Bad Boys Eat Twinkies || (bottom!Harry)

chapter three

Harry wasn't exactly the flirtatious type.

Of course, he had the pretty looks that the boys could never stop staring, and all the friends, and basically everything that came out of his mouth was coated with caramel and everything nice.

And his ass was perfect, a cute marshmallow that always seemed to be on display.

But would he consider himself hard to get? No.

He just didn't like anyone here. Except that blue-eyed boy. Louis.

He was a keeper. I mean Jesus Christ, whoever birthed him must've thought he was as beautiful as some 17th century Picasso painting.

Maybe even more.

And his eyes are so damn blue, it must be some sort of science because someone's eyes shouldn't be so vibrant and alive like those.

He was a perfect human being, an amazing piece of art, for fuck's sake, there really isn't any other reason.

But now that he thinks about it, maybe he went a little overboard calling him daddy, but if that's what got him hooked, then good.

He wants him to be.

"Harry!"

Oh fuck me, Harry thought when he heard that voice. That sing songey voice with too much sugar and sex laced to it that it made him vomit.

With that thought, Harry turned around, knowing he'll be met with those smirking eyes, and an obvious infatuation because the boy can't seem to leave him the fuck alone.

"What do you want, Zayn?"

Zayn smirked (he always fucking smirked, like can he fucking stop?) as he neared closer to the boy. He moved a stray curl from the boy's face, making him tense under his touch when their skin briefly met. Zayn took that as a good thing, but really Harry hated that more than anything.

"Just wanted to say hi, sweetheart. See how my little princess is doing."

Harry wanted to vomit at the overuse of nicknames.

Zayn was a cute boy, with his raven hair falling to his eyes, those carmel Brown's looking back at his piercing greens through a curtain of thick eyelashes, his beautifully brown skin and chiseled jaw. He was lanky, arms looking skinny on his long sleeve black shirt, skinny jeans and boot cladded self, he couldn't help to just admire.

Zayn is a babe. But not for Harry.

"Zayn..." Harry groaned, but Zayn laid a finger on his lips before he could explain.

"Princess," he replied back in the same tone. "you know how I care about you. You're so pretty, and wonderful, and after hearing about you stepping in between these fights, these dangerous ones at that, I could help but feel so hurt that you'd risk your good health for idiots like those."

One of those idiots just so happen to be amazingly cute.

"I'm fine taking care of myself, Zayn." Harry pushed away, not denying how good it felt to finally get him off his back. "now would you please just leave me the fuck alone?" 

"Let me walk you," Zayn halted him by grabbing on to his not-very-dainty wrists. "to your next class. I just want you to be safe."

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He really didn't want Zayn anywhere near him. He definitely didn't want him walking walking to gym class, which is being held outside.

Yet, here's the raven haired boy following him around like a damn puppy.