crybaby
summary:
Harry rests back against what he guesses must be Louis’ desk, resting his bum over his notebooks as Louis plucks at the devil ears, tossing them to his bed. ‘So, what’s a little twink like you doing in my flat?’ he asks with a wicked grin as he takes a step to where Harry’s standing.
(Harry is 17, dresses as an angel for Halloween, and attends Louis' Halloween party. Louis fucks him)
my notes ✧: there is twink!niall in this one :)
꒰♡꒱
Niall’s giggly, his lips already stained burgundy from the wine. Harry thinks he probably looks no better.
‘Put it on!’ Niall giggles, thrusting the heap of tulle and there’s a little voice right in the back of Harry’s mind telling him this could be a bad idea, but he finally relents and takes the feather-light bundle of white fabric from Niall.
Niall lets out another quick giggle before he can smother it with his hand. He pulls down the hem of his tight pink dress, tottering in his bubblegum kitten heels, and Harry starts to laugh again, loud and unabashed as he strips off his jumper.
‘You’re sure we won’t get into trouble?’ Harry asks, pushing his jeans down to bunch around his ankles.
Niall sighs and tosses the pair of feathered wings at Harry. Harry flinches and giggles.
‘My brother is taking us himself, we’ll be fine.’ Niall takes another swig from the wine bottle.
Harry shimmies the light fabric up his thighs. Niall starts to giggle when he gets it up to his waist, chuckling into his palm before Harry pinches at a thin spaghetti strap and pulls up until he can slip his arm through and pull the one strap up onto his shoulder, then the next. He gets his arm stuck about halfway through, and that has Niall finally giving in and laughing, falling back onto his desk chair and guffawing.
Harry feels painfully vulnerable in the situation, but finds himself giggling along. ‘What?’ he begs, dragging out the word as he manages to finally slip the strap up onto his shoulder.
‘That was my sister’s when she was twelve! And you fit into it!’
Harry doesn’t really get why Niall’s laughing so hard, but he finds himself joining him until he’s tripping back onto the bed and curling in as his belly starts to ache with it.
By the time Harry’s calmed down, he’s gotten used to the feeling of the soft tulle against his skin. Niall throws him a pair of socks, and Harry gives him a soft smile as he pulls them up to mid-calf. He pulls on his ratty tennis shoes and ties them with little bows before running a hand through his messy hair.
Niall totters to the bathroom and Harry follows after him, standing back and watching in the mirror as Niall slathers his lips in bright pink lipstick and does his eyes up in bright blue eyeshadow. When Niall starts ruffling his hair, Harry takes the time to look himself over, toying with the delicate hem of the dress.
It’s white and clings to his chest, gauzy and pure with two thin straps over the milky skin of his shoulders. At the waist, the dress flares into multiple layers of soft tulle, all different lengths with the longest ending at the top of his thighs. He thinks he looks good, almost pretty even, but maybe he’s wrong. He runs his fingers through his shower-soft hair and fluffs it with his fingertips as Niall slips a pink hair bow into his hair.
