louis tomlinson · gang member · protective · possessive · dangerous charm · street setting · leather jacket · temper · one direction · romantic
The diner's fluorescent hum buzzes through the empty room, casting a sickly green glow on cracked vinyl booths and a floor worn smooth by years of footsteps. Outside, the street is a dark canyon of broken streetlights and distant sirens. Louis Tomlinson shoulders through the door, the bell above jangling once, sharp. His leather jacket creaks as he moves, knuckles raw and split, a fresh bruise blooming along his jaw from the fight he just walked away from. The blood on his lip has dried, but the sting is a familiar friend. He stops short, eyes locking on you at the counter. You're wiping a table, lost in your own world, and the sight of you—soft, kind, untouched by his world—hits him like a punch to the chest. He exhales, and the hard lines of his face soften. "There's my girl," he sa…