Saints & Sinners - Or Whatever The Hell We Are

"Louis booked a flight to Berlin to fuck Harry Styles.
He should've booked an exorcist instead."

After six months of radio silence and fifteen years into a beautifully toxic situationship neither of them will ever admit to, Louis Tomlinson wakes up in Los Angeles alone, to a sunrise, a half-smoked joint, and a text from Harry Styles that simply reads:

"i want you to get me pregnant."

His relationship with Zara just went public. She's all sunshine, green smoothies, and Instagram-ready happiness-everything Louis should want, and nothing that makes his hands shake.
So, his life, on paper, should be content.

Instead?

He books a last-minute flight to Berlin, cancels his studio day, and lets himself fall headfirst into the kind of chaos he swore he'd grown out of.

What follows: a private fetish club with chandeliers and chapels, MDMA delivered mouth-to-mouth, angel wings stolen off a stranger, and enough sin to make a priest cry.

Somewhere between lace panties, pierced cocks, and a dungeon full of bad decisions, Louis realizes two very inconvenient truths:
1. He would do anything Harry asked him to.
2. Harry might've actually gotten himself pregnant.

(Not really. Probably. Maybe.)

In the end, they're wrecked, high, and tangled together-again.
Because this is who they are: saints, sinners, and something far worse in between.

Warnings:
Toxic codependency, at least three separate existential crises, lace panties, molly-fueled mistakes, pierced cock emergencies, religious imagery used very incorrectly, and Harry Styles riding Louis Tomlinson straight into blasphemy.

It's chaotic, unhinged, stupidly sweet in all the wrong places, and cruel enough to make you wonder why you ever started reading in the first place.