1D OAP's

The 1D Fan Retirement Home.
Specialising in perverted posts for the older, more discerning 1D fangirl.

PUNK!DIRECTION (Larry) mini-fic.

So I was on my personal account and I was killing myself in the punk direction tag when I came across a prompt from shewantsthe-1-d which said this;

I have a prompt for anyone who’ll take it. (someone take it)

Punk!Louis+ Good boy!Harry (or the other way around, idc). The punk one takes the good one to gigs and concerts and gets the good one to start smoking cigarettes (or at least try them) and they go to bars and raves and all of that with the punk one encouraging the good one to just feelit and slowly but surely the good one lets go and starts falling into that lifestyle, they start unofficially dating (this part doesn’t have to be there but A++ if it is: and the good one sees the punk one kissing someone else, caught up in the heat of the gig and the good one gets upset and is like ‘no, you can’t do that to me’ and hurt and everything, and the punk one is like ‘okay, I’m sorry, i’m just yours, i’m sorry’ and he doesn’t kiss anymore other people)  and they fall in love with the good one kind of suspended in between punk and good, maybe like a few tattoos and piercings and eyeliner but is still more responsible or something.

And I thought why the fuck not? Because the entire fandom is having punk!feels (me included) so it seemed entirely appropriate to write something like this. I’m not going to stick rigidly to the prompt but there are going to be elements of it in there so enjoy!

Title: Head On Collision.

Rating: NC-17 (probably)

Summary: "I’m feeling bruised and broken from our head on collision, I’ve never seen this side of you, another tragic case."
Harry had never been one to get embroiled in anything remotely dangerous or risky but he was about to be introduced to a whole new kind of danger in the form of Louis, the boy with the metal in his face and the ink on his skin.

Harry never even knew what a tattoo gun was before he met Louis. Their friendship up until now had been a largely whirlwind affair with the pair of them barely surfacing for breath in the three months they’d known each other. They’d met entirely by chance one evening in the pub (some of Harry’s friends knew some of Louis’ friends and they’d ended up sat next to each other) and after a brief conversation about their respective music tastes (which overlapped minutely) and several beers later, Louis was drunkenly putting his number into Harry’s iPhone.

Harry had spent the next week hovering over the ‘delete contact’ button. The boy was bad news, he was riding the crest of expulsion from university, he never handed in any work and if he did it wasn’t on time, he favoured other peoples beds and he was always out getting drunk. That was before Harry could even think about the piercings and tattoos that littered his face and his exposed skin. But just at the moment that Harry had decided that deleting Louis’ number was the best solution, he’d received a text from Louis asking him to go out that night. Against his better judgement, Harry had accepted the offer and had found himself on a bar crawl which culminated in dancing wildly in the basement of a dingy rock club on the outskirts of the city.

Harry had finally fallen into his uni halls at 7am the next morning with a pounding headache, an empty wallet and a blossoming infatuation for a heavily tattooed, blue eyed rebel. From that day forward, they were attached at the hip. Everywhere Louis went, Harry followed like a lost puppy. Harry ached for the rebellion and ‘dont-give-a-fuck’ attitude that Louis exuded and Louis lived for the gradual corruption of the quiet, shy teacher’s pet.

As the weeks had progressed, Harry had joined Louis on more and more of his rawkous nights out and had wound up in more states than he cared to mention (diving into the local river, stark-bollock-naked at 3am definitely counted as one of those states). His uni work took a back seat as Louis planted himself firmly in pole position in Harry’s life. Harry’s grades began to slip and no amount of firm words from his personal tutor could sway him into thinking that keeping away from Louis was a good idea. Deadlines came and went without Harry really noticing.

Tonight was no different, Louis’ favourite band were in town and Harry had been told he was going and wasn’t allowed to argue. Harry was tossing countless shirts out of his wardrobe onto the floor as nothing was taking his fancy.

"Fucks sake." Harry whispered to himself through gritted teeth. The plaid shirt he wanted was nowhere to be found. He checked the pile of clothes on the floor again but to no avail. His phone buzzed.

On my way over pretty boy, bringing a bottle xx

Harry grinned to himself as he tossed his phone onto a pile of papers on his desk. The papers were research he’d done for an essay that had been due in two weeks ago. The essay was half written and still in the recesses of Harry’s laptop, the night before the deadline he had been going to finish it but Louis had brought round a bottle of Jack and they’d ended up getting drunk instead.

Harry scratched his head as he tried to remember where that shirt was.

Probably at Louis’, he thought to himself. He moved onto the drawers beside his bed, searching for an old band tshirt that he could wear. He pulled out a faded, grey Pink Floyd one and sniffed the armpits. That’d do. He slinked into it, the material covering his unmarked torso perfectly.

He heard a cackle of noise at the door as some of Harry’s flatmates were leaving for a night out themselves and there was that distinctive, raspy voice.

"Looking good guys and gals! Have a good night yeah? Is he in his room?"

Louis’ voice was getting closer and not a second later, he burst through the door with all the decorum of a mating ram.

"Alright pretty boy? How’s it hangin’?" Louis chimed, surveying the mess of Harry’s bedroom floor.

"Not bad Lou, not bad… Had a bit of trouble deciding what to wear." Harry laughed nervously. He still didn’t think he was cool enough for Louis to want to hang out with.

"Fucks sake mate, it’s only an Alexisonfire gig. Besides, do you really care who’s paying attention to you so long as I am?" Louis winked, the side of his mouth quirking upward. Harry wished Louis wouldn’t joke around like that. It did things to him, things it probably shouldn’t.

"I know but I don’t wanna show you up, do I? I’ve never been to this type of thing."

"The only thing you need to worry about is letting down those curls of yours, now ‘ere, get this open." Louis said, chucking a bottle of Disaronno across the room to Harry.

The adrenaline of the gig mixed with the slowly fading buzz of the alcohol left Harry high as a kite. Louis had an arm latched around his waist as they practically fell down the steps of the venue.

"I told you mate, Dallas fucking Green is a genius. That band are like fucking gold dust, I swear to god." Louis rambled as he pulled his wallet from his back pocket and scanned it for bank notes.

"Yeah, yeah. They’re really good. You’ll have to lend me the CD’s." Harry absent-mindedly replied as he pushed his hands into his pockets and wandered beside Louis.

"Fancy a few in Honey’s on the way back to yours?"

"Honey’s? Isn’t that the place with the-?"

"The tattooed waitresses and table dancers? Too fucking right it is, Harold! Up for it?" Louis smirked and he looked at Harry sideways. Harry gulped. He’d had a fucking brilliant night with Louis and he didn’t want his buzz killed by watching Louis eye up some scantily-clad, badly tattooed skanks. He mentally cursed himself for sounding too much like Louis.

"Umm, I’m not sure. I’m still pretty drunk from before. I might just call it a night…" Harry spoke to his tattered Vans as he hung his head.

"Let-down. Maybe some other time. What about we get another bottle to take back to yours then? I’m buying." Louis stated as he grabbed Harry’s wrist and pulled him into the nearest off-licence.

As Harry tried to focus on the bottles of brightly coloured liquid on the shelves, he eyed Louis suspiciously. Where did all his money come from? Why didn’t he care about uni? Why didn’t he go home to visit his parents? Where were the rest of his tattoos? He watched as Louis sucked his silver lip ring into his mouth as he made the life-or-death decision about which drink to buy. Harry was entirely too invested in the way Louis’ thin pink lips slid over the shiney metal. He’d never asked Louis if he had anything else pierced apart from his lip and his septum. He made a mental note to ask him when they got home.

"More Disaronno champ?" Louis’ voice cut through Harry’s internal monologue and snapped him back to reality. Harry just nodded before Louis lifted the familiar bottle down from the shelf and took it to the counter. The elderly Asian gentleman eyed the unlikely pairing. The straight-laced wonderboy who swayed precariously beside the boy whose arms were covered in the bright colours and whose knuckles were covered in letters.

"Oi, don’t fall asleep before I get you home." Louis’ voice was dangerously gravelly and very close to Harry’s ear and Harry had no idea when he’d got so close but the warm breath across his ear was doing no favours for his crotch. Louis paid for the bottle and winked at the shop owner whose face rose in shock as Louis gripped a handful of Harry’s arse to steer him out of the shop door.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Lou, what’re you- I mean- my arse man! In front of that guy!" Harry whined drunkenly.

"Chill out Curly Sue, besides you fucking loved it." Louis jibed, reaching out a tattooed fist to punch Harry’s arm.

"Shut up douchebag."

It took Harry three attempts to open the door to the flat when they finally got home and even then he fell through the door. They’d entered the kitchen to find Harry’s flatmates were home so Louis had insisted they joined himself and Harry in a drinking game and of course, the only one it could be was Spin The Bottle and the only version of Spin The Bottle that uni students bother to play is the kissing one. Harry had drunkenly pecked one of his female housemates as everyone hooted with laughter before it was Louis’ turn. The bottle came to a halt on one of Harry’s male flatmates (Jake dressed like Louis and listened to the same music as Louis and had tattoos like Louis and Harry thought he would be perfect for Louis even though that was the last thing he wanted) and Harry’s heart sank. Louis laughed in that raspy way he did and unknowingly licked his lips, Jake was holding his head in his hands and shaking it. The girls in the room were giggling and one put her fingers to her mouth to wolf-whistle.

Harry watched as Louis scooted across the circle on his knees before kneeling in front of Jake, who removed his head from his hands and tilted his head up towards Louis’ while keeping his eyes firmly squeezed shut.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god." Jake muttered between laughs and Louis’ hands clamped the sides of his tattooed neck. Harry watched as Louis’ leant forward to connect his lips with Jakes and the sound of metal on metal could be heard where both boys’ lip piercings clanked together. Louis’ moved his lips against Jake’s for what seemed like years as Harry watched, mouth agape, trying to hide the tenting in the crotch of his jeans. Louis eventually pulled away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand in the sluttiest gesture that Harry had ever seen. Jake was making spluttering noises whilst trying to breathe through laughter.

As Louis made his way back to his place at the edge of the circle, he knowingly locked eyes with Harry, who immediately looked away. His cheeks were flushed and he was unsure if he was going to cry or not, the stab of jealousy in his chest and groin rendering him speechless.

Eventually Harry made his excuses and shuffled off to his bedroom, stripping down to his boxers and climbing into bed to face the wall. He’d left Louis in the lounge with his new boyfriend Jake (who was actually 100% straight and had a girlfriend but Harry thought he might as well be dating Louis with the way he’d loved that kiss) as the party raged on. Hours later, Harry was awoken by the bed dipping beside him and the covers being shifted to allow someone to crawl into his bed. Alcohol and cigarette tainted breath ghosted over his face and he knew it was Louis.

"Couldn’t hack the pace, Styles?" He whispered. Harry just ‘hmmph’-ed. Louis laughed quietly as he shifted around, getting himself comfortable.

"Well Jake threw up and Lex and Danielle made out for a while but I don’t think they’ll remember their newfound lesbianism in the morning and I missed you so I came to bed."

Harry’s eyes shot open at that and were met with inky darkness except for the reflection of moonlight in a lip ring millimetres away from his face. The reflection bobbed in the blackness as Louis spoke.

"Contrary to popular belief, I do have a heart. It just hasn’t needed to be used in a while."

"W-what? Louis, what the fuck are you on about?" Harry croaked, his sleep-mussed voice struggling to be heard.

"You, ya daft twat. Who’d have thought it, the hardcore kid falling for the nerd? How the worm has turned." Louis whispered dramatically.

"Fallen? What? Wait, who’re you calling a nerd you knob?" Harry’s poor, sleepy brain was finding it hard to piece Louis’ drunken riddles together.

"How about I show you what I mean?"

And with that, Louis gently pressed his lips to Harry’s and the sensation of it flooded Harrys entire body. He felt the cool sting of Louis’ lip ring against his own lip as Louis’ hand found its way to Harry’s waist. Louis didn’t deepen the kiss, instead choosing to pull away after a long moment. The loss of contact made Harry breathe hard.

"You’re drunk." was all he could muster, his eyes still closed.

"So are you." came the reply from the darkness.

(A/N: Think this might continue if the feedback is good for this part!)

punk direction punk!louis punk louis punk!harry punk harry punk!larry punk larry Larry Stylinson larry stylinson fic 1d punk fic 1d fic
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