harry's hand on louis' shoulder

anonymous asked:

you know what would definitely make everything so much better? ... another snippet from your angel/demon fic, please please please please <3

can do! 


Dinner is a chance for them to check in, a weekly once-over that ensures they’re as safe and as happy as immortals in a human world can be. Family isn’t a word they throw around lightly; they’re all here because they choose to be, but they’re also here because the general consensus is that each of them belongs. There are some that are closer than others — Amy and Eoghan are more Niall’s brood than part of the core family, and then there’s Louis’ (and Harry’s) additions, Lottie and Fizzy and Daisy and Phoebe — but no matter what, they take care of their own.

And so that’s why Louis is supremely unsurprised when Niall drops into a chair across from him and Zayn at the table, the plates and glasses around them empty, his brows furrowed.

“Harry told me you two had a weird summoning this week,” he says, apropos of nothing, and interrupting Zayn in the middle of his meandering thought about how Bob Marley was totally qualified for sainthood and how it’s a crime he wasn’t given it.

“Weird summoning?” Zayn asks, letting the Marley conversation go easier than Louis would’ve expected. Louis sighs.

“Yeah, it was weird. Nothing bad, just strange,” he shrugs. “Bunch of kids in a basement in Yorkshire, and somehow they were strong enough to summon both me and Harry in the same day.”

“Maybe they had help?” Niall asks.

“Nah, don’t think so. I read through their spellbook before I burned it, but the Latin in it wasn’t even translated properly, it didn’t really make sense. So I think they just managed to accidentally use a really good spell instead of a mediocre one.”

“You know, now that you mention that,” Zayn says, “My visions this week had a lot of you and Harry in them, and they’re usually a little hard to understand but this week was even weirder.”

Niall hums, looking unsettled. “Don’t like that much.”

“I don’t either,” Zayn says.

“It’s no big deal,” Louis says soothingly, or at least an approximate version of soothingly. They’re clucking at him like mother hens as though this is his first time all alone in the big bad world. If there had been danger in that bland little Cottingham basement, Louis would have known, or Harry would have seen; between the two of them, they’ve survived a lot worse things than spotty kids playing witch in a basement.

“Just let me get the cards and do a quick look, it’ll make me feel better,” Niall says, getting to his feet. Zayn clears a space on the table, scooting aside the potato dish and the chicken bones and the fourth empty bottle of wine to make room for Niall.

They aren’t tarot cards, because Niall’s not a Seer — Stan is, and he could do an in-depth reading if he were here, even though Louis would still say that’s completely unnecessary — but the one thing Niall has deep in his bones is a well of magic, real magic, and these cards help him channel what he sees in his head.

Louis’ power comes from grace, holy buckets of grace imbued in his very being; Harry’s comes from the opposite — unholiness, Louis supposes, but there’s probably a better word for it. Witches and magic users draw magic from the Earth, and they can harness it, but they don’t own it, and it’s not part of them.

For Niall, and for others like him, magic is what took his family and made them above other humans. Magic is the extra strand in his DNA, as it were, and while he can’t always control it, he does always have it. Ready to be drawn on, a reservoir of power. And so he made these cards by hand, ages back, to put that magic to immediate use when he needs it. One look at what his magic-imbued subconscious picked out for him and he can paint a picture of someone’s past, present, or future.

Unlike a tarot reading, he doesn’t lay out multiple cards to paint a picture; he just needs one. He shuffles the deck and swipes through, until his hand stills over the one calling to him:

He lays it out, turns it over — a water wheel.

Niall’s brow furrows again, and he puts the card back in the deck. Harry’s drifted over as well, probably seeing the confused frown on Louis’ face, and he watches quietly over Louis’ shoulder.

Niall draws again, pausing over the card that speaks to him, and flips it over: this one is a throne on fire.

“Um,” Niall says, flicking a glance up at Louis and Harry. “That’s… odd.”

“What’s odd?” Harry asks.

“Well,” Niall says, exhaling slowly. “Normally, when I pull a card for Louis, I get the same one for you, because your destinies have always been all tied up together. But this time, they were different.” He stares at the burning throne card for a moment, then puts it back in the deck and shuffles again. “Maybe I just- just did it wrong.”

He’s never done it wrong before. Harry puts his hand on Louis’ shoulder, and when Louis looks up at him he’s biting his lip, watching Niall’s hands hover over the deck. His eyes are squeezed tight as his hand passes over the deck and he stills once again, choosing a card.

“So, for Louis,” he narrates, then flips the card — the water wheel.

He nods to himself, puts the card back in the deck, shuffles and chooses again.

“For Harry,” he says, and flips a card over — the burning throne.

“That’s…” he trails off, still staring at the card he drew.

“What does that mean?” Louis asks, peering more closely at the card, the painted flames licking at the crown lying abandoned in the seat of the throne.

“Erm, it’s not one set meaning, you know,” Niall explains, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. He looks around, sees that everyone else besides the four of them are engrossed in a competitive game of Jenga in the living room, and then meets Harry’s eyes, looking worried. “But I keep getting one word, over and over.” He winces a little. “Betrayal.”

Zayn breathes in, a quick intake. “Oh,” he says, “that, well. That reminds me — my visions were all over the place this week, yeah? Most of them are quick flashes of what’s going to happen eventually, but some of these made no sense. But one of them,” he pauses, also looking apologetically at Harry. “Well, it can’t be true, maybe we shouldn’t worry.”

“No, wait,” Harry says, bottom lip jutting out, his eyes anxious. “I want to know, just in case.”

“Erm, okay, but remember that this doesn’t necessarily have to be literal,” Zayn cautions. He takes another breath. “I saw… well, I saw you, standing over Louis while he was lying on the ground.”

“That’s not so bad,” Louis says, hopeful. “That could mean lots of things.”  

“He had your sword,” Zayn continues, looking ruefully between them. “And he was about to use it. Against you.”

Harry’s hand clenches on Louis’ shoulder, and Louis can’t stand it.

“That’s not going to happen,” he says, point-blank. “It’s ridiculous to even think so.”

“Totally,” Zayn adds in quickly. “I could’ve seen it wrong, that happens sometimes.”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Niall says belatedly.

Harry stays quiet for the rest of the night.

Like Father Like Stepson

Pairing: Louis Tomlinson & Harry Styles (Larry)

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Daddy Kink, Underage, Bdsm, Slightly non-con scene 

Word Count: 7500

Summary: Louis has a complicated life being the stepson of prestigious business executive Harry Styles. It doesn’t help that he is forced to live along side two annoying step brothers Liam and Niall. With Louis’ bad temper and lack of boundaries, quite the eventful week is about to ensue. 

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To whom it may concern (larry stylinson)

can’t even

with them

how do people

not see

it all adds up

it can’t all be ‘a joke’ or 'a coincidence' 

there has to be a point

where you realise

that it’s more than that

that there’s a difference between a bromance 

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Title: Take Cover, Baby
Author: beyourgoodnight
Rating: NR
Fandom: One Direction
Ship: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Words: 2227
Summary: A hand on his shoulder startles him out of his thoughts, which were dangerously close to spiraling toward full on anxiety. The man connected to the hand snorts at Harry’s reaction and Harry shoots him a look.

“Never met someone so nervous to be returning from war,” Thomas intones sarcastically.

Or, Harry Styles returns from the war and he thinks he might be more nervous to step on the train platform in his hometown than he was to step on the battlefield.

Read it here.

archiveofourown.org
keep them in your mason jars (i've come home)

“I saw them there and I wanted to know what they were. I thought they were maybe tea lights or something but there’s things written on them. Like middle school and other happy things. Do you collect things?”

“Memories,” Louis blurts out, hand so tight on Harry’s shoulder his fingers could bruise into him. But he needs something to hold onto in fear he may fall over and pass out if he doesn’t. “I collect memories.”

But the silence between them is unsettling. As each cold second passes, the thought of Harry shouting out loud that he’s a freak is doubling. The thought of Harry running away and never coming back to him again is tripling.

Until Harry speaks. “You have fifty mason jars sitting outside with memories inside them?”

or the high school au where louis believes he can hold memories inside mason jars to last a lifetime, and harry holds both louis and his unique tradition deep in his heart. otherwise known as the mason jar fic.

anonymous asked:

Ohmygod!!!!!! I didnt fucking know harry pushed liams hand away from louis' shoulder ahhhhhdjkdkkdkdnlskd

In that moment Harry had two main objectives: Get Liam’s hand off his boyfriend, and give Louis the lovebite of his life. Mine mine mine! Possessive little bugger

#15 – “It should've been me.”

#15 – “It should’ve been me.”

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Harry: As Harry watched you from a distance, his eyes were glued to your diamond clad ring finger. Your boyfriend, or douche-lord as Harry liked to call him, had just proposed in front of all of your friends. He watched as your boyfriend held open the tiny velvet box, and when your eyes lit up in excitement, he was sure his heart had skipped a beat. A strong hand on his shoulder jolted him from his thoughts, and his eyes quickly diverted away from the scene in front of him. His best mate, Louis appeared at his side, his girlfriend Eleanor on his arm. “You alright, mate?” Louis asked, patting Harry’s shoulder. Harry nods solemnly, downing the last of his drink and letting his eyes wander back to you. Louis and Eleanor share a look, and before Harry has time to protest, she’s walking away and Louis is pulling Harry to the side of the room to speak more privately. “You love her, don’t you?” Lou asks, searching his best friends eyes. Harry nods solemnly once more, unable to find his voice. He was sure that if he were to say anything, his voice would crack with disappointment and desperation. He needed you, and though you were still his best friend, you weren’t his to call his own. Through the midst of the ten years you and Harry knew one another, he had you, briefly, before he allowed you to slip from his fingers. At one point or another, each of you had broken one another’s heart. It took months to fix what had been damaged, and once you and him had mended the broken friendship, things were perfect. Until he realized something – He was in love with you. He couldn’t deny it, he always was. You were the one, you would always be the one. But he had missed his opportunity, and now he stood watching you from afar, as you smiled brightly, showing off the sparkly engagement ring on your finger. Harry smiled faintly, his heart swelling seeing how happy you were, but he couldn’t swallow the pain of knowing that another man was the source of that happiness. Louis stood quietly, unable to say anything to make Harry feel better. Soon the other boys crowded around the two of you, wondering what the problem was. “You alright?” Liam puts a hand on his shoulder, just as Louis had done. Harry brings his gaze back to you once more, and this time he’s caught. You smile at him widely, and he forces himself to return the small gesture. He can feel the tears prickling his eyes, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. Harry turns away from you, shoving his hands in his pocket as he trys to gather himself. The boys watch with sadness in their eyes as Harry shakes his head, probably trying to clear his thoughts. “I love her.” He sighs, a few tears streaking his cheeks. “It should’ve been me.” Harry whispers, and catches Niall’s wide eyes with a confused look. You stood behind Harry quietly, unable to fathom what you had just accidentally heard.

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Louis: “Lou?” You called for your best friend from across the room. There you stood, in a beautiful white gown, just waiting to walk down the isle. Your nimble fingers shake as you grasp the small bouquet of flowers. Louis looks up from his place across from you, his eyes glassy with tears, though the reasoning for them wasn’t what you thought. You smile brightly at your best friend, and the man who would be giving you away on this special day. “Can you just zip me up? It’s almost time.” You nod to him in the mirror, fixing a piece of stray hair as Louis nods and appears behind you. He stared at your open back for a few minutes, adoring your goosebumps and scattered freckles. How he come to be in this situation, he almost couldn’t remember. You had met Louis when you were only ten years old. You had grown close from the moment you had met, and your friendship remained tight even through Louis rise to fame. Now, through every single up and down, he was going to be the one to walk you down that isle and give you away to John. John was a wonderfully kind, well off man. He was attractive, and everything you’d ever want in a husband. You felt Louis fingers brush the exposed skin on your back, and instantly goosebumps appeared. After a breath, Louis zipped up your white dress and looked back at you in the mirror, his face was blank with tears escaping down his cheeks. “Lou?” You ask in a confused tone, turning around to come face to face with him. He looks up at you, and the two of you hold each others gaze for what seems like ages. “What is it, Lou?” You ask, your free hand coming up to wipe away a few falling tears. Louis closes his eyes, and leans into your palm, staying quiet for just a few seconds, knowing what he was about to say would possibly ruin everything you and him were. He peaks his eyes open, only to meet your concerned gaze. From behind the big wooden doors, the wedding march has begun to play. That’s your cue. You need to move, as it’s time to go, but something is tugging at your heart, and so you wait. Louis let’s out a deep breath, placing his hand over yours on his cheek. “It should’ve been me.” His words catch you off guard, your breath immediately hitching in your throat. “I’m in love with you.”

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Liam: His eyes watched you as you danced, your genuine happiness visibly apparent in your smile. That’s all that ever mattered to Liam – you being happy, even if it meant sacrificing his own happiness. As he continued to watch you dance, his mind took him elsewhere, as he imagined the two of you together. He’d hold you tight, as close to himself as he could get. “You know what? I’m really happy you’re my wife.” He’d say, his head resting on yours. “Me too.” Your voice was barely audible, but you knew he had heard you perfectly when his hand came down to rest on your cheek. He tilted your face to look you straight in the eyes, and easily planted a soft, gentle few kisses on your lips. When Liam came back to reality, he had tears in his eyes. He couldn’t call you his, because you belonged to another man, another man who just happened to be one of his best mates. And even though you weren’t his, and never had been, he knew you were the one. “Hard to believe i’ll be a married man tomorrow, huh?” Liam nearly jumped out of his suit when Andy Samuels appeared next to him. Nodding, Liam’s eyes return back to you. He just couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. When the rest of his mates all surrounded him suddenly, he adverted his eyes in fear one of them would catch him. Just as Zayn began to make small chat with Andy about the wedding, his eyes made their way to you once more, and this time some one had noticed. Niall eyed his bandmate carefully, slowly following his gaze. When he looked back at Liam, it suddenly all made sense. When Andy was out of sight, excusing himself to go chat with his other guests, Niall seized the moment. “What’s your deal?” He asked, not in a harsh tone, but sharp enough to get everyones attention, along with Liam’s. The other boys had gone quiet at Niall’s sudden outburst. “Do you– holy shit… do you– do you love her?” And suddenly all eyes were on Liam. “I don’t know.” Was all the poor bloke could muster up. Though actually he did know – he just didn’t want to admit it. “Liam, mate.” Harry started, giving his friend a solemn look, trying anything to just get Liam to open up. It went quiet for a bit, before Liam took his eyes off of the ground, showing his now tear stained cheeks. “What am I going to do?” He questions calmly. “God, I am so in love with her. It’s fucked up mate, because he is my best fucking friend, and she's– i’m so in love with her.” He cursed, something he rarely ever did. The boys stared with wide eyes, but Liam continued on. “It should’ve been me.” And it was quiet once more, almost too quiet. “Liam?” Your voice squeaked from behind him, watching as he turned to face you with wide eyes and wet cheeks.

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Niall: Niall was sure he had never experienced both sadness and pure joy all in the same moment, that was up until now. Just as one life ripped from his arms, another new life was being thrown in. You and Niall knew the risks of you getting pregnant, but that didn’t stop you from being excited when the test showed two pink lines. Niall on the other hand, he was more afraid for your well being than excited. But, as the months went on with no complications, his mind seemed at ease. With everyday, your belly grew and your baby’s much anticipated arrival became closer and closer. Niall got the call while at the studio, and thinking about it now, it was hard for him to believe that exact moment was nearly twenty four hours ago. With the help of the other boys, Niall rushed to the hospital, and when you saw him barge through the doors of your private room, you couldn’t of been more relieved. “I’m right here babe, i’m right here.” He shushed you as you screamed out in pain. When her cries filled the room, Niall cheered happily, and you smiled faintly realizing your little girl was finally here. As much as you wanted to see her, you couldn’t help but let your eyes close as darkness overcame you. It all happened so fast. Niall was shouting your name, your daughter was wailing and nurses were calling for doctors. Niall watched as your head lolled to the side, your body going limp, and in that moment, all of his worse fears had come to life. Now, twenty four hours later, Niall had become not only a first time father, but a widower as well. The tiny baby in his arms squirmed slightly, before calming as Niall rocked her softly. She looked just like you, and that was something Niall would have to live with for the rest of his life. Upon hearing the devastating news, the boys had been asked by the nurses to come see the new baby, and give Niall all the support they had. When his mates walked in, they each wore sympathetic expressions, each of them grieving for the loss of you, their good friend as well. Crowding around Niall, the boys all wanted to finally peak a glance at baby Horan. “She’s a beaut, Ni.” Harry cooed, letting a gently finger stroke her soft cheek. Niall nods, tears welling in his eyes once more. Zayn puts a comforting hand on his back, as not one of them could say a word to make Niall feel any better. Sometimes silence works best. The tiny baby in Niall’s arms squirms once more, a few small gurgling noises escaping her tiny mouth. Niall smiles through his tears, watching his daughter with wide eyes. “It should’ve been me.” He cries, handing the child off to Harry who sat next to him. Niall stands up angrily, tugging roughly at his blonde tresses. “Why?- why couldn’t it of been me? How am I- how in the hell am I supposed to do this without her?” He cries, pacing the room with a heavy heart. “Why couldn’t it of been me instead?” Niall breaks down, dropping to his knees as Liam and Louis run to his side.

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Zayn: As Zayn made his way down the busy streets of New York City, he was barely paying attention to other people passing by. His sunglasses were on, a baseball cap hiding his dark tresses, making him just barley noticeable. So when he heard his name being called from behind, he cringed. The last person Zayn imagined running into was you, as the two of you hadn’t spoken in years. You and Zayn were at one point the best of friends, and that friendship eventually lead to a relationship. When Zayn chose his career over you, you were heartbroken, and it took more than two years to finally mend your broken heart and move on. You met a nice guy, started dating, and before you knew it he had popped the big question, and you had said yes. One way or another, word got around to Zayn, and he eventually had asked you to meet him, so the two of you could talk in private. When you did, Zayn professed his love for you, and as much as you enjoyed hearing those words, you did not a thing about it. You were engaged to a fine man, and though your heart said differently, you couldn’t allow yourself to go back to Zayn after how bad he had hurt you. It had been well over five years since then, and you were still married, but not so happily. When Zayn approached you, he didn’t seem upset, but willing to talk further. The two of you walked down the street, choosing a quaint little cafe with a table at the back. Zayn had bought you a coffee, much to your dismay, and the two of you sat quietly for a few moments, both searching for the right words. “So? How have you been?” He asks, slipping off his sunnies and cap, getting comfortable in the relaxing arm chair. You sigh, pulling your own shades from your face only to hear Zayn gasp in shock. “Oh, (Y/N).” He whispered, reaching forward to allow his thumb to gently graze the purple and blue markings on the side of your cheek. You nod sadly, unable to find the right words. The two of you talk for what seems like hours, until your finally back to the comfortableness that held your friendship together previously. Zayn informs you that he’s yet to find a girl since you, and you feel your heartbeat increase with the sudden topic. As you and him catch one another’s gazes once more, you feel his eyes wander to the large bruise upon your cheek. You look away, your face heating with terrible embarrassment. “It should’ve been you, Zayn.” You whisper, your voice so quiet and low you weren’t sure he had heard. “I should’ve followed my heart, because it’s always been you.” You don’t have time to react before Zayn is pulling you into his warm embrace. “It should’ve been me.” he whispered into your hair, kissing the top of your head as thoughts about what’s next to come flood your mind. 

A/N: Please don’t hate me for Niall’s! And PLEASE give me some feedback. I was working on this for two hours! It’s 2 am here and I am exhausted haha.

Protect Me Please (Harry)

Thankyou to the anon who requested this! Love x


You woke up that morning groggy and still tired, and rolled over to place your hand on Harry’s chest, but found your palm landed on nothing but slightly warm linen sheets. You bolted up from your position and looked around. He wouldn’t leave without you, he wouldn’t. Surely. You cast your mind to the night before; the bottle of wine and the kitchen floor, ripping scars into his back with your fingernails and struggling to bed intrinsically linked to each other. The words he’d whispered into your hair as his farewell when he thought you were asleep, and the tears that fell from your eyes onto his naked torso when he was dreaming echoed in your mind. Goodbyes were always that way, always that hard. And with Harry, they weren’t rare. 6 weeks. It wasn’t as long as the last time, but it was still 6 weeks. 42 days without his familiar smell, without his discarded clothes decorating the floors, without his singing to wake you up on lazy Sundays. 6 lazy Sundays. 6 weeks.

Feeling the tears already brewing behind your eyes you shook your head and called out, swinging your legs off the side of the bed and standing slowly to appease the looming headache.

‘Harry!?’

Hearing no reply, the house being eerily quiet, your heart rate increased and your throat tightened, as your shaking hands picked up the white note on the kitchen table. Your vision was blurred through your tears, but you wiped them roughly with a closed fist and coughed harshly before reading the familiar scratched letters.

‘Y/n, I know you’re going to kill me, but you looked so peaceful. After last night I didn’t have any more goodbyes left for you my love, I didn’t want to see you cry again because it breaks my heart every time. Besides, I can get to the airport by myself - I’ll call you when I land. It’ll be busy and dangerous on saturday morning in London anyway, you know that, I wouldn’t want you to get crushed. It’s safer for you to be at home. So I didn’t wake you. I’m sorry, I love you more than anything in the entire world - you are my entire world - and I miss you already. All the love, H x’

It was typical Harry. The words and sentences splurged onto the page as they formed in his brain - quickly and all at once. You knew pretty much as soon as you’d read it that there was no way he was getting away with it, and so you shoved your coat on over his boxers and shirt that he’d let you fall asleep in three years ago and had never got back, pulled on a pair of wellington boots and left the house.

The airport was surrounded by screaming fans, and your heart swelled with pride and a little bit of fear at the sight of the crowds. You knew that if you could just get inside, then the crowd would clear and you’d know which lounge to find Harry in, but getting through was like cutting down Sleeping Beauty’s thorny forest. People jostled around you still screaming and you could barely see your feet for knees and shins getting in the way of your path. Heads around you were crying and wailing, a sign with your boyfriend’s face nearly blinding you a couple of times.

It wasn’t until you were just feet away though, that the real trouble started. A girl to your left recognised you and elbowed your rib pointedly, winding you so that you curled into your stomach. But of course the crowd didn’t stop, and as you were put off balance girls surged forward to fill the gap you’d left and you found yourself under feet and shoes and bags, screaming and crying as loud as you could.

*

‘I was trying to protect her.’

‘Good fucking job H, well bloody done.’

‘Hey Lou now that’s not fair, he was only doing what he thought best.’

‘Liam I’m sorry but seriously if he knows her at all he’d know that she was never going to sit around and wait for his call. If she’d been with us then…’

‘But she wasn’t with us.’

Your head throbbed as you tried to pick out the voices, your throat burning as your tried to speak, only managing a soft ‘Harry’ that turned into more of a whimper, but it was enough, and in an instant he was by your side massaging your hand in his.

‘Hey baby, hey love. You okay Petal? Do you want anything? I love you, gaaa I love you so much’ Harry cried rough tears that fell onto your hospital robe.

‘Um, Harry Harry what happened?’ your own tears started to fall at your confusion, ‘Harry please’

‘It was all my fault y/n, don’t even worry about it.’ Harry smiled through his sad expression, ‘You’re okay now.’

The boys then crowded round and Liam leant in for a hug, whispering in your ear as he pulled away, something about love and tour. While you were laughing with Niall, and as Liam’s hand was squeezing your shoulder periodically, Louis and Harry slipped out. You could hear them in the corridor talking to another man, although you couldn’t pin a name to the voice.

‘Mate I want her with me, I’m sorry but I never do this. Just for a few weeks at least, I need to protect her. She’s mine. That’s what I do. I need her.’ Harry was pleading more than you’d ever heard him plead before, and your heart swelled.

‘Harry, I know this is hard but we’re already a day back as it is, we can hardly afford..’

‘She’s coming with us.’ Louis piped up, ‘There’s no way we’d leave her now. If you don’t want to have to make more apologies about missing shows then she comes with us. Alright?’

The man mumbled something you couldn’t quite make out, but it must have been good because Harry returned promptly with a huge smile on his face, the kind of smile that was contagious to a sickly point. He looked at you, kissed your forehead and whispered,

‘Pack your bags baby, I’m not leaving you again.’

Troublesome

Summary: Louis is a stay at home mum while Harry is at work and the kids get into trouble at school.

Pairing: Larry Stylinson

Author’s Note: Okay.. I literally have an obsession with writing for a slash couple, for what I call a carrier (the person who has the mpreg) if they are married with the other’s last name. As shown in Fireworks and Kisses, The Special Date, The Styles, and yeah…. So don’t judge me.. I guess its my writing style. ^_^ x -R

x

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“I’ve missed you.”

Harry says quietly, his earnest eyes boring into Louis’. “I know that we’ve been spending time together, I know, but I’ve missed you so much all the same. I’ve missed being able to touch you without it being a national disaster in interviews, I’ve missed not having to constantly be aware of where you are so I could avoid you in public, I’ve missed being able to act exactly how I want to with you on stage, without having to worry about what management is going to say.” Louis clutches Harry’s hips a little tighter, so fucking endeared by the boy in front of him, laying out his feelings.

“I’ve missed you too, Harry.” He murmurs quietly. It’s like they are in a secret bubble of their own, and any loud noise might disrupt this time parallel they’ve managed to create for themselves. He moves one hand from Harry’s hip to his cheek, lightly stroking it. “And I love you,” he adds, because he feels like it’s something Harry needs to hear, and because it’s the truth. “I love you so much, you know that, right?”

Harry nods, letting his hands slide from Louis’ cheeks, down his neck until they rest against his chest. Harry drops his forehead to Louis’ shoulder, and Louis moves his hand to Harry’s curls, lightly trading his finger through them. “I know,” Harry whispers. “And I love you too. So much.”


And then a bit, Chapter two by infinitelymint

I honestly don’t even know where to start with this moment…Louis’ fond look? Louis holding Harry’s hand? Harry gripping Louis’ shirt? Harry giggling? Louis’ arm around Harry’s shoulders? Harry’s other hand coming up to rest on Louis’ chest? This is blatant flirting people. Blatant and adorable.

anonymous asked:

Rachel Rachel Rachel Rachellllllll could you please write a head canon about Louis getting ready before the event and Harry helping him or getting ready beside him and them getting into separate cars and then them getting home or Harry waiting for him to get home. Don't need smut perse but just a lot of flufffffffff they deserve so much sapiness

“Hazza!” Louis calls from the walk-in closet, his voice muffled a little through the walls between them. 

“Yeah?” 

“Have you seen my…” 

Harry pauses, his hand covered in moisturizer and halted halfway to his face. “Your what?” 

There’s a thump that sounds suspiciously like something falling from the tallest closet shelf, and Harry turns toward the bathroom door, just in case Louis broke something like a lamp or his arm and needs his help. “Lou?” 

No answer, but there are a couple more alarming thumps against the floor. Harry frowns and walks to the closet, halfway expecting to find Louis knocked out by falling boxes or some other projectile. 

Nope. 

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anonymous asked:

So ehmm, wanna talk about CO photoshoot? :) I can't stop smiling when I think about it.

HECK. YES. okay do you want headcanon or for real? Because ilove1dalmation and I have been talking about a naked covershoot for the husbands for ages now and I’m quite attached to that idea.

Do I think we will get it? Definitely not.

What I do imagine happening is a very classy, age appropriate photo shoot. One that shows them in fashion forward clothes that are tailored for their bodies that don’t match but compliment each other well. Just a regular photoshoot. With the two of them.

How long has it been since we have seen photos of them interacting with each other during a full blown shoot without having to scale themselves back? Three years? Four? Imagine the chemistry that could be captured just the two of them standing next to each other with Harry’s arm casually draped around Louis. Sitting on a sofa, Harry’s head thrown back in laughter, Louis with a proud look on his face as his legs are draped across Harry’s lap, Harry with his hand wrapped around one of Louis’ ankles. Harry playing guitar as Louis stands behind him, his hand resting on his shoulder. Like…

It doesn’t have to be ridiculous and cheesy and over the top. For these boys, it would speak more to their comfort and familiarity with each other if it wasn’t. So yes. Let’s talk about this.

Harry Imagine: Hungover

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was that everything single thing in the room was covered in glitter, myself included. But I forgot the glitter the second I noticed that a lanky, dark headed boy was curled against me on the sticky leather sofa I’d fallen asleep on after the party last night.

I slipped carefully out from under the arm the boy had slung around my hip, trying not to wake him. I winced when I glanced out the window, the sunlight felt like it was boring holes through my head.

“Fucking shit,” I muttered, massaging my forehead.

“Well good morning to you too,” a deep, croaky voice said from behind me, catching me off guard and making me shriek a little. “It’s a little early for cuss words don’t you think?”

I spun around to stare at the boy who’d woken up. He look a little worse for wear, brown curls falling in his face and the impressions of the stitching from the sofa across his cheek. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and then stretched, his white shirt lifting up just enough to show a strip of tattooed and tanned skin. How does he look this good when he’s probably got the hangover of the century?

“It’s a little to early for anything other than going back to sleep with the hangover I’ve got,” I said, flopping down on into the winged armchair across from the sofa.

“Sunglasses and Advil, last night was mad real, sun coming up 5 a.m., I wonder if they got cabs still,” he replied while stretching out across the whole sofa. He was easily 6 foot. He caught me staring at him and raised an eyebrow in response.

“Did you,” I stuttered, “did you just quote fucking Kanye West? At 6 in the morning? The morning after what the hell went down last night?”

“First off, yes, yes I did quote just quote Kanye West. Second off, it’s,” he stopped to peer at his phone, “it’s actually 7:18 to be exact. Lastly, I don’t exactly remember what happened last night outside of the haze of boozed induced debauchery but I’m guessing that it would be a story of the ages.”

“Do you always talk like that?” I asked, tucking my legs up under me. Only then did I realize I was only wear a button down and underwear, the rest of my clothes no where in view. 

“Talk like what?”

“Talk like the bloody Dalai Lama,” I said, trying to yank the hem of the button down further down my legs. 

“I like to think I’m eloquent but I’m far from the verbal finesse of the Dalai Lama,” he said, shrugging at me.

“Oi, hush up. Big words, bad hangover, early in the morning. None of the above should been involved with any of the others,” I scrunched my nose up at him. “For the love of all that is holy, will you please leave me to suffer in silence?”

“You know what I forgot?” he said, blushing slightly and looking embarrassed.

“What? Your thesaurus?” I said sarcastically. He laughed in response, but not in a mocking way. Instead, he laughed like a person who was used to telling jokes that no one else found funny.

“That’s actually quite funny, good on you,” he nodded at me. I rolled my eyes at him and threw a pillow at his head.

“Please for the love of all that is holy, I beg you. Please. Please be silent.”

“I forgot to introduce myself!” Harry bounced on the sofa, reaching out to shake my hand. “I’ve quite forgotten my manners haven’t I?”

“What would your mother say?” I asked him sarcastically.

“Well she’d probably tell me that she raised me better than-” he stopped talking when he looked up and realized I was mocking him. “Oh you were making fun of me.”

“Clearly.”

“That’s rude but I’ll opt to look passed that,” he reach out to shake my hand again, “I’m Harry. Harry Styles.” 

My mouth dropped open, of course thats who he was. How could I not have realized that? It was so obvious. I should have known he had been at the party last night. 

His band member Liam, a childhood friend of mine had called me up last night to invite me to a party at his house. The last thing I could actually remember was the sixth shot of tequila, after that it was just a shadowy haze.

“Right, of course you are,” I said, shaking my head before I introduced myself.

“That’s sorted isn’t it. Now, we have two options,” Harry said.

“Does one of those options involve you not talking and me going home to sleep?” I asked him but all I got in response was a slight frown.

“You’re extremely rude, you know that don’t you?” 

“I’m extremely hungover actually but rude and hungover are pretty much the same thing aren’t they?” Harry ignored my comment.

“Our first option is finding the others and trying to piece together what happened last night and our second option is to go get breakfast,” Harry said, ticking the options off on his fingers.

“Breakfast, oh god I’d kill for pancakes right now.”

“I want a plate of greasy bacon and-” 

“Please,” I put up a hand, “don’t talk about anything greasy or fried or I might throw up.”

“What? Don’t you know the cure for any hangover is a greasy breakfast?”

“I don’t believe that and I never will.”

“Fine, ignore the facts,” Harry shrugged at me. “So, breakfast?”

“Yeah, yeah in a minute,” I stood up looking for my clothes but I could only find a single heel. “Fuck, where the hell is my stuff? I mean there wasn’t even that many of us last night, how did things get that out of hand?”

“You’d be surprised at the damage a party of twenty year olds can do on an flat.”

“Or on our livers,” I mumbled. 

“Innit,” I turned around at the new voice to see Niall leaning against a door frame in nothing but his boxers. Harry seemed to perk up when he say Niall.

“Ni, where is everyone else?” Harry asked.

“Well clearly, the three of us are here,” Niall started.

“Niall, either talk fasters or stop talking at all,” I snapped at him.

“You’re a right bloody ray of sunshine, aren’t you?” he said jokingly.

“Oh fuck off.”

“At least you’re a fun drunk. I can put up with a mean hangover as long as they aren’t a mean drunk as well,” Niall said. I shrugged at him. 

“Where’s everyone else?” Harry asked again, a little too loudly, making Niall and I cringe.

“Fine, fine. Well Liam and Sophia are in their room, Zayn and Perrie crashed in the main guest room while Louis and I slept in the one in the back of the house. We didn’t fall asleep until, what? Must have been about 3am.”

“And everyone else?” I asked him.

“Everyone else?” Niall said, raising an eyebrow at me. “Thats it, just the eight of us.”

“The eight of us did this?” I gestured around the trashed living room. Cups, trash, lighters, a bong, several packs of cigarettes and several empty pizza boxes covered the floor.

“Course we did, we know how to party. What? They don’t party like this in the states?” Niall said with a smile.

“Piss off, Niall. I know how to party and I know how to handle my liquor,” I said defensively. Niall and Harry laughed at that, joined by Louis as he lapsed into the room.

“You? You think you’re not a light weight?” Louis asked me, still laughing.

“I’m not a light weight!” I insisted. 

“Oh really, Ms. Blackout?”

“I can drink like any of you.”

“Says the girl who danced on the table last night,” Niall snickered, Louis joining in laughing. 

“I did what?”

“Oh so you don’t remember?”

“No, you twat, I don’t remember.”

“Good thing I got it on video then,” Louis said.

“Oh for fucks sake. Video? You’ve got a video of black out drunk me dancing on a table?” I asked.

“Well you and Sophia,” Louis answered. I put my head in my hands.

“I’m screwed, aren’t I?” 

“It’s not that bad, you two look quite fit actually, dancing on Liam’s dining room table in stilettos. But it’s nothing on the other photos I have.”

“For the love of all that is holy, what did you take a picture of that could be worse than a drunk dance on a dining room table?”

“Well for starters-” Louis started before Harry interrupted him.

“Lou,” Harry’s voice sounded beyond anxious. “Did you send any of those photos to anyone?”

“Course not, I’m not a bloody idiot.”

“How much of this party happened on the balcony?”

“Most of it, we only came in to go to sleep or get refills.”

“I’m fucked,” Harry said. “You’re fucked too,” he pointed at me.

“I’m fucked?” I asked, a little confused.

“You’re a uni student so it should blow over soon but until it does you’ll be getting, um, a lot of social media attention.”

“What are you going on about?”

“Here,” Harry handed his phone over to me, Niall and Louis peering over my shoulder to look at the screen. The headline read “what is it with Harry Styles and Skinny Blondes?”

“Oh my god, how? How did they get photos like this?”

“Probably just a pap with a good tipoff and a really good camera lense,” Harry answered. Below the headline, the article had a spread of photos of Harry and I, clearly sloppy drunk out on the balcony. 

The first photo was just of us standing close, his arm wrapped around the small of my back and my hand on his chest. The second and the third were a million times worse, one of us dancing together, my back to his chest and we both had cheesy, drunken grins plastered across our faces. The last was the worse.

Harry had a hand in my hair, the other still on the small of my back while I had both arms around his neck. Even from the bad angle, it was quite clear we were kissing.

I didn’t say a thing before I handed the phone back over to Harry. I still couldn’t remember a thing that had happened the night before. How could I not remember kissing him? I glanced up, to catch Harry staring at me. We held eye contact, no one knowing what to say in the awkward silence. Louis scooted around in his seat while Niall chewed at a pizza crust that had been sitting on the table in front of us.

“So, breakfast?” Harry suggested.

anonymous asked:

Do you think that Harry and Louis have an open relationship? Like they have sex with I other people too and stuff like that?

You know what, I’m not the best to answer you.

Why don’t we ask the innocent bandana which Louis took from Liam when Harry talked to him in the most platonic way possible?

Or the muzu interviewer who dared to touch Louis’ knee and was the first to meet deep frowning lightning-striker Harry Styles’ wrath? Grab-squeeze-pat-pat-pat?

Or just ask the food which Harry fucked up ^I’m getting jealous over here^ when Zouis was having a moment

Or ask the dude who saw THE LOVE BITE from first row and had his mouth open in an “O” shape for two centuries?

Or ask Olly Murs after Harry literally swatted away his very innocent hands from Louis’ shoulders?

Or when Louis swatted away Zayn’s hands?

Or every meet and greet where they secretly held hands?

Or.. like… where do you think HAVE YOU QUITE FINISHED comes from?

Come on.

These two are NOT sharing with anyone. And ESPECIALLY not a bed.

anonymous asked:

AWWWW HARRY'S HAND ON LOUIS' SHOULDER THAT HE HAD TO REMOVE BECAUSE OF THE REPORTER 😭😭😭 (at the end of the last part)

I AM HARRY’S ANGRY FROG STARE RN

WHY DO INTERVIEWERS HAVE TO RUIN EVERYTHING?!?!?

anonymous asked:

Harry and Louis spent their morning walking around in a quiet and relaxing garden, in kimono's with Harry's arm wrapped around Louis shoulders and Louis' hand on Harry's lower back. After Harry spotted the winding wheel, he exclaimed: "I can see my next instagrampost!", but Louis told him yo wait. Harry smiled at Louis placing their slippers in the shot and finally took the picture, with Louis wrapping his arms around him from behind, wispering "better still, be my winding wheel" into his ear.