Punk One Direction One Shots

Harry for Nina Pt. 3

The man was tall, broad shouldered, and appeared to have curly hair. I knew that much. I also knew that I had been locked in his basement for three days. And finally, I knew, that my father was the reason I was here. As a child, I was aware of my father’s odd business hours, and the lie that he was a computer repair man when I drug him to Career Day. I was not, however, aware that he was involved in deep and massive debt due to a gambling addiction which he used to pay off by selling drugs, but then got involved in gang relations and couldn’t pay that off, so I’m here. In the dark, and it’s cold. But that’s okay; really, it’s the time of my very short life. So maybe I’m being a smidge sarcastic, but who cares?

The man never let me see his face; he always stayed in the shadows when he brought me food, or clothes. He would talk to me though, it wasn’t much, but it was human contact. I could hear the clip of his boats against the floor, as he came down the stairs.

“Nina, would you like to come upstairs?” his deep accent greeted me. My eyes flickered in the dark, trying to see him, but only catching the line of his body.

“Yes, that would be nice.” I answered hearing it echo of the walls. Maybe, I could run for it, distract him, and run.

The man, however, was a step ahead of me. “Don’t think of running dear, you’re never going to get away.”

I nodded, sulking slightly, struggling to stand up. The man came closer in the room, uncuffing my wrists, cursing some guy named Louis and his bondage kink. He scooped me up in his thick, toned, tattooed arms, carrying me up the stairs. The intense heat of the house mixed with my cold skin causing an involuntary shudder. To my surprise, he offered a cooing sound, adjusting his grip on me to move me closer to the center of his chest. “You’ll stay in my room.” He said, taking me upstairs. “Feel free to shower, you can put on some of my clothes.”

Even through the closed blinds, rays of sunlight lit the room, revealing his face. A long scar ran down his cheek. His hair was long, unruly, curls that brushed his shoulders. His eyes were an icy green, standing out stunningly with his plump red lips. I’d never seen a man as beautiful as he was before. Placing me on his bed, I could make out his long torso, and long pigeon toed legs. “If you’re going to stare at me like I’m some freak, I’ll put you back in the basement.” He growled approaching me, standing between my legs.

“I’m only staring because I think you’re handsome.” I mumbled captivated by his green gaze.

His head cocked to the side, his curls flopping in that direction. He slowly lowered himself beside me, hesitantly touching my cheek.  “Beautiful girls normally don’t find me attractive.” He confessed, his thick lips tracing along the side of my neck, his hands knotting in my hair.

“I’m not like most girls,...” I paused waiting for him to insert his name, but he obviously didn’t get the message. “What’s your name?”

His caresses stopped, his nose tickling against my jaw, his hands holding mine. “I only tell people I trust my name.”

“Don’t you trust me? I think it’s a bit ridiculous you don’t. Here I am, getting used to staying here, perfectly content honestly, and you won’t tell me your name? Where am I going to go? How could I exploit you?” I cried out, feeling ready to full on sob, ugly cry in front of him.

I heard him sigh, before turning my way, giving me full view of the scar that ran down his fair face. “If you can touch the scar and not be disgusted, I’ll tell you my name.”

I stretched out a finger, tracing the deep cut up and down. In some weird way, it added to his handsomeness, it gave him that devil may care look. I liked it, I loved it, so I kissed it, up and down. SO I had a bit of a fetish. He gasped below me, holding me to his lap.

“Harry, my name is Harry Styles.” He looked at me, his darting to my lips. “And you’ll love me. You’ll fall for me, we’ll spend our lives together. Just you wait and see.”