louies loops

 You’re cold and I burn by styles_allure Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn (77k)

Louis’ love for pretty colors and aesthetics, paired with his immense passion for painting beautiful flowers has stars in his eyes and thoughts of a successful career.

Unfortunately, budding artists will struggle at first, so, cue the unwanted roommate. it only gets worse when the new addition is a sarcastic, flirty, and style-ignorant annoyance. all complete with a dingy leather jacket and a vast array of tattoos.

 ⚜ The way you slam your body into mine reminds me i’m alive by zouisclimax for soontobebritish Popstar Harry/Student Louis (54k)

“Waste. A fucking waste.”

“Um..sorry are you talking to yourself?”

Louis purses his lips. “Yes you know what. Yes-” Louis turns to yell at the fucker that judged him for talking to himself, but the words die in his throat, because wow. Holy. Goddamn, wow. Jesus on a freaking cracker. Is this God? Is Louis seeing God? Louis’ not very religious but suddenly he feels like he needs to get on his knees and worship, not suck a dick for once. Okay, he is lying. He wants to suck this dick.

[Or the fic where louis is in uni and hates spinach, and harry is a closeted popstar who doesn’t understand why the green leaves are so evil]

We’re Like Bumper Cars by sincehewaseighteen  Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Cross Country (31k)

“I have won, I won the final cross country. I win, Harry–”

 “Whoever gets to fucking nationals wins it, pretty boy,” Harry teases. “You haven’t won. Interhouse is nothing compared to nationals, or interstate. You haven’t even won interschool. You can dream all you fucking want that you’ve won.”

 Louis becomes so ignorant he decides to no longer eye the boy taunting him. “Trophies prove it all, Styles.”

 “Where’s your trophy for biggest asshole?”

 “Where’s yours for winning cross country?”

 Harry growls before hooking his fingers in Louis’ belt loops and bringing them together for a flat kiss.

Or the AU where Louis and Harry are rivals of the century and Cross Country competitors before things get complicated and they play pretend.

 Anything you ask and more by orphan_account (19k)

Louis knows that he’s in love the second Harry begins speaking about the bolsheviks.

(or, Louis is a history teacher & Harry is the fit curator that he desperately wants to mongol invade him, however many times Niall tells him he’s a psychopath.)

But Please, Don’t Bite by shyserious A/B/O, Angst with happy Ending (122k)

“Melodic little jingle sounded from a bell hanging over the doorframe and warm indoor air curled heavily around his shivering body for the first time in months. Harry suddenly felt a sting in the corners of his eyes and had to force down a broken sob. Fuck, he was a mess. Such a mess. He had to focus.”

Part 1 of But Please, Don’t Bite

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jeff: louis i’m gonna need you to hop out of the shot please this one will be posted

louis, looping his hands around harry’s waist and nuzzling his face into his neck: [muffled] take the photo you coward

In the loop in Saint Louis there’s a restaurant called Blueberry Hill. It’s a landmark in the city, because usually every artist/comedian will come and perform in their duck room. The owner has a tradition of taking pictures with everyone who performs at his place.

When Childish Gambino came to perform in 2011, the owner snapped this pic with him, crediting him as Danny Glover. Part of me thinks Donald purposefully told him to do that. The curse continues…


Auditorium Building Stained Glass by Jeff Reuben
Via Flickr:
The Auditorium Building, now Roosevelt University, was the largest structure of its kind in America at the time of its completion in 1890. Designed by Dankmar Adler (1844-1900) and Louis H. Sullivan (1856-1924), the 4,237-seat theater, hotel, and office building earned a national reputation for their firm. Source: Historic American Building Survey (HABS), Addendum to report No. ILL-1007 With direction from Sullivan, the windows were executed in 1889 by the renowned stained-glass firm of George Healy and Louis Millet, which won acclaim in Europe for its designs. It is also rumored that Sullivan’s protege Frank Lloyd Wright had a hand in the designs. Wright, who called Sullivan “master,” was his right-hand man before setting out on his own and had a particular interest in stained glass that continued throughout his career. Source: Chicago Tribune, “Artful Glass”, 27 November 2000

“Louis,” Harry sighs, shaking his head. “No.”

He’s trying to look stubborn, frowning so hard that he resembles a frog, but Louis can see his lips twitch, the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corners. He’s obviously charmed, even though he knows he shouldn’t be, and Louis, well. Louis is very good at charming him.

“Harry,” Louis mimics his sigh, pouting at him. “Why not?”

Harry’s lips break into a full blown grin momentarily, before he’s running his hand down his face, trying to school his expression into something more serious. He’s an open book, Harry is–with every thought etched into the lines of his face, the dimples on his cheeks.

“I don’t want to,” Harry says, and it sounds weak.

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Harry is late. Not by his own standards – he doesn’t want to go – but Louis is stood between their two front doors with a beer in his hand and a set to his jaw and eyebrows that won’t hold for long. Not enough chill in his eyes to freeze Harry in place on the last step up.

“You said you wouldn’t be late,” he says – hands over the beer along with a gaze that’s too tinted with alcohol to carry any of the disappointment he’s trying to feign.

“I said I’d come,” Harry corrects, shaking his head at his shoes as he tugs his keys out of his front pocket – opens his door and throws his bag inside before he locks it up again. “You know how work is right now – that I have to get the episode written.”

Louis hums – suspicion melting away under the warm familiarity of a grin. Harry’s best friend since childhood, ever so happy to have him near. Mutual, all of it, as Harry takes a first sip of his beer and lets it loosen knots of anxiety in his shoulders. He’s home, now. Doesn’t have to think about pairings and heartbreak until they’re back in the writer’s room on Monday.

“What’s so urgent, anyway?” he wonders. “I’m here now.”

“A boy, of course,” Louis states, ever the hopeless romantic, the cupid that’s too drunk to aim his arrows right when Harry’s out and about. “I’ve told you about him.”

“You haven’t.”

“I’ve meant to,” Louis promises. Loops an arm around Harry’s shoulders, tugging him to the neighbouring flat. “He’ll sweep you off your feet.”

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anonymous asked:

I wonder what Louis and Harry have little unnecessary arguments about. Who didn't replace the toilet paper? Who put white clothes in with a load of brand new jeans? How did Clifford get into the closet and start eating shoes? I mean, they have to have these discussions. They probably nag on and on about it just like and old married couple. "You're being a fooking loser!" "Don't use that sass with me you...you little froot loop dingus!"

louis says “i’ll kick your ass for this” and acts all big and tough but then harry just grabs him and slings him over his shoulder and pats him on the bum like “whatever you say, little froot loop dingus”