Change ➸ h.s

Change ➸ h.s

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WpMetadataReadOngoing1h 36m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Thu, Jul 29, 2021
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Fanfic
1Direction
Harry put his one hand on my hips to flip me around so my back was to him. I held my breath as he pulled out a knife from his pocket, he brought it down to cut the ties from my wrists. I stood waiting, but the feeling of my wrists being released never came. Instead he just stood there, one hand with a knife near my hands, the other firmly latched onto my hip. My breathing was short and choppy, and I could hear him chuckle slightly behind me. "Does this make you nervous?" He bent down to breath right into my ear. The front of his body now completely flush with the back of mine. "No." I manage, my breathing now becoming even more shallow. He moves his hand under the hem of my T-shirt, his cold hands send shivers scross my skin. His skin feels grainy, no doubt still stained with the, now dry, blood from the man in the alley. "How about now?" He whispers in my ear again, I pull my head away from his. "Please dont hurt me." I beg, tears threatening to spill from my eyes again. "I'm not gonna hurt you baby," He cuts the ties on my wrist, they throb in pain. As I bring them out in front of myself I see they are covered in purple bruising. I attempt to walk forward and Harry grips my hip tighter. Bringing his free hand up under my chin and forcefully pulling my head back towards his. "Not unless you ask me to." - When Dylan Campbell witnesses a murder at the hands of the most notorious gang in the city she is tossed into a world of lust, lies, and pain. With old family secrets coming back to haunt her, nothing is as it seems. Will she loose herself trying to save everyone she loves? Or will she finally find out who she really is? One thing she knows for sure if that her once simple life is gone, and everything is about to change.
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#334
darkharry
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"Yeah, well... I'm starting to think I got stood up." The bartender clicks his tongue, setting his towel down with a slow shake of his head. "Fucking tragic. Can't say I understand it. If I had a date with you, I'd be here an hour early, dressed to fucking impress, already working out ways to keep you entertained all night." I raise an eyebrow, half-smirking. "Smooth." "Don't flatter me yet, love. That was just the warm-up." He nods toward my half-finished wine. "Tell you what-since your bloke's clearly an idiot, this one's on the house." I blink. "Seriously?" He shrugs, like it costs him absolutely nothing. "What can I say? I've got a soft spot for beautiful people with shit luck." His smirk deepens. "Also, it's good fucking business. You stay longer, you order more, and I get to look like the hero. Everyone wins." I shake my head, laughing as he pours me another glass with the kind of effortless confidence that suggests he's done this a thousand times before-offered a pretty girl a free drink, flashed a dangerous grin, made her night a little less shit. He slides the glass toward me. "Louis, by the way." "Bee," I say, taking a sip.

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