anyways
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“Either find that thong or find a way to get a new one delivered to the bus,” he hisses, digging his fingertips into the soft skin above Harry’s waistband.
“What? Why?” Harry blinks at him, confusion etched into the creases of his forehead. He reaches for Louis’s waist, and Louis smacks his hand away.
“If you want to be a slut, you can get the full treatment,” Louis replies simply, stepping away. “You’re needed on stage.”
or
zayn takes a bite out of the candy thong harry wears onstage. obviously that isn't the end of the story.
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“I need time off Friday.” He says, no eye contact, no hello.
Louis unclenches his teeth and tries for casual. “Is that so? Tomorrow Friday, or...”
“Tomorrow.”
“Hm... short notice.”
“You’ll live.”
Louis scoffs, shocked by the attitude after how well they’ve gotten along the last few days. “Harry, I have a meeting in fifteen minutes. I don’t have time for this right now. Come find me at the end of the day.”
“No.” Harry crosses his arms over his chest.
Here we go.
“No?” Louis clarifies.
“I need to know now.” Harry insists with a casual shrug.
“You need to know now.”
“Are you a parrot?”
“Are you a toddler? If you need PTO, you request it through the company calendar. I’ll decide whether or not to approve it... when I have time.”
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As a recovering addict, Louis lives a structured life. He lives by a list of rules, determined not to break them. Harry comes along and puts that list to the test, slowly ticking off item by item, and Louis is helpless to stop it. -
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Harry never knew his family was any different. Sure, he grew up with a few dozen siblings, more than one set of adults to watch over him, but that was normal, right?
His parents called it a commune. But the law enforcement that took them away in cuffs called it a cult.
Alone and too dependent to set out on his own, Harry is sent home with one of the social workers to show him the ins and outs of normal society.
Harry doesn't think too much of Louis, or anyone else. After all, he grew up learning how to thrive off the land, he just needs a few days to learn before he leaves this whole situation behind him.
Except... what's an Omega? -
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Summary: Teenager Harry Styles is simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Witness to a fight between rivalling groups of some kind (the Montague’s and Capulet’s, the mafia, local street gangs, organised crime, Harry doesn’t know) a disturbed Harry is assaulted with the sight of a few dead bodies and as blue eyes turn to him, he desperately tries to run.
Typically, gang leader Louis ‘Tommo’ Tomlinson doesn’t allow innocent bystanders to get caught up in such business, but the curly-haired school-boy appeared out of nowhere and had seen far too much. The smartest thing for Louis to do would be to put a bullet in the boy’s skull but he just can’t bring himself to pull the trigger. Of course, he can’t just let the boy get away. So naturally he kidnaps Harry instead.
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Someone once said luck was believing you were lucky. Louis had always believed that person was a fucking lunatic. Or worse: an optimist. Whoever said that had clearly never met Louis Tomlinson. And now Louis had to live with the fact Zayn and Harry had fucked on the same counter he made his sandwiches and had to pretend he was fine with it. Pretend it didn’t get under his skin, knowing Harry’s perfect mouth had been Zayn’s to kiss, bite, and fuck open. That Harry had been told to obey and had done it. For Zayn, not for him. That Zayn had slapped that arse, made him come, owned every bit of him, while Louis had been stuck in his room with his own hand. He’d have to live with it. Bad luck, plain and simple.