Pillow Harry Styles Novels & Stories

"He came back." Brooklyn chewed on her lip and guessed she must be in Harry's room. She climbed out from underneath the black silky sheets and padded over to the wardrobe, curiously opening it and peering inside Harry's personal belongings. "Black, grey, white, black, cream, black- Oh pink!" The flicked through his dismal coloured outfits and smirked when she spotted one of the only items of colour, a pink shirt. She couldn't help but think about how good he'd look in that pink shirt.

His protruding belly sagged in the white t-shirt he wore, and his short height made me want to laugh. He didn't look like a man who could throw a fist, let alone fight for the Scorpio. Perhaps I was in the wrong area or with the wrong person. “Uhm… are you Harry?” I asked, tilting my head to the side as I waited for the ‘no’. "Yes!” He blurted out, and my head jerked straight in disbelief. I scanned his body again, confused. "Do you want to make a dress?” He asked as he headed back to his station.

We stopped at a channel long enough to hear a name that stopped me in my tracks. Harry Joseman. My neck nearly snapped as I turned to look at the TV. Oasis TV was airing, the same news company we had met at Harry’s company the other day. Sure enough, Harry was on the screen, in an impeccably ironed navy green suit — a colour I had told him suited him best. His voice filtered from the TV, painfully familiar. “…because signing a deal with Harper is really one of my biggest wins. Myself and my team worked super hard on it, especially my girlfriend, Cassandra Indigo.”

“It was hanboks a few days ago. Now she’s obsessed with Lolita fashion.” “She argued that she had been held captive for nineteen years, and now that she’s finally free, she wants to become the live version of Love Nikki.” The man shook his head in despair. “By the way, what on earth is Love Nikki?” Sally, “...” “Uh, about that…” “Anyway.” Jameson took a deep breath and walked over to Sally as he took a receipt that was about two feet long. “Here’s a rundown of her expenses over the past few days.

I read some Thiera Luna works in Good Novel and when sleep kick in I put my phone in the side and fall asleep. I woke up and goes downstairs. I saw Hilary's parents getting ready. Hilary's dad is wearing a white polo and now he is putting a black coat above it. While Hilary's mom is wearing a long dress semi-formal style. It is a dime green with five buttons in the breast and off-shoulder type. "Why you sure still not ready?" Hilary's mom asked. "Go to the shower room and take a bath," she said, handle me the robe. I then take s shower.

Styles wasn't his surname, wasn't part of his name. “Sorry for not introducing myself, but I'm not Mr Styles.” he replied and he heard her laugh beautifully, making his heart flutter. “Ofcourse, I know who you are. I can recognize your voice, Mr Harry.” Ciara responded and he smiled a bit, grateful for the fact that at least, she knew who it was. “Why did you call me Mr styles?” His curiosity got the better of him, so he asked. “You know, Harry. Like Harry Styles.” she replied and he smiled. They had met only once, and she was already cracking jokes with him.

Of course she got him to promise to do an interview for her always-upcoming YouTube channel. Harry joined us a while later, just back from the gym, and the sweaty version of the Persian Prince in a tight tee and running shorts was almost hotter than his casual street fashion. Before Amy and I could kill her, Trisha rested a hand on his forearm and met his eyes dead serious. “If you ever get tired of men, you have Fran’s number.” “To get in a fight with the Haunter?” “What? Oh, no. I’m saying ‘cause she has my number.”

The two of them shared each other in a manly way and Kavinsky walked in. Harry is wearing a white round-neck top and black pants, he held a cup of coffee in his left hand. He had black straight hair which made a bang in front of his face. His face is oblong and his eyes were black too. "What of your Dad?", Kavinsky asked crashing on the brown sofa. "He is at work", Harry replied sipping the coffee he held. "Aren't you going to offer me one?", Kavinsky asked referring to the coffee "Nah, am cool", Harry replied and they both laughed