kristin knows all too well what me spiralling down the baby void vortex looks like, keeping this to five images is what’s BEST but also i’m mad this door has been opened again; it’s bad enough mini boden is SENDING ME CATALOGS
this was also hard, he’s so hot? i stand by all the tags i’ve made on all of those posts, particularly the nonsensical ones.
top 5 nervous but also somehow erotic niall moments now this one gives me pause– erotic because he is nervous or because i am nervous that a thing is somehow erotic??? well as diehard niall fans know (hi lucy), solo niall season has been chock full of horrifically anxiety inducing interviews, often giving us gems as we cringe, like this one:
can’t remember where i found it but it’s a great one. here are some more!
bonus part from the slow hands video which i like bc he snuck into times square without incident:
There has been such a deluge of great fics recently that I felt the urge to collect a few of my recent favorites and recommend them in case you missed any of these. No particular theme…just that I loved them, thought they were beautifully written, and deserve as many eyes on them as possible!
“You don’t love me,” Louis had said, utterly blasé as he callously fractured the heart of a Harry that was just barely eighteen.
“I do,” Harry had insisted pleadingly, green eyes already watering.
Louis had rolled his eyes, exasperated and flippant in the way only beautiful, young boys could be when faced with the affections of a baby prince. He had run his finger down Harry’s cheek then, had forced him to look into his eyes as he delivered the final blow.
“You’ll change your mind once you’ve seen more of the world,” Louis had teased, pressing a brutally delicate kiss onto Harry’s lovely, pure cheek. “Once you’ve been properly defiled.” He had whispered filthily, delighted by the gasp he heard, the frantic pink blush that had rested high on Harry’s cheeks, the power he had felt at knowing he could make the Crown Prince squirm.
“Why did you talk like that in Brighton? If you weren’t planning on ever telling me?” Louis asked. “Is it because you think you’re going to die?”
“It’s war, Lou,” Harry said finally.
The words were a knife slipped between his ribs. Everything hurt and he was bleeding. He shifted up, his palms cradling Harry’s jaw, his lips against his boy’s. Not kissing, just resting there, so Louis could feel him. “Promise you’ll come back to me.”
Harry’s hands smoothed down the sides of Louis’ body. “You know I can’t do that. I’ll never lie to you.”
“Promise me. We’re going to have our cottage. And our dogs. And our breakfast in the garden where nothing grows because of the wind from the sea. Promise me.”
“I won’t.” Stubborn as always, his boy. “I’ll promise you, I’ll love you all my life. I’ll promise you, you’ll never leave my thoughts. I’ll promise you, you’re my forever and my always. But promising you something I can’t cheapens the things I can.” —- Or the World War II AU where Harry goes off to fight and all Louis wants to do is be the boy who brings him home.
Harry stares at him, the line of his jaw standing out scarily. “I wanted to get the most out of this trip so I planned it carefully.” His voice is low and steady and somehow that’s worse than when he was yelling. “So far, you’ve put your sticky fingers on everything I’ve tried to do.”
“Sticky fingers?” Louis repeats, offended. “Are you saying it’s my fault you got stung by a bee? Had you been alone you would have gotten halfway to the Dotty Diner and ran the car off the road because of an allergic reaction, so don’t go blaming me.”
“Polk-A-Dot Drive In,” Harry spits before getting out of the car. He slams the door shut with a deafening reverb and Louis rolls his eyes. - A Route 66 AU where falling in love was never part of the plan.
I was glad to have the chance to talk with you again at the AHA conference. Your idea that the Musee D’Orsay Tomlinson painting is in fact not a self-portrait is an intriguing one, and I may have discovered something that will have a bearing on that theory.
Some background: as you may remember, I’ve been researching for a book I’m writing about Harry Styles. I’ve been in communication with Styles’ last living descendant, who is in possession of a trunk that her family believed to have belonged to Styles himself. It held some personal items she presumes to be his, including two unmounted paintings and a small collection of letters.
Upon spending the last few days in Provins studying these items, I believe there to be a connection between Tomlinson and Styles, and I would very much like your opinion.
Are you up for a trip to France?
Sincerely, Liam Payne
Where Liam and Niall are art historians discovering the truth about two nineteenth century painters on opposite sides of an artistic divide.
For as long as anyone can remember, Old Hillsbridge Manor has always been believed to be haunted. Everyone in the village agrees and keeps a respectful, fearful, distance. New in town after a bad breakup and an internship that led to disappointment rather than a permanent job, Harry Styles figures taking pictures of the decrepit building could be a great new creative project. Or at least a much-needed distraction while he searches for a job and crashes at his parents’ new house. No one warned him about the apparitions though; about the music, the laughter, the people who flicker and vanish when you call after them, the echoes of a past that should be long gone… Harry has never believed in spirits but even he can admit that there’s something weird going on. What starts as mere curiosity evolves into a full-blown investigation and soon enough, Harry finds himself making friends with an aristocrat from the 1920s and struggling with finding the best way to tell him that he’s dead.
The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process.
It’s been two weeks now. Two weeks of tossing and turning in his bed, waking up sticky with sweat, head pounding.
“Your moon is so different from mine, did you know?” the boy, Harry, murmurs, and Louis flushes red, glad the dark of the night hides the blush on his cheeks. Thinking about sweaty nights thrashing around in his bed isn’t the best idea right now. Not here, next to this boy. Some mornings, Louis could swear he wakes up with Harry’s scent on his pillow.
In the light of the moon, Harry tells stories about the places beyond the stars, and Louis wonders about the curve of his lips.
“He came every summer. It wasn’t even a question. Harry and his parents—one step, one real—picked up their lives, packed it into a car, and drove long enough to land at the ends of the earth.
"The cabin had been in his family for a hundred years. There was no TV, no phone, no computer, no radio. There were decks of cards and plastic deer and marbles. There were skis and leaves and a tree house.
"And then there was Louis.”
Or, Harry and Louis meet every summer at the lake.
Louis and Harry have known each other all their lives. Friends as children, they danced around each other as teenagers, and have spent the last twenty-five years either screaming at each other or not speaking at all. Except for that one time ten years ago…
When Hurricane Nicole threatens the coast, they end up stuck together in their families’ old vacation home that they begrudgingly co-own.
During the storm, and in the months after, they’re both forced to reevaluate their history and what they mean to each other.
I have a “to read” list a mile long….so I’m sure I’ll be adding to this! Let me know if you’ve read these and what you think…I always love screaming about great fics!