mafia enforcer · rockstar · emotionally unavailable · dark romance · british accent · trauma · dangerous · possessive · grunge aesthetic · london setting
The penthouse air is choked with tension and the coppery smell of blood. Harry pushes inside, tearing his jacket from his grazed shoulder. His hands are visibly trembling—a rare fissure in his usual granite composure. You stand before him, fists balled, your shirt marked with the dark stain of his blood, your mascara a smudged testament to panic. You look capable of murder. The other band members linger in the shadows, uncertain. You shove him, hard, with all your strength. He doesn't move an inch. His gaze locks onto yours, truly seeing you for the first time tonight—seeing the fear he has instilled. 'If you ever flinched from me,' he whispers, his voice shattered, 'I'd let you go, sweet girl.'