Lip Rings & Tattoos {punk!Larry Stylinson One Shot}

My obsession with punk!Louis and punk!Harry (and all the other punk edits, tbh) is becoming too much for my mind (and panties) to handle, so I decided that writing this Larry will help it calm down. I hope I'm right... Probably not.

This is dedicated to KeeperOfTheKeys for writing such incredible one shots that I am so addicted to now! Hope you're as into the punk direction as I am, sweetie!

And yes, I may be a Directioner, but Sleeping With Sirens are fucking amazing and the lead singer is hot as hell! Hope it lives up to the punk story standards!

Sammie xx 

 

P.S. THIS STORY IS NOMINATED IN THE 1D BROMANCE AWARDS! PLEASE VOTE FOR IT (The place to vote is in the External Link! Please do vote, it would mean the world to me!)

 

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Harry honestly couldn't remember the last time he spent somewhere this late into the night, other then his usual stool in the small punk club. It was a school night and Harry had one of his early University classes the next day, but it's nearly three in the morning in underground London and the sound of Sleeping With Sirens is making him want to slip into the crowd and become one of the them; blending in with his fellow punks.

He brings up his beer, the cold liquid running down his throat and he tries not to gag. You would think that drinking beer every night for two years would make him actually like it, or at least grow used to it, but no. He hates it as much as he's hated the drink back in secondary school.

"Ah, secondary school. Such fond memories there," he mumbled to himself. People making fun of him for having too many tattoos, too many piercings, and apparently too much dick. That was just the homophobic assholes telling him that, though. There's not a lot of different people in his old hometown where idiots swoon over boy bands and poppy singers like Taylor Swift or Hannah Montana, or some shit like that.

Harry looks back over to the dance floor, seeing everyone jump and grind together. What? Punks like grinding, too. He stands up, not even wobbling, having been used to the many beers he usually has. He's not even close to being drunk yet, sadly to Harry's disappointment.

As a New Found Glory song starts up, and he finds himself nodding to the beat from the drums and feels the heat of bodies around him, reminding himself that he's not alone. He's a part of these people, they're all one at this moment with the music playing loud enough to feel the beat in their very cores.

Dwelling more into his own teen angst and depression, he spots a man in a tank top that shows off the beautiful tattoos that covers most of his arms while leaning against the bar as he watches the dance floor. The tank top is rather loose, showing one of his nipples that Harry can see is pierced.

Harry's eyes venture up and see that the man's neck is covered in tattoos but stops when it gets to his jaw. The bloke has a fit body, Harry decides. As Harry's eyes glance at his face, he sees that his eyes have slight eye liner smudged around them and he's playing with his lip ring. Harry gets a sudden urge to tug on the stranger's lip ring, hearing how deep his moan can sound.

Glancing up to the stranger's eyes once again, this time seeing what the man's eyes are fully concentrated on: Harry.