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A Beginners Guide On How NOT to Stage A Pseudocide (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter Text

It was the adrenaline factor Louis longed for.

He wanted the feeling of red hot wildfires seeping through his veins, all the way to the very fingertips that danced around the cold metal of the trigger, or blade perhaps, of whatever obscene tool he'd use to perfect the deed. He'd wanted to hear the eloquent melody of throaty cries cracking from the mouth of a victim in peril, each settling his satisfaction by a miniscule, yet increasing percentage. The feeling of pure serendipity would be in the air the day he of course, flawlessly, executed the task.

It wasn't just that he was crazy homicidal and would kill every single man that came in sight to him. There was a connection, a certain pulsing tension between him, and whoever he desired for his next victim, though he'd never felt it strong enough to care completely. Maybe it was beauty, the fact he had a blood kink didn't help at all...he wasn't sure.

And even though no selected man was present, Louis was feeling the ragged angst ridden experience, and he felt stronger than ever. The feeling pulsed through his a lesser volume.

And Feeling the full satisfaction was needed.


"Louis! Louis!" Liam called from across the room. "You're at the drive thru!"

Louis was snapped out of his fantasy by Liam, then alarmingly, breaking the worst news of the morning. Louis loved his second job, he really did. He loved the blend of creamy espresso scents mixed with distinguishing caramel. He loved conversing with his friends Zayn and Liam under the backgrounds of steam, and tastes of doubleshots. He loved watching little kids smile at the sight of a cake pop or a frappuccino he'd decorated for them and made extra special. Although it was just a Starbucks, it felt like home more than the shitty apartment he escaped to every night.

The drive-thru however, was not something he loved, at all. In fact he referred to it as "The downfall of the entire Walnut Ln. Starbucks workforce" On a bad day, once.

For one, he didn't have the best customer service skills when it came to adults. Kids were no problem, most of the time he'd strike up conversation with one. He still occurred with the occasional 5 year old pesticide, in which he'd gladly add a pinch of salt to their drink, or worse. Listening to complicated orders through the crackly speaker system out of his one good ear, was almost the worst part of the day. He was one of their fastest and best baristas, and the fact he couldn't just take that job instead was slightly infuriating.

"Seriously? Can't Zayn just do it?" Louis asked in annoyance. "No Louis. You haven't had drive thru this week." He rolled his eyes. "Could we keep it that way?" He asked, putting the tamper beside the blender. Some new girl had the urge to rearrange his setup, which he liked to keep in order.
"No. We have a few customers already. Get up there." Louis guffawed, then placed the microphone in his ear, looking at the already piling up line of cars.

"What do you want?" He asked, bluntly to the car. Liam sighed from the other side of the room, pumping vanilla syrup in his sugar drenched drink. Seriously, the man liked a chai tea latte, with cinnamon dolce cold foam, caramel syrup, and a nice dump of frap roast to compliment.

"Be nicer than that Louis!" He called. Louis then decided to use his words sparingly, and stuck his middle finger up at Liam, a signature move of his.

"No employee treats me like that!" She fired back, some annoying accent ringing off her voice. Definitely not Yorkshire, Essex, or anything like that. Fire boiled in his veins, then he bit his lip.

"Just did. Now what do you want? You're holding up the line." Liam stomped his foot, while Zayn was laughing his head off on the other side of the room.

"Clarisse...What would you like?" She asked, through obvious gritted teeth to what sounded like her daughter. Louis enjoyed listening to these types of customers, and though he objected to it, the best part of working at any cafe was the eavesdropping. This woman seemed more like the annoying type of parent, he'd like to see her husband's relationship dynamics.

"Chocolate Frappuccino." Her daughter said, in a cute voice, the high one most 5 year olds had. He called it back to Liam and Zayn, then he nodded, and started mixing up the blend.

"Mocha frap, alright. Anything else?"

"You are not getting that! Too much sugar!" He rolled his eyes. Not one of those moms. They occupied the shop from time to time, those annoyances.

"Ma'am, we've already started preparing the order." He said, smirking. Yes, he was slightly sadistic on his own, but watching her brim with anger was slightly enthralling.

"Well put it back!" She yelled in anger. "How often do you do this? Filling these kids with sugar? You don't want these kids to kill their bodies with fats and grease, do you?" She shrieked.

"Technically I believe that all bodies are beautiful, but We'll have to proceed by giving you the drink ma'am. We charged it to your rewards card already. Would you like anything?"

"A sweet cream cold brew with 3 stevias." She said.

Hypocrites. Bugged the shit out of him.

"We will not be using this location again." She whispered. "Good." Louis mouthed. Liam stomped his foot in annoyance, then walked over, power oozing from every step he took. "Stop talking to them like that! You're scaring off customers for Christ's sake." He yanked the earbud out of Louis's ear.

"Don't assign him the drive thru again Liam! It'll make all our lives easier." Zayn said, speaking real, utter truth. It was true, it was Liam that insistently decided to stick him up in his least favorite part of the almost...entire world.

Even though they annoyed the shit out of him, these idiots were the only thing Louis revolved around.

He'd met Zayn freshman year of highschool at Julie Reffing's birthday party, the both of them scattered into the crowd of everyone from hopeless stoners sloppily munching cupcakes to the elite competitive dancers being forced to play striptease, when Zayn and Louis shared a puff of a cigar, and maybe shared a secret too many. Zayn had been there for Louis on countless occasions, and he'd been the only one besides Liam he had come out as pansexual to yet. Liam came in Junior year of college, in intro to novelism, after they'd been paired up for a partner writing project. They'd been learning to write perspective, and Louis's snarky writing style clashed perfectly with Liam's eloquent prose. They realized they also fit together in an abundance of ways, other than writing, and figured he was a good guy to keep around.

Louis loved them so astronomically much. In some hazy fantasy, he was the sun, Liam and Zayn were the planets keeping him in function. Zayn could always sit and listen to Louis when he needed it, Liam could always make him feel better. He'd never let anything get between the three of them. 7 years of friendship could as well...amount to forever.

"Can I have my earbud back?" Louis asked. Liam rolled his eyes, then his lips turned into a curve. "Fine. Don't do anything else stupid." He said putting extreme emphasis on the word don't. He inserted it below his lobe, then felt Zayn behind him.

Pissing off a customer wasn't always a bad thing.

Zayn handed him the frappuccino. Then he absentmindedly handed it to the little girl, a cute about 5 year old with a round nose and long plaits down her back.

"Frappuccino for Clarisse!" Louis said, smiling.

He'll be a really amazing father one day.

"I told you not to give her that!" Her mom said. "You contribute to the childhood obesity epidemic!" She said, unscrewing the lid.

And oh fucking no.

She grabbed the cup full of chocolatey deliciousness, then put every ounce of force into her arms, flinging it straight up at him, drenching his fluffy brown hair in the cold thick liquid. Zayn was cackling in the other side of the room as he whipped up some purpley concoction, probably from the dreaded secret menu.

Then she was off, and Louis found himself sinking to the floor in laughter, even though the lady had in fact driven off without her payment (Or his tip.) It was really hilarious, him and Zayn were walking around in mockery of the lady.

"Oh Clarisse! You may not eat that!" Zayn said, walking around giggling. "Oh no! Too much sugar!" Louis started laughing with him in unison, walking around with the goop mussed into his brown hair.

"You are never getting to work drive thru again!" Liam said. Louis smiled over his shoulder. "Fabulous!" He said, in a slightly dramaticized voice. "Now you're up at the counter!"

And working back up at the counter, away from that stupid crackling speaker, was something he'd easily settle for.

He pulled on his name tag, where he'd doodled Louis in wavy lettering, with stoner smiley faces peppering the spare room, then set in the smile that got customers happy. They'd get a slight glimpse of him as he mixed up their drinks and asked for a brief order. They wouldn't describe the joint as "Soulless, overpriced, and granola." like his mum had. He wasn't sure why granola got into the mix of terms, but it had, and her opinion still remained that he should get a real boring office job sucking the creativity out of his life.

But what 28 year old listens to his parents anyway? Where was the point or fun in that?

The familiar distinctive bell rings signaling a customer inside, telling Louis to stop doodling on one of the cups and snap back into barista mode. He smiled about half sincerely, until his jaw dropped at the tall man in front of him.

His hair was tousled into a messy and fluffy do, his eyes two pale green pools of light. He had a sexy, yet sweet smile, bringing comfort yet a slight intimidation to it. His fingers were lined with maybe one too many rings, something he'd never seen another boy wear, yet he seriously pulled off perfectly; along with blue and black nail polish. He had a simple style, clothed in khakis, a nike sweatshirt, a collared shirt underneath, with a chain necklace on his neck.

He was so beautiful, it felt illegal.

He turned away, trying to hide his awe for him, whatever his name was, then watched as both Zayn and Liam flocked up to the counter thinking partially the same thing, maybe about 15%

He wanted to see him, brash on the cold hardwood floors, with pools and pools of blood filling the cracks. That might just have been the slim reason it felt illegal.

Yet it sounded euphoric.

"What's up I'm Louis." He flipped his cup, then scribbled his name on it..and coyly added his number under it.

"What can I get you?" He smiled. . He was hot, and Zayn and Liam both were boy crazy. Louis was thinking of slipping his number on the side of his cup, but he was holding off on it for the moment.

He'd love to see..him... bloodied on the floor, as he made a scene of shrieks and cries. He'd hear jumbles of mercy in the form of pleas from his deep, or possibly high voice, as a blade was atop his throat... Silently threatening to pull down.

It was a sick thought, but it was irresistible.

"Could you do an iced oatmilk latte with a pump of Hazelnut and drizzle of caramel? And a pumpkin bread?" He nodded, then looked at him. He looked like a black coffee or espresso shot type, yet he preferred sugar. Quite an admirable trait, in Louis's book.

"Most definitely, That'll be $8.19." He smiled, then let out a muttered thank you. He started fishing through his wallet, then watched as he pulled out his credit card, something that was branded with American Express...and dark. God, it was heavier than it looked too.

Holy shit!

Of course it was a black card.

"I'll have that right out to you." He said, in a fast manner as he fumbled with the card in the chip reader. He handed it back, then as he walked to his table, scribbled his number on the cup.

"Holy shit, Louis!" Liam said, looking into his eyes. "Yeah, I might have gotten his number." Louis said, cutting him off. Liam shook his head. "It's goddamn Harry Styles! You'd bet he's dating." Louis cocked his head. "How do you know his name? Don't be stealing my future husband Liam."

He shot a glance their way, then let out a slight giggle as he pulled a laptop from his bag.

"He wrote every murder mystery we read in highschool! Do you not remember?" Zayn butted in.
The memories flooded back to Louis's head. Harry Styles wrote a plethora of mysteries, the only ones liable to catch Louis's interest enough to continue on throughout middle and highschool. He'd had very fond memories of curling up under the covers at night with only a flashlight and his book in hand, waiting for the gripping ending of the classic whodunit plot. It was weird, most mysteries seemed boring to him, the plot the same every time, yet Styles were so different. So raw, uncovered or anything like that. His characters were developed, the story in an idyllically formed plotline without holes or the patchiness some writing had.

"He looks about our age, though." He added.

"He wrote the books when he was a highschooler too."

Get into his head.

"Oh." He poured the ice in the cup, then added oatmilk to the halfway line.

It would cause such a stir though, a beloved writer's death. There would be so many headlines.

Louis slapped himself on the wrist to stop thinking, then added in the Hazelnut, and coated the sides of the cup with caramel syrup, a personal favorite of his.




Angrily, he poured the coffee in the cup, stopping himself from going further. He sealed the lid, then walked over to Harry, Still feeling rather dumbfounded. He held his coffee, then set it down on his table, then his eyes suddenly fixated on the word document in front of him where Harry typed.

A cry escaped Willa's lips as the cold metal flashed against the posh contrasting chandelier. It was hushed by Dorian's slight movements, causing her to curl up on the cold hard ground of the cellar. Fast breaths followed the noise, her heart racing out of the tiny chest of her deerlike figure.

"I promised you the world, If you promised to keep quiet," He said with a smirk on his lips, slowly fading with every breath she took. She looked up, mesmerized to see it turned to gritted teeth.

"But you didn't. And you'll never fucking make up for it."

Louis's heart was racing as he read through the document, the story causing emotion to fill his bones, until a deep voice snapped him out of it.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, reading over my shoulder like that?" The same voice that was up at the counter said. Louis set the coffee down quickly.

"I'm very sorry sir. I'm a huge fan of your work. I just zoned out, very sorry." He skidded off to the counter in embarrassment. He buried his head in his hands, then let out a groan, and banged his head against the wall.

"Really screwed that up for him." Liam said, mumbling under his breath

"Yeah, No shit."

Chapter Text

"I'm hungry!" Niall said, tossing the tennis ball at the ceiling, only to get slapped in the face by it again.


"Niall, when do you not want food?" Zayn asked, sipping on some ice water. Niall was a bottomless pit, possibly in the most severe way he'd ever seen. His hunger was almost unsatisfiable. The man ate a whole pizza the other day, then decided it would be a good idea to wash it down with a pint of Ben and Jerry's, then eat the rest of Liam's leftovers in the fridge, then ate half of the dozen donuts he bought the next morning.

"I haven't eaten all day! You guys have food all around you."

"We also don't get paid." Zayn said, which caused Liam to slap him. He laughed afterward, then slammed into his pillow.


Hanging out in Zayn's basement for a little bit was a Friday night Tradition they'd had for who knows how long. It was surprisingly fun, and they could do whatever the hell they felt like. They'd named it the Harry Potter closet, having roots to Harry Potter's cupboard under the stairs size wise. Whether it was smoking the pot Niall's boss doled out for him, or having late night talks contemplating life in general. Neither of the 4 were ever the most extroverted people, so instead of going out and partying, they'd just sit in the cramped area with each other's company.

"How's the PR job been, Louis?" Zayn asked. Louis had been working his dream job recently, a high energy position working for an up and coming punk band called Heatstroke. He'd dreamt to work in the music industry for a while, ever since he was 13. He was the man who tied every branch together, the social media consultants, publicists, tour managers, and the band themselves. He loved it so much, he really did, but his boss, the official manager couldn't be more of a dick. Whenever he'd get upset with a miniscule flaw, he'd dock the weeks pay, causing him to need to take a job at Starbucks when he wasn't working there, only to keep a steady income.

"Hell." He replied. "The band themselves are super cool, but my boss couldn't be more of a dick. I got my pay docked last week, again." Louis said, letting out a sigh. Zayn shook his head.

"You can't let him keep kicking you around like that. It fucking irritates me." Liam said.


"But it's where I need to be, you get that, right?"

"Maybe financially, if you're working 2 jobs, but are you really that happy?" He asked.

That silenced Louis's lips for a minute, because the statement was...false, though admitting it wasn't probable.

If he was being honest, Louis was just dragging along, getting by as well as he could. No close family. No partner, just him, his friends, powering through the hell hole known as life, together. It wasn't ideally where most 28 year olds were, interning or working glistening jobs each day with a smile on their face, feeling sudden rushes of freedom, and being...young and blind in the world. He really was living to an extent, sure, but whatever it was, he was just alone in a way, with some funny feeling inside, that he wasn't pushing to the full extent.

"I want a boyfriend," Louis blurted, almost silently, yet Liam, Zayn and Niall still heard him, clearly.

"That is exactly what you've needed this whole time! God, Why didn't I see that?" Liam sharply said, accentuating every syllable.

"Or girlfriend, or partner in general."

"You've had no luck with girls, ever." Niall said.

"Yeah yeah yeah, You're not supposed to tell your girlfriend when a guy gives you an erection." Louis said. "That doesn't mean I've never had luck with any."

Zayn, Liam and Niall all shook their heads in unison.

"You really haven't. Let's see, how many lasted past the second date?" Liam asked.

He sighed. "1."

Elanor was lovely, and quite a gem. She'd instructed Louis to find out what.. And who his priorities were after the incident in the restaurant. He was completely fine with it, they truly weren't getting anywhere, but it was true. Girls weren't his thing, no matter how much he pushed it back.

"I got a find!" Niall said, rapidly.

"What's a find?" Zayn asked, with a smirk on. Louis shook his head. "I don't want to know... Don't." He warned. Louis knew it was a stupid dating app, he'd seen the ads with those testimonials finding they found true love. It was stupid. Search history couldn't tie two people together, just measure up to enough for a kinky one night stand.

"It's Finders Version of a Match!" Niall said.

"Oh wouldn't that just be great for Louis." Liam said in a singsong manner. Louis slammed back on the wall.

"No." He said. "Stop it." He pressed. "I'm not getting it."

"But...." Zayn said, blowing out on the cigarette he was smoking.

"But what?" He said flailing his arms. "I'm sorry, I want to meet someone in real life." He muttered in annoyance.

"You've wanted to have a you know...Ahegao orgasm."

"That's only happens in your hentais dumbass. But yes, I'd kill for one."

"This nonbinary persons been messaging me after I met Gigi."

"Sorry...What does that have to do with hentai? Or a dating app?" He asked, shrugging his shoulders. The entire conversation was jumbled up, and confusing at this point.

"They're known for having the best eye-roll orgasm on the app-by raters, and I may or may not have shown them a few photos of you..."

"Seriously, Zayn?"

"Yeah. You can either reject them, or have the best orgasm of your life."

He thought about it for a second, really into depth.

That Lonesome feeling that never left his head, might be lifted. This person... They may just make him feel alive. He wouldn't have "the joy of being a 20 something" as his mom called it.

And he'd have a damn good orgasm if nothing else.

"Fine, set me up."


Maybe: Ash Miller

Hey! You're that cute Louis dude, right? I'm Ash, the person Zayn told you about.

Louis Tomlinson 🤪🖕

Can you really do an ahegao orgasm?? I'm intrigued.

And hi, that's me.

Maybe: Ash Miller

Yup! That's me. And yes, I'm known for having one of the best on Finder. Wanna H U?

Louis Tomlinson 🤪🖕

Could I see you first? Like a photo?


Attachment: 1 Image


"HOLY FUCK!" Louis said, glaring at the photo, his cock getting hard against his pants. This person was one of the prettiest he'd ever seen.


Louis Tomlinson 🤪🖕

Are you free rn by any chance?


Let me get ready! Text me the address, unless you could come here.

Louis Tomlinson 🤪🖕

I'll be right over


"How's it going?" Niall asked.

"I don't know about you, but I'm about to have the best orgasm of my life!" He said, his smile coming into a smirk.



Louis sprawled across the tattered sofa, all spread limbs and rapid breaths, as he waited for Ash to come over. They'd had a miscommunication earlier, spiraling Louis to start cleaning the house in the fastest demeanor possible. Stress cleaning was a big problem of his, probably genetically passed down from his mom, who he found doing it more often than not. He'd had such an issue with it when he was younger, but could honestly not say anything about it now. If she were here at this very moment, she'd probably be laughing her head off, calling him a hypocrite.

He'd of course prepped the house in a manner that basically could be perceived as a visit from the queen of England, with a plethora of unnecessary gestures like a charcuterie board, a fresh set of linens and bedding on the sheets, only for him to wash later, and a display he was rather proud of in the bedroom, a necessary gesture he'd arranged for every hookup he'd had since high school.

There were candles, obviously, and he'd arranged them in a nice manner, bringing warm auburn glows to the otherwise romantically dark room. Candles were step one to a memorable hookup, along with a few rose petals peppering the area, adding a sprinkle of the most romantic and arousing color. It was science, duh.

Then there was the lube in one spot. There were varieties, Classic or strawberry KY, Durex; The red kind, whatever the hell that was flavored. Some watermelon Lube Life, an amazon variety tasting of ...duh, watermelon, his personal favorite, giving a euphoric and worthwhile wetness, and of course taste in orals.

But then, there was the kinky shit. (What else could he call it?) Harnesses, bondage and whips, dog collars, and an occasional knife. Sure, he'd completely admit he really fancied weird things, but the feeling of spikes beneath his neck was rather sensational, as well as connecting bonds formed by leather. He could go on for hours about his kinks; praise, and degrading being his favorites.

Kinky shit for a kinky man, what else was there to it?

He was busy straightening the sheets, and puffing out the white fluffy blankets. (He loved soft things, regardless of the fact he was a boy. Fuck toxic masculinity anyways...) When he heard a ring at the doorbell, causing him to run up to the door, his black hightop vans clamping against the hardwood floors. He was blushing in excitement an insane amount as he placed his hand on the steel door handle.

"Keep it cool Louis." He said to himself, then breathed in, and opened it up.

"Hi Louis." She said. Louis looked down at them. They were beautiful, just as the photos had provided, yet now she was dressed in a fluffy sanrio set, and their ice blue hair was spread across their shoulders.

"Um...H-Hey!" He said, resembling the awkward demeanor of a 12 year old. "How've you been?" He said, then facepalmed to the wall.

"Good, been working all day, but good." She said, then Louis watched as she blinked, and spread a cheery smile on her face.

Maybe he could fall in love with them. Just maybe.


"Why are already fucking better at this than me!?" Louis asked, feeling the sudden urge to chuck the ps4 controller straight at the TV. They'd been playing GTA for the past hour, and Ash was suddenly amazing at it, even though it was only their first go.

"Because you like terrorizing the pedestrians, maybe?" It was true, all he'd been doing was adamantly swerving in the street, running every stray person on the street over.

"But it's so fun!" He said, lingering on.

"For a psychopath maybe."

"You only know half of it." He said, causing both of them to erupt in a fit of giggles, Ashe laughing then leaning into Louis's chest, sending butterflies all throughout his stomach, pulling a smile on his face.

"One more round? Whoever wins Multiplayer gets a...reward of some sort?"

"Sure, but if I loose..."


"Yeah Yeah Yeah, I'll still give you a blowjob either way." Ash said, causing Louis to look up at the ceiling, then walk off to the restroom, and do a way too intense happy dance.

And for once, he truly felt he was winning.

Chapter Text




The night went through stages of hot urgent caresses, breathy kisses, and of course dramatic eye rolls until the hours were late, and both Louis and Ash headed to bed, sharing warmth through Louis’s double. Louis loved being a little spoon, he’d only tried it tonight. It felt...nice to be the one comforted for once, love and vehemence flowing through their linked bodies; Ash’s thighs wrapped around Louis’s tiny hips.

Sunlight flowed through the windows as Louis’s eyes thinned out enough to wake up, casting a luminous glow inside. Louis groaned; it was nearly 12 P.M, and he was still tired. It was probably carried over from when he was a teen, when sleeping was a valued pastime, and he didn’t have to wake up for anything specific. Liam had dismissed him from work today, which was perfect. He couldn’t have a better boss.

Ash was still asleep, dressed in the same sanrio pajamas, her head now resting on his chest. He couldn’t stop himself, then finally started playing with their hair. He’d had the urge to all night, but then hesitated from asking every time. It was relaxing in a way, pulling strands one by one into a braid.

“Where’d you learn to braid like that?” Ash asked, scaring Louis, causing him to drop the braid.

“Oh, erm, You’re awake!” He said, hesitantly grabbing it back. “Sorry about that!” He said, slightly annoyed with himself.

“It’s fine! I’m just curious how you know how to do it that well. I don’t even think I can.”
“Well, my mum died years back, just when the girls were 11 or 12, and it wasn’t like my dad was ever there to ever help them in any way they needed it, so I forced myself to learn to do hair, and make until it looked good, because..well... I wanted to be as close to a mother figure as I could.” Louis sniffled.

“It was hard for a while.” He said, then a salty tear rolled down his cheek. Ash pulled him close. “I’m sorry, I never cry in front of people.” He said, choking back a sob. “Let it out. I perfectly understand, Louis.”

“You can be vulnerable in front of me, K?” They said, her soft breaths falling onto his chest.

Louis sat there, soft salty tears dividing themselves between him and Ash, the two of them raw, and drawn by togetherness, bodies pressed together under the fluffy duvet. It was lovely, really, Louis truly felt like he could be vulnerable around Ash, just like she’d suggested.

It was beautiful, to be honest.

“Come on. I’ll fix you some breakfast before I head off.” They said, cuddling him then patting him on the back. They planted a kiss on his neck, then walked into the other room.



“I presume this one is it, sir.” Scott says, from the front seat. Harry let out a lengthy sigh as he started massaging his temples.

“Scott, you know you don’t have to call me that.” He said, pulling his head back onto the headrest of the leather seat. Scott was one of the few nice people on his team, really besides his cover artist, an artsy boy named Kai he’d known since seventh grade. His publicist was narcissistic, his editor homophobic, and his social media manager rather immature and unprepared. But then there was Scott, his chauffeur, only because his license had been revoked. Scott was nice, he kept him company on his bad days, sharing a laugh, or a beer to comfort the both of them.

“But, you’re my boss, Harry.” He said, Harry nodded, then looked at him. “Please, just call me that. It’s the next building over, I think.” Scott nodded, then started the GT up again, the engine making a distinct roaring noise, Harry leaned back, then studied the area for the brief approximately two seconds it took Scott to pull up to the house next to it, it looked pretty big for any average 28 year old to own for some reason.

“Harry, How’d you even get this address?” Scott asked, pulling up to the house, one of a few big brownstones.

“I have my ways. Don’t you worry Scott.” He said. The method he used was strange, if you will, but he needed to use this to get the other boys address, the one with the stupidly perfect brown fringe, to tell him sorry for being such a twat.

But the blonde boy, the brunette, and that artsy boy all looked like a bit of fun, both internally and externally. Though it was childish, he'd always loved a game of strip poker, or even rarely truth or dare… And he'd been fantasizing about the blonde for days.

So he pulled up, handed Scott a $100 bill (He was a generous tipper, what else could he say?) the walked into the apartment. Luckily they were on the second floor, apartment 57. (Tracking IP addresses was shockingly easy. He'd learned how to write a book.) He knocked on the door, then slowly saw the artsy boy open it up clutching what looked like a martini in his hand. He was beautiful, a stunning and strong complexion, fluffy mint dyed hair, deep brown eyes, and washboard abs on display under a silk robe.

“S’ That a Martini?” he asked.

“Want one?” He shot back. “My buddy Liam makes the best.” He said, smirking. He shrugged, then walked him inside.

“I hope you don't mind if I come inside." Harry said, leaning toward the wall, almost flirtatiously, staring deeply into the hazel pools otherwise known as his Eyes.

“Oh, no. I'm Zayn, by the way.”

“I'm H-”

“I know you. Big fan. I read all the Shadow Cults and Scotophobia books in seventh grade.” He said, causing , causing Harry to sigh. The book couldn’t have been more of a monstrosity, really. He too was in seventh grade when it was the writing was rather sloppy, with a plethora of grammatical errors. People still praised him to this day for it, and he was making a more than steady income… so he couldn't complain.

“Nice to meet you.” Someone else said, bouncing up and down, then grabbed his hand and shook it energetically. “I'm Niall! I'm a huge fan, so is Liam! During freshman year we actually used to write fanfic n’ stuff-” The blonde boy started rambling, causing Harry to giggle.

“Niall I'd almost forgotten about that!” The brunette interjected, causing himself to realize all of them all being stunning. They could EASILY get modeling jobs in an instant, instead of working in a Starbucks. He'd assumed it was a side job of some sort.
“Liam, make him a martini!” Zayn called to Liam,which he was guessing was probably the Brunette's name.

“Alright, king Zayn. I, as your apparently new servant, will follow your request.” Liam said snarkily as he shook the bottle up.

“Oh, shut the fuck up.” He murmured,as Liam was pouring it into the short stemmed glass with some olives, then handed it to Harry. He took a sip, and it truly was one of the best martinis he’d ever had, so he’d obviously gulped it down.

Then, had another.

And another after that.

He wasn’t quite drunk, just a little tipsy, only enough for a brief wave of dizziness to wash over him. Zayn was weirdly quiet, Niall was way too bouncy and Liam was acting rather manic. Harry was eying all three of them.

“We should do truth or dare.” Niall said, probably jokingly.

“Isn’t that game for kids?” Liam replied.

“And? You still sleep with a stuffed animal.”

“So do you. But No.” He said. Zayn nodded his head with Liam in unison, then pointed a finger at Niall.

“I’m not yelling at the landlord to suck my toes again.” He said, looking at him, making Harry laugh a little bit. He’d been dared to do some borderline stupid shit too, like trying out for the cheer squad, asking some random girls out (Mostly the ones they classified as ugly, though Harry didn’t seek out looks, only personality.) Thinking about it took him through a whirlwind of memories, and remembering the people that helped make them.

“It was only because you let the rest of the people at that party hold me down and do whatever they wanted to me for 10 minuets. I didn’t want Louis to suffocate me, Or throw me in the pool!/” Niall said.

“Come on, he was no worse than George!” Liam shot, causing Niall to shake his head. “Yuck. I can still taste that…'' Harry cut him off all of a sudden.

“Is Louis the boy who read over my shoulder the other day?” He asked. “The one with that stupidly good fringe and the style?” Harry asked, in a fast manner.

“Yeah…Stupidly good fringe? Wow, you got the hots for him?” Liam asked. Harry shook his head. “1. No. And 2. NEVER use the term “have the hots” AGAIN.” Harry said, laughingly, yet for some reason maddendly too. It seriously sounded like something his grandma would say...if he even knew who or where she was. Something a white facebook mom who more than generously uses the words live, laugh and love, more like.

“Could I have his address?” He asked. “I feel bad about lashing out at him.” He said, scratching his head, causing Niall to gush.

“Ohh, god his curls.” He whispered, then loudened his voice. “Listen, Louis is a twat, and he’s completely aware of it. You don’t have to apologize to him. He isn’t really that type of person.”

“But go on if you need. He lives on the 2nd floor of the McKenzie Building suite 308.”

He pulled out his phone, then went to Scott’s contact, which he insisted on of course naming Daddy Scott, because why the hell not, and texted him Louis’s address so he wouldn’t forget it, then waved goodbye.

“Sorry I’m going so soon, but maybe we could grab drinks sometime soon. Or just down some more of Liam’s martinis. Man those have a kick!” He said, pumping his hips, in a mannerism referencing the flavor. Really, he wasn’t sure what he was doing, but it caused them all to directly look down, making faces that all resembled the same way, causing Harry to cover his dick with his hands.

“Sorry, they’re both extremely gay. You’ve got a nice dick though, What size?” Niall asked, before Zayn pushed him away, interrupting him.

“This one’s gotten a little too carried away…” He said, putting his hands on his shoulders. “I’ll ask Louis to send you our numbers for drinks!”

“Really, Really Nice-” He said, while Liam grabbed his shoulders, after Zayn moved his hands away from them. “QUIT COMMENTING ON HIS DICK!” He said, shaking him to the point he shouted “Earthquake!” At the top of his lungs. Harry got out of his seat, and then opened the door.

“It was very nice meeting all of you!” He said, smiling the blushy smile through closed eyes that people claimed could pretty much get him anywhere in life.

“You too Harry!”


The apartment building which looks like Louis’s is shockingly nice for a guy who worked at a starbucks, with a whopping probably 19 floors, with red bricks placed in an elaborate structure, and yellow tinted windows flecked with metallic gold pieces. Greenery peppered the lawn, flowers popping up to pepper the area. It was beautiful really, until he looked over at the other apartment complex, which was the McKenzie, or where Louis lived. It was really a dump, with almost faded tan blocks of what looked like concrete blocks, and some dopey looking wilted vines. The garden was a monstrosity on it’s own..yuck. Being a blend of soggy colors and already far from dead plants, it was enough to make Harry want to gag. He opened the door, which was cruelly over-decorated, then decided to stop criticizing the whole room, and walk up the stairs...though the paintings were hideous.

Suite 308.

For some reason, Harry’s gut feeling was telling him not to knock at all, for some reason, but he did, then felt his heart race immediately after. Sweat, the nervous kind, pooled down his face onto his cheeks. He heard some noise, a cry, probably, then immediately opened the door in panic, as it wasn’t locked, swinging it open, then gasping as he saw it.

The blue haired person was pinning Louis down, his eyes wide in horror, with a gun to his neck.

And luckily, 15 years of writing crime paid off, and he grabbed the sharpest object close to him, which happened to be a butter knife. He heard a gunshot fired, then snapped forward in panic, a stern expression forming itself in his face.

He flipped the girl off of Louis, who started clutching his arm with a dropped jaw, then pinned them down to the floor with one hand, the knife in the other. She smirked, causing Harry to feel slightly intimidated.

“You can’t even hurt me remotely with that!” They said, laughing.

“Oh, yes I can sweetie. It just depends on where.” He said, moving his knife hand to her heart.

Then he jabbed down as hard as he could, until it was enough to make their pupils dilate, and for them to be still, on the floor, dead as a doornail.

Chapter Text

AN: welcome to the shitshow


My fucking god.

The thought booms through Louis's brain, all loud and clear. The past 20 minutes had been a whirlwind of complete chaos, all blurred from eating breakfast tacos to a gun being pointed at him. He really in a way thought he’d be the one to do this first, murder Ash, more likely Harry.


Harry was the one who completely saved him, and left a big fucking problem for the two of them in the process.

But the last part seriously didn’t matter right now.

So he ran straight to him, then half consciously fell into his arms, which made Harry wrap his around his shaking body. He stroked his back, every little touch providing an ounce of comfort to the smaller boy. Louis couldn’t get over how safe Harry felt, really. He’d stay here...well..forever if he could. The quintessential combination of little soft breaths, firm hands atop little waists, and the smell of...weirdly hot...and deathly seductive strawberry perfume against Harry’s skin was the reason
Louis’s chest was still rising and falling.

“I assume you own a thermometer?” Harry said, letting go then sitting Louis down on the couch. He nodded, then pointed to the bathroom as he pulled the blanket over his legs, only so he didn't have to look at them in the moment. The room was freezing, and still let out a strange vibe, but what could he say, an almost complete stranger just saved his life.

Harry came back in almost momentarily, carrying a cup of tea (which he wasn’t exactly sure how he’d made that fast..) a thermometer, and a cold strip, then sat down on the couch, then took out the thermometer, and touched it to his forehead, causing Louis a bit of confusion to why, as he couldn’t have had a fever.

“Why are you taking my temperature?” He asked, his voice groggy and slightly lost. When Ash pulled out the gun, really from out of nowhere, he possibly let out the highest, longest scream possible, so maybe someone….maybe a neighbor, would help.

“Because the bullet nicked you a little bit.” He pointed to a tiny hole in Louis’s arm. “Gunshots cause a fever in people who survive about 99 perfect of the time. If you look you can see the bullet hit you a little bit.” Harry looked down at the thermometer. “Yup, and you still managed to end up with a 101 degree fever.” He slowly took the wrapper off the cold pack, and then moved the fringe out of his eyes. Louis let out a sigh in relief, then slumped back down on the couch.

“Thank you, again.” He said, sipping the tea, yorkshire flavored, looking into Harry’s eyes.

And, God, they were so pretty.

“It’s not a problem.” Harry said. “I’m seriously glad I got here.” Louis wasn’t exactly sure why he was around his part of town, being how dumpy it was for the classy man known as Harry Styles.

“We just need to figure out what to do with...that.” Harry said, pointing to Ash’s body, laying on the floor, still bloodied, and, oh yeah, dead with a butter knife still through the heart. Louis sighed, then looked over at her.

“It didn’t exactly help that she has an average 2.2 million followers on Instagram, Tiktok and Twitter, and landed herself a couple modeling and acting gigs.” Harry murmured. “That’s honestly on my end though.”

He ran a hand through his hair, then walked over by the door, where Ash was on the ground, then leaned down, straight into the pool of blood causing Louis to wince, and grabbed the phone out of the jean pocket, then held the phone over their face, opening it up.

Louis didn’t know if he should’ve been questioning how much Harry knew, but at this point he seriously didn’t care, for the sole reason he saved his ass.

“If they do, we’d need to release a big ass phony statement about their decision to step away from social media and her current gigs, and some excuses for her to break contact with current acquaintances. The most reasonable idea might be to stage the death as a suicide, but that could backfire easily, and the probability an autopsy takes place won’t make it look good on our end.” Louis said, as Harry started writing something in the notebook beside him.

“We need a statement, definitely, but you’re right about the suicide. The street beside me has an abandoned house where a hoarder used to live. Papers, magazines, trash, are all extremely flammable. If we make it look like a fire….and they’re dead, so if we burn parts of the corpse it won’t hurt.

“We could pretend to go out with them.” Louis said, almost softly, as if the idea of faking his death was a methodical proposal. It was always a fantasy he’d had, about starting over, being a completely new person. He could do anything, or be anyone he decided to. Not Louis, the college dropout who’s sliding through his 20’s, passing through it as easily as possible.

He a bit.

“Pseudocide is a dangerous game, Louis. Everything needs to be in perfect synchronization, any contact can be traced, you have to pull together every little instance to avoid coincidences, the cops could catch you any minute”

“But…” He said, afterwards. “I’ve always wanted to try, and weirdly enough, I’m almost certain I know enough about it to at least not get caught, and.. Unless you get caught doing an illegal act in the process, it isn’t illegal to fake a death….”


“No laws against it, at all.”


“You’re an interesting man, Styles.” He said with a smirk.

“I’m well aware.” He pecked at some keys on the phone, then grabbed it out of Harry’s hands, causing his eyebrow to wrinkle. “What'd Ya do that for?” Harry said. “I’m the bestseller here.” Louis rolled his eyes to the very back of his head.

“I was top of the novelism class before I dropped out, you know. I know a thing or two also.” Louis said. Sure, Harry was the writer here, but that didn’t mean Louis didn’t have that novel he’d started pulling up on his laptop.

His eyes fixated themselves on Harry’s caption, which he’d been typing up under a photo of a then pink haired Ash, sporting some duck lips and a peace sign.

Ash Miller was a blessing to the otherwise shitty place known as the world.

Even if you tried to muster up every piece of hatred towards them you could, still nobody could deny it. They were a bustling bundle of joy, bringing a kinetic storm of energy everywhere they went. They were polite, advocating, and sweet. Whether it was something as large as advocating for LGBT youth in schools, or as little as comforting a fan who’d been heartbroken from a breakup, Ash Miller could always be there...and doing something effective.

When we heard Ash was dead, for reasons unknown quite yet, we were absolutely devastated. Waterworks were present, drinks were had, So much was unfinished on their end. They never reached their goal of getting to 5 million on all platforms, so we’ll be leaving that to you guys. Do it for them.


Louis finished reading Harry’s text, then looked up and sighed. There was something about his talent in writing areas that was so amazingly delicate. It was beautiful, lyrical and raw, and although he’d just stabbed her to death, something told him there was some...some at least form of connection between the two of them. It was scattered with little details that couldn’t be explained by anything else, but he didn’t question, just handed Harry back the phone.

“It’s good. Really..really good.” Louis said. Harry nodded, smiling a little too hard, for the matter Louis wasn’t criticizing something he did, but that was Louis Tomlinson for you.

“Harry?” Louis asked. He turned his head Louis’s way, locks flying in his face, covering one of his green eyes. He smiled for a brief second, then looked Louis in the eyes.

“Yeah?” He asked.

“Why were you over here in the first place?” He asked, in a low inquiry. Harry sighed, then gazed into his eyes.

“I wanted to say sorry. F-for lashing out at you.” He stuttered a bit, then itched at the back of his head. “I just really...I don’t know.”
Harry took a breath in, then pushed back what he was actually thinking.

“It’s okay Harry. You just saved my ass from getting murdered. You have nothing to be sorry about.”

“Could I repay you in any way?” Harry asked, with the wave of melancholy still washed over him Louis was producing.

“Let me think.” There were about two million things he contemplated saying, but only one familiar word slipped out.

“Beer. Or wine. Or something.” He said, leaning his head back. Harry chuckled for a second. “Fair enough.”

He needed to cope somehow. Just a moment to forget sounded...nice. Harry mentally did too, but he wouldn’t admit it, normally a slightly arrogant dick like him would be too elaborately sophisticated to drink. He did though, just like any other normal man, and he too needed it.

But something else sounded better right now.

“Fuck it, I’ve got edibles in the car.”

Chapter Text

AN: This chapter may get a little confusing in the end, so to clarify, Louis starts fantasizing, then because he’s high gets mesmerized in it, so it feels like a reality.

Third person POV

Louis had never tried an edible before. He was more of a pot person, and eating gummies or anything like that just made him hungry for more. He’d heard wonders though, like it felt like an acid trip for first time users, and gave them the euphoria they associated all drugs with when they were younger. He honestly didn't have a preference right now, just anything to lull him into distorting details of why there was a dead body on the floor.

“Scott, could you bring me the bag in the front seat glovebox?” Harry said, talking through the phone to someone; his driver, or maybe his assistant. Did Harry even have an assistant? Well, makes sense, he was a multi-bestselling author with probably a fancy car and maybe elaborately pish-posh home on the other side of London, so it would be reasonable if he had a driver, or whatever “Scott” was. Maybe Scott was his emotional support stripper, who knows.

“Ah, thanks, I’ll meet you out front!” He said. “I promise I won’t get too fucked up, but you know I write better when I’m high. Alright, Goodbye.” He hung up the phone. “I’m sorry. I’ve got about 5 edibles I need to use. Would it be okay if I invite Liam, Zayn, and Niall over?”

“Harry, there’s a body on the floor.”

“Oh, right, you wanna dispose of it first?”


“Alright then.” Harry said, then Louis smiled at the scaled down amount of dialogue the two of them had, probably because...well, he wasn’t sure why. “I’ll go get our things real quick, then we can get all trippyyyyyy.” Harry said, with a weirdly prolonged lengthening of the y, then walked outside to whoever Scott was car, his clunky steel toed doc martens clashing with the wood floor. The man was always very well dressed, honestly. He donned some intricate outfit for every photo he was in, normally with monotoned suit sets, or an edgy combo providing loads of black and spikes, like now.

In reality, Louis had never seen anybody look so good in that black polished leather blazer Harry displayed, or pull off baggy jeans with that many rips. And god, those cross earrings were enough to convert even the most religious to unholiness. Normally, if it were anyone else, he’d make some snarky comment asking if they needed a ride to their rolling stones roleplay convention, but Harry….Harry looked too fucking hot.

That didn’t matter, though.

Did it?

Harry opened the door, to see Louis sprawled across the sofa, drooling on the fluffy white couch, then laughed at his absentminded expression, snapping Louis out of his fantasy. He chucked one of the gummies at him, a weirdly large blue one. Louis flipped it over for a second, only to see the logo drawn in large yellow bubble letters, reading MoonTaxi, on it. Cool name, sounded like some name for a band or something like that, but it made sense. Harry sat down, then opened his green one, shaped like an obvious type of leaf, then put it in the palm of his hand.

“You ready?” He asked, looking at Louis, who was rapidly fiddling to get the packaging open. Opening things was never a strong suit of his, then sighed in relief as he finally managed to get it in his hand. He nodded, then let out a yeah, and popped it in his mouth in unison with Harry.

“God, that tastes good.” Louis murmured through the mouthful, then let out a shriek as his tongue tasted of soap and cinnamon, for a brief second. Harry started fishing through his bag, then grabbed something out of his bag, then threw it at Louis’s head.

“Snort this, It’ll make it kick in faster.” He grabbed the tube, and not knowing what it was, did just that.

“What even is that?” He asked in reply, rubbing his eye after clumsily getting the powder in his eye.

“Just a smaller than legal dose of crack.”

“DUMBASS! You’re not supposed to mix the two.” He said, randomly paranoid, then felt it lull over him in a chilled wave.

“Do I look like I care? Also, I didn’t want to wait hours for it to kick in.” Harry said, staring at the ceiling, his eyes slightly pink already.

I haven’t felt this good in a long time.

“You’ll begin to feel something in about 5 minuets with the two mixed. I didn’t exactly want to wait, but the Crack will be first, then the edible. Honestly, it’ll feel really euphoric for the first bit, then you’ll be tripping for the next 8 hours, if you don’t know. Anyways, Shall we watch the stars? Supposedly it feels amazing when you’re high.”

“It’s tonight already?” He asked. He was bewildered agt the fact he’d just spent hours with Harry already. Time flies when you’re having the tiniest bit of fun, I guess.

“But yes, we can. The balcony is one of the only not shitty parts about living here.” Louis said. In all truth, it was, and Harry’s amazing response to going outside was seriously proof.

The balcony itself was initially nothing special when Louis had moved in, just a miniscule hideout over a dead grassy hill by the apartment building. There was nothing to even look at, maybe more wilting flowers, and all it stood for was the owners' failed attempt to make this place beautiful like it once was, until recently, when the renovation started. Now it sat, a thick triangular glass prism, encased with fairy lights which peppered the area, a sloped fountain decorated with white cherubs which almost gave you the idea it was floating above the pool, which now had a swim-up bar for the love of god, but Louis honestly couldn’t complain. Louis had fixed his eyes on the cafe they were discreetly constructing in the corner. The thought of morning bagels and an iced coffee made his mouth water.

“Woah, this is amazing…” Harry said, Louis nodding as his voice suddenly got deeper and deeper, an obvious sign it was kicking in. Harry started laughing, which to Louis almost sounded like a slo mo, each cavernous ‘ha’ bringing a synchronous ring to his ears…

“I wish this would last forever.” Harry said, looking at Louis.

“I wish we could last forever-”




The sky is dark, a heather gray color, casting eerie shadows on everything around it. Clouds swirl in a cotton candy like mannerism, the grayish hue with a hint of blue coloration signaling rain gathering inside. A brown, old rickety house is in the background, sitting on that beach, setting the scene for something.. anything to happen. Louis plopped down on the ground, his joggers covered in a thick tan layer of sand. He sat, watching waves crash in front of him, hearing the pelicans sing their songs, filled with throaty chirps that would normally drive him crazy, but for some reason, he felt too serene to even care.

He looked back at the house. It must have been beautiful at one point, and if you cut away the chipped and faded paint, and cracked wood exterior, it still was. Now however, it didn’t look like it belonged as the backdrop for a beach. Maybe it would reside better at the end of a sketchy road, making kids flinch left and right as their friends forced them to go in as a silly product of truth or dare, when crushes were not revealed or lies weren’t told. It didn’t belong here, yet the light still was on, so some happy owner might be living there. Maybe an old couple who’d had their heyday and couldn’t let go of the memories. Who knows, honestly.

It was when he heard a gunshot he flinched back.

Then another.

And three after that.

Each gunshot sent an unpleasantly loud ring to Louis's ears. His lip quivered. What felt like gallons of a cold nervous sweat pooled on his face, and his hands shook with the force of two tiny earthquakes. His legs suddenly had the power, somehow to run, but then he realized he couldn’t. A thought boomed through his head, a big one, causing him to inhale a tiny gasp.

Harry was in there..and most likely weaponless.

Louis could’ve run, but there was something driving him to save Harry. He wasn’t sure what, but he took off as fast as he could, running to the house, in the fastest possible way he could, then creaked open the door, only to feel his heartbeat skyrocket when he saw Harry on the other end with tears in his eyes.

Then the taller boy ran, grabbing Louis in his arms, and jumped off the porch into the sand, Louis’s body beneath Harry’s as time slowed, and the house erupted in a combination of yellow, orange and red flames.

But weirdly, He wanted to stay here... forever.

Wood collapsed as the combustion lingered on, drawing closer and closer to the two boys, causing Harry’s fingers to interlock around Louis’s sweaty palms.

Louis didn’t move it.

“Louis..If we don’t make it out of here I want you to know something..” Harry said, shouting over the combination of crackling wood and cries from the other side of the building.

He nodded, then stared into Harry’s piercing forest green eyes.

“I-I’m in-.”

Before he could even finish his sentence Louis smashed his lips against Harry’s.


Then stopping the story from progressing, A wave washed over the beach, sending Louis back into reality.

“How was it?” Harry asked, as Louis slumped back into his seat.

“Good. Really, Really good.” Were the only words that came out of Louis’s mouth. Honestly he was frustrated. It all happened too fast, and it was beautiful while it lasted, but now it was...over, and he wasn’t at that beach, or by that combusting house, or being kissed by Harry Styles. It was so euphoric, but nothing good lasts forever.

That last part sucked ass.

Still, why he’d had that fantasy he wasn’t sure.

“How was yours?” He asked Harry, as if nothing had just happened, while he was confused as to why that had even happened. He liked it, but just why?

“Started tripping a bit, and felt like I was in the solar system. Fucking incredible.”

“So...faking our own deaths...Still considering it?” Louis said, in a low tone.

“It’d take some time..but I think we could do it. It’d definitely hide the fact we have a record with the cops.”

“What would your new identity be?” Yeah, maybe he was still a bit...up there, but he was genuinely curious.

“Hmmm, maybe A stunning starving artist who has talent, but hasn't had his big break?” Harry said. “Or maybe a comic. I’ve always wanted to be a comic.”

“Really? Tell me a joke.”

“Oh! Why do lesbians shop at Academy?”



“Because they don’t like Dicks.”

Louis then erupted into a fit of giggles along with Harry, who clearly thought this was funnier than he did, for a good minute, before Harry jokingly slung his arm around Louis’s shoulder. Louis let out a sharp gasp, then smiled as his heart started beating in a pattern...which was different than it normally had. It was faster, beating in quick pulses, and he wasn’t sure why.

“What would yours be?” Harry said, with husky tired undertones lingering on his voice, his arm still purposefully around Louis. He smiled, trying to dream up some amazingly creative identity.

“I’ve always liked acting quite a bit. Toyed with it in college a little, but missed the deadline to submit my reel to an agency. I just thought everything happens for a reason, so I quit trying and moved on with my life. But I’m older now and have a better work ethic, so maybe I could try.”

Honestly, Harry thought that was a cool as fuck idea.

“Let’s plan on getting rid of this body first then.”

Chapter Text


The families of Harry and Louis are completely fictional.

Crumpled balls of lined paper line the floor, sprawled in Harry’s messy handwriting. Each contains some failed bit of information on it, whether it was one of the many identities Harry had retired after a mere minute, or Louis’s probability of getting caught based on what their cause of “death” would be. So far, all they’d written down on a page titled “Steps” was “Gradually take money out of bank accounts” And “Pack LOTS of food, Including Cheese puffs.”

The body was gone, drifting somewhere in the far too cliche setting of a swamp, but they still had a million things to do as far as staging the death, which they’d figure out they’d set on fire in an abandoned home..using a fake corpse, because Harry apparently knew where to buy those. It was quick, they’d just slung it into there, and left.

Other than that, they were getting absolutely nowhere, and the fact they’d been swept up into Louis’s suggestion of watching the notebook didn’t help anything.

“We’ll plan tomorrow.” Louis said, watching Harry bite into the ice cream bar he’d clearly stolen from the fridge, gnawing into it as if he had no tooth sensitivity at all. “I wanna have a sleepover.” He said, eyeing Harry, puppy dog eyes and all.

“I have that stupid fucking deadline to hit tomorrow.” Harry said , sighing, slightly maddened tones in his voice. “Macaculey loses his shit every time I’m even a minute late.” Now he leaned back against the couch, his legs spread, the popsicle stick dancing around those cherry lips as if it were a cigarette.

And damn..

He was sweating hard.


“You could write here you know. I won’t bug you.” Louis said, an uncontrollable smirk popping on and off of his lips, he wasn’t sure why, then sat down on the couch beside him, causing Harry to tense up for a second, feeling each brush Louis’s arm provided all too well, his cheeks blushing into a light shade of pink, looking right down to his hard cock, then tried to sling one of his legs over it.

He could’ve put up his whole bullshit filled speech about his writing environment, and loads of other crap like that, how he had to have a bullet coffee at room temperature and set his diffuser to tangerine. Except each of those things made up a tiny part of him...including the fact he hated being alone, so he didn’t and nodded.

“Okay.” He said dryly, almost without any emotion at all. He was still tensed up, humming god save the queen to try and get it to go away, but he suddenly wanted to collapse on the floor as Louis pointed to it and started laughing.

“Oh fuck off.” He said, placing his hands over his pants. “Little Dipshit.” He murmured. He pressed his hands over his pants. “Sorry. Not!” Harry sighed, then rolled his eyes to the back of his head. “I’ll go make Scott get my pajamas, but I seriously need to write.”

“I swear to god that man is an equivalent to your servant.” Louis said. “Wait, you still wear pajamas?”


“Because I wear the fuzzy ones.”

He wanted to compliment that, or tell him that was fucking adorable, or maybe even spoon him right on the couch, but he couldn’t say that. That’d be flat out creepy to do also.

Still true though.

“He’s not my servant, he’s my assistant.”


“You’ve made him go get two things in the past 30 minuets, and 1 about twice in the hour before.”

“He claims he’s my assistant, but I’m pretty sure my manager makes him be there to make sure I’m mentally sane.”

“Why’s that?”

Last year, that’s what it was. And every year before that since he was six.

“Don’t know. When you start writing realistic crime novels at 12 people are bound to think something’s up.”

“Eh, go figure. Doesn’t necessarily mean you’re crazy though.”

“I had a hard childhood.” He spurted out, the words like a thick verbatim equivalent to what he was thinking. Memories flooded back to him, some good...some really fucking terrible. He shook his head. “Scott’s known me ever since I was about 6 or 7, he’s possibly why I haven’t died a few times.”

“Sounds sappy, I know.”

“No, Harry. It’s not sappy at all. Listen, I know it sounds illegitimate, and you’ve probably heard it before. If you ever need to talk-I’m here, okay?” Louis said, staring into Harry’s eyes. God, he’d thought Harry’s eyes were pretty before, but now all they reminded him of were two green pools of light. He felt mesmerized looking at them, watching them widen and close, all with the soft breaths coming from Harry’s mouth.

“Maybe I’ll take you up on it.” Harry said, softly, his eyes fixed on the popcorn ceiling, though he really had never found any aid in talking to anyone, but he didn’t want to be a dick.

“Didn’t have it so great myself.” He said.

Harry just sighed, then texted Scott to bring over his pajamas.


Harry shivered as the once radiantly steamy asphalt pelted with bits of rain. He looked at his legs, peppered in purpled bruises from the previous night, realizing how dirty hands alone could do. He glanced up at the sign, a neon one for the neighborhood Dominoes he’d ran to, just to get away from Max. It casts a red light upon him, even making the bruises look somewhat beautiful in a weird way.

Today...yet again wasn’t a good day, but none had been since he moved in with Max and Leah.

In reality, all he wanted back was Mallory, and even..Kyle, even if they hadn’t done him any favors. He wished he could still call them Mom and Dad, but so far he’d been shuffled around from household to household, being treated as if he was clueless for the past few years.

He could play dumb, but the only reason he couldn’t stay with a family for longer than 3 months at this point. The “not fitting family dynamics” was crap. Each family thought of him as an emotionally troubled 8-year-old, through all the isolation, and the tears, and those panic attacks, which was new territory to most people.

Family was an annoying concept, one that Harry wouldn’t understand for years to come.


Harry couldn’t get anything done with Louis in the room, added to the fact he’d had too many thoughts in his head.

He was too loud, too fucking funny to write with, making him laugh especially the fact he was working on a love scene, smut, whatever you want to call it. He couldn’t quite figure out where Dorian’s hands were, and Louis didn’t hesitate to make raunchy jokes, and kept chanting “Handjob! Handjob!”


Harry wanted to scream at him, but instead he just started laughing, giggling as both of their fuzzy pajama covered legs brushed for a brief second. Louis was watching the computer as Harry typed, then suddenly grabbed it out of his hands.

“Lemme try and fix that.”

He typed a few words, his fingers pecking at the keys slowly, then he finally gave it back to Harry.

He wasn’t expecting anything, but Louis was a damn good smut writer, and had surely picked up on the kinky vibe it had.

“Dorian’s hands traveled down to Willa’s hips, feeling out her body, all curves, hips, and skin, then pinned her down to the bed, his hands sweating at the sight of her. Although he was mad...furious actually, he still couldn’t help the fact she looked like a model….and teased him too fucking hard.

“What you did was clearly wrong…”

There was a sense of pleasure and excitement too good to resist as he touched the whip, a black leather device, cool in his hands, then picked it up, straddling Willa through lusciously thick thighs.

“And I need to teach you a lesson.”

Then some, surging, pulsing tension, drove Dorian’s self absorbed self to bring out his real traits, then grabbed her neck, and smiled as her eyes widened in horror as he dropped the whip, then traded it out for the silvery black pistol laying on the desk.

“What do you think?” Louis asked. “Probably total bullshit but I thought I’d give it a go. I love kinky shit like that.”

“’s honestly not bad at all. Pretty damn good if you ask me. You want to kill off Willa?” He cocked his head. “I was planning that for later on, but it fits now.” Harry said. “Where’d you learn to write like that?”


“I wanted to get a degree in creative writing, but I flunked out of school. Everyone said I had potential, but I guess I blew it.”

“At least you went. I never got a chance.” The words that came out of his own mouth for some reason hit Harry like falling bricks. Only because the phrase “Never got a chance” described too many things.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t be griefing you about that.”

They both stayed silent for a second, then Louis placed a hand on Harry’s lap, somewhat accidentally, then laid back.

Harry didn’t move it.

And instead of working more, and facing the fact his douchey publicist would yell at him for falling short of his deadline once again, he just wanted to with Louis, undistractedly. He wasn’t quite sure why.

Probably because he hadn’t had a proper friend who wasn’t just a smoking buddy in a while, and was living for the feeling, or maybe it was those little things about him he for some reason loved, like the fact his hair smelled like peaches, and he’d let him eat about 3 ice cream bars without complaining or asking why.

Because, Maybe he needed more people like Louis Tomlinson in his life.

He asked to go back on the balcony and look up at the stars.

Louis agreed with a brief little smile,and an accompanying nod, then grabbed a fuzzy blue blanket that was draped over the side of the couch. He noticed how much Louis loved fuzz, his couch was, his pants were, and so were the blankets. If he could place a bet on the fact his comforter would be too, he would.

They walked outside, listening to the cicadas chirp, background noise to the balmy summer nights, then plopped down on the floor, where Louis had spread out the blanket beneath the two of them.

Louis looked at Harry and the bright moonlight reflections on his face once again, recalling the nights events, then just sighed. Placing that same hand on Harry's lap he had a minute ago, a soft touch upon Harry's thigh, then Harry...for some reason unconsciously felt Harry's hand clench his other back.

It felt really safe.

"I love it here." Harry said, looking down from the balcony. This place was amazing to say the least, even though it seriously looked like a dump. He was considering trading out the penthouse for a suite down here.

"Really?" Louis asked. "You probably live in some fancy ass mansion and you want a place here?"

"I don't really like all of the glamour it has. It's just not me anymore. It used to be, when I was younger, because I finally felt wanted. Now I just feel like a rich twat.”

“Just because you have money you’re not automatically a twat. Wait, what do you mean by you finally felt wanted?”

“Like I said, I didn’t have a good childhood.” Harry said, tears on the brinks of his eyes, threatening to fall out any second. His lip quivered for a second, until he felt Louis’s hand move up to his shoulder.

“Do you need to talk?”

“Y-yeah.” He said, then Louis patted his back as the tears flowed.

Harry appeared so sophisticated from the second Louis had met him, but he really had a bit of a hidden side. From the start he looked the part, with all those dark (yet extremely hot) outfits and that husky voice that could make even the littlest things sound really fucking sexy, but then he saw the other side with the fuzzy pajama pants and secret love for Rom-Coms. He really didn't seem so deep after all, and maybe a tiny bit broken.

Then it all slipped out, about all Harry’s days as a foster kid, realizing family was a stupid concept he wouldn’t understand, while his mum spent her days in and out of mental hospitals, his dad gone to who knows where with only a birthday card as an indicator of the only love he had. He talked about the nights he’d walk hours to get Adderall when he’d feel himself slip then stay up for a day or two on end. He talked about all the abuse, from Max he wasn’t able to escape for almost a year, then handed everything over to Louis.

They talked for hours after that, each giving indicators of why they got to where they were now...through all the darkness, blood, sweat, and tears, then maneuvered it on to the beautiful parts, like how Harry’s passion for writing started, or unlocking childhood memories, like lite brights and talking about how fun the day before christmas break was in Primary School.

Then they went into Louis’s room, which yes, had a fuzzy comforter, just like Harry had imagined, and was decorated in soft fairy lights and a pan flag, then spread out their sleeping bags, side by side, with an intention to sleep.

“Louis?” Harry asked, voice deeper than normal, a tired tone ringing from his voice.


“You’re really fun to hang out with. I think we’ll be really good friends, also considering our plan.” Louis smiled, then kicked around silently in his sleeping bag, thank god it was dark.

“You too Harry. I feel like you get me a lot.” He said, the response a bit shabby. There were a million things he wanted to say, but couldn’t in the moment, so he grabbed his journal and a pen, then titled the page, A Letter To Harry.


Dear Harry,

You get me. I’m not saying that in a cliche way, at least I’m not trying to. You make me feel. You make me feel in depths I’ve never even come close to, whether it’s laughing or coming close to tears. I don’t like being sad, and try and put it back out of the way a lot of the time, but the type of sad you made me feel was different. I was sad, for you and for me in a way, but it was just so...beautiful because I realized someone could make me that sad. Just one single person could make me feel more than I had in years combined. I know that sounds sappy and all, but it’s what you do to me Harry.


Louis shut the book, then felt more uncontrollable tears stream down his face.

Chapter Text

TW: Sensitive mental health hints/topics

Louis woke up to the smell of chocolate and strawberries drifting through the apartment, a complete feast for his senses. Normally he wouldn’t budge out of bed this early, but something smelled really good, and he couldn’t stand it anymore.

He walked into the kitchen, only to see a plate of Pancakes with a piece of paper beside it.

Good morning. The note read. Thank you for having me last night. Had to go get some work done. I’ve been writing down some notes for the staging, we can meet up later. Once again, I had a great time.

Underneath the paper, there was a number, which Louis immediately typed into his phone, then named the contact Sir Fuckface, because who named contacts normal things any more, then skidded off to work.

The drive to work was lengthier than Louis would like, but it allowed for a nice cup of iced coffee and a pumpkin bread, and a wave to Liam and Zayn, who always paid on the house.


He opened the door to the awakening smell of espresso brewing, and the sight of Zayn trying to manically pump vanilla into some drink. Liam waved.

“Hiiiiii!!!” Liam said, handing him his usual, a yorkshire tea with milk and a sugarcube. “How was Ash?” He asked, a little absentmindedly.


“Left then ghosted me.” Maybe he’d tell them what actually happened, sometime, but now wasn’t it. The real answer still completely confused him to say the least...and he wasn’t sure how many others wondered the same.

“Shit man! I’m really sorry. I’ll set you up with someone else…” Zayn said.

“Not on finder, preferably. That’d be great though.” Louis smiled. The thought of having a partner that wasn’t going to murder him was comforting, but that was a completely normal thought.

“I got you.” Zayn said. Louis paused for a second, sipping on his tea.

He thought of last night, and all the euphoria, and the fantasies, and...Harry. Harry, who hated how much his locks mussed to his head, and how happy he’d get when Louis would fix them. Harry...who said felt the only place he could be raw, and vulnerable was when Louis was in his presence. Harry, who also just saved his life, and was willing to start a completely new one with him...which was honestly beautiful. He couldn’t really explain anything right now, yeah maybe he wanted him just a little bit, even though he hadn’t known him for long.

Scratch that, he wanted Harry, so fucking bad.

“I may or may not wanna be with someone else.” Louis said, quietly.

“You want some Harry Styles dick you little shit!!” Liam said from across the room. Louis blinked, then stared at him, dead in the eyes. “Course I do.” He replied, a bit too bluntly.

“Can’t blame you. The man’s smoking.” Zayn said. “If I were gay I’d want him.”

“You’ve made out with me and Niall multiple times! ” Liam exclaimed. It was honestly not a very valid point, it was senior year, and a point where the both of them were drop dead drunk...but it was some kind of fun to watch. The fact Zayn was practically screaming obscenities, made it about 10 times better, and it wasn’t a subject they dismissed to this day.

“Yeah, When did I say I’m necessarily straight either? Labels suck ass.”

“True.” Louis glanced at his watch. “Shit, I better go.” He said, then waved goodbye, and whisked himself back into the to the terrible world of work and adulting.


Harry had finished the book’s first draft, which released an entire world of chaos. His editor, a dick named Kyle, was effectively notifying him everytime he made any form of mistake at all, and frankly, he was tempted to jack off in the coffee he instructed him to bring him.

“You work for me, asshole.” He murmured under his breath, then stomped off to the building's coffeeshop.

He was so terribly cranky that day it was terrible, probably because of the ridiculous lack of sleep he’d gotten, and the amount of sex deprivation in his system. He’d been coming down from a complete high for the past morning, and he was fucking despising every second of this day. He should have stayed with Louis, slept in and pushed through the yelling he would endure, but he didn’t, and wanted to throw himself into a coma at the moment.

“Kyle being bitchy again?” Someone said, then Harry turned over to see a mess of overgrown and faded pink hair, then realized it was Kai Finely, like he’d stated a while ago, the only member of the team he could put up say the least.

“Yeah, the man’s been an ass since I started the book.”

“No shit man. Wanna come in?”

“Would it be okay?” He asked, a sigh of relief in his voice. He needed a break from the shitshow that was backdropping the day.

“Of course! I could show you the cover I started. on” Kai was a really fucking talented artist, probably one of the most talented Harry had seen in a long time. He wasn’t quite sure what it was, but something about the way he stylized it, the way he broke down each shape, filling them with color, bringing them to life, Harry hadn’t seen before.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”


They’d been talking for about an hour now, Harry laying on Kai’s office floor, watching as he painted, each stroke bringing a bit of life to the cover. He wasn’t sure if he was watching the painting or Kai at this point. The man had such fluffy hair, and he couldn’t help but want to touch it.

“Kai?” Harry croaked.


“Do you have a partner right now?” He asked, genuinely curious. Kai was honestly anyone's dream, with the ringlets, and the brown eyes that almost popped. They’d been running a few times, just when Harry got too tired of the team's jackshit, and he was really fit, all abs and feminine hips; a body Harry would dream of having. He wouldn’t be surprised if he was married at this point, because god, he’s such husband material.

“Wish. It’s against policy to date here. It’s a bullshit rule.”

“You wanna date Clarissa?” Harry asked in shock. Clarissa was the only somewhat attractive person at the publishing firm, and he wouldn’t be confused if she wasn’t constantly lazy and got under Kai’s skin. He’d send him texts sometimes reading off things like ‘Send me encouragement so i don’t murder clarissa.’ It was a shock, but it wasn’t terrible. She was pretty and besides the work ethic, she was nice.
“Oh fuck no! I can’t stand her. One time…”

“No! Tell me who you wanna date, NOW!” Harry said. Kai backed up for a second, covering his face with his hands, then giggled. “Please don’t tell me it’s one of those douches in there.” He whispered. Kai laughed again. “Course not!” He said, popping a mint, or something into his mouth. Harry couldn’t help but notice his rosy, pinkish, plump lips, then turned his eyes parallel to Kai’s.

The air somehow intensified that moment, and Harry tensed, almost knowing in the very back of his mind what was about to happen. He couldn’t deny what was happening, and he didn’t know what to do...more like it.

“Harry, I’ve been in love with you since we started working together.”

The words send chills down his spine, each intensifying, but he wasn’t feeling anything, weirdly enough. He was thinking, big, booming, thoughts through his brain, but he still didn’t know what to feel like.

At this moment, he wanted to disappear more than ever.

But the only thing that came out of his mouth was laughter.

It was weird, honestly, but he couldn’t help anything at all. These loud, choking, paradoxical laughs came out of his mouth, each intensifying by a bit. It wasn’t funny at all, and the fact his coworker had been in love with the fact he was 9 years younger than him, was honestly revolting. It felt so fucking funny at this point, because he was numb.

He really couldn’t feel anything anymore!

Kai looked him dead in the eyes with looks of..sympathy, even though he could tell deep down he was mad, but was pushing it back as far as he could right now. He bent down, Harry still laughing probably harder than healthily, then tapped his hand on his shoulder.

“Harry…” He said, an absence of words falling out of his lips. “What’s going on?” Kai said. Harry was smiling, some type of grin on his face.

“I don’t know.” He whispered, too quietly, then it intensified to him almost screaming. “I don’t know anymore!” Harry blinked, feeling hot, wet, maybe tears streamed through his eyes, then completely collapsed back onto the floor. He would be overthinking if he felt normal, or trying to plan a way to make Kai feel better about it, but he didn’t, and as much as he should’ve wanted it to be, it wasn’t, and for some reason, the feeling was...somewhat insatiable. Something equivalent to all those fucked up little increments of his life, was the only thing that was making him feel just...enough. It was a high, a personal drug fueling him by the moment, obviously enough to make him black out.

He really was as insane as everyone thought he was growing up.


Louis pecked at the keyboard, each key helping form another stupid word on the description...and it was driving him crazy.

Work sucked, and what made it worse was the fact he wasn’t working his own job at the moment...for the sole reason Carson Mackowitz was fucking the tech girls mom, and while he’d like to punch them both in the face, their argument was quite entertaining, as much as he hated it. Plus, all he had to do was type a brief description on the spotify homepage.

“You’re being fucking groomed! She’s not sophisticated, and neither are you! She’s a stripper! Her entire job is pretending to be in love with people, and you’re gonna end up getting your stupid ass heart broken or cheated on.” Delaney said.

“I am too sophisticated! So I like older women! Why do you care?”

“Because I wanna fuck you.” She screamed. “What’d you think? It’s because she’s my mom, asshole!’


We sing Punk with a purpose, basically meaning if you take a second out of your day to stream one of our songs, we donate half the profit to a charity, at the moment being Various LGBT Youth Funding Organizations.

Come see us on tour!

In reality, there was no purpose. Streaming services barely pay even the biggest headlining artists any, revealing how cruel the music industry could be, but it was part of the branding. The band were all nice, down to earth guys, who are completely corporately owned, when they were seen by the label, but have created a brand based on an alternative it factor, with complete sugar daddy material to be viewed by the fans by. Tour was coming up, which would be a total workload, and if he was being honest, he’d rather be “dead” by the time it started.

He was getting pretty decent at the whole writing thing though.

“You think I care about you? It’s not you I want, it’s her.”

“Shut the fuck up.” He muttered.

“Yeah! Louis said you should shut the fuck up Carson, just like everyone else in this building wants you to!”

“Suck my dick Louis!” Carson said, screaming back to him. He smirked, then turned over to him.

“Why me? You’ve got Delaney’s mom, after all.” A fit of screams emerged, then Louis looked back at Delaney screaming into one of the office pillows, when a thought popped into his head, then he pulled out his phone.

Sir Fuckface

Start withdrawing cash by small amounts

Chapter Text

Harry’s left work, and now he means business. He’s taken a nap, written, cried, a bit, then of course taken out a journal, and titled it steps. The process was too elaborate to wing, and though he had a head chalked full of these types of things, he wasn’t finding any way to write right now, his head back to Kai, and all of what happened. He was a self absorbed manic dickhead. That’s perfect. The label fit like a glove. He couldn’t be with him anyways. It would end terribly. He was 19. Harry was 27. It was self explanatory, and as much as Harry convinced himself that age didn’t matter, it wouldn’t work.

Plus Kai was pure. Harry was fragmented, and broken.

And he had been for a long time.

He didn’t ever feel. No, that was a stretch. Harry didn’t feel things the right way, that was obvious, but he never had gone crazy as to laugh when someone confessed feelings. That was so incredibly messed up of him. It was obvious, pieces of him were missing, somewhere.

But Kai was beautiful, whole, even with all the trauma he’d been through. He was soft, and the type of person who never intentionally hurt anyone. He was never selfish, instead selfless, and happy. He didn’t know why Kai would choose him, knowing how he came up being, witnessing his blood shed tears and vulnerability. He never knew why anyone could care about an arrogant son of a bitch like him, let alone fall in love with him.

He didn’t even love himself.

Yet another thing he wanted to leave behind, along with everyone else.

He took out his page, then smiled.

Bonus: Learn to love the new person you are :)

Writing that line gave him a boost of serotonin, making him feel a bit of what he just painted with a pen.

He got on task, then strayed away, ending up writing about his day, and things he liked about himself, and there was no harm in that. He was beginning to think self care was important, and he wasn’t just a narcissist. Louis had told him about that, when they were out on the porch that one night.


He didn’t know if it was just the drugs, or if he saw Louis in a different light that night. He couldn’t define it may have been platonic, but he had a feeling that it might not have been...and that scared him a bit. Relationships were scary, especially for someone who had a hard time being the bigger person, or admitting feelings without them pouring out weirdly.

He did need to think about it, though.

The night consisted of South Park reruns, and a concoction he made mixing about 3 random types of Baileys, Vodka, and some random sleep tablet that didn’t do shit. So it wasn’t healthy. It was his night. Nobody could tell him what the fuck he shoud do. Unless it was Scott, who probably was the only man with enough hold to really get him to do anything, but Scott wasn’t here, so he decided to go look at Louis’s socials-while drunk. Not the best idea.

He found it almost instantaneously, as it was called Tommo28. He’d remembered him telling him something about the symbolism of the nickname, something to do with his mom, and how it would make them both laugh, even through dark times. It was fucking cute too. He took a deep dive into looking at it. There were a fair amount of shitposts, selfies, and a lot of photos of his dog..weirdly enough.

He added a tweet, probably the most morally wrong thing he’d do tonight, and captioned it Fuck Buddies?? @Tommo28 Then hit the post button.

Only he didn’t remember the fact he had a decent following there.

He kept getting tagged, his phone feeling like an earthquake just went off in his pocket all of a sudden.


We get this, but no writing updates? Thanks @HarryStyles He flinched back at the name, then giggled at it for a solid second. It didn’t occur to him that people actually liked his stuff...or his absolutely horrendous smut. It was seriously his least favorite part of the whole writing process, probably because he hadn’t had anything to compare it to in so long.

He could’ve, easily, but the thought scared him. It may have been because he had a small part of him that hated his body, even though he had sexual thoughts and sexualized himself all the time. The thought of it was terrifying if he broke it down, he almost never felt like finishing if he was alone or with someone, because the thought of an actual person connecting with him in an intimate way hurt. The last time he’d even done anything, a year ago, being beneath the other boy he was with made him cry, and it wasn’t in any concerning way. He’d offered to stop multiple times, but Harry wanted to feel the tears eventually turned into sweat. Not an enjoyable experience, and the guy never called him back. Typical.

“Fuck.” Harry said, stuttering, aside from his normal tone of voice. “I suck.” He was on the brink of toppling over, and tears started blurring his vision. He grabbed his phone, then found his contact. By this he meant Louis...because Louis was the only guy he really thought about this fucking much.

He pressed call, then sighed as Louis answered.

“Can you come over?”

“Harry...It’s late.” His voice was thick and Harry couldn’t make out what he was saying, only because he was tired and nothing made sense.

“Please. I need you.” He listened to the rise and fall of Louis’s breath, living for the comfort of the pattern. “I’ll be over in a minute.” He said, a slight pause in his voice. “Have you been drinking?” He said, saddened a bit.

“Yeah.” He didn’t want to lie. He knew he was drunk as shit-and didn’t know how to control anything. “Alright. Don’t drink anything else, K?” He asked, then Harry recognized the familiar jangle of his keys. “I’ll be there.”

Harry hung up, then waited, texting Louis his address to make sure he wouldn’t get lost in the way. He knew he wouldn’t, he just wanted him to see something he sent.

The five minutes felt like an eternity, bringing a rising tension upon his chest, releasing it as Louis walked through the door, his hair mussed to the top of his forehead, in an old and faded Leeds festival shirt and dark blue sweatpants.

“You’ve got a nice place.” Louis sat down next to Harry, atop his couch. “I like it.”

“Thanks.” It’s dry, but he looks into Louis’s eyes, bringing more intimacy to the moment. It’s subtle, but Louis sighs, evident of the mood in the area. “Is something up?” It hits Harry like a pile of bricks, he doesn't know it, which only makes it worse. He’s a big pile of emotions right now, and nothing’s making sense.

They talk, still through it, and Louis downs enough of Harry’s random pill sprinkled drink to get him a bit loopy himself.

He can’t stop staring into Harry’s eyes. The tension is locked, and Louis can’t breathe in a functional pattern. He wants to choke, and he doesn't know why. It’s not bad, it’s good, in some sickening way and he wants it to stop as soon as possible, yet it’s enthralling. Louis can’t deal, and it’s scary. Harry’s being pulled down, a gripping sensation locked in the air around him.

And Louis could kiss him right there, all pink lips and tousled brown hair, atop raw, beautiful pale flesh. His hair curled boyishly over his ears His eyes green, “Like sea glass” As he kept repeating under his breath.

Harry couldn’t take it anymore. He felt his boner pressing tight against his pants.

“I want to leave tomorrow.” Louis said, even though he knew it almost had no possibility of actually working out considering the tracing factors, and the fact there was no planning whatsoever. Harry was so zoned out, focused on Louis’s lips of all things, so he just let out an “I’d like that.” God they were pretty, pink, and fucking wow, he was feeling something he never wanted to feel...or maybe he did. He was realizing he needed Louis all those years, even if he hadn’t exactly known. He always knew he needed a boy to touch his skin….in the way he wanted, because if anyone needed it it was him. Those years of questioning, they’d be gone. He’d wanted to somehow know someone had been in the same pain he had...not in a sick way, but one that would make him feel good, pleasured enough for him to feel heated, and his thighs to applaud in pain, yet out of a newfound gain.

He can’t think.

He can’t breathe.

“Harry?” Louis croaks. He’s trembling, and shakily crossing one leg over the top of the other. He’s biting, and pulling back as far as he can…even though he doesn't want to. “A-Are you okay?” He bites down on his lip.

“You’re stunning Louis.” He says, his eyes glassed over, a drunken smile on his lips. “God, you are too.” He whispered, so soft, a ghost may not have been able to decipher it. Louis’s head tilts, and his knees bend. Fuck, he knows what he wants, No, he knows exactly what needs.

“You know what Harry?” He’s gone ballistic, honestly both of them have, Louis only more so, not thinking about anything he’s saying. Not if it flows, not if it’s sensible, not if it even makes any sense. He’s gotten up close, far enough to see just how sea glass colored Harry’s eyes are. Both of them are thinking the same thing, and realizing their fantasy was coming true. “I want a lot of what you have, as selfish as that sounds. You’ve got a great mind. You’re strong.” He pauses, slightly, then gazes in Harry’s eyes. “I wanna be worth your time.” His accent’s deep, despite the tones of his voice normally being higher, and sometimes hard to understand. “Really?” Harry croaks out, and Louis nods slightly. His breaths rapidly increase, and Harry’s on the floor. “I want this up..” Louis says. Harry nods, a thin layer of sweat breaking out atop his skin. “I want these down.” Harry nods, giving Louis a form of consent, yet he still whispers an “is this okay?” beneath his breath. Harry nods in reply, a small smile creeping on his lips. He touches the tips of his fingers to Harry’s almost bare stomach, thumbs pressed atop the butterfly in the center, fingers wrapped around his hips, nails jarring into Harry’s raw, beautiful skin.

His voice is faster this time, rapider, turning Harry on letter by letter. “I want to feel your skin on fire. I want your heart to race atop mine and for you to know it’s me who does this to you. And that you’re the one who wants me.” It’s sappy...sappy as fuck if he’s being honest, but it’s making him hungry for more.

“And you never, never ever want me to stop.”

Before he can say anything else, Harry’s yanking Louis’s shirt off, and Louis is aiding him in getting his pants off, in a fast, raw manner that’s making Harry beg. He tosses them to the floor urgently, then Louis turns to the left, and slams Harry down to the floor, a cold wooden sort. It’s weird, because an unhealthy amount of heat is radiated from both of their bodies, cancelling out the typically cold apartments temperature.

“Where do you want me, Harry?” Louis whispered. “You want me inside you, or me to suck you off? Fuck that’s pretty pussy of yours? I’ve been wanting you since the day I saw you, Harry. You’re so beautiful. You know that. Don’t ever think you aren’t.” There’s a rare dark curl inside of Harry, twisting second by second, making him feel. The fact Louis remembered that he’d said he had both a praise and degradation kink was making him only 10 times hotter. He’s smiling, not crying or angry, but instead he points to his red, erect dick, and says. “Ride me.” He’s already losing breath, and Louis obeys, starting in a straddle through lusciously thick and toned thighs. He’s fit, with big yet softly defined biceps, and a bit of a washboard type of abs working.

Harry turns around, revealing a bare’s weirdly cute, yet hot at the same time. His neck cranes backward as Louis cock slightly brushes against his pussy. It’s attractive, crazy attractive even. He takes a hand to Harry’s asshole, hitting the rim with his first finger, then gradually adds in his second, Harry letting out a slight moan.


“Still okay Harry?” He lets out a breath, then puts a thumb up as Louis takes some spit and slathers it against his fingers. Harry could’ve died on the spot right now, and it’s a miracle he hadn’t. This felt so surreal, and he wasn’t sure he knew it even was happening. His breath hitches, partially because Louis somehow hit the spot in a better way than usual, and partially because he’s afraid to request something.

“Could you just tell me what to do?” He says. “Before you actually do anything?” He pauses. “And would you mind if I recorded?” It’s shy, and weirdly convincing. So Louis smiles, and lets out a “Yes.”

Oh fuck yes.

“Course.” He smirks. Then watched as Harry moved away and sat with his legs spread against the couch he was by, propped against a pillow. “Aren’t you pretty.” He grits his teeth, then smirks. “Can’t wait to make a mess of you.” Harry smiles, completely shamelessly as Louis wipes the sweat he quite acutely knows is building up on his forehead. “Will you let me touch you later? Please.” Harry pleads. Louis knows exactly what he’s going to do. “Of course you can. Just wanna make you feel good.” Harry nods.

“Now turn over love. Wanna finish stretching out your pretty arse. How many fingers do you think you can handle?” Louis says. Harry ponders for a minute, then croaks out a “Four.” Harry smiles. “You like to push yourself a bit. Love that about you.” Louis says. Harry nods, dark sweat laced curls bouncing against his neck. “Show me you deserve it by showing me how you stroke your pretty fat cock.” Harry starts taking himself into his hands, stroking faster and faster as his dick got wetter and wetter. It’s satisfying...both for Louis and Harry visibly.

“That’s it. See how fucking wet you are...leaking all over yourself now.” He says, then Harry’s smiling through gritted teeth.

“Jesus christ.”

When their voices were absent for the moment being, Louis was left with the obscene, wet sound of Harry jacking off. It’s good, better than anything he’d experienced in a while, watching Harry’s sheen of sweat covering his torso enlarge was better than he would’ve liked to admit.

“Could you stop touching yourself for a minute?” Harry’s hand is off of his cock now, and Harry angles himself so Louis can get back into Harry’s asshole.

He doesn't know what he’s doing. This is going incredibly fast, and it’s almost making the entire situation golden. Fuck, he barely knows this guy… and he dosen’t know what the two of them even are, but he’s enjoying it too much to stop. Harry’s filing gingerly through the drawer beside the couch, grabbing a bottle of lube then squirting it on to his fingers, then manically pumping his dick back and forth when he stops.

Oh god, this is fun.

“Is it okay if I start opening you up, Harry?” He asked softly. Harry nods, then looks into his eyes.

“I love the way you say my name. And yes, please do.”

Louis was about to die on the spot now. His entire sappy speech was actually fucking coming to life.

“You can go ahead, Louis,” Harry encouraged. “I’m ready. Gonna let you see my pretty hole.” Louis felt his cock twitch at the thought. “Go on, spread your legs so I can see, love. You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you.” He says, it’s soft this time. “Gonna show you I can be good. That I can be good for you.”

Harry’s back where he started, looking into the camera Louis even forgot he positioned, and zoomed in, while Louis used the spare moment to take in what’s happening, or who’s happening, more like it. He’s taking in Harry, his toned stomach, round pecs, and of course those goddamn sea glass eyes. He’s relieved, and happy he’s hit it this good.

With Harry’s clean hand he dragged a pillow and placed it under his bum, raising himself up so Louis could see better. Bending his knees, he reached one hand underneath himself and Louis began slowly circling around his rim.

His breath hitches, and his back arches upward, and Louis wonders if he’s doing okay. He stops for a second, then Harry instructs him to keep going, letting out a moan that didn’t sound a bit fake. Louis’ breath was the one that stopped for a second as Harry zoomed the camera in slowly to get a better view of Louis’s long fingers, shiny with lube, sliding knuckle-deep into his ass. Harry groaned loudly at the squeaking sounds his fingers made as they slid in and out, his hips jerking up, trying to get them in deeper. God, Harry needed more. He could’ve come right now, but he was holding back at the thought of Louis. He knew what he wanted.

“I wish I could feel how tight you are, how hot and wet your pretty little hole is with my dick inside.” Harry let out a long and lengthy moan, clearly getting off on the thought. But Louis knew he needed to be careful and not push too far too soon –– there was so much more he wanted to do.

As if Harry could read Louis’ thoughts, he whimpered and said, “I– I need to come, Louis. I can’t…”

“Now, now, love. Don't you wanna be good for me?" Louis said calmly. "Let me play with you a little bit more? You know I’ve got so much more planned.” He’s whispering, waiting for a response. Harry nods, and Louis realizes he’s pushing too hard, and too fast. Out of all the knowledge of the great world of edging he had, he knew what was next.

“Do you have a plug?” Harry didn’t say anything in return, just pointing to the drawer he’d gotten the lube from, and handed it to him like a gift, as if stocking his supposed sex drawer every now and then wasn’t routine, just for him. He wanted to make him feel special anyways, so he didn’t say anything, and was unaware of the fact Louis was questioning his drawer of sorts.

“I want you to put it on while I stay straddled and watch.” Harry smiles. Reaching to his side, Harry grabbed the plug, adding more lube and angling himself to push it in slowly. Louis eagerly took in the sight of the shiny toy breaching Harry's body, stretching him wide, until it was fully inside him. Breathing heavily, Harry was now starfished on the couch, cock still hard against his hip, shiny blue plug nestled between his asscheeks.

Harry moaned and arched his back, pale neck on display as his head pressed into the bed. “Oh god... yes .” His hands reached out on either side of his body, grasping at the sheets. “I like it... want it. Want you to use me,” his voice cracked. “Please…let me show you I can be a good boy, make you feel good...”

“Fuck.” Louis whispers, feeling his cock jerk just a bit too hard.
“Such a good boy for me. You’re doing so well, baby.”

If Louis thought Harry had been affected before, nothing prepared him for the wail that Harry let out at that. The sound, guttural and raw as if it had been ripped straight from his throat, was followed by a full body shiver and tears leaking from the corners of his tightly shut eyes.
“Holy shit,” Louis muttered to himself. “You like that, baby? Like being a good boy?”
“Oh like being your good boy,” he panted, turning his face towards the mirror. Then, biting his lip and closing his eyes, he said, quieter, “I like being...your baby.”

His mouth suddenly parched, Louis took a sip of his forgotten drink but his voice still sounded thick when he tried to speak. “I like it, too.”
Too fucking much I like it, Louis thought to himself as he turned the vibrations on again.
“God Louis. Need you inside me.” He’s drunk, both of them are obviously, and their dialogue isn’t the least bit natural. It’s crazy pornographic, and it’s making the inside of Louis’s thighs fill with precome, smearing them wet.

He was losing his mind.

Harry had his head thrown back, his back arched, the joints in his arm strained as he tried to angle the plug just right. Louis could tell he was getting frustrated shitless and truly, he wasn’t the only one. Louis should be canonized because frankly he was a fucking saint for holding out this long.
“P-please...I’ll be so good for you. I’d take your cock so well...” he continued to beg as Louis focused on how Harry’s abused, red rim stretched around the thick plug he was impaled on. “I’m tight,” he offered, like he even needed to bargain. “Make my pussy so fucking tight for you, milk all that come from your cock until you’re spilling into me––”

“Oh fuck this!”

Louis is suddenly coming down on Harry, so soft, even though the tension is magnetic. He’s breathing, he’s not breathing, and his heart is beating between the two of them. He’s so close the tension of Harry’s body feels like it’s evaporating as Louis grinds against his hips, causing Harry to let out a wail in the most obscene of ways.

“Is this okay? I should’ve asked first.”

"It’s so okay.”