curls up top instead of the wavy cropped look Gio had opted for. His youthful bright smile was a complete contrast to Gio’s stone faced serious expression. Making the man clea