#lounge singer!reader

standing outside the club with your stage clothes still on and an unlit cigarette between your cold fingers while you watched the rain fall on the street. you had no intentions of lighting it but when a well dressed man offered his fancy looking lit lighter to you you found yourself unable to decline the offer. “fantastic set tonight.”  he said as you were close to the flame.

“thank you. the crowd hates me here, i don’t know why i bother.” you grumbled, breathing out the smoke you had dragged out of the death stick.

“perhaps i can save this place from people that don’t appreciate such talent.” the man so casually exposed and got your attention back to him and away from the nippy rain, both his hands stuffed in his trousers.

“and you are?” curiosity rose inside you, it wasn’t the first time a business man spoke to you but you had a good memory for faces and you didn’t recall ever seeing him around the club before.

“harrison osterfield,” the man introduced himself and the name rang all the bells in your head, remaining quiet when you linked the surname with the poised with which he carried himself, immediately thinking you might be in danger in his presence. a shiver shook your body subtly yet, not subtle enough for him to ignore it. “do you want my coat? it’s really cold out here.” he offered, not moving until you nodded your head. you were moving without thinking much, both mesmerised and mildly terrified of him.

he stepped closer to you draping the garment over your shoulders, the scent of his cologne and laundry products mixed in the most intoxicating smell that had graced your senses in a long time. “so, you’re planning on buying this place?” you quizzed, closing the man’s coat over your chest with your free hand. 

“i already did it.” harrison said, a slight cocky tone could be detected in his admission. “would love to have you around for a meeting. you know, to speak about your contract.” he adjusted his suit jacket casually.

“i don’t have a contract.” you scoffed, thinking of how little you were paid for singing in such shit hole.

“yet.” he finished for you. your eyes fixated themselves on his and for long seconds you found it impossible to look away. the pale blue of them shining even under the dimmed light over them. “may i get you a drink?” he smirked at you when the silence was starting to get too much.