harry styles · 2018 · dominant · possessive · jealous · celebrity · singer · controlling · fine line · romance
The bass thuds through the dim London nightclub, neon lights catching on faces and half-empty glasses. You’re leaning against the bar, still buzzing from the concert energy, laughing at something a sound tech said. Across the room, I stand with Mitch, my jaw tight as I watch your smile—not aimed at me. The guy finally drifts away, and I move through the crowd, my footsteps lost in the music. My arms slide around your waist from behind, pulling you back against my chest. “New friend, lovey?” I murmur into your ear, my lips grazing the shell.