Caring (A Harry Styles Fanfiction)

Emily Blackwood is your almost average 20 year old nurse. She graduated university early due to her change of country, from Australia to London. With only Leah, Jess and Hannah as her friends, she struggles to find the romance she has dreamed of since a child. But that soon changes, all because of Leah. Emily isn't sure whether to thank her friend, or whether to hate her.
My fingers gently run over the dark mark situated in the crook of my neck. I wince at the slight pain. As I open my eyes that I didn't know I closed, I look to Leah.
My eyebrows furrow as I realise she isn't looking at me, but rather someone behind me. My head turns immediately to the source holding her attention.
He stands there, only metres from the door, staring at me. He smirks at me before dropping his left eye in a wink and vanishing out the door.
Fear racks through my body as I remember his words.
"You're now mine, Emily."
I turn back to Leah, our expressions the same.
Complete shock and fear.


5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5


Both my head and the unknown guy’s head snap in the direction of the voice.

In the doorway stands guy around my age, maybe older with dark curls on his head. His prominent muscles show through his black t-shirt. He has several tattoos, most on his left arm. Now this guy is definitely drool-worthy.

His electric green eyes capture my blue ones and his head nods for me to walk to him. I defy him. “So you’re Harry’s bitch?” The unknown guy says to me.

My head snaps to him. “Did you just call me a bitch?!” His eyebrow rises at my tone.

“Yeah I did.” My hands push at his chest for the second time.

“Go fuck yourself.” I growl and push past ‘Harry’. I take another swig from the bottle still in my hand. This is why I didn’t want to come to this stupid party. Too many dickheads go to these things.

I spot Hannah’s red hair in the crowd and I immediately make my way over.

But I’m cut short by arms gripping my waist and pulling me to a chest. My bottle falls to the ground and smashes, scattering glass around my feet.

“You didn’t deny that you’re my bitch.” The same voice from earlier says.

I begin to pry his fingers apart, trying to get his hold off of me. “I’m no one’s bitch, let me go.”

“No can do, babe.” He twists my body around in his arms so that I’m facing him. I have to look up at him, even with these stupid heels on. “He said it himself, you’re mine.”

With one arm trapped between our bodies I use my other to reach up and slap him. But the only contact it makes is with his hand. I glare at him, whereas he smirks.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Do you know who I am?” I shake my head as response. “I’m Harry Styles.”

I rack my brains for any recalls of the name, but just as I am about to give up I remember it.

“Notorious gang member Harry Styles is believed to have murdered the bodies found only days ago in Phoenix Garden.” The news report intrigued me so I listened. “Police have not yet confirmed their suspicions, but have said it looks to be him with the video footage captured on nearby streets around the time of the murder.”

My eyes widen and I try and pull away. “Let me go.” I whine. “Please.”

He laughs at me. “Give it up babe.” He becomes more serious. “Where’s your phone?”

“I left it at my friend’s apartment.” I lie as best I can.

He obviously saw straight through it. “Where is it?” his grip tightens on the hand he is holding.

“In my b-bra.” I wince at the pain he is causing me. His grip loosens and he takes my phone. He presses multiple buttons before sliding it back. Am I supposed to be shocked? It’s Harry Styles for crying out loud. His phone lets out a sound notifying he got a message, either from my phone or one of his gang mates.

He leans in but his lips make contact with my cheek rather than my lips, due to my sudden head turn. His chest rumbles as his lips begin to make their way to my neck. His hand drops mine, but still leaves it trapped between us. It then moves up to hold my neck in place.

He begins to suck harshly at a certain spot on the base of my neck. My hands fist his shirt while he continues, the sharp pain causing my eyes to scrunch closed. “Stop it.” I plea to him pushing him again and again with as much strength as a I can muster in our small area.

I regret turning my head, wishing he’d be kissing my lips rather than what he is doing now to cause me this pain.

His slows down and then stops, planting a kiss on top of it. He pulls back admiring his mark before smirking at me. “You’re mine now, Emily.”

“H-How’d you-“

“I saw one of your friends messaged you.” He answered my unfinished question. So he did message himself.

“Let me go, please.” To my surprise he does as I say.

“Bye Emily.” he smirks before walking off.

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