Larry Stylinson | Fanfics

Line 'em black, Have a blast

Written by: Tita

Summary:

Harry honestly can't tell how they went from eyeliner to sex but she really, really isn't about to complain.

Work Text:

"Urgh, I just can't get it right," Harry says, annoyance slipping into her voice.

By the bed, Louis laughs. "It's really not that hard, love, you just need to practice."

Harry rolls her eyes. "You say that for everything, Lou, and besides, what do you know? Your makeup is always perfect," she scoffs.

It's true. Louis always rolls up to Harry's house with her makeup on point, eyeliner even and lips tinted perfectly with red. Harry can never get that look, no matter how hard she tries, and she's been wiping off and re-applying her eyeliner for what feels like an hour.

"That's just because I've been wearing for a while," Louis explains, as if Harry doesn't know that, as if she hadn't noticed on the first day they met the way her blue eyes had popped underneath those thick, black lines or those lips that were pure temptation painted with blood red.

Harry's scrunched up brows must spark up pity in Louis, since she sighs and puts down her book.

"Lemme help you," she offers, not waiting for an answer (a definite yes, anyways) before getting off the bed and going over to the vanity where Harry's makeup is strewn.

"Okay," Harry agrees, uselessly, with a smile.

She watches from where she's sitting on the stool as Louis locates the makeup remover and the cotton pads, wetting one with the other. Harry scoots over so they can sit together, and watches as Louis smirks and plops down on Harry's lap instead, perched precariously with her knees bracketing Harry's until Harry reacts and wraps Louis' legs around her to hold Louis close.

Harry is absolutely not blushing, not even when Louis ducks in to kiss her quickly before running the cotton over her blackened eyelids.

"You made such a mess!" Louis remarks, laughing as she flips the pad and does Harry's other eye.

The angle gives Harry the best view of Louis' face, especially her lips, and Harry uses the eye that's not currently being worked on to take in her face. Louis is so pretty, even as disheveled as she is from having slept over on a date last night, and she looks positively radiant in one of Harry's sweaters. It's almost impossible to resist.

"Hand me the liner," Louis instructs, snapping Harry out of her daze to pass it over.

Louis gets really close then, her face one of pure concentration as she begins her work. Harry tries to stay still, but Louis is so close she can count her eyelashes, and every exhale of hers grazes Harry's forehead.

She realizes her knee has been bouncing unconsciously when Louis pulls away and tsks'.'

Harry tries not to feel sad about the distance.

"Stay still," Louis scolds, grabbing Harry's face and pulling it closer. "You're gonna screw it up."

Harry doesn't care about the eyeliner much now, mind focused on Louis' soft lips ten times more than on the stupid eyeliner. She'll get that later, no problem, but she really needs to kiss Louis now.

So she does, ignoring the black liner and tilting her head up, but Louis moves away and the kiss lands on her chin. Harry pouts.

"Come on," she urges, trying to steal another kiss that will actually be on Louis' mouth this time.