Jarhead Buzz Cut Novels & Stories

He decided not to have a road name. Jack is the shortest of the three brothers, at just 6’ even, with black hair and blue eyes. Depending on the occasion he could be wearing a beard or clean shaven. Jack has the "open mouth insert foot" syndrome. It often gets him in trouble. Jazz is a bartender for now, until she decides what she wants to do with her life. She enjoys being a badass biker chic and with nothing keeping her from doing whatever she wants to do. School is just not for her. Jade said it was a miracle she graduated high school.

His clothes, his accessories, and even his hair were all Zeke's style. Evan had enough of that. He gave the money back, and they were estranged. Now, he wanted to be himself. "Give me a buzzcut!" demanded Evan, and something radiated around him. The barber was shocked, and he quickly trimmed Evan's hair. … With every move, more of Evan's hair fell. Freshness welled within his heart. It wasn’t just hair he was cutting off; it was the chains of the past. He was killing the fetters that kept him locked. He could feel the collar around his neck fading away.

Jude refused Linda wanting to help her fighting Williams. "All done! just need to straighten it and sorry about the phone. its just my kids are almost home. i won't be at ease unless they are inside the house" Linda said after looking at her phone. "its fine no worries" Jude replied Soon Linda was done and told Jude to look at the final results "Which cutting is this?" Jude asked "Feather cutting" Jude's long hair were now very very short but they looked really good. Suddenly Jude phones started ringing. Smiling at the caller id she looked at Linda and said " I am very satisfied with the results"

His golden eyes watched us, unamused. The man with the buzz cut and his face marked with a scar on his lip. His clothes were similar to the others, but his chest armor stood out more. His boots were heavy, seeming like they'd make a soft thud with each step. He looked nothing short of menacing, especially with his piercings. I looked even closer and saw a tattoo around his neck. He looked like he'd kill with no remorse. Who's to say he hadn't done that already?

“Now I know why you were so eager to come to the beach this morning.” Radar goes all innocent on me. “Why, whatever do you mean, Leah?” Radar’s words are directed at me, but her eyes remain fastened on the young Marine. His name is Jordan, but we call him Jordy. We gave him the nickname when he was much younger and smaller. He doesn’t look like a Jordy anymore—not by a long shot—but the name has stuck. He’s barely sixteen years old now, but already stands six feet tall. His camouflage uniform does little to hide the swell of his chest or the width of his biceps. He has black hair cut short in the Marine fashion, a tan complexion, and blue eyes that seem to shine from his tanned face.

He toweled off roughly, then stalked back into the bedroom to get dressed. As usual, he put off donning the final article of clothing for as long as possible. As always, he shrugged it on in the end, since he had zero choice in the matter. He regarded his cut in the mirror with nothing but distaste. It was stunning, he supposed, with its expensive leather and red, white and blue background, and the red and black ‘1%’ patch on the shoulders. Even the club insignia – a skeleton with angel’s wings, stretched across its entire upper back, mirroring the tattoo it now hid – was arresting, eye-catching, breathtaking. Put all those elements together and you had a piece of art, and as much as he hate

Her waist-length hair made her look older and served as a shield, but the decision was hers. Berezira thought for a moment, remembering both the comfort and pain associated with her long hair. "I'd like it cut a bit, maybe just past my chest," she replied. Jerald agreed. "That's fine. First, we'll go grocery shopping," he said, rising from his chair. As he did, dizziness overcame him, and he groaned, clutching his side in pain. It was the source of constant agony. "Are you alright, Goo...Father?" Berezira rushed to his side.

with that I stalked off. This was a sign, I needed to get out of here, and fast too. I could waylay someone and take their phone, but that would be too obvious, I just went to my room and changed into the most casual outfit I could find, which was a white button down shirt and some grey slacks. Since I didn’t have a brush or anything, I gathered my hair up into a messy bun.

Gunnar added, leaning closer, his voice low. The barber swallowed hard, his initial bravado now replaced by a sheepish demeanor. “Yes, of course. I’ll stick to the haircut.” Gunnar leaned back, his mood slightly soured but still amused by the situation. The barber, clearly embarrassed and eager to make amends, quickly focused on his task, working diligently to perfect the Classic Quiff cut. Rene, still sipping his whiskey, finally looked up, noticing the tension. He raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Everything alright?”

“Don’t let him get away!” Three of them this time. I recognized the one with the buzz cut in a black leather jacket. He always seemed to be there. He looked like he belonged on the cover of some edgy fashion magazine, all chiseled jaw and too much cologne. But hot or not, he was still trying to ruin my life. Why me? Why always me?