#he stole louis' stripes

[doggone-devil]

Louis Boudreaux: Info Page (Hazbin Hotel OC)

Louis is a Sinner/Demon residing in Hell and currently a personal assistant to Alastor, the Radio Demon.

She died age 22, has vibrant pink hair, mocha brown skin, and dark hooves on hands and feet with vibrant pink tips. Their appearance has traits resembling a goat, although they only have one horn showing.

Her outfit consists of a black sweater vest, a white collared undershirt, and red pants with black stripes.

Life Before Hell: A Tragic Backstory

(Trigger Warning: violence, abuse, alcohol, SA)

Louis was born and raised in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. She lived with her mother, father, and identical twin brother, Maurice. For the most part, her childhood was normal. She found a love in horror, gore, violence, and murder. However, behind close doors, there were problems. Her father was an abusive alcoholic who constantly beat her mother, having near nightly fights in the kitchen or out on the front porch. Louis would always grab her brother, Maurice, and stay shut in their room, playing with toys or watching movies.

As Louis grew older, her fascination with gore grew and she began to develop slight traits that would worry most. Yet she cared for her brother, played nice with other children, and would even help with chores around the house. She was a very charismatic, friendly, and confident child.

Sadly, when she turned 15, her mother left. That was when her father began abusing her. It started with simple slaps, punches if she talked back, but she accepted them in fear of her brother being the next target. She would do anything to protect her brother. Anything. And so when her father threatened to sexually assault the very thing she loved most in the world, she snapped and killed him.

It came as no surprise to Louis that she killed, having dreamt of it before. She felt exhilarated, high off the adrenaline, but that soon worn off when she realized the consequences. Tell her brother that they would be separated if he didn't help her, Louis managed to rope him in, hiding their father's body. Age 17 now, Louis had her license, and so they stole their dad's van and fled the state.

Louis became a serial killer, killing for over a year before the fatal death of her brother in 2021. Afterwards, she fled again, resuming her killings for two more years before she, too, was shot down by police.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin hotel art #hazbin hotel fanart #hazbin original character

[ericsonclan]

A Christmas Comfort Film

Summary: Brody starts getting overwhelmed by the holiday season so Mitch helps her try to calm down with her favorite Christmas movie.

Word Count: 1312

Read on AO3

Everything was stressing her out. No matter how much Brody took deep breaths and went over the steps to calm down, her anxiety wouldn’t leave her alone. She began to pace back and forth in the apartment as she made a mental checklist of everything that had to be done in the next few weeks. It was not the happiest time of year for her currently. In fact, Christmas always had a tendency to stress Brody out. She loved the holiday a lot and each year it was always a ton of fun but there was just so much to do. The sheer amount of items to do on her list only seemed to grow with each year. She blamed all the hyper extroverts she had been befriending lately over the last few years. Her feet whacked against the floor as she ran her fingers through her hair. The speed of her movement made Oreo and TNT’s eyes widen. Both kittens wiggled their butts, back and forth ready to pounce on the moving target. Brody was completely unaware of their mischievous intent until she felt TNT’s sharp claws in her foot.

“Ow! Fuck! TNT!” Brody yelled and watched as the kitten’s eyes widened, ear tucked down and back arched before scampering off. Oreo looked over at his brother then up at Brody, a pathetic-sounding meow leaving his lips.

“Fine, you can stay but you’re on thin ice, buddy.” She pointed her finger at the striped kitten but Oreo wasn’t fazed at all as he headbutted against her leg.

“What’s got you in a mood, Brodes?” Mitch strolled over with his usual teasing smile until he spotted his girlfriend’s expression. “Shit, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” Brody internally winced at the volume of her voice but she couldn’t seem to rein it in. “It’s just that everything is getting so fucking busy and everyone wants to do everything with me! Ruby keeps texting about what day we should make Christmas cookies, Louis wants to go Christmas caroling on Saturday but I already promised Sophie and Renata that I’d help them go shopping for White Elephant gifts for the Christmas work party and-” Brody was cut off her verbal spiral when her phone dinged with a text. Her shoulders instantly tensed and her breathing became uneven.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay. You don’t have to answer that right away. People can wait.”

“It’s Ruby.”

“Okay, Ruby can fucking wait. Right now we’re gonna forget about all of them and focus on you. What do you want to do?”

Brody stopped her pacing when she heard her boyfriend’s question. She thought for a few seconds before her lips parted.

“I wanna watch a Christmas movie.” “Okay, then that’s what we’re gonna do,” Mitch walked over to the couch and worked to get the side pillows propped up. After that was done he disappeared into a different room for a minute. “Do you want your weighted blanket or the snowflake blanket?”

“The snowflake,” Brody sat down on the couch and worked to take a few deep breaths. She kept glancing over at her phone that was on the kitchen table, wondering if she should send a quick text. Before she could decide though Mitch had returned and worked to wrap the seasonal blue and white blanket around her. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead then got to work getting the movie set up.

She didn’t even have to say which movie she wanted; Mitch knew. A few seconds passed before Dr. Seuss’ How the Grinch Stole Christmas music started to play over the menu screen. Mitch grabbed the DVD remote and made his way back to the couch where Brody was laying down. As soon as he sat down Brody scooted closer and cuddled up next to him. His arms soon wrapped around her, slowly brushing up and down her arms as he pressed a button and the movie started. The sounds of bells hummed from the TV as the logo of The Cat in the Hat showed up on the screen. The cartoon cat wiggled his eyebrows as the opening song began. The title of the movie appeared in front of a snowflake just as a small meow could be heard. Looking over, Brody spotted Oreo staring up at them with big eyes.

“Want him on your lap or not?”

“He can come up here,”

Mitch awkwardly shifted his weight to be able to pick up the kitten without messing with couch snuggles. Oreo was plopped down onto Brody’s lap and immediately the kitten began to purr loudly until his brother cried out as well. TNT was in the same spot as Oreo once was, waiting for his chance for cuddles.

“What about TNT?”

Brody shook her head. “No, I’m mad at him for attacking my foot.”

“Okay, you heard her, guess you don’t get cuddles for being shitty.”

Mitch’s answer did nothing to deter the young kitten who jumped up, fully believing he’d make it before he tumbled back down.

“Aww, baby. Mitch, help him up.”

“That didn’t take long,” Mitch teased but listened to his girlfriend and got the other kitten up on the couch as well. It took no time at all for the kittens to settle down and soon the couple returned their attention to the film just in time as the opening credits finished.

Animated snowflakes began to drift down from a dark blue background as the camera panned from snow-covered tree to snow-covered tree. The singing of the Whos started while they stood in a circle around a tree to bring it back to Who-ville. Brody started to hum along to the song as the Whos worked on the Christmas decorations, bopping her head lightly to the rhythm of the music. Her anxiety slowly began to slip away; she had a feeling it would as soon as Mitch set up this movie. This had always been her favorite Christmas film. Brody couldn’t remember how many times she had seen it, probably dozens of times by now. She knew each scene by heart and had the whole thing memorized, so much so that she had a tendency to quote movie lines as they were being said.

“Every Who down in Who-ville liked Christmas a lot but the Grinch,” Brody spoke and waited for the dramatic music notes to play before continuing. “Who lived just north of Who-Ville did not. The Grinch hated Christmas the whole Christmas season. Oh please don’t ask why, no one quite knows the reason.”

Mitch watched in silent amusement. He always enjoyed hearing his girlfriend’s rendition of the lines. It made the movie better for him. Sure, he had always enjoyed the movie growing up - Willy had been a sucker for it - but there was something special about watching it with Brody.

It felt like no time had passed before Mitch could sense Brody’s shoulders lose their tension. Her breathing had become steadier and she was completely relaxed as she leaned against him. Her soft smile never seemed to leave her lips during the entire movie and that proved true during the iconic song too. Once it started she began to sing along, nudging Mitch to join her. It took him a few seconds but he quickly joined in.

“You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch,

You really are a heel

You’re as cuddly as cactus

You’re as charming as an eel

Mr. Grinch

You’re a bad banana with a greasy black peel!”

Mitch and Brody had hit lower notes with the last part, holding onto them for far too long. Both of them shared a look, smiling and laughing for a minute. All the stress and worries that came with the holiday season melted away in that moment and Brody finally started to feel the simple joys that came with Christmas.

#twdg #twdg brody #twdg mitch #twdg moody #twdg christmas #ericsonclanchristmaschallenge #ericson's diner au #fanfic

[afashionelles]

Off White Sneakers himself and his work

Think rugby and polo shirts featuring a new 1977 insignia, cable knit Off White Shoes turtleneck sweaters, '90s barn jackets redone in cool cotton blends, and wardrobe staples rendered in French terry and jersey. It's sporty in feel, but she made it feel super high-fashion with the help of a striped fur stole, miniskirt, and strappy stilettos. You'd never guess that the stripes that decorate these pieces don't miss the cape dresses were inspired by data charts about global warming. The moment Linda, Cindy, Naomi, and Christy traipsed down Fall 1991 catwalk to the strains of George Michael's Freedom! '90, history was made.

Pop stars and go hand in hand, but the label's Gen Z muse is undoubtedly Dua Lipa. Still, it feels like it's not enough. It's the tail end of New York Fashion Week, and the vibrant street style scene certainly hasn't disappointed. How do you wrap up a fashion show in the age of social media? By giving the audience and the viewers at home a moment designed for Instagram. The collection also includes some covetable pieces that take inspiration from classic American style too. As a designer, Manning understands trial and error is part of the process, and he isn't afraid to keep exploring Off White Sneakers himself and his work.

Intarsia is wonderful if you want to make a knit with a pattern that has multiple colors, Geyter further explains. With so many jobs in the fashion industry, it's no surprise that he has killer personal style to boot. Kit Willow, the Australian designer behind Kitx, is doing her damnedest to fight that slide. The forecast in Paris predicts several days of 50 degrees and sunny weather during the men's shows, giving the fashion crowd a chance to showcase their best looks while attending shows from Louis Vuitton, Dior Men, Rick Owens, and Kenzo, among many more.

Today's stylish celebrities are rocking windbreakers in fresh new ways. Don't be afraid to try bold colors too, like rich neon hues, that break away from the norm. I was talking a lot with my team and I'm thankful to them Off White Outlet because they gave me this confidence that we needed to do it. When we met for coffee on New York's Lower East Side-between stores like Bode, Cafe Forgot, and adjacent to the highly curated vintage emporium James Veloria, each of which represents the city's new style-Prost appeared like a vision in almost a dozen clashing and ethereal layers: vintage floral jeans worn under a pleated wool skirt inspired by my look at , a tie-neck blouse and crochet vest underneath a Collina Strada pink hoodie, and a long strand of pearls.

#Off White

[best00hong]

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[abelconway7]

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[nerdygirl84]

Why does he look so good? HE'S ONLY FEEDING A FISH!

#he stole louis' stripes #fuck #he's pretty #and the only man #who can rock a stache #harry styles

[itsnothesameasitwas]

um HI um distraction show me your top five favorite pictures of louis during your favorite era

Hii Laur! <33

okay i have 2 favorite eras…

—————— 2012 louis is something personal to me… I was introduced by someone to 1D and when you’re young you want to dress like your idol so I literally had dress like this 👇🏻

(a red trousers and a with shirt with blue stripes)

then we have this one, being 100% my first real crush was mr. loam but I have never ever felt the way I feel with louis with someone else

he’s one of the most important persons in my life even though we don’t know each other irl

(I love this one because my other favorite person took it and because it’s a representation of me myself ahahahahha)

and pleaseeee! This photoshoot is something else, I just love him and everything about him

louis is all I want in someone hehe, he’s just beautiful in all the possible ways

(just look at his damn smile 😩🥺) lou ily <3

—————— 2014 louis = PERFECTION

This day in Orlando!!!! Same Louis same

this dude is a prince, the boy who stole my heart

I would do everything for him (that sounds weird) just to see him happy

if you ask me… louis is one of the most handsome guys in the world… his eyes!!!! That’s his best characteristic imo (and his nose, and his mouth, and his cheekbones and everything about him) sorry

“I’d marry you louis” (but the guy is taken </3)

*cries in his married with my other favorite person on the world*

- ana xx

#ask #bfjacketmybeloved #Is this what you were looking for? (Sorry im the worst doing things like this) #long post #apreciation post #me #this is about me

[fivecatsinatrench-coat]

Resilience

After passing out in the barn, Clementine awakens in the room she thought she’d never see again. 

“I’m not dead; that’s good,” she teased.

“Hey, that’s my line.” 

AO3  ~  FF 

AJ sat on his bed and stared at the girl lying in the bunk across from him. It was eerily quiet that afternoon-- a stark contrast from the chaos of the day prior. AJ hated it; he hated the silence. There was nothing to focus on, so his mind decided to occupy itself by replaying every terrible thing that had happened yesterday over and over again. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get the memories from the barn out of his head. He swore he could still hear the chilling scream Clementine had let out when he swung the axe down onto her leg. He tried covering his ears, as if that would somehow muffle the sound playing in his head. He could still see the horrified look on her face before she passed out from the shock. It wasn’t fair. Was it not enough that he had to experience all of this once? Why did his head insist on putting him through it all a hundred times over?

It had been over a day since he brought her back home, and she still hadn’t woken up. The passing of that first day had initially filled AJ with some hope. Clementine made it through that day, proving for certain that his actions in the barn had saved her from the bite. Ruby assured him that if it hadn’t worked, they likely would’ve lost her to the bite within the first day. Unfortunately, his elation at this news fizzled out when the sun came up in the morning without any changes. 

He had stayed up for hours, just watching her, concentrating on the most subtle movements: the light rise and fall of her chest, the fluttering of her eyelashes. AJ remembered her telling him when he was little that this meant someone was dreaming. He’d wake up to see her smiling at him; ‘’Was that a good dream?’’ she’d ask as she stroked his hair. And the little boy would be mesmerized every time that she knew he was dreaming. He wished that this was all just another bad dream, that soon he’d wake up with his head in her lap, once again staring up at that sweet smile he loved. But he wasn’t stupid. He knew that wasn’t going to happen no matter how hard he tried to wish it into reality. 

AJ’s eyes began to sting, so he shoved his fists against them to stop the tears that threatened to spill out. When he returned his gaze to Clementine, a beam of sunlight had flooded in through the window, creating a bright stripe on the sleeping girl’s face. AJ froze when he saw how the sun highlighted the deep bags under her eyes. She looks terrible. He gawked at her as a sigh escaped her pale, chapped lips; then, his eyes moved up her arm to where her wrist was taped to the bed frame. He was furious when the others insisted that restraining her was necessary. It made the possibility of losing her feel real, and he refused to let himself believe that could happen. ‘‘She’s gonna make it! You’re gonna fix her. You...You better!’’ he had protested when Ruby tried to reason with him. Louis, though he was also unhappy with the decision, backed the redhead up. ‘‘She’d want us to be safe.’’

Now, as AJ stared at her and saw how awful she still looked, a quiet voice within him told him that they may have been right. The boy averted his eyes, turned his body away from her, and pulled his legs to his chest. He couldn’t bear to see her that way any longer, and this time, he made no effort to stop the tears from flowing down his cheeks. He sniffled and rested his chin on his knees.

Eager to find something else to focus on, AJ looked forward to the desk at the foot of his bed. There sat Louis, with his forehead pressed against the desk, his fingers interlocked at the nape of his neck. AJ figured he had fallen asleep; after all, he hadn’t slept since Clementine was brought home. Even AJ allowed himself a couple hours of rest the previous night, but Louis didn’t move. He just sat on the dresser beside her bed, staring blankly at the floor, and ignored everyone’s pleas for him to rest.

Louis lifted his head and turned to look at AJ. So he wasn’t asleep… Faint streaks of tears stained his cheeks, and his eyes were bloodshot. When those solemn eyes met his, the little boy instinctively looked away. It was too painful to witness. He didn’t even look tired-- just sad. Sadder than AJ had ever seen anyone. Heartbroken. 

AJ wondered if he looked that way too.

The little boy raised his head again when he heard the scraping of the chair against the rough wood floor. Louis stood and slouched, frowning as he studied the two full bowls of dinner on the desk. Ruby had brought them the food about twenty minutes prior, begging them to eat at least a bit of it. The boys promised they would try, but neither made any effort to keep that promise; they really only said it to stop her fussing over them. The teen sighed before moving to sit on the edge of AJ’s bed.  

He was silent for a moment before opening his mouth, but when he tried to speak, the words caught in his throat. Louis shook his head and slumped over with a defeated sigh. 

AJ wiped his eyes and pulled his knees away from his chest. He leaned forward and crawled the short distance to sit beside the older boy. He dangled his legs over the edge and stared at the floor, mirroring the dejected posture of the boy beside him. His lip quivered as he tried to hold in the sobs that threatened to overtake him. 

Louis stole a side-glance at AJ, his face contorting in pain when he saw the intense grief written on the other’s. They had hardly spoken the last several hours-- there was no need to. They understood each other in an unspoken way that the others could not. Everyone at the school was mournful, but they couldn’t even begin to understand the deep solemnity that united the boys. Louis wrapped an arm around AJ and pulled him closer. The little boy leaned into him, finally allowing the full force of his sobs to escape his mouth.

AJ didn’t know how long he cried, and frankly, he didn’t care. He cried until he didn’t have any tears left. He cried until his throat burned, turning his wails into hoarse coughs. Louis kept the little boy in his embrace throughout it all, only moving slightly to brush away the silent tears that streamed down his own face.

Eventually, AJ’s breathing relaxed, and he slumped over, resting his full body weight on the teen next to him. Louis glanced down to find the boy’s eyes closed, his cheeks still flushed from crying. He smiled sadly at him, envious of how he was able to fall asleep to escape the heartache for a while. Louis stood and laid AJ back against the pillow before pulling the thin blanket over him. Then, he returned to the foot of the bed and sat with his back against the wall. 

Louis looked forward to the girl in the bunk across from them; she was still asleep, blissfully unaware of the anguish that filled the room. What if she never woke up? He furrowed his brows at the thought and returned his gaze to the boy sleeping beside him. What would happen to AJ? 

It was obvious to him. He had to look after AJ if she couldn’t. He owed it to her-- to both of them. She defended their home, fully prepared to die in the process, and that was a debt no one could ever repay. But being there for AJ was the closest he could get. It’s what Clementine would want-- everything she ever did was for him. 

Louis didn’t want to give up on her; he still hoped that, by some miracle, she would be okay. But things weren’t looking good, and if they lost her, AJ would be destroyed. He would need someone to lean on, someone to support him. The teen was determined to at least try to be that for him. He couldn’t fall apart. He owed them.

He owed it to himself too-- to ease some of the overwhelming guilt he felt for abandoning them at the bridge. If he had stayed to help, maybe she wouldn’t have been bitten. Louis frowned and rested his head against the wall, preparing himself for more hours of staring at the ceiling. If only he could just sleep like AJ….

----

AJ awoke a couple hours later and immediately looked to Clementine to see if, by some miracle, she had woken up while he was asleep. His face fell when he saw her still lying there, just as she had been before. Just as she had been for a day and a half. Of course he couldn’t be that lucky. He slouched and let out a sigh of disappointment. 

“You ok?” Louis’ voice brought the little boy out of his thoughts. AJ turned to him; he was still sitting with his back against the wall, a worried expression on his face. 

“No,” AJ replied curtly. What kind of stupid question was that? Of course he wasn’t ok. AJ sat against the wall next to him and pouted, as they once again fell into silence.

“I… I’m sorry.” Louis suddenly spoke again. “I shouldn’t have left. This is my fault. If I stayed--”

“No, it’s not.” 

AJ didn’t understand why he’d think that. It was all that dumb girl’s fault, not his. AJ felt his sorrow turn to outrage as he thought back to the chaos on the bridge. It didn’t have to happen. None of this had to happen. If it wasn’t for that girl, Tenn’s sister, everyone would be home and safe. It shouldn’t be this way. AJ clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. 

“It’s all that-- that stupid girl’s fault!”

“AJ, she didn’t know what she was do--”

“No! Shut up!” AJ bit back, his anger rising. “Don’t defend her when you know it’s true! She killed Tenn, and-- and now Clem’s gonna die because of her too!”

“What? You killed Tenn. Not her.”

“She made me. She messed him up!”

“Nobody made you do anything!”

“You would’ve died!”

“Well then, maybe I should have!” 

AJ gasped and froze with his mouth agape.

“Shit, I didn’t--” Louis cut himself off with a sigh and put his head in his hands. “AJ, I’m s--”

His apology was interrupted by a low groaning emanating from the other side of the room. The boys tensed and gave each other an unnerved look before turning to the source of the noise. The girl in the bed beside them let out a sharp moan as she struggled against the tape attaching her arm to the bed frame. She was turned to the side facing away from the boys, squirming and scratching at the sheets with her free hand.

“Clementine?” AJ’s voice cracked as he whimpered her name. 

His breath hitched when she didn’t react to his call. She continued squirming, and her groaning became louder. No. No, she can’t be. AJ jumped off his bed, tripping over himself and flopping onto his hands and knees. He stumbled up and took another glance at Clementine’s quivering body. 

“Clem? Clem, no! Please!” He tried to run to her but was stopped short by a harsh tug on his shoulder.

“AJ, you need to stay back,” Louis warned, though the trembling in his voice undermined any authority the statement could have had.

“No!” AJ shoved the teen’s hand off his shoulder and started toward the other bed. He hadn’t taken two steps before Louis grabbed him and wrapped his arms around his small frame to stop him.

“Let go! Let me go!” AJ shrieked as he struggled against the older boy’s grasp. Overwhelmed by adrenaline, the little boy tried everything he could to escape his hold. He kicked and bit and scratched, all to no avail. At some point, he dug his nails into Louis’ face, carving a long scratch into the teen’s cheek. Louis flinched at the sharp sting of the cut but still refused to release the little boy. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Louis whimpered repeatedly while AJ continued trying to wrestle him off.

AJ turned to face him, hoping to get better leverage to push him off, but he just couldn’t free himself from Louis’ grip; he was too much bigger than AJ and apparently, a lot stronger than he looked. Still struggling, he stole a glance back at Clementine, who was now silent and no longer squirming. She had freed her wrist from its restraint and was propped up on an elbow, eyes wide as she stared at them in horror.

AJ froze and gawked at her. Tears began to stream down his face when he caught sight of her eyes. They definitely weren’t monster eyes. She’s alive. Louis, surprised by how the boy had suddenly stopped fighting, gave him a puzzled look before following his gaze up to the girl. Before he had a chance to react, AJ elbowed him in the abdomen to finally free himself from his grip. 

“You’re awake!” the little boy croaked and ran to her bed. AJ jumped up onto her bed and wrapped his arms tightly around her neck. She grit her teeth and winced in pain as her injured leg was jostled, though she tried her best to hide this from the little boy as she returned his hug. 

Clementine pulled back and gave him a small smile. “Hey, goofball. What’s with all the screaming? I’m trying to sleep,” she attempted a joke, her voice hoarse.

“I thought you were a monster,” AJ whimpered, too overwhelmed with emotion to even bother protesting her calling him ‘goofball’. 

She raised an eyebrow and looked to the other boy, who was watching on in awe, clutching his stomach. “So... you decided to beat up Louis?” 

AJ avoided her questioning gaze and muttered, “...I guess.” He didn’t want her to know what he was really doing-- that he was trying to get to her even though he thought she was a monster. She had specifically told him so many times not to do just that. He didn’t want her to be mad at him.

“You shouldn’t have done that, AJ.”

“I know.” He looked at the older boy, and mumbled, “I’m sorry, Louis.”

“That wasn’t the part I was talking about.” 

AJ kept avoiding her eyes as a feeling of shame washed over him. Crap. She did know what had happened. 

Clementine sighed and wrapped her arm around the little boy, deciding it was probably best to just drop it for the moment. AJ returned the embrace and nuzzled into her neck. She smiled and lightly stroked his hair before looking at Louis. He’d finally recovered from AJ’s punch and was staring fondly at the pair. She gazed lovingly back at him.

“Lou,” she called gently and extended her free hand to him. Louis stood and walked the short distance to her bedside. He knelt down and pulled her into a hug, which she happily returned. 

She pulled away slightly, a playful smirk on her face. “I’m not dead; that’s good,” she teased.

“Hey, that’s my line.” His voice cracked and a tear escaped his eye as he spoke.

“Well, I’m borrowing it.” Clementine snickered and placed a hand on his cheek, tenderly wiping away his stray tear. She then delicately stroked the fresh cut that AJ had carved into his skin and gave him a sad smile.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “For protecting him. Sorry you got a little beat up for it.” 

“It’s ok; it’s not a big deal.” Louis smiled at her, cupped her face, and ran his thumb along the old scar on her cheek. “Hey, we match now.”

The girl snorted and considered the shallow scratch on his face. “I don’t think that’s gonna scar, though.”

“I don’t know; it might. AJ’s a fuckin’ wolverine.” 

“I said I was sorry,” AJ grumbled, reminding the teens that he was, in fact, still lying right there.

She breathed out another laugh and grabbed the hand Louis had rested on her face, holding it to her chest. Her face fell as she continued studying his. He squeezed her hand and looked into her eyes, silently asking what was wrong. 

“If I was--” Her voice caught at the thought of what could’ve happened, but she swallowed the lump in her throat and continued, “If you didn’t stop him… I… I know he wouldn’t have stayed away.” Her voice was shaking by the last word. 

AJ buried his face into her shoulder, trying to hide the shame that burned his face. He wished they wouldn’t talk about this. He knew he did something dumb; they didn’t need to talk about it. At least, not right in front of him. 

“I wouldn’t have let anything happen,” Louis assured her, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Thank you,” she repeated, fighting the urge to start crying. She didn’t know what else to say, so she placed her hand on the back of his neck and pressed her lips to his.

When they separated, he rested his forehead against hers. “I’m really glad you’re ok. I thought we lost you. For real this time.”

“Me too,” AJ added with a sniffle.

“How could I ever leave you guys?” she hummed and pulled her boys closer, never wanting to let go.

#*tiptoes back onto this blog as if i didn't drop off the earth for a year* #dont mind me lol #twdg #clouis #twdg fanfiction #my writing #twdg clouis

[nextgensquad]

molly weasley having more grandchildren than anyone every thought possible, and not always through ordinary means, and loving every last one of them unconditionally no matter what.

it starts with teddy: she goes over to andromeda’s house to help with food and diaper-changing and entertaining him so andromeda can get a few hours of peace. harry and ginny, once they get their own place, have him over often enough that whenever molly comes by, he treats her just like he does his own grandmother—cheery, excited, always demanding her attention. when he gets older, he takes to popping by the burrow just to steal some of her cookies and kiss her on the cheek and ask her about her day.

(andromeda tells her once, over afternoon tea, that she doesn’t know if she would have survived it, without molly and her family to help. looking at teddy, raising teddy, with his mother’s heart-shaped face and his father’s guilt and andromeda’s own grey eyes—it’s a kind of pain molly knows well. knows it every time she looks at george.)

and then bill and fleur start having kids, and victoire is the brightest bundle of joy in the weasley family for years. born premature, born on the anniversary of the worst day of molly’s life, named for the victory-that-didn’t-feel-like-a-victory—

it’s not so easy, to love the children who remind you of the one you lost. but molly does, anyway. she holds victoire close and promises she won’t ever let her go, and she does the same with louis, and with dominique, knowing that even with every hand she adds on the clock it won’t bring back the one hand that’s stopped moving.

but you keep going, that’s how it is. you keep building and growing and teaching and learning. charlie comes to her when he’s twenty-eight and tells her, very quietly, “mum, i’m gay, and i want you to meet my boyfriend,” and he doesn’t seem like he knows what to expect until molly tackles him in a hug.

children are children, and all of them are different: this is something molly knows very well. so even though charlie never has kids, she cries up a storm at his wedding, and cries harder when he introduces her to the three baby dragons that have just hatched on the reserve and tells her that they’ve named one of them ‘molly’ after her.

“there’s nobody fiercer than you, mum,” he says, laughing as she clutches the red-scaled baby dragon in her hands. “these are your newest grandchildren.”

percy takes his idea and gives her name to his daughter, when she is born as one-of-a-set, her and her sister lucy, both of them tiny and red and screaming at the world. this is the hardest molly has ever cried at a grandchild’s birth, watching her namesake cradled in percy’s arms, watching lucy cry out for her sister, thinking of two different sets of twins with red hair and freckles and the uncanny ability to always know when their other half was missing.

little molly is seven and licking cookie dough out of a bowl in the burrow’s kitchen when she stops and looks very seriously at her grandmother and asks her, “grandmum, why did you have so many kids?”

molly looks at her tiny granddaughter, with her red hair in a long ponytail and her blue eyes (like percy, like arthur) so full of dreams and questions and puzzles, and smiles before she can help herself.

“well, i had two little brothers,” she explains, a serious answer for a serious little girl. “and i loved taking care of them so much that i wanted a lot of my own children so i could take care of them, too.”

“oh.” little molly nods, her ponytail bouncing. “i get it. i don’t want lots, though. i just want me and lucy and that’s it.”

molly laughs and wipes cookie dough from little molly’s face and sends her scurrying off to find her sister soon after, thinking about molly and lucy and fabian and gideon and george and fred who could never have kids, who would have loved them, too. she thinks maybe that’s why she got to live—so she could learn to love them that much more even with a broken heart.

george and angelina aren’t married when they announce that they’re expecting a kid, and they still aren’t married when fred comes out with his beautiful dark hair and brown eyes he got straight from his father (from molly), and they still aren’t married when roxanne comes along with her long curls and the same brown eyes and sense of humor stolen straight from her uncle, so at some point molly gives up nudging them towards marriage—fred and roxanne are so much more important than a ceremony and a pretty dress, anyway.

molly still cries the day angelina moves out, because maybe some part of her had thought that getting married and having kids would help to heal the brokenness in george’s gaze and the empty spaces in his heart where fred had lived, but he sits her down and tells her softly, “it’s okay, mum, it’s okay, we love each other so much, just not the same way we once did, and she’ll still be around, we love the kids, she loves you.”

he’s right about that, because when angelina falls in love again, after she goes to her father, she brings cho chang to the burrow, almost hesitantly as if worried that molly might reject her almost-daughter-in-law and her new relationship. but molly only draws them both into a hug so tight she never wants to let them go, not angelina with her fierceness and her laughter and her unwillingness to let anybody feel lost, not cho with her silver laugh and her warm hands and her reaching for someone to hold onto after her last marriage failed.

molly weasley doesn’t turn away broken kids. she tells angelina, “i always wanted daughters, and now i have more. i could never be unhappy about that.”

cho brings her daughter over, a girl named emika with quiet eyes and a rare smile used to a house without laughter or love, used to a father who didn’t stay, and not at all used to people who will stay for anyone, regardless of where they come from or who they are. molly bakes her a fresh batch of cookies and george shows her how his latest invention works and when the upstairs bathroom explodes and louis comes storming down with neon green hair and zebra stripes, emika finally starts laughing.

the thing about the burrow is that no matter who you are, you’ll find a corner of it to call your home. and even though they’ve expanded and built rooms and sheds and treehouses, arthur’s never fixed that rackety old door and molly doesn’t even ask him to, anymore. the burrow is for everyone, no matter how lost or lonely or searching.

it’s where ron comes to tell her that hermione’s pregnant, with his hands shaking around a cup of hot chocolate, his blue eyes terrified and desperate and so full of love that it’s impossible to remember a time when he wasn’t in love with hermione. molly and arthur sit with him and promise him that he’ll be a good father and she eases his worries away with a blanket to cover him and a kiss on his forehead to send him to sleep, just like she did all those years ago before the war stole him away.

“you’ll be the best father any kid could ask for,” arthur tells him, hand on his knee, just like when ron was little. “because you’re the best son any parent could ask for.”

and later, watching ron hold little baby rose in his arms for the first time, his eyes shining with wonder and awe, molly knows that they’re right. knows that they raised their kids to do the best they can, just the way they had from the moment the first war began. that this is what they were fighting for all alone—for their son to hold his newborn daughter in his arms for the first time and fall in love all over again.

rose is an easy baby, compared to the potters. molly can’t ever forget the time ginny showed up through the fireplace, james clinging to her leg and albus screaming in her arms, lily yet unborn and kicking in her stomach, and all but collapsed in her mother’s arms, begging to know how she did it, so many times, for so many years.

“a lot of patience,” molly says with a smile, prying james from his mother’s legs so al can have her full attention. “a lot of tears. and a lot of knowing that the best is yet to come.”

ginny sighs deeply, rocking al in her arms until he starts to calm down. “what if we fuck them all up, mum? what if i can’t handle it?”

“ginny,” says molly, “you survived voldemort. you can survive motherhood. and it’s not like you’re alone.”

to prove it, she calls arthur and he shows up with hermione and angelina and audrey and they take ginny away for a day of coffee and shopping and relaxation while she and arthur deal with their two precious dark-haired grandsons until both of them are calm and fed and sleepy on the couch by the time harry comes back to pick them up.

it never really gets easier, in molly’s experience—children are children and your children will always be your children, no matter how old they get. things turn out complicated in new and different ways than they did when it was her and arthur and two boys and percy on the way and a war burning up around them.

so when percy’s marriage fractures under the pressures of his first term as minister of magic, she shows up to his suddenly-empty house and fills in the spaces where audrey had lived with lights and laughter and fresh cooking. he never figures out how to thank her—but then, percy’s never been big on that sort of thing anyway, but she knows he appreciates it because his daughter comes home for christmas holidays and hugs molly tight and whispers, “thank you for looking out for him,” and, well, little molly’s always been the best parts of percy and audrey, anyway.

and when audrey brings home a new daughter from her new marriage and lucy shows up fuming on the burrow’s doorstep, her motorcycle parked haphazardly in the front yard, molly doesn’t tell her that she’ll learn to love her new sister, or that she shouldn’t be mad at her mother for leaving and starting a new family, or that she should be more patient with her father, because that’s not what lucy came to hear. so instead she makes lucy’s favorite spicy noodles and they sit in the living room and lucy vents about how annoying her new sister is until arthur comes home and laughs and they set up ginny’s old bedroom for lucy to sleep in.

all children are different, and this above all else is what molly knows better than anything. so when lucy takes the divorce and the remarriage and her new french step-sister and turns it all into reckless energy that she burns across the skies by stealing arthur’s old ford anglia, she tells percy not to punish her, not to tear her down when she just wants to fly. she lets lucy stay that summer at the burrow, where she never has to run into audrey and her new family if she doesn’t want to, even though her sister molly is taking the brunt of the drama and the tabloid gossip with as much grace as she can manage, and she doesn’t make lucy answer the door when audrey turns up at the burrow’s doorstep and asks to see her daughter.

“i know she doesn’t want to see me,” says audrey with a bone-deep sigh, too used to her daughter acting out and shutting people out and burning until everyone around her is on fire. “will you at least meet clea? i know she’s not really part of the family—”

molly knows lucy is listening from the stairs, but she says it anyway: “audrey, you will always be part of our family. and all your daughters are my granddaughters.”

audrey, who comes from a cold, glittering pureblood family that’s still never learned to treat its daughters as anything but coat hangers for pretty dresses and wedding rings, smiles the small, unsure smile of a woman still learning how love works, even after two marriages and three daughters.

molly doesn’t have to do much to persuade lucy, after that; the two of them go with audrey, lucy sullen and quiet, to meet her step-daughter clea in a coffee shop in diagon alley, and even though clea is french and snotty and tries her hardest to look down her nose at her new step-sister, she still laughs in surprise when lucy tells the story of how she stole her grandfather’s car and flew all the way to ireland before anyone caught up with her, and audrey doesn’t even say anything disapproving, so molly thinks it’s been a success.

clea shows up to the burrow for family get-togethers and potlucks more often than not; she and emika and teddy three different versions of outsiders. teddy barrels his way into the heart of the family, positive and delighted in his place in it; emika speaks quietly with fred, ever-unsure what to do with her step-siblings but slowly getting better at it; and clea picks up a conversation in french between victoire and fleur and carves out a place there even with lucy still avoiding her as much as possible.

of all three of her almost-grandchildren, she doesn’t expect teddy to be the one to disappear from their weekend brunches.

something happens—and she wishes she knew what it was, but it seems that nobody does, not even bill and fleur or harry and ginny—and in the middle of planning their wedding, teddy and victoire break up. it shouldn’t be the end of the world, even though molly had always thought they would end up together, even though they had been dating so long, and she knows that nobody would ever exile teddy just for a break-up, not even dominique or louis, but he seems to take the decision out of their hands when he stops showing up.

“she hasn’t told you why?” she asks fleur over their weekly tea together, watching her daughter-in-law’s face draw down as she thinks about the break-up that split their family. “you don’t think he was cheating, do you?”

fleur scoffs. “not teddy. ‘e would never—i asked victoire and she said eet wasn’t anything like that. she said eet wasn’t anything any of us could understand. i told her, we have all had relationships that did not work out but…”

“every child always thinks their pain is completely unique,” molly says with a sad smile. “maybe it is.”

“if she would tell me, we could help,” says fleur, frustrated. “she eez not seeing the bigger picture—the family—”

“do you remember,” says molly suddenly, “how i didn’t want you and bill to get married at all?”

fleur blinks at her. “of course.”

“maybe you wanting her and teddy to get married is… sort of the same thing.”

fleur sighs. “but he eez good for her—and good to her. we all know this. you can’t fall out of love in a month.”

“love mattered a great deal to us, when everything in our world was about war and death and hate,” molly says thoughtfully. “maybe it just looks different without all that above their heads.”

maybe, she thinks but doesn’t say, victoire still hasn’t found what she’s looking for, and maybe it’s harder to find it with the sun of a victorious world always beating down on your shoulders. maybe it’s hard to know what you want when your parents are legends, war heroes and curse-breakers and good and strong and kind. molly is so proud of the children she’s raised, of the people they’ve married, but she can’t imagine how it must feel on the other side of the family, growing up looking into the sun so long it blinds you.

she sends victoire a care package, and then sends teddy one, too. children are children, and they all need love and support, whether they’re willing to admit it or not.

things keep changing—they always do, whether you want them to or not, this she has learned—and even as she gets older and her grandchildren grow, she finds very little can prepare her for watching these children become who they are, shining in the sunrise of a world without the dark lord, but still with enough shadows of their own. she gives advice as she can, to the ones who bother to come to the burrow—little molly and lucy, now out of hogwarts, stop by the most often, and there’s albus, who comes by to talk to his grandfather about muggle electronics, and sometimes even lily, who will only allow her grandparents to see her without that burnished glory she projects like wildfire to everyone else.

it’s james who rarely visits. james, growing up as the eldest son of harry potter and ginny weasley, james with the endless gryffindor fire that burns everyone around him and then burns him out with it, james who spends most of his days out in a club or on the streets and rarely comes home even when the papers publish photographs of him with a black eye or swollen lip after every dangerous weekend. molly reads all the papers and keeps salves and ointments and practices all the healing charms she knows by heart, just in case he ends up on her doorstep the way he did when he was little and had skinned his knee in the backyard.

he does, though—just once the entire year he is twenty-one, and not with any injuries from once. his face is bleak, his gaze terrified, but he doesn’t smell of alcohol or drugs or anything.

“i’m sorry,” he says when she invites him in to sit on the couch, his hands shaking in his leather jacket. “i wanted to tell you before it got out—abby’s pregnant.”

for a second, molly has to think on who he’s talking about, so distracted by the miserable way her grandson looks, by the way he seems to be expecting her and arthur to start yelling at him. abigail longbottom is another one of the regular invitees to the weasley family gathering, her and her brother jake growing up enmeshed in their family, playing with the potters and their cousins until the skies grew dark in the days of their childhood. molly’s always liked her.

“you’re having a baby?” arthur asks, always clarifying before jumping to conclusions, even as his hand reaches over the couch to take hers and clutch it. they have wanted grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, just as much as anyone else, but james looks so young, so lonely, so wrecked sitting there on their couch, too young to have a child.

“i am. i mean, she is. she’s keeping it. i don’t know if… if she’ll let me be a part of this.” james swallows, his gaze faraway and aching. “but… i’m sure she’ll want you to be a part of it—the baby’s life. i just…”

he drops his head down into his hands and molly moves in a flash to take him into her arms and hold him as he cries. she hasn’t seen james cry in a long time, not since he was twelve and broke his arm in a family quidditch match, and suddenly, all these years later, he is twelve again, sniffling and clinging to her arms as if she can heal everything with a hug.

she wishes she could. arthur goes quietly into the kitchen to make james a cup of hot chocolate and pulls out all the candy that he would have loved when he was twelve, and then they all sit in the kitchen, eating chocolates, and james tells them all about how it happened, why it happened, and how much he desperately wants the kid even though he knows it’s not a good idea at all.

“i mean, shit—sorry—” he hiccups on his second mug of hot chocolate, still unused to swearing in front of his grandparents. “she’s nineteen and i feel terrible. and i’m barely older and it still feels like… i don’t know. it just sucks because if it was vic and teddy having a kid then everything would be fine, but it’s me.”

“james,” says arthur gently, “no matter what kind of a father you are, that child will never have anything less than complete and utter love in their life. that’s not something you need to worry about. it doesn’t matter that it’s you and abby instead of victoire and teddy.”

james doesn’t really look like he believes him, but he nods anyway. “you know, you guys are a lot nicer about this than mum and dad were.”

molly shares a smile with arthur. “well, we have some experience with having kids a little young that your parents don’t.”

james frowns at her. “really?”

“we were twenty-two when your uncle bill was born,” arthur agrees. “it was terrifying then, no matter how much we loved him, and i’m sure it would be terrifying now. you’re never really prepared for children, even when you think you are.”

“everyone feels like they’re the worst parent in the world,” molly says, “and truthfully, nobody can be the best. all that matters is trying.”

she sees it in james’ face the first time he holds his newborn daughter—the same look his father had, that arthur had, that they all have when they see their child for the first time—that he does finally believe them about being a parent. it’s always harder than it seems, harder than it looks, and harder than anybody would believe without becoming one themselves.

“but it’s worth it, right?” ginny had asked her, the first night she had found out she was pregnant with james, her voice very small and her arms cradling around her still-flat stomach, as if terrified something might burst out of there before she was ready.

molly had smiled and tucked her daughter’s hair behind her ear and said, “it’s always, always worth it.”

#hp fic #hp next gen #hp next generation #molly weasley #teddy lupin #and... pretty much everyone else too #ours #writing #pearl #this....got ahead of me somehow

[gabbiemp3]

one direction albums ranked

5. made in the am

energetic and dynamic, but probably no one’s favorite. the unexpected and uncharacteristic surprise dropping of its insanely successful lead single, drag me down, was the band’s less than subtle way of alerting the public that they were alive and well in the wake of zayn’s departure. i can’t help but feel like this is the motive of the entire album. with its regression to the safe pop its predecessor four dared to challenge, the album feels contrived and rushed. some moments on it sound like an AI algorithm that averaged out their entire discography to generate a “One Direction Song”. Its occasional attempts to try something new are nice but ultimately gimmicky, preventing it from overcoming its ulterior motives--to be the band’s last hurrah (commercially and culturally) before the “hiatus” (you can tell us you broke up) we all should’ve seen coming. 

this doesn’t mean there aren’t some tried-and-true fan favorites on this album. songs like infinity, olivia, if i could fly, and of course, the fandom-homage history (easily the album’s strongest single) hold a special place in fan’s hearts. 

best: what a feeling, wolves, history, olivia

4. up all night

the iconic red double decker bus. louis’ toms and blue stripes. niall’s adorable crooked teeth. the flaming jealousy we all experienced as we watched harry sing the bridge of WMYB to a girl on the beach. this is an album that brings me nostalgia for a time in the fandom i wasn’t even a part of.

up all night is shimmery, camp, and more than a little embarrassing. (i genuinely can’t listen to stole my heart without bursting into uncontrollable laughter.) 

it’d be a lie, though, to say it isn’t freaking EARNEST. gotta be you is melodramatic (what a mess i’ve made upon your innocence/no woman in the world deserves this) but the boys give it their all--shoutout to my mans harry. same mistakes is obviously too mature to be on this album but zayn delivers an emotional and skilled vocal performance indicative of the standout status he’ll claim for the rest of their discography (until it’s so potent he decides to move on to his own). 

although it’s not very re-listenable, i will always have a soft spot for it, and i’m sure you guys do too. 

best: one thing, stand up

3. four

ah, yes. the Mature album. coincidentally, my favorite album from my top artists always seems to be this said “mature” effort (see: Taylor Swift’s Speak Now, Paramore’s Brand New Eyes). not true in this case, but still a good album. 

one direction goes very middle-aged-white-dad on us (unsurprisingly it’s my own dad’s fav). the singles from this album sort of tell you all you need to know about their direction on this one--80s-inspired rocky, else folksy. four is smooth and genuinely pleasant to listen to. it’s possibly their most cohesive effort (other than take me home), minus the out-of-place the 1975 ripoff change your ticket (hey, i’m not saying i don’t like this song, it’s actually good fun) and closer act my age, which is only forgivable because it’s become a meme in the fandom. 

four sees one direction at a place in their career where they don’t need to (and are maybe even tired of) making typical bankable pop songs, so they decided to experiment, and overall it worked. 

best: 18, fool’s gold, no control

2. midnight memories

one direction tries to do a lot of things on this album. do they all work? no. is it still damn good and jam packed with ABSOLUTE bangers? yes!

this album came at the peak of their career. their first stadium tour was for this album. this was the album that came out when i was just starting to become a full-fledged 1d stan.

it’s their first album that they really had a say in, in terms of production and songwriting. and you can tell. the songs feel authentic. for the first time, these boys are singing about things they actually believe in or have experienced. it’s why i forgive it for being kind of a mess. (what other album boasts a cheeky but admittedly novel love song composed of titles of other songs and a McFly-written 'remember your roots’ anthem? songs as antithetical as the minimalistic guitar ballad half a heart and the 70s rock jam little black dress?) the boys had been waiting three years to take the reigns, and they wanted to try everything. who could blame them?

finally, this album exemplifies what makes one direction so great: heart. it’s a record that is alive (no pun intended), and full of genuinely poignant moments. 

side note: i am so glad that my first 1d concert was during the where we are tour, because these tracks were MADE for arenas. 

best: little white lies (duh), strong, happily, right now

1. take me home

if you know me, you know i love a good pop album, in all of its saccharine, cliche glory. tmh may not be one direction’s smartest or best-produced album, but it’s definitely the most dopamine-inducing (that neuroscientist in This is Us said it himself, folks). and isn’t that primarily what one direction is all about? let’s be honest. we never listened to one direction to become more cultured, or question the structures and relationships in place in our lives, we listened because they make us, for lack of a better word, happy. 

and this album makes me soar. it’s one direction at their most cheeky, their most infectious, their most head-over-heels for you, the listener. just try to listen to songs like i would and little things and not swoon. it’s impossible! 

it’s one direction at their most one direction. and it’s so much fun. 

i don’t care that some say this album is manufactured or carefully calculated under all those layers of carefree teenage energy. they’re probably right! one direction’s production team probably exacted this record to be eaten up by a young, doe-eyed tweeny bopper like i was the first time i heard it. and that’s exactly what i did. i gladly took it then, and i will gladly take it today. 

best: nobody compares, loved you first, last first kiss, heart attack, c’mon c’mon 

#no one cares gabbie #one direction #album review #music review

[gigi-sinclair]

5000th Post Ficstravaganza: Part 5/5

And my actual 5000th post!

Part 1 is here (The Terror, Joplittle, Pancake Day)

Part 2 is here (The Terror, Joplittle, Edward’s spectacles)

Part 3 is here (Good Omens, Aziraphale/Crowley, bathing)

Part 4 is here (The Terror, pre-Joplittle, a dark and stormy night)

For @buttymcbuttface, who requested Edward being very ticklish, and Thomas taking advantage of it. Full disclosure, I actually really hate being tickled myself, so this may not have the graphic tickle scenes you were hoping for, but there is some light bondage!

Forever and Not Nearly Long Enough, rated M. A followup to my fic Breakaway, aka the football/agent modern AU I stole borrowed from lafiametta. Mentions of Goodsir/Silna and Crozier/Fitzjames.

Tom doesn't realize just how drunk he is until he attempts to put his key into the front door, and the lock eludes him. 

"Need a hand?" Ed presses up behind him, his arms winding around Tom's waist and his tongue tracing the edge of Tom's ear. He moves down to kiss along Tom's jaw, then to suck at his neck. None of this does anything for Tom's coordination. He tries to bat Ed away, but Ed doesn’t move.

There are only two other flats on this floor, and the corridor is currently empty. Still, Tom has no desire to be caught making out against the door like a couple of horny teenagers. 

Ed's public coming out has gone better than Tom honestly thought it would. A couple of his bus shelter advertisements have been defaced with unimaginative slurs. At first, there was a little awkwardness in the club changing room, which Tom has stopped visiting, but Ed hasn't lost any endorsements. In fact, he's gained a couple. More important are the emails and Instagram messages Ed has received from dozens of LGBTQA kids who, up until now, had believed their sexuality automatically precluded them from any future as a professional athlete. Ed doesn't say much about it, but Tom knows how much those notes mean to him.  

The key finally hits home, and Tom and Ed stumble into the darkened flat. The moment they cross the threshold, Ed kicks the door shut and is upon Tom once more, pushing him against the wall and sliding his tongue eagerly into Tom's mouth. 

"If I'd known weddings did this to you," Tom gasps, when Ed grinds against him, "I'd have taken to you to one a long time ago." 

Harry and Silna's wedding was beautiful, like most weddings are. The bride was radiant; Goodsir spent the entire time looking like he couldn't believe it was actually happening. Tom had a great time, dancing with Ed and talking to the other guests, including Francis Crozier's new, close friend, Britannia Fitzjames. On the heels of Ed's coming out, the popular Instagram model made an announcement of her own, revealing her identity as a transwoman. Tom admires her, but not as much as Francis does. When Tom and Ed left, the two of them were sitting in a cosy corner, holding hands with hearts in their eyes. 

"Not weddings," Ed murmurs. "Just you." He backs off a little and removes his jacket, tossing it carelessly onto the floor behind him. 

Tom frowns. "Don't leave it there."

"What?"

"Your jacket. It'll get creased as hell if you leave it on the floor.”

An indecipherable look appears in Ed's eyes, even as the corner of his mouth lifts in a smile. "What will you to do me?"

"Excuse me?”

"What will you do? If I leave the jacket there."

Tom isn't sure what this is about, beyond the fact Ed is clearly just as drunk, if not drunker, than Tom. It's rare for him to be playful. Tom finds himself wanting to take advantage of it. 

"Oh," Tom says, "I know just what you deserve." 

He reaches out and yanks Ed's shirttails from his trousers. Before Ed can react, Tom slips his hands beneath and slides his hands up Ed’s bare sides. 

"Fuck, Tom!" Instinctively, Ed tries to escape. Tom doesn't let him. "You bastard," Ed laughs. 

The discovery that Ed is extremely ticklish was made quite by accident. In bed one day, Tom noticed him squirming and giggling--actually giggling--when Tom brushed his sides. Further experimentation revealed Ed had a similar reaction to Tom touching under his arms, the back of his knees, the soles of his feet. Being a kind and benevolent man, Tom has never abused this knowledge. Until now. 

Still laughing, Ed twists away from Tom's tickling fingers and flees. Tom puts the jacket on a hanger, because, all jokes aside, it is Louis Vuitton, and follows.

He reaches the bedroom just a dozen paces behind Ed, but it's long enough for Ed to  position himself to attack. He jumps out as Tom steps through the doorway, tackling him onto the bed. The mattress dips beneath their sudden, combined weight. "You think you're clever?" Ed asks, grinning. 

"Yes," Tom replies, honestly. Ed sits up, but doesn't remove himself from Tom's body. Pinned beneath him, Tom watches as Ed loosens, then removes, his own striped club tie. 

"You know how I feel about being tickled." 

Tom remains defiant. "I don't regret it." 

"Not yet, maybe." Ed loops the tie around Tom's right wrist and ties it to the headboard with the loosest knot imaginable. If he so wished, Tom could easily break free. He finds himself not wanting to. More than that, he finds himself growing warmer, his breath coming faster as Ed pulls off Tom's tie and uses it to restrain his left hand. "There." Ed surveys his handiwork, a flush on his cheeks Tom is certain must be matched on his own. "Seems like I'm the one in charge now." 

Tom swallows around the lump which has suddenly appeared in his throat. "True."

"Seems like I can do anything I want."

"Seems like it." 

Ed falters. For a moment, Tom thinks Ed will revert to his usual self, but he doesn't. Instead, without saying a word, he steps off the bed. Remaining in Tom's line of sight, he removes the rest of his clothes: shirt, shoes, trousers, underpants and socks, leaving them piled on the floor in a way Tom is sure is deliberate. Once he is naked, he straddles Tom once more, giving him an excellent view of most of Ed’s many tattoos, including Tom’s favourite: Tom’s own name, inscribed right over Ed’s heart.  

"What if I want to tease you? Get you all revved up and leave you hanging?" Ed asks, with a little wriggle.

“You wouldn’t do that.” Would he?

Another gleam comes to Ed’s eye. “What if I want to ride you?”

They've never done that before. Intellectually, Tom knows, for Ed's sake, this isn't something they should be undertaking for the first time while they're drunk and, at least in Tom’s case, growing increasingly desperate, but Tom's intellectualism disappears the moment Ed unzips his trousers and pulls out Tom’s already-eager cock. 

"Don't come on my clothes," Tom says. 

"Yes, sir," Ed replies. Tom's cock jerks again. "Any other requests?" 

"Enjoy yourself." 

Ed laughs and slides down the bed to take Tom into his mouth.

It's amazing, of course. Ed undertakes everything he does with single-minded focus and determination. After several months of living with him, and several more of working with him, Tom has learned he personally does not always appreciate this unswerving dedication of Ed's, particularly when it would be useful for him to multitask a little. In bed, however, Tom has no complaints. Rather the reverse. The look of pure concentration on Ed’s face as he lowers himself, slick and tight, onto Tom’s cock is a thing of such beauty, Tom wishes he had the artistic skills to capture it. Then again, Tom is happy with this view being for him and him alone. 

Afterwards, Ed cares for Tom gently, although that feels more like something Tom should be doing for Ed. He unties his wrists and undresses him the rest of the way. True to his word, there is not a spot of semen on Tom's bespoke Jermyn Street suit. 

Ed even goes so far as to hang up Tom's clothes, as well as his own, before returning to bed. Tom knows he should ask after him, make sure he's not too sore or, worse yet, embarrassed by what they just did, but he’s so tired, he can't bring himself to form words. In the morning, he promises himself. 

Ed rests his head on Tom's shoulder.  "Three months."

"Hmm?"

"It'll be our turn to walk down the aisle in three months."

"Ten weeks.” Tom has an intricate system of colour-coded folders dedicated to every aspect of planning their wedding. Tom opens his eyes. "Are you looking forward to it?"

"Are you joking? I can’t wait. I’d marry you tomorrow, if I didn’t know how much work you’ve put in for this big do." The complete certainty in Ed's voice brings a smile to Tom's face. Not that he ever doubted it, but Ed isn't always the most expressive of people. It's nice to hear it out loud, once in a while. "Even," Ed adds, "if you are a bastard."

“Your bastard,” Tom corrects. “Always.”

Ed reaches up for a kiss, then cuddles in close. Tom falls asleep happy. with his face in Ed’s hair and his arm, steady, secure and not at all prone to tickling, about Ed’s middle. 

#the terror #joplittle #football au #5000th post ficstravaganza

[ericsonclan]

An Adventurous Jailbreak

Summary: Louis' motley crew find themselves thrown in jail. What will happen to them now?

Part 3 of the A Pirate’s Life for Me AU

Read on A03:

“Well, this took less time than I expected.” Violet groaned as she leaned against the jail wall. “Less than two days into joining your crew and we’ve already been tossed in jail.” “I didn’t think that stealing would be so hard.” Louis pouted as he sat down. “It really went to shit when you tripped.” Mitch grumbled. “Hitting Marlon who fell and knocked over Violet who then ran into me. So much food fell out, it looked like we had robbed a fucking feast.” “There was soooo much food.” Willy groaned, his face gloomy as his stomach growled. Tenn gave him a sympathetic smile, patting his shoulder. “Hey. You folks doing alright in there?” A friendly voice called out. It belonged to the jail guard. Her red hair stood out amongst her drab attire as she looked with concern at the younger boys. “We’re okay. It’s just that Willy and Tenn are pretty hungry.” Louis replied, gesturing towards the two boys. The guard's face fell in sadness before lighting up. “Oh, wait.” She rummaged through her pockets, producing an apple. “ I know it ain’t much, but you can have this.” Louis gratefully accepted the apple, passing it to the two boys who split it, consuming the apple in seconds. “Thanks.” Louis gave a small smile. “The name’s Louis. What’s yours?” “Nice to meet you, Louis. I’m Ruby.”

“That’s a nice name. Oh, and this is my crew. That girl is Violet, the grumpy one over there is Mitch, that’s Marlon and those two are Willy and Tenn.” Each member gave a small nod or smile at their introduction. “Hewwo.” Willy gave a friendly wave as he spoke with his mouth full. Ruby smiled and waved back. “Excuse me!” A voice called out from the cell across theirs. “Would it be too much trouble if I got some water?” The voice belonged to a tall, slender man with a goatee. His clothes were finer than any of the others could afford. “Sure thing.” Ruby said, excusing herself before returning with water. “Here you go.” The man froze as he took the water from her. “Wow. Maybe being in jail won’t be so bad after all. My name’s Aasim.” “Ruby.” Suddenly footsteps echoed throughout the hall. The warden walked by, two guards flanking his sides as he strode down the hall. Following them was a girl around nineteen. Her red hair was slightly disheveled, but it was clear that she was trying to maintain a level of presentability. Her eyes looked worn out and tired as she glanced at the cells. The warden stopped in front of Aasim’s cell, holding forward a scroll as he read from it. “Let it be known that at dawn tomorrow this crooked man will face his execution for all his misdeeds against this fair town, such as tax evasion as well as his many cons.” The warden's face was twisted in a smile as he finished reading. Aasim felt his heart drop. This was bad. Really bad. “Sir, is that really necessary?” Ruby asked. “He didn’t do anything worthy of execution. He should stay in jail for his crimes.” The warden looked annoyed. “Why is a lowly guard such as yourself questioning the law?” “Oh no, sir, that’s not what I…” “Get out of my way.” The warden pushed past her before stopping in front of the others’ cell. “I hope you know that you pirates are very close to the same fate. See here, Wardy, look at this face closely.” The girl glanced up, following her father’s finger as it pointed at Mitch’s face. “That is the face of evil. The scum of the earth: a pirate.” Mitch glared back at him. “Listen here, you piece of..” Violet’s hand quickly hit the back of his head. “Don’t be a dumbass.” Mitch looked at her before stepping back with a huff. “Come along. We need to go onto the next tasks of a warden. The very tasks you will someday fulfill.” The warden’s voice rang out as his daughter followed behind him sluggishly. As soon as they had left, Violet turned to the others. “Empty your pockets.” “What? Why?” Marlon asked with confusion. “I need to see if we have anything to use for a lock pick.” She whispered, hoping Ruby wouldn’t hear them and stop their plan. “Nice plan, Violet!” Louis exclaimed as he emptied his pockets. As she looked through the contents of everyone’s pockets, she came across an item that she could use. Discreetly, she began to pick the lock, cussing slightly as she heard footsteps growing louder. With one final turn, she heard the click of the lock opening the cell door. As they exited their captivity they heard the other cell door clang. “Hey! You’ve got to help me! Get me out of here!” Aasim's voice cracked as he pleaded. “I don’t want to die.” The group looked at each other, quietly debating what to do before Violet sighed and walked over to help him. After a few minutes and some encouragement from Louis and the others, she had the door open. “What’s going on here?” Ruby’s voice caused everyone to freeze in place. Aasim’s hand was on the cell door as it slowly moved forward, causing an awkward squeaking sound that echoed through the halls. “What was that sound?” Another guard’s voice rang out as footsteps sounded through the corridor. Ruby studied the group’s worried faces. “Follow me.” She whispered, making her way down a passage. The others looked at each other. It was their only option. They sprinted down the halls. As they followed her, Louis asked the question that was on everyone’s minds. “Why are you helping us?” Ruby glanced back with a gentle smile. “Your sentences were unfair. Besides, I can tell that you’re all good people.” Guards quickly spotted them exiting the building. They chased the group, running throughout the town and past nearby houses. “We need disguises!” Louis shouted, glancing behind him. Violet and Mitch looked at a nearby clothes line before grabbing some clothes off it, tossing each other items as they ran. “Wait, we can’t steal clothes!” Louis grumbled. “You stole your dad’s ship. What’s the difference?” Mitch yelled as he tossed Violet a red striped shirt. “Fair enough.” Louis suddenly ran into a clothes line, letting out a tiny yelp. “Oh, Willy! This would look really good on you!” He exclaimed looking at the simple white shirt. “Score!” Willy shouted, catching the shirt. The street rats and Marlon found their outfits with ease while Louis looked carefully for escape options. His eyes lit up as he grabbed a nearby black coat. Its tailcoats blew in the winds as he put it on. Soon the group arrived at the ship and scurried around, getting ready to set sail. Ruby and Aasim both tried their best to help get the ship going while the others yelled out instructions. Louis took the wheel, turning the ship so that it slowly drifted away. “What the hell is that?” Mitch yelled, spotting a person sprinting closer and closer to their ship. Luckily, they had already pulled away from the docks. It didn’t seem to stop the runner. They jumped forward, rolling onto the ship with a grunt. The group couldn’t believe what they had just seen. “You’re that girl from jail!” Willy shouted. “Can you teach me how to jump like that?” He jumped up and down with excitement. Her chest heaved as she stood up. “It was all adrenaline.” Louis looked out at the docks which grew farther and farther away. Guards swarmed them. There was no way they could turn back. “Welcome aboard!” He lifted his hands dramatically, flashing a smile towards her. “I’m Louis, this ship’s captain. What’s your name?” “Brody.” She let out a shaky breath. “My name’s Brody.” “Why did you make that crazy jump?” Violet asked as she finished pulling the ropes attached to the sails. “I came to join you. I want to be part of your crew!” “You sure you want to be here with a bunch of good for nothing thieves?” Mitch asked with a smirk. Brody looked over at him with a smile. In one fluid movement she slicked back her hair. “Of course!”

#twdg #twdgs4 #fanfic #twdg louis #twdg violet #twdg mitch #twdg willy #twdg tenn #twdg ruby #twdg aasim #a pirate's life for me au

[larryfanfiction]

kikikryslee @flamboyantommo

💙 Hate is a Strong Word by kikikryslee (8k)

“I’m fine,” Harry said. “Just, that guy over there. I kind of can’t stand him.” “Which one?” Perrie asked. “The one in the blue shirt, with the striped tie. His name’s Louis Tomlinson, and he’s the new regional manager.” “He doesn’t seem so bad. Why do you hate him so much?” “Hate is a strong word,” Harry answered. “But I really, really, really don’t like him.” — Or, the one where Perrie has a crush on Louis and Harry wants nothing to do with him. The fact that Louis stole Harry’s job has absolutely nothing to do with it.

💙 I’d Still Dance With You by kikikryslee (56k)

“Liam, if you met someone that you really liked, would age matter?” Louis asked. “I suppose so; to a point, anyway.” “Like, how young would you go?” Liam thought it over. “Uh… I don’t know. Like, 24?” Louis groaned and dropped his head in his hands. “Why? How old is this guy you like?” “Twenty-one,” Louis muttered. “Hang on. He’s 21, and you’re… what? Twenty-eight?” “Yeah.” “Wow. Um… well, OK. That’s a, uh, that’s a gap.” — Or, the 21/28 age difference fic where Harry is younger than Louis thought he was, and even though Louis’ head is telling him not to pursue anything, his heart doesn’t seem to agree.

💙 Members Only by kikikryslee (14k)

“Well, I’m gonna go work out now, so…” Harry said, his voice trailing off. Louis nodded. “Yeah, yeah, go ahead. Go get, uh, you know, strong and buff.” What? Louis wanted to die. “Um, thanks?” Harry said. “Um…” Without another word, Harry walked away from the desk. Louis pinched his thigh – hard – hoping that was some terrible, awkward nightmare that he might soon wake up from. — Or, the one where Louis works at Harry’s new gym and neither one of them knows how to hold a coherent conversation with the other.

💙 Got It Backwards by kikikryslee (45k)

Harry said the baby’s name again. “It’s perfect.” “Just like its daddy,” Louis told him. He placed a hand on top of his stomach and rubbed small circles into it. “Just like its papa,” Harry replied. “There you go again, being all cheesy.” “You started it.” “Yeah, I guess I did this time.” Harry leaned in to kiss Louis softly on the lips. As Louis kissed him back, all he could think about was how lucky he was. He had a loving boyfriend, a baby on the way and a house that he could have only ever dreamed about. At this point in his life, just a year and a half ago, everything he had was all just that – a dream. — Or, the one where Louis and Harry are having a baby and Louis is afraid that he isn’t ready, until he remembers how he and Harry first fell in love.

💙 It’s Hard to Say It, Time to Say It by kikikryslee (10k)

Harry sighed. “We have a lot of clothes in stock, sir-” “Please don’t call me ‘sir,’” the guy said. “I’m only twenty-six.” “OK, then. We have a lot of clothes in stock, dude, so finding something else in your size won’t be a problem if it means you’ll buy something. What are you? Like, an extra small?” The guy actually had the nerve to look offended. Harry resisted laughing. “Hey! I’ll have you know that I’m a medium!” “In what?” Harry asked, looking the guy over. “Children’s?” — Or, the one where Louis is an annoying customer who won’t leave Harry’s shop on time, and Harry is counting down the seconds until Louis leaves. Until a chance encounter at a concert, and suddenly, Harry really doesn’t want Louis to leave.

💙 Shut Up and Wink at Me by kikikryslee (14k)

“Did you get your housing information yet?” Louis asked. Harry pursed his lips. “Yeah. So?” “So? So it looks like we’re going to be roommates. Don’t you think we should know each other a little bit?” “We’ve gone to the same schools since Kindergarten. I already know you.” “Yeah, but we’re not like, friends,” Louis said. “Ouch.” Harry pretended to be hurt, holding a hand over his heart. “That stings, Louis.” Louis rolled his eyes. “Look, I would like to know at least something about you before I live with you for an entire school year.” “What do you suggest?” “I don’t know,” Louis said. “I guess just like, hang out and make sure we’re compatible?” “You make it sound like we’re going on a blind date.” “Trust me; we’re fucking not.” “Again, ouch.” — Or, the one where Louis wants to go away to college to get away from everything having to do with his hometown. So when he finds out his roommate will be Harry Styles, perfect school athlete and the exact opposite of what Louis wants in a roommate, he’s not happy about it.

💙 What’s Stopping You? by kikikryslee (14k)

That shirt was what held his attention again. How many other guys had the same shirt that H and Harry had, and – wait. H… Harry. Harry did yoga. So did H. They both had the same shirt, and had both gotten home ten minutes ago and were cooking dinner. No way. Louis looked at the picture again, and stared more closely at H’s lips. They were pink and pouty, with the lower lip a bit plumper than the top, just like Harry. And H had brown, curly hair that reached his shoulders, just like Harry. Louis looked over at Harry, who was putting his hair back up into a bun as the kitchen was most likely getting warmer. “Holy shit,” Louis whispered. Have I been flirting with my own roommate all this time? — Or, the one where Harry wants to get over his crush on Louis, so he makes a Grindr account to find someone new. Of course, Louis messages him, not realizing H’s real identity. It only takes a few days for them to figure it out.

💙 Runner on Third by kikikryslee (39k)

As Harry stood there, the other man turned around, and he knew he was correct in who he thought it was. “Louis?” he asked, still not quite believing it. Louis blinked. “Harry? Wh– what are you doing here?” “I work here,” Harry said. “What are you doing here?” “Um, I’m picking up my brother. The nurse called and said he was sick.” Harry felt like he was going to be sick. “Wait, Ernest is your brother? Since when do you have a brother?” “Since about seven years ago, I guess. Wait, how do you know Ernest?” “I’m his teacher.” “You’re his what?” Louis exclaimed. Harry gulped. This was going to be a long year. — Or, the AU where Louis and Harry were best friends growing up, but lost touch after Harry moved away. Ten years later, Harry has moved back to town, but he and Louis don’t pick up where they left off.

💙 Bye Bye’s Are Not For Legends (I’m Forever Young) by kikikryslee (51k)

A Superhero AU where Louis, Liam and Niall are immortal and have superpowers - Liam can clone himself, Niall can inflict pain at the drop of a hat and Louis can kill with the blink of an eye - and want fellow immortal Harry, who puts a twist on the term ‘mind control,’ to join their group in order to save the world. — “You know how you told my dad like a decade or two ago that you three felt like you were missing something?” Sophia asked. “Yeah, I remember,” Louis answered. “Well, I have somebody for you, if you’re interested. His name’s Harry Styles, and he does this thing where he stares really deeply into people’s eyes, and suddenly, they’re walking away from him, like some sort of-“ “Mind control,” Louis finished. “Exactly. Could be worth checking out.” Louis looked at Liam and Niall, both of whom looked eager to meet the man. “OK,” Louis said. “Where can we find him?”

💙 Court-Ordered by kikikryslee (10k)

Louis sighed. "I don’t think I’m his type.” “You’re everyone’s type,” Niall said. “Everyone likes you.” "But we only just stopped sort of hating each other. What if I mess it all up?” “Wow. You really do like him.” “I do not.” “Yeah, you do,” Niall grinned. “You like a tree hugger. Who saw it coming?” — Or, the one where pot-smoking Louis and SeaWorld protester Harry both get community service, and don’t get along at all. Until they do.

#kikikryslee #as

[wellwornwornwell]

On: Rowing Blazers

I was recently asked for my thoughts on Rowing Blazers, the latest entrant into the “preppy” clothing scene. Well...

The American condition is marked by an inescapable sense of existential dread. A country so rich, so successful, so full of itself and brimming with pride and confidence, one would think that each and every one of its denizens would be wealthy beyond imagination. And yet it is only the idea of success that is made available to all – shelved on brilliant, alluring displays, but packaged in a thick, toxic plastic and masked by arbitrary “Best Before” labels.

Ronald Wright once brilliantly remarked that the American poor see themselves not as an exploited proletariat, but rather “temporarily embarrassed millionaires.” Circumstance runs as a narrow channel between aspiration and entitlement and it is every American’s duty to bridge that gap. Every piece of the American experience is tied to this journey. We must prove that we have made it; that we have tasted the fruits of our labor.

But how do we prove this to the huddled masses who sit just out of reach from their bootstraps? If only there were tangible artifacts of success. Some conspicuous display of wealth, of culture, of experience and (more importantly) triumph. Lucky for us, there’s Rowing Blazers.

It’s unfair to single Rowing Blazers out for this. They are just following the time-tested algorithm set before them. Ralph Lauren comes to mind as the most famous architect to bridge the gap of entitlement and aspiration with a sturdy gangway of materialism, though even he begged, borrowed and stole his approach. Rowing Blazers is just the latest in a stream of brands desperate to tell you how cool they are.

It should be noted the brand was started by a rather accomplished rower in Jack Carlson. A bonafide Ivy League grad and a representative of these United States in international competition, Jack is the perfect messiah for eccentric public school kids and unfairly besmirched private school kids the world over. You see Jack has been there. He knows what it takes to be interesting, accomplished, elite. And conveniently enough he’s distilled that into $200 rugby shirts and $50 baseball caps and $5,000… posters?

The brand itself walks a tightrope of relevance with counterbalances of vaguely European elitism and bro-friendly execution. When I close my eyes and imagine Rowing Blazer’s most ardent fan I see a young man who drinks Miller Lite out of crystal glasses; a kid who would display an empty bottle of Louis XIII atop the cabinets of his college apartment. You’re going to run into him wearing a brightly striped Rowing Blazer at the Veuve Clicquot Polo Classic. He’s drunk and the only Henley he’s familiar with is the Abercrombie shirt he had in middle school.

This is all fine, obviously. Rowing Blazers seems to own its role in the bastardization of classic, upper-crust norms. Their Supreme-like tendency to collaborate with classic brands (They put the Shaggy Dog logo ON the sweater?! Whacky!) and the hipster darlings (Did you guys hear that Noah is bringing preppy back?) allows them to never take things too seriously. You don’t get the sense Jack means any of this. He understands he’s knocking off a very stuffy and deliberate culture that couldn’t be less threatened by his presence. This is all in good fun.

But in the same breath I can’t help but be disappointed by this latest “preppy” flagship. While not everything in life needs to be authentic, Rowing Blazers feels like it panders to a sense of belonging and exclusivity that is inherently at odds with its very existence. Obviously not everyone can row for an elite university or belong to an exclusive leisure club, but the artifacts of these memberships are so unique and pronounced that they don’t leave much opportunity for interpretation or personalization.

The beauty of brands like Ralph Lauren is that the clothes are flexible enough to make them your own. Sure they are emblazoned with RLs or ponies, but none of that is overly limiting. This is not the case with a wildly striped blazer that has been (ahem) repurposed from a specific group or organization. These garments exist to define belonging and the people buying Rowing Blazers simply do not.

It’s encouraging to see the brand has shifted to non-rowing designs more recently. Some of their stuff is honestly pretty cool and unique and I think the opportunity to become more like a hip Ralph Lauren Rugby (RIP) is certainly there for the taking. Hopefully they continue down that road and leave the aristocratic knock-offs behind.

It takes a special brand of miserly elitism to get mad at a brand that sells Pierce & Pierce hats. And there is nothing to gain by rejecting a maker because they don’t possess a sense of authenticity built on elitism and a deliberate shunning of the lower classes. If anything his democratization of upper-class norms should be applauded as it exposes the absurdity of old white guys feeling superior while dressed like complete assholes. Perhaps it is jealousy that has me doing anything other than wishing Mr. Carlson the best in his Technicolor endeavors? Who knows?

#Rowing Blazers

[stylinsonlibrary]

FIC OF THE WEEK → Hate is a Strong Word by Anonymous (8k)

"I’m fine,” Harry said. “Just, that guy over there. I kind of can’t stand him.”

“Which one?” Perrie asked.

“The one in the blue shirt, with the striped tie. His name’s Louis Tomlinson, and he’s the new regional manager.”

“He doesn’t seem so bad. Why do you hate him so much?”

“Hate is a strong word,” Harry answered. “But I really, really, really don’t like him.”

Or, the one where Perrie has a crush on Louis and Harry wants nothing to do with him. The fact that Louis stole Harry's job has absolutely nothing to do with it.

#fotw #under10 #au #os #enemies to lovers #coworkers #businessman #businessman louis #businessman harry #businessman hl #fluff #no smut

[ao3feed-larry]

Hate is a Strong Word

by Anonymous

"I’m fine,” Harry said. “Just, that guy over there. I kind of can’t stand him.” “Which one?” Perrie asked. “The one in the blue shirt, with the striped tie. His name’s Louis Tomlinson, and he’s the new regional manager.” “He doesn’t seem so bad. Why do you hate him so much?” “Hate is a strong word,” Harry answered. “But I really, really, really don’t like him.” --- Or, the one where Perrie has a crush on Louis and Harry wants nothing to do with him. The fact that Louis stole Harry's job has absolutely nothing to do with it.

Words: 8705, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: One Direction (Band)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson, Perrie Edwards, Niall Horan, Liam Payne

Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Office, Co-workers, Fluff, Banter, Oblivious Harry, First Kiss, i want to tag this as, Hate to Love, but it's literally not haha

via AO3 works tagged 'Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson' https://ift.tt/2o1zrge

#larry stylinson #larry fic #ao3 feed larry #Hate is a Strong Word #<p>by Anonymous</p><p>"I’m fine #” H