Harry Styles As Marcel Novels & Stories

replied Marcel “oh, sorry. My name is Kim and the dude with me is Bradley” Kim, a girl of average height with a good looking face and pony tail hair, she was wearing Jean trousers and a black shirt with the words ‘bitch' written on it, Marcel stared a bit longer on her chest area before he looked away so as not to be seen as a pervert Marcel looked at the man called Bradley, he could tell by his bald head and cold stare that he wasn’t much of a talker, Bradley was wearing some faded Jean’s and black T-shirt with his arms folded. ‘he could pass for a biker gang dude' thought Marcel

But I was no fool, I knew that this expression was not one that came with happiness or grace. “Come closer,” Luna Isobel said. “I didn’t call for you to stand like a statue.” I did, holding my breath for one second before I forced myself to be composed. Her eyes dropped immediately, to my collarbone, my neck, where the marks Marcel had left were impossible to miss. She stared for a second longer than necessary, lips thinning. I wanted to cover them, but Marcel wouldn’t allow it… I believed that it was his own way of showing the claim he was having over me.

"No problem at all, we'll work with what you have. How about we do some half braids, and a high ponytail, no? Marcella hesitated for a moment before nodding her approval. "Okay, that sounds good," she said. She had liked the simple high bun Esmeralda had done for her but she was curious to see what a professional stylist would do as he proceeded to go wash her hair before he began styling it. Gina was already chatting away with another stylist, discussing the different hairstyles that would suit her straight hair. Marcella tried to relax and let the stylist do his job, but she couldn't help feeling nervous about how her hair would turn out.

Marie trailed them, her earlier humiliation forgotten in the wake of something far more immediate. Within seconds, the once-elegant runway had become a circle of anxious onlookers. At its centre— Maël, stout and red-faced in a black suit, shoved Marcello violently. Marcello staggered backward, losing his footing. “Damn little bastard!” Maël spat. “Let’s see how you like this!” He advanced again, short legs pumping with surprising aggression, and attempted to climb atop Marcello as he struggled upright. Marcello had only just regained his balance when Maël grabbed his shoulder and forced him downward.

Then a hand went up. “It’s y equals mx plus b.” I turned toward the voice. The guy sitting next to me was Hispanic. Sharp jawline. Curly hair. Blue eyes. Arms like tree trunks. “That’s correct,” Mrs. Payne said. “And your name?” “Marcelo,” he replied. “My name is Marcelo.”

"It's your wedding day bro, maybe smile a little." Hailey said, arranging Marcel's tie. She was wearing a mini blue gown that Abigail got for her and she was excited. More excited than her brother was. Marcel wore a black tuxedo, his hair was made to fall a little over his face and his shoes were the darkest shades of black. He had his hands beside him balled into fists. He didn't realize it until Hailey pointed it out. His head was plagued with the thought of Racheal.

Till it was healed I can’t let him see it, that would only raise suspicion. ^^^ “Here is the hair you asked for!.” Marcel said he pulled out the hair Faye gave him. “Beautiful!.” The witch said and sniffed the hair, she rubbed it on her skin and sniffed it again. “Did you have me send someone to get her hair to just sniff it?!.” Marcel asked out of irritation. “No!.” She replied with a sharp tone.

“Harry.” “Tell me that you’re glad to see me,” Harry’s appearance was, as always, dramatically beautiful. Tall, lean, broad shouldered, and dressed with an effortless elegance that Meguitte could never reproduce, their hair was a waist length, silky straight dyed golden curtain. From behind she might have mistaken Harry for Talen, though Talen had not worn his hair that length since his time in Alden whilst he had been grieving Gera, and Talen tended more to denim and flannelette than designer wear.

A woman stood by the mirror, calm and focused, already preparing everything like she’d done it a thousand times. “This is Glenda,” Marcelo said proudly. “One of Paris’ best hairstylists and makeup artists. You’re in excellent hands.” “Hi,” I smiled at her. “Thank you for making time out today. I know you’re probably very busy.” She nodded slightly. “Actually,” I continued, “I just want something simple, nothing heavy. I still want to look like myself.” “Oh, we hear you. You mean humbly fabulous,” Marcelo said. “Don’t worry. We keep it natural. Just elevated.” Glenda said, smiling knowingly. And she got to work.

Her hair was styled in a bun, and she had light makeup. While Harley was wearing her school uniform. Harris whistled and said, "Mrs.Scott you look nice, I'm sure Mason clay would be focused on you, rather than signing the document." Although Harris had merely teased Jules, Hero and Hardin did not take it well. 'She probably dressed this way to impress Mason,' Hero thought with a frown. While Hardin scoffed. 'Her nice looks would be in vain_Let's see how she'd be able to get the document.'