Marco Reus Haircut Novels & Stories

Ruthless. Marcus leaned against a support beam, arms crossed over a chest built like a battering ram. At six feet four, we usually tower over most people, but our similarities ended there. Where I was lean, Marcus is solid in a way that suggested nothing short of explosives would move him once he decides to stand his ground. Cropped dark hair, a scar cutting through one eyebrow that he was gifted when we were both serving in Afghanistan by a very generous Taliban, and a mouth perpetually hovering between a smirk and a snarl. He looked like he enjoyed chaos as long as he got to aim it.

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.

My curiosity got the best of me, and I found myself looking out to try to see the two guys everyone seemed to drop for. I found Reed reasonably quickly as I knew what he looked like with his long blonde hair pulled back into a man bun. He was standing next to a guy maybe an inch or two taller than him, which was hard to believe as Reed was already a giant. I could only see the back of his head with messy, longish dark brown hair on his head. He was just as massive as Reed. He had solid muscle with a slight bit of a tribal tattoo that peeked out from his uniform on the left side of his neck and collarbone, then again down his arm on the same side.

John sighed exasperatingly. “The world never stops. You should too. Don't let your sadness consume you. Maybe the person who caused your sadness is now happy. It's time to forget her and move on.” Marcus glared at John with his remarks. “You don’t need to remind me,” Marcus said and he woke up from his bed. Marcus went to his bathroom and started shaving his mustache and beard. After he took a bath, Marcus blow-dried his hair and tied them in a bun. He chose clothes from his wardrobe. He chose to wear a three-piece maroon-colored suit and tie.

“You’re going to college, not kindergarten. What’s with the baby doll look?” Adora’s smile froze, and she shot him a glare. “I like it. Not your call.” Louis was speechless. Soon enough, Louis’s cut was finished too. He’d gone for a sharp 3:7 side part, slightly shorter than his usual style. It gave his already defined features a sharper, more commanding edge—cool and devastatingly handsome.

“I know a guy.” “Are you sure about this?” the stylist, a guy named Marco with purple hair and super sharp eyeliner, asked for the third time. “Once I cut it, it’s gone.” I looked at myself in the mirror. At my long, boring hair that I’d been hiding behind for years. “I’m sure,” I said. Marc smiled. “Okay. Let’s do this.” I watched in the mirror as he gathered a section of my hair and sliced through it with scissors that looked like they cost more than my rent. The long strands fell to the floor, and I felt my stomach fall along with it.

She was around 5'7 and had a septum piercing and a smiley. "Hey, Rhee." Marcus then greeted. Marcus was 6'0 with dark hair and brown eyes. He had a crucifix hung from his ear and he had a tattoo on the side of his face. Then there was Lana, who was a ginger. Her hair was curly and she cut it to her shoulders that suited her perfectly. Her eyes were dark brown and she was the innocent one. Nathan was the loud, extroverted one that had no cares in life. He purposely flirted with the boys and girls that walked his way and I smiled.

she asked. "You look stunning but let me fix your hair first," I replied. She sat on the chair in front of the mirror as I arranged her black wavy hair. "I think that's cool already," she said while checking herself. I immediately nodded and decided to go downstairs. Undercut hairstyle with a blue tuxedo and a pair of brown loafers Marcus, welcomed us downstairs. He was standing facing our opposite, waiting for us to come down while his hands were on his hips. "You look handsome on your suit my dear cousin even though we can only see your back," Celestine commented with a smirk.

"Does it hurt?" "Like hell. But it's manageable." Over the next weeks, we watched Adrien transform. The swelling went down. The bruises faded. And gradually, the new face emerged. On the thirtieth day, Miguel took final photos for Marcus Bennett's documents. Then he did something else. He took out the clippers and dye. "Now we finish the transformation," he said. He cut Adrien's hair shorter. More conservative. More corporate. Then dyed it slightly darker. Added subtle gray at the temples.

Once Marcus recovered and completed rehab, he would regain full mobility in his leg, just like the old days. A couple of hours later, Marcus was moved to his room. For the surgery, they had to trim his beard for hygiene purposes, which felt odd but was a standard procedure. After years, Frederick could finally see his friend’s face. Without the beard, Marcus didn’t look as old as he liked to appear. Even though his face was pale and gaunt, it still radiated youth and beauty. He had undoubtedly inherited his mother’s features.