Modern Ragnar Haircut Novels & Stories

He still remembers a stage performance in his previous life, where he had blonde mid-curly hair, wore a pure white casual suit, and his youthful and clean temperament directly caused a sensation in the audience, and even almost caused a riot because the fans were too excited. Now Ragnar is younger than then, and with a hairstyle and dress like that, his appearance will only be higher than in his previous life. People are visual creatures, so he doesn't believe that Nigel won't be moved when he sees such a cloud. Soon, Edward took Ragnar to the mall to pick a few casual shops, and asked the shopping guide to match a few sets of clothes for Ragnar, of course, the color was white of a water. Ra

At the center, high above us, sat a throne carved from dark wood, decorated with streaks of silver and bone. Behind it, a wall of black stone rose up, cracked in places like scars. Chains hung from the ceiling, their ends swaying slightly as if they’d been used not long ago. And there he was. Ragnar. He sat like the room belonged to him and maybe it did. His posture was relaxed, one leg bent, his elbow resting on the arm of the throne. His black wavy hair was messy, damp, like he had just stepped out of a shower. He wore only shorts and a t-shirt that clung to him, showing every line of muscle beneath.

Makaria got the hint but she still waited for her answer. Makaria was a tall woman with fair skin and light gray hair. Ragnar resembled his elder sister from many aspects. They were naturally born with silver hair and orbs. Ragnar possessed dark gray hair with dark gray eyes and his features were rugged and sharp. Makaria possessed the same hair and eye color but with a lighter shade. Her skin wasn't pale but rather a little dull. Something she did on her own otherwise she looked like a ghost lurking around. Her features were softer and no one could tell that she was the great goddess of death.

Bren had gone a step further and actually given her a proper hairstyle. Ava’s long hair now fell down her back in layers, making it look much fuller and giving it movement. Her shaggy bangs had been cut into curtains that framed each side of her face, and still adequately covered her scar. Bren had curled her hair into chunky ringlets and pulled half of it up into a perky ponytail, while the rest flowed freely in russet waves.

***Thyra's POV*** My weekend was the same as always, sleep, train, study, eat, sleep, rinse, repeat. Friday evening, I calmed down from that rage monster that was building. So, I did do something a little different to distract me this morning. I am starting at the results in the mirror of my barracks room now. Since I was 16, I have kept my hair cut to my shoulders tucked back in braids. I needed to focus on something other than my anger, and I took some clippers to my hair and buzzed off most of the right side of my hair. My scalp is only a little paler than my complexation, but I have always been pale. My black hair is combed over to the left side of my head, showing off the new style I ga

she said sincerely, her appreciation evident in her eyes. Ruan, with his signature sass, responded, "I know," with a playful flip of his imaginary hair off his shoulders, a gesture that suited his stylish boy cut haircut, accentuating his facial features and adding a certain allure to his appearance. "About your current job, are you planning to go in tomorrow?" he inquired.

“Mom, now I look like Lexi’s brother with blonde hair." “You didn’t have to change your hair and eyes to look like my brother, silly,” Lexi said, disapproving of his new look. “Right, Mom?” “Right.” I agreed. “Even Uncle Dixon and I are poles apart in terms of looks, remember?” I reminded Ragnar. “Yeah! But Mom, can I please look like this for some days?” Ragnar requested, showing me his puppy eyes, and I gave a small nod. It wasn’t that I was trying to hide him from anyone, especially his father.

He says though now I sense concern in his voice. I look over my shoulder in their direction to see Octavia’s reaction, she looks shocked. “Why so soon? We only just had the burial for Ragnar can’t it wait a few days?” she asks. “Afraid not, your mother is determined to get this under wraps asap.” He runs a hand through his hair then ties it up. In that moment it only just occurred to me that all the males in their family have long hair and by long, I mean mid back length. I wonder if that has something to do with the Viking influence Silvia has, either way I feel like I need a haircut.

He ruled the east side realm, and rumour had it that he bedded different women even after finding his mate. He was the only demon whose hair was almost as long as Kieran's, and the reason was because he once lost a battle fifty years ago. Every Wilding knew he had an unspoken rivalry with Kieran. Ragnar craved power and control, and the only reason why he hadn't declared a war on the Nightshade Pack was because he knew not to mess with Kieran. He looked menacing. Deep set eyes, with a large scar slashed across his left eye. His hair was woven into a single braid which draped over his shoulder. His arms were as thick as trees, and he carried a perpetual sneer.

They made it halfway across the living area when the front door slammed open, banging against the wall. Ragnar stood in the entryway, his mouth red with blood, and she wondered if Leidolf, the loner red, had tangled with the demon. He was dressed in denims and a sweatshirt that were as black as his mood. His black hair hung loosely at his shoulders, and he looked as if he’d fallen out of bed in a hurry and hadn’t had his first cup of coffee yet. But the demonic look in Ragnar’s black eyes had nothing to do with missing a mug of caffeine. His unfulfilled lust for Diana showed in every angry line creasing his stern face.