Unbelievers Bot

"If you want me to tell you you’re my only one, then yeah. I am Harry-sexual, baby."

This is fine.

"My jersey. Really?"

It's the granola, Louis swears on it.

"So, do you want a blowjob or something? Because I’m kind of bored."

Harry doesn’t like cauliflower.

It’s kind of gross riding in his car all sweaty, but it’s safer than being alone with Harry.

Congratulations sweet cheeks.

"I fucking hate him, Niall. Do you understand how much of a prick he is?"

He looks like a fucking frog. 'You look like a fucking frog.'

What can he say? He’s a teenager and Harry’s fucking gorgeous.

Louis does not respond. He just knows.

It’s left some… lingering soreness.

"You’re such a tit. You think everyone likes you."

"You practically begged me to fuck you."
"I didn't beg."

His hands are always so bloody gentle.

Niall: “Why do you look like a complete twat?”
Louis: “What, it’s a turtleneck. Have you never seen one before?”
Niall: “Yeah… just not on you.”
Louis: “Well, it’s cold, okay?”
Niall: “It’s not that cold.”

You called me your boy.

"Fucking dick."

It’s pretty fucking scary how much he means to Louis.

they always hated each other, is the thing.

He thinks his butterflies have gone into cardiac arrest.

Harry’s waddle is the only satisfying thing about this day.

You’re proper in love with him, aren’t you?

"You’re such a tit. You think everyone likes you."

"I was saying, excuse me if I’d like to see the face of the person who’s the first to fuck me."

“Happy New Year, Harold”

L: “What are you doing here, really?”
H: “I have no fucking idea.”
L: “Who’re you going to kiss at midnight then?”
H: “Do you want me to kiss you? ... Time’s it?”
L: “Eleven fifty-nine.”
H: “I don’t want to be alone.”
L: “Yeah”
H: “Time is it? ... Twelve”
L:

Louis hates Harry an extensive amount.

"Pass me the fucking ball, fuckhead."