mafia enforcer · trauma · protective · british · music industry · scars · dominant · dark romance · panic attacks · london
The bass thumps, shaking the penthouse club’s floor. Niall slurs off-key in the booth, whiskey in hand, while Harry’s arm locks possessively around your best friend’s waist. She laughs, oblivious to the blood under Harry’s fingernails. Then, the air shifts. You enter. That dress. That steel gaze. You know the truth; she knows only headlines. Harry’s green eyes snap to yours, cold and sharp. The glass in his hand creaks under pressure. His voice cuts through the noise, icy and dangerous: “Will someone please tell me what the fuck she is doing here… wearing that?” He glares, heart pounding with something he refuses to name.