#I'm sure everyone here loves louis

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

if dorian didn't show up, do you think louis would have shot minnie?

I do. I know some people think either he wouldn't have or he would've missed so that's why the writers had him shoot Dorian instead, but mmmmmm no, I don't personally think so. I like to think that if he had taken the shot, his shaky hands would've caused him to shoot her fatally.

Mostly because I'm already so normal about the fact that of the Ericson crew, Marlon and Louis are the only ones with a body count. Well, that we know of, but shown to us in the game, at least. Plus, we know it's Louis' first kill.

Like yeah, Clementine and AJ become part of the crew and they have bigger body counts, and if we're counting indirect kills caused by actions, then Tenn has a count... and I guess everyone has blood on their hands for blowing up the boat... but I'm talking about killed directly with a weapon like....... I lied, I'm not normal about that at all, Louis and Marlon are the ones who have killed someone in Louis' route. I'm also not normal about the fact that Louis kills Dorian and then even as he's clearly in shock, he tries to go with Clementine to get AJ, and then later on when they talk about it, he says it feels like bile but not quite and he's glad he has it in him to do it.... listen, listen, listen... I'm obsessed with that.

Anyway, so if Louis shot Minerva, I think he would've accidentally killed her and can you imagine? He's already enough of a mess after killing the woman who pinned him down and tried to cut his finger off [or succeeded] but he knew Minerva, they were friends before the twins were taken. Even Violet couldn't kill her even though that would've been the smarter thing to do, and we know thanks to meta knowledge that killing her would've saved lives, but Violet couldn't, and I don't think Louis would intentionally either.

Speaking of Violet, if Louis killed Minerva, I hate to think about what that would've done to Vi. I think she might've actually left at that point, like what was planned before it got changed to her being burned. I don't think she would've attacked Louis over it, though, like yeah she attacked Clementine in the cell but Louis? I don't know, but I don't think so just because it's Louis and he'd be a mess about it anyway.

Though if he did kill her, it would be a neat parallel to draw... y'know, because Louis forgave AJ for killing Marlon even though he was pissed and heartbroken, and Violet was annoyed with him the entire time... but could she ever forgive Louis for killing Minerva? Y'know? We already have a similar parallel with AJ shooting Tenn, but still.

If Clementine killed Minerva in that moment, though, then I could see Violet attacking her since in her eyes, Clem proved her right.

So yeah, I get why they added the Dorian kill to his route. It adds another compelling element to Louis as a character, but we also need Minerva alive for episode 4; Louis can't kill her, he can't miss, and he's not going to stay with her because we need Violet to stay on the boat and him to be on shore for all routes.

[twopoppies]

hey love, i hope this arrives in one piece and nothing is cut off, as i am not sure anymore how much i can write in a tumblr ask. just to be sure, my message ends with a ":)"

i'm a larrie since 2013, but went on a work-related tumblr break in 2018 (i work in the music industry). i returned to tumblr last week, amidst deep shared grief 💔 to find solace in community. as i tried to cheer myself up by going through my favorite blogs (like yours, it's so wonderful) and trying to catch up -especially about Harry&Louis things that i missed in the last years-, i found the posts really feel like little nuggets of joy and i'm so grateful for that. so i decided i finally want to add to it, now that my industry commitments have downsized significantly. i haven't shared this in almost a decade (never online anyway) and it's not big news or anything, but whenever i remember it, it just makes my heart glow. so, one of my closest work-friends in the industry back in the days (and i'll use neutral pronouns to protect them) did two tours with them in 🦘 in 2013 and 2015. our shared work ethics and also contracts obviously forbade us both from sharing almost all of what was seen or heard (concerning the artists' personal business), but my friend knew i firmly believed Harry and Louis to be together, just closeted (and we both knew this sadly was very common in music or the film industry; meaning mgmt iron-closeting non-straight male artists was completely and automatically still considered The Norm back then, especially with male artists doing these kinds of numbers and having that large of a young fanbase). i never indulged in my reasons or theories, because i felt like i had a professional reputation to uphold and also with me being queer and in the closet as well, it felt too personal to discuss, back then. during the first tour in 2013, we didn't text much, they just said the band was all very friendly and crew was professional, they seemed "like family". the schedule was "brutal". and security constantly needed to be "tightened", due to invasive people trying to steal or replicate tour passes. i didn't ask my friend about Harry and Louis specifically --but admittedly we also weren't that close of friends at that point. during the second tour in 2015, we were though, and only a few days in, they out of the blue texted something that made me smile so wide, i honestly think my cheeks are hurting to this day. :D i quote: "hey so those two louis and h. can't tell you more but you weren't wrong!!!" i replied with ":DDDDDDD" (honestly felt like sending a million heart emojis instead) and about an hour later they sent "every here knows too!!!" and a correction: "everyone" and to this day, almost 10 years later, I keep these imessages saved, because it made me so happy. and i hope that sharing my time-capsuled precious memory will make someone else happy, too. their love is truly something so special. oh, and one of the two was really unlucky at the pokies (slot machines) and quite a sore loser, haha. I always guessed it was Louis, but I don't know. :)

🥹 Oh, we really needed some happiness around here. Bless you for sharing this.

Also, I tend to agree with you that it was Louis on the slot machines. LMAO!

[1d1195]

The Lottery II

Read The Lottery here | ~4.5k words

From me: There is def some fluctuating in the timeline. This part is mostly from Harry's POV and it suggests 6 years passes but that is more relevant for the next couple parts. There are pieces of this that happen shortly after she moves in and some years later. It might be a little hard to tell, but hopefully it won't ruin the story. I'm mostly establishing more background info in these parts. I feel like the real story doesn't begin till part three or even four.

Warnings: angst and fluff. (A new nickname for her!!!)

Summary: She is unbelievably sweet. Which makes Harry nervous because he knows how easy it would be to fall for her. Which he doesn't want.

But why does she have to be so sweet? It's nearly impossible not to fall for her.

“She opened a bookstore. But s’like a library too. The high schoolers go there t’study. And she helps them,” Harry muttered.

“Well yeah... I would too if I was in high school. I looked her up after you talked about her for an hour. Have you even seenher? You didn’t even mention how pretty she was. Why wouldn’t they go there to study? She’s beautiful, kind, intelligent, beautiful, funny, pretty—”

“Alright I get it,” he grumbled.

Louis was always ready to give Harry a hard time. More specifically he was always ready to remind him not to be so grumpy, but it was easier said than done. Harry was still young, and he shouldn’t have been so frustrated all the time. His twenties were supposed to be fun. But he didn’t feel like having fun anymore. He was much too young to be so jaded, but there he was; green, like a sour apple.

The stupid small town was just a reminder of the heartbreak he suffered on more than one front. People he had known his whole life... from when he was a baby, a child, a teen... it just felt like he was suffocating. He loved his town, he did. But it hurt. It was hard to forget about the hurt when everyone looked at him with pity because they knew. No one spoke too loudly, no one tried to upset him. It was miserable. They were trying to be kind because they knew Harry and they knew what he had been through.

Louis was the only one who tried to piss him off intentionally. When Harry let it slip that there was a new girl in town, he quickly did research and was ready to give Harry a hard time about her as well as every other thing he enjoyed pestering him about. “It’s good for you. Everyone tiptoeing around you is just making you angrier.”

When she argued with him that first day... even though it was trivial—just about pancakes—it was refreshing.

But Harry didn’t want to like her. Because he knew himself quite well. He knew the second he started to like her it was going to be a slippery slope to falling in love with her. How could he not? She was everything Louis said: kind, intelligent, beautiful, funny, and sweet... she was a breath of fresh air and Harry hadn’t had a fresh breath in ages.

No. He couldn’t think like that. Slippery slope.

But when she arrived at the diner the second morning and sat in the same spot at the counter as she did the day before—the spot that people had been avoiding for months because it was much too close to Harry—it softened something in the armor around his heart. The way she smiled in greeting even though he didn’t really return it. She ordered one of each pancake again and even though they argued, Harry knew there was no use fighting it. He was willing to do anything to keep that smile on her pretty face.

But they did still argue. Maybe she was trying to save Harry’s grumpy façade in front of his other customers, the people he had known his whole life. Like she was trying to keep up whatever pretense she didn’t even know he was maintaining. “Are you sure I can’t have one peach and one white chocolate chip pancake?” She asked hopefully. When she asked this time it didn’t have the same flare and attitude as the day before. Probably because she knew that she would get both again.

So why was she keeping it a secret?

“No,” he rolled his eyes. “One or the other.”

“White chocolate chip today then,” she sighed.

And Harry made her one of each because it really wasn’t that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things. He was just mad the day before as he always was... and unfortunately, he took it out on her. It seemed like she didn’t even mind. Given she played like she didn’t notice Harry made one of each the day before was merely solidifying how much he liked her. Even though he wasn’t supposed to.

“She doesn’t tiptoe,” Harry mumbled.

“Of course she doesn’t. She doesn’t know,” Louis reminded him. It was hard talking to Louis about this stuff sometimes. It was over a FaceTime call. Because Louis was smart enough to leave the little town and only come back for visits. He wasn’t tied to the feeling in his chest the way Harry was. In a lot of ways Louis was smart. Smarter than Harry. Maybe a genius even. “But Harry, it’s a small town. She’s going to find out.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah... I know.”

But for a few weeks, it would be nice. Not having someone know everything about him.

“Then you’ll be able to tell her you love her.”

Louis was an idiot. Perhaps the dumbest person he knew.

*

It was a couple weeks later that she reached behind the counter for the little plate stacked with sugar and cream. “Hey,” he scowled. “Don’t do that,” he reached for it smacking her hand lightly out of the way.

“Why, it’s right there?”

“Because y’not supposed to!” It was the same argument they had been having since the second time she sat at the counter after her arrival. The first time she reached for the sugar and cream and was subject to Harry’s glare, she put her hands up defensively and let him put the plate next to her.

It seemed small towns didn’t change all that much. Even with a new person around, Harry wasn’t too surprised he was having the same conversation with her weeks later. “It’s literally right there, Harry.” She rolled her eyes and poured an unhealthy amount of sugar into the mug. He grimaced. “What?” She asked defensively. Apparently, he missed when she dumped an entire week’s worth of sugar into her coffee the day before.

“Do y’want coffee with your sugar?”

“I don’t really like hot coffee but if I don’t drink caffeine, I’ll be miserable for the entire day and ruin everyone else’s day too, so it will do,” she explained. Harry felt bad he didn’t have cold coffee for her. It was in his mind to buy a pitcher later that day and keep it for her specifically in the back fridge. No one else would drink cold coffee so it wouldn’t have to be a thing really.

How was it he was already obsessed with her, and he had only spoken with her for twenty minutes at most within the two days? Most of that short time was spent arguing with her too. It was insane. It was unreasonable. Harry was an idiot. A slippery slope of hopelessness.

Harry found it easier to be angrier. Cold. People asked less of him. He didn’t have to explain himself to anyone. Yeah, they tiptoed, but he didn’t have to talk. She looked like she was a talker. Ad nauseum at that. A person who owned a bookstore probably enjoyed talking and wanted to talk. Probably wanted to talk to the person they liked about everything under the sun.

“Did you see the moon last night?” She asked as he walked by. He shook his head of the thoughts of those first couple of days. They replayed often in his head. He was memorizing those first moments, and he didn’t know why... or if even if his subconscious really knew, he didn’t want the rest of his mind to think about it.

Everything under the moon then. He thought to himself. He blinked. “Yes?” He didn’t remember looking up specifically but surely, he saw it.

“It’s so pretty.”

Harry tilted his head at her. It was just the moon. He didn’t see what was particularly special, but he liked the reverence in her voice. How soft she was. “Yeah,” he nodded in agreement because there was no way he could argue with her when she was talking like that.

“I like the moon a lot,” she explained. Definitely a talker. But instead of hurrying to another table, he found himself rooted to the spot where he stood. Waiting for her to continue. “It’s comforting you know? It’s there all the time, even if you can’t see it some nights. You know it’s going to come back and it’s always so pretty. The crescent in the morning when it’s cold is my favorite. Or when the sun is setting in December and the sky is yellow and moon is too.”

Harry watched her. Wondering what made her say all that seemingly for no reason. Before he could ask why or embarrass himself with a declaration of how much he adored her already, she was getting up after placing her napkin over the plate. “Sorry, I have to run; the plumber is coming to set up the bathroom and backroom,” she slung her bag over her shoulder, tucking her notebook inside of it, and pushing in her stool. Right before she turned she smiled so sweetly at Harry it nearly made him blurt something insane like he loved her. “Have a nice day, Harry. I’ll see you later,” she gave a small wave and hurried out the door.

Harry had an intense desire to buy a telescope. But he knew if (when) he did, he was admitting he was fully fucked.

*

Other than breakfast, she didn’t say much most of the time because she was either reading or scribbling in her notebook. The glimpses Harry did see were a bit of a to-do list. Harry didn’t see her all that often unless she was reaching for sugar and cream over the breakfast counter. The storefront that was going to be her bookshop got a sign later that first week and was hung above the entrance door.

The Open Book.

Harry could never. The half-print, half-cursive lettering splayed on an outline of open pages of a wire novel. He assumed she was inside that very story or maybe unpacking her house still (it had been on her to do list since she arrived). It had to be overwhelming to move to a new house and open a new business.

In the few weeks she’d been there, he overheard everyone talking about her meeting with Sutton and how she got him to agree to giving her a designated parking spot out behind the strip of stores for free (so long as she shoveled her own spot and adhered to the no parking rule in the snow).

She was a hard worker. That was obvious. She chatted when people spoke to her, but she was quiet. She didn’t try to force herself on the town.

There was no denying how perfectly she fit in. Within weeks of opening, it was obvious her business was a success. He wondered if it was hard for her to start anew. How many people in her life doubted her? But she didn’t seem to mind if they did. People raved about her little shop. It was exactly what the town needed, and it was like the town needed her too.

“Hi sweetheart!” Alice cheered as she entered the diner. “Harry, she’s here!”

“Jesus, Alice. Embarrass them both why don’t you?”

Harry felt a twinge of a smile on his lips as he heard her laugh but he kept it to himself by staying in the back by the grill. Silently, he paused what he was doing while he tried to hide the overeagerness to see her. He turned to the fridge to grab the pitcher of cold coffee for her. “Did you make me cold coffee?” She asked when he stood in front of her poised to pour her a cup of her favorite coffee.

Today she was wearing a pair of red leggings beneath her colorful tutu. A shirt with the Crayola logo was across her chest and her eyeshadow was multi-colored across her eyes. “Whoa,” he stared at her for a lot longer than he should have.

“Is it too much?” She frowned glancing down at her outfit. “I sent Bailey a picture and she said I looked a bit ridiculous but we’re reading The Day the Crayons Quit and then we’re going to color with the wrong colors; so, I thought it was fitting,” she sighed. Harry poured the coffee over ice and a smirk twitched at his lips.

“S’cute,” he shrugged.

"Really!?" She said excitedly. "Good, I don't want to scare the kids either," she reached for the cream, and he smacked her hand softly before she grabbed it. She rolled her eyes.

“Hey Harry!” Someone called across the room and he left her without answering her cold coffee question. She frowned at her drink wondering why he did something so nice for her again. The pancakes were sweet, the coffee was even sweeter.

She couldn’t believe it. The whispering around town about Harry and his sour attitude ensued shortly after she arrived.

Any cute guys? Bailey texted her the third day she was there.

One. But he’s kinda grumpy. The town is under the impression that he won’t do anything for anybody.

Hard pass. You need a nice bubbly guy like you.

So why was Harry making her special pancakes and coffee? It didn’t match the grumpy persona that everyone described.

“Peach, y’want a muffin today?” He asked quietly while walking by her counter space. She blinked in surprise as he replaced the coffee pot on the burner to keep it warm. She was so confused and surprised she couldn’t even answer. “Y’deaf today?”

“No... I...” She shook her head. “You called me Peach.”

If she wasn’t watching him so closely, she wouldn’t have seen him still ever so briefly while grabbing the cream and sugar to bring to another table. “Uh...” he shook his head. Was this grumpy man blushing? “Y’jus’ order those pancakes so much so... I jus’ kinda...

“Right,” she cleared her throat. “Um... muffin. Yes. Thank you.”

Today was Wednesday which meant she just wanted a blueberry muffin because she was going to be reading to the kids at story time and even though they adored her, it made her nervous and she didn’t want to be nervous on a full stomach. After several minutes (because Harry was always sure to warm it on the grill with ample butter) he returned to the front and placed an apple alongside her muffin before her.

“D’you need help with y’place or shop?” He asked.

“Help?”

“M’jus’ worried ‘bout the pipes,” he explained. And you having hot water or heat in the winter.

“The pipes,” she repeated.

“Yes.”

“The pipes are fine,” she assured him. “Nothing to worry about, there.”

She didn’t tell him the Hollistons replaced them prior to moving out. “S’jus’ getting colder quickly,” he shrugged. “S’a little harder t’get around without a bunch of plows like a city.”

She nodded. “Right, of course,” she tilted her head as Harry continued. Her multi-colored, shiny eyeshadow sparkled and twinkled almost directly at Harry. “I’ll try to make sure an issue happens prior to the first snowfall.”

He rolled his eyes. “Y’bathroom is all set?” He asked.

“All set.”

“What’s next on your to-do list?”

She sliced her apple a bit at a time, a holdover from when she had braces and worried about the skin getting stuck in her brackets—she stared at Harry as he stood in front of her while she ate her slice in silence. She flipped her notebook open to the most recent to-do list. “The windows at the shop need to be replaced. They’re glued shut with paint. A theme in this town I’m assuming because I have several at home that need to be replaced too.”

“I could look at them for you. If y’want. S’a lot of money t’replace ‘em. Could save y’some money if I can jus’ repair them.”

“Really?”

He shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Well... that would be lovely. Thank you.”

“I’ll come by after work,” he offered and walked away before he asked to marry her or to live with her.

It seemed like he blinked, and suddenly a half hour had gone by. She was no longer in her seat. Harry frowned at the empty spot as he picked up her empty plate but found a note tucked underneath it, a page pulled from her notebook. Her handwriting was pretty, not quite calligraphy, but not quite print. A half-cursive, half-print script. It made him wonder if she designed her shop’s sign on her own.

Thanks for the offer to help! Sorry I had to leave without saying goodbye. Here’s my number, just give me a ten-minute heads-up when you’re coming over! Have a nice day, Harry :) - Peach

*

On the opening day of her shop, she had homemade muffins on display. It must have taken her ages to make them in her oven. Only a dozen at a time. Harry wished she had asked, and he would have lent his oven to her. Or even offered to help her make them. But why would she ask?

Harry rolled his eyes at her pancake order. And the omelet she wanted. It was half (literally half) cheese and half veggies but only if they were cooked separately. Really it was just two small omelets put near one another. When she explained it two more times, she finally drew a picture of two little rectangles in her notebook with arrows pointing to where the ingredients were supposed to go and slid it across the counter to Harry so he could see what she really meant. “Do y’have a thing against mixing your foods, Peach?”

“It tastes better that way.”

Maybe if Harry wasn’t so grumpy he would have found it a little funnier than he did. Maybe he would have even laughed and not snorted the way he did as he headed to the back kitchen. “Lemme guess. Y’eat milk and cereal separately too.”

She laughed. A gorgeous sound. Like a bird call made specifically for Harry. He shouldn’t have thought that way. She didn’t owe anything to him. She was lovely and sweet—a peach. Harry was sour and undeserving of someone so lovely. “Very funny, Harry.”

As lovely as she was, Harry couldn’t imagine going through the kind of heartbreak he would suffer because of her. It seemed inevitable that it would happen. Harry was too guarded, too grumpy. Louis tried to tell him it didn’t have to be that way, but it wasn’t something he could wrap his head around.

*

For the next several years, that was how their lives connected. Harry would make fun of her meal choices; she would try to steal the cream and sugar from behind the counter. The town loved their little businesses.

On Wednesdays and Fridays, she had story hour for the little ones. Harry had seen her dressed up as princesses, a mouse, and even a caterpillar. In the summer, she was sure to stock the shelves with summer reading books. When students had issues with their schoolwork, they checked in with her after school before emailing their teachers. Before major exams she held review groups and by year five, she had so many flashcards and quiz reviews for them that the principal asked if she would just teach. Teachers gave her the test reviews that were done in class.

But her shop was her pride and joy. Finding a book that a non-reader liked was like Christmas for her. Helping gift the perfect book on behalf of someone else was too. Or ordering a book series that she never would have thought of that was suggested by a little one was one of her favorite moments.

It was an amazing business, and it was almost entirely because of her.

The younger kids flocked to her when she walked through town giving her hugs and telling her all about the sticker chart, they were close to filling out (a five-dollar coupon for any book if they read ten age-level books). The older students went to her for dating advice, university application advice, and her shop was one of the most coveted jobs in town.

Honestly, Harry felt jealous he couldn’t work at The Open Book right along with her.

She worked nearly every day. At least popping in to make sure things ran smoothly. Harry knew the way small businesses worked better than anyone. It was nearly impossible to leave them alone. Even when you trusted another person.

Harry remembered the first day he laid eyes on her. The first day he made a fuss about her pancakes, and he had since lost count of how many pancakes he made for her after six years. On her birthday, he stuck a candle in them. Every spring and fall he cleaned her gutters.

He checked her pipes in the winter, even when she wasn’t home to let him in. “Y’shouldn’t leave your house unlocked,” he reprimanded when she entered her own house unphased by his presence.

“Edith or David are always home, they would call if there was a problem,” she shrugged kicking off her shoes and hanging her jacket up on her coatrack.

“Anyone could just walk in, Peach.”

“Exhibit A?” She gestured to him, and he rolled his eyes. “Do you want some water?” She asked, holding a bottle out to him. “You didn’t have to come check; I would call you if there was a problem.”

"I was over this way," he shrugged taking the water bottle from her.

"Do you want to stay? I'm going to order pizza," she yawned. "I'm too tired to cook."

Harry was terrified if he stayed he would never leave. The invitation wasn't that serious but it felt like it was. "M'good."

"Well then it's your fault when I eat an entire pizza on my onw."

He smirked, rolling his eyes. "Y'sure?" He asked.

"I'll even order a salad," she smiled sweetly. "Thank you for looking at the pipes."

"They look like they were replaced."

She shrugged. "Maybe the Holliston's replaced them," she suggested pulling out the pamphlet for the nearby pizza place from the drawer in her kitchen. Harry frowned. He wouldn't need to come check on them in the winter and that kind of saddened him. "I'm a plain person," Harry thought she was anything but plain. "I like cheese pizza. Do you want anything on yours?"

"I like peppers and onions...but y'don't have to--"

"That sounds yummy. I might try a slice," she smiled and dialed on her phone. "Could you look at my bathroom sink? The facet kind of leaks," she explained while skimming over the menu again. "Hi could I place an order for pick up?" She asked and walked toward the living room with a basket of laundry on one hip.

Harry felt it was a little too domestic, but he liked it way more than he could admit.

Louis was going to love it.

*

When it snowed, he shoveled her parking spot and cleared the store front walkway before he cleared his own. She thanked him profusely when he arrived at her house. But she wasn't actually at her house. There were footsteps leading from her own driveway, un-shoveled, because she was next door at Edith and David’s being sweet and kind to the elderly couple with inches of snow on the ground. Harry hurried after her, there to help.

They worked in silence scooping snow out of the way from front step to car and the rest of the driveway. “Where do Alice and Ed live?” She asked him to pause for a short break while shoveling.

“Uh... across town. On Second Street.”

She frowned. “Do they have neighbors to help shovel?” She asked.

“They’ll be fine, Peach.”

“But people over the age of forty-five aren’t supposed to shovel. They could have a heart attack,” she explained, and Harry could hear the worry in her voice for an elderly couple she hardly knew.

Harry sighed, looking at the too sweet girl for her own good. “We can go there next, love,” he assured her.

“We?”

“I can shovel ‘em out myself if y’have something t’do,” he shrugged.

“No... no, it was my idea. But why?”

Harry swallowed feeling an overwhelming amount of emotions pulse through him. Happy, sad, nervous, everything. It was like each one was battling for dominance and he willed tears to stay away from his eyes. He wasn’t going to confess his love to her, he knew that. But it kind of felt like he wanted to.

But was it even love? They never really talked. He knew surface level things about her and knew how lovely she was sure. But was that enough to be in love? Harry wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to love her. It was a terrible idea to love someone in this too small-town.

“Y’jus’ really nice, Peach. I want t’make sure you’re okay. You’re nice t’me. M’not the sunniest person. Y’never seem t’mind,” he explained and continued shoveling as if he hadn’t said anything at all.

She was watching him as he continued, unable to move. “You’re nice too, Harry,” she promised. “I see it in everything you do for this town. All the little things. I know you replace the lightbulbs on the streetlights because Sutton is too lazy to hire someone. I know you donated money to the high school baseball team for new uniforms. I know you love this town quietly even if you don’t want to for whatever reason. I hope you tell me some time.”

He ignored her little rant because if Harry hadn’t spent the last few years building up blockers and blinders to those kinds of sweet things he would have been a mess of tears at her words.

She gave his arm a squeeze when they finished Edith and David’s driveway. “Thanks for helping. Are you sure you want to help with Alice and Ed’s? I could do it myself. I just need a ride since my car is blocked in. We can shovel mine later. If you don’t mind of course.”

He appreciated her not bringing up how he loved the town. “I don’t mind, Peach,” he promised.

She grinned and looked up at the sky. It had stopped snowing a while ago and the sky was bright blue. “Look how pretty the moon is,” she chirped pointing up. Harry nodded, watching her happy smile and astonished eyes like it was the first time she had ever seen the moon.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “It really is.”

--

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If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[shitapril]

very often see posts about how the one direction fans grew up to be formula one fans, and the more I think of it, the more it makes sense. putting aside the fact that almost all my f1 friends were 1d fans (were ? are lol), it makes sense that a fandom who's fuel was hyperfixating on boys living out their dreams shifted from one form of it to another.

tha being said, it got me thinking - how do the girlies translate to f1 ? and by girlies i mean what your kpop fan would call a "bias". for example, if i was a niall girl - who's my favourite now ?

so here's a silly little non-sensical analysis and comparison that should not be taken seriously at all :

firstly, the zayn malik girlies are definitely lewis hamilton girlies. both zayn and lewis come from humble backgrounds, were subject to vile, inhumane racial discrimination and hate - all while being arguably the most talented in their respective fields (I mean, you've heard zayn's high note in you & I, and seen lewis' 7 world championships). they're hardworking, pet-loving, very fashionable men who stay out of unnecessary spotlight for the most part, and step out once in a while to remind the world they're drop-dead gorgeous. the zayn girls are safe with lewis.

next comes liam payne - and here on you'll have to hear me out with my comparison of every racer and bandmate. liam and george russell are both aggressively british, unapologetically goofy and true to themselves (and i'm talking about liam in 1d not the one on logan paul's podcast). they're both very talented, highly regarded in their boss' eyes (toto wolff and simon cowell - this post is going to be interesting wow) and still somehow not an immediate fan favourite. this comparison also goes wonderfully well with the whole ziam and britcedes parallels.

thirdly, louis tomlinson. easy peasy. max verstappen. both incredibly blunt, dry humour, pr nightmares, do not give two single hecks. people either love them, or hate them - no in between. both incredibly talented individuals (louis wrote majority of 1d's discography, max has 3 world championships under his belt) and yet are discredited ("louis is only famous cuz of his bandmates and the band itself" and "max just had a good car"). the zayn and louis fued also parallels abu dhabi 2021 quite well aye ? (i'm going insane)

harry styles, no debate. charles leclerc - regarded as the pretty boys (the prettiest, their fans would insist i'm sure) and the most popular, the well-liked. both extremely talented without a doubt, but a little bit overrated, and victimised to glorify and support fan narratives. i know i sound like a hater - forgive me, not my intention. i like them both as individuals - their fans on the other hand (and no, not all, i know) are so blind-sided, so insane and cause so much unpleasantness on the internet. almost ironic, how the most amicable ones have the least liked fans lol. that aside though, if you were a harry girl, chances are you went from one fan-favourite to the other. i also just realised - this supports the larry and lestappen narratives - am i genuinely, honestly onto something here ? (i absolutely am not)

lastly, niall horan. now this one i'm sure will divide you all, but here you go anyway. lando norris. both babied immensely by their fans and bandmates/teammates alike - churchboy persona. the moment they shed the insecurity, suddenly bam everyone hates them (niall's mofo t-shirts, lando's frat boy tendencies, and saying things that the internet will not find funny), promising at a young age, yet somehow grew up to be called overrated. their fans are stubbornly loyal to them, defending them through all their rights, and wrongs. it makes sense to me. one smiley boy to another.

this probably makes no sense - but feel free to add your own comparisons, theories, and notes ! there's 5 of them and 20 on the grid, obviosuly disparity for me to go on and on and on about (for example, I see a little zayn girls to carlos girls pipeline, louis to fernando - oldest boy syndrome and all that) so let me know ! let's yap :)

[1dcommunityficrecs]

Rec List: New Authors!

Welcome to 2025! And as we say goodbye to 2024, this list is taking a moment to shout out new authors who ventured into 1D fic this year -- welcome aboard. It's truly amazing to me that 15 years since the band was formed, and 9 years since they as a group put out new music or performed together, new people are still joining the fold -- or dipping their toes into writing and posting fic, after hanging out in other spaces for a time. I'm sure plenty of people are joining via the solo music, but it still warms my heart to see this community that has meant so much to me continuing to grow and flourish. New fans are just as valid as old fans, and are absolutely essential for a healthy fandom ecosystem.

So with that said, here are 9 fics from people who started posting for the 1D fandom in 2024. And some of these writers have been incredibly prolific -- two of the fics listed are over 100k, and one of the authors has sixteen 1D fics already! Here's hoping we see more from them in 2025 and beyond -- please join me in giving them a warm welcome to the community!

Notorious by violetlilachyacinth (64021, Mature, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) Warnings: period-typical homophobia, implied/referenced rape/non-con

1946. WWII has just ended, but there's still work to be done. To help bring Nazis to justice, U.S. government agent Harry Styles receives a new assignment: recruit Louis Tomlinson, the American son of a convicted German war criminal, as a spy. Neither knows the full extent of the task they're asked to complete nor the full impact they will have upon each other. The stakes are quite high.

Reccer says: This fic blew me away! It's an adaptation of a film, and I can imagine how much work the author did to make it their own. Harry and Louis' connection leapt off the page. And no spoilers, but I loved the ending.

freaky friday by tracksuitponytail (1700, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post Warnings: dubious consent due to body swap

It’s Friday the 13th—a day like any other for Louis until he wakes up in the middle of the night... in his best friend's body.

Reccer says: SO well written! I enjoyed it so much, and it really cheered me up on Thanksgiving

Coffee and Confessions by Vyshv (676, General, Zayn Malik/Harry Styles)

A cozy coffee shop in New York City, with the warm aroma of roasted beans and the soft hum of chatter, two lost friends find each other.

Reccer says: This fic so so soft and lovely! I love the feelings it evoked

Hazelnut by BlackRose_Lilly28 (100, Not Rated, None)

Another drabble based on a twitter prompt. This time: "Hazelnut."

Reccer says: Fun to read, and very sweet!

here for the thrill by worldsofdreamers (3357, Explicit, Niall Horan/Zayn Malik)

niall wore a cowboy hat and he was just saving a horse

Reccer says: we needed a fic of niall in his lil cowboy hat and this fic DELIVERS. always love fics from this author. they’re very good writer and they are a good go to if you’re in need of a ziall fic.

All in the Golden Afternoon by leighllbealright (126028, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

When Louis Tomlinson needed to find a new preschool for his daughter, he wasn't expecting the one across the street to be everything he and Goldie ever needed. Or: the one where Louis is closed off, Harry is the weirdest person ever, and Gemma may as well be a psychic. Somehow, calico-cat-style, they forge a beautiful family from pieces that don't quite fit.

Reccer says: This series is one of my top 10 from 2024. Brilliant characters, gorgeous writing, Harry’s sweaty elbow-pits, everyone is a flower, naked treehouses and more.

Whole Lot of History by Blue_Green28 (73592, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

With 3 children coming out of their twelve years long marriage Harry and Louis are essential parts of each other's lives even though they have moved on with new partners since their divorce ten years ago. Or have they?

Reccer says: Exes to Lovers, Miscommunication, mpreg

everything of mine is yours by blueskiesrry (33000, Explicit, Harry Styles/ Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

With Harry in New York finishing up his PhD and Louis in London working as a solicitor, they try to navigate their eight year situationship including almost-daily phone calls, the occasional indulgence of casual phone sex, and endless gossip sessions as the feelings they have for each other get harder to ignore.

Reccer says: The scene where Louis reads a Lincoln biography out loud to H in the bath? Swoonworthy!

The Handbasket Diaries by Hazel_tea_dreams (160326, Mature, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

London’s expensive and work’s a grind but everything is a little better when you have good mates who understand you. The narrow brick flat building in Brixton, home to Louis, Liam, and Zayn and affectionately referred to as The Handbasket, is more than a place to catch winks and reheat leftovers. When Harry stumbles into its midst (and Louis' lap) with flatmate Niall in tow on a particularly hot Pride weekend, none of the five of them will be fully prepared for the shenanigans, tomfoolery, true friendship, or steamy romance that will unfold over the year.

Reccer says: This was so fucking lovely. I binged it in two days—only put it down to scream about it on Bluesky (and sleep and like, essential stuff). The writing is witty and tender and, apparently, communication kink is my jam. This is the only fic (in recent memory) that I finished and then wanted to restart immediately.

[iamquiantrelle]

PLAYING FOR KEEPS (chapter 3)──────iamquaintrelle

⌗ pairing : jules koundé x black oc (fc: mimajhn)

⌗ tags : @irishmanwhore @lettersofgold @deonn-jaelle @sucredreamer @greedyjudge2 @f1-football-fiend @2serenity0 @peyiswriting @coffeevacation @sunfairyy @muglermami @bbgkoo @127hydrangeas @enretrogue @cranberryjulce @julescpu @kj77 @hopefulromantic1

⌗ summary : jules is focused on himself — no girlfriend, no drama — but now he seems to have both after pictures of him having fun at a friend's house party shows up in tabloids, and now fashion houses are calling for him? and his agent wants him to keep up this charade? ♡ masterlist. (✨💕)

The Louis Vuitton store at Galeries Lafayette felt different after Barcelona. Mila adjusted her outfit - a reconstructed piece from the latest collection that she'd modified into something actually wearable, turning the denim monogram print jacket into a crop with strategic cutouts and pairing it with the matching denim pants. Let the brand try to complain now that she was trending.

The weekend had been surreal. Jules was different behind closed doors - quieter, funnier, weirdly good at card games. They'd fallen into an easy rhythm of morning workouts and late-night conversations. Their "couple content" had been effortless - coffee runs, lunches, and one particularly viral video of them arguing about his sneaker collection that had their comments flooded with heart eyes.

Less than a day back in Paris and the gossip blogs were wild. The "blind items" about her were getting ridiculous - she was a secret heiress, an undercover model, a plant from a rival team to distract Jules before his big match this weekend. Everyone was speculating if she'd show up to support him. His ex was still watching every single story despite unfollowing her, which was giving obsessed ex-girlfriend energy. Even Jules had noticed.

The ex situation was getting weirder by the hour, however. Not only was she watching stories, but her friends were now popping up in Mila's DMs trying to be subtle about fishing for information. Some fashion blogs had done a whole comparison post of their styles, trying to find similarities in what Jules was "attracted" to. The internet really had too much time on their hands.

"they're saying you're an heiress now?" his text lit up her phone.

"apparently I'm rich and mysterious," she replied. "try to keep up with your fake girlfriend's backstory."

Jules (Da Boo): guess that explains the expensive taste.

LV’s Meanest Stylist: please, you like that I'm high maintenance.

"Mila, your one o'clock is here," her coworker called out.

She looked up to find Levi Colwill already reaching for the monogram duffle that every footballer seemed to own. Even Jules had one, though she'd bullied him into the limited edition version. Levi was exactly what you'd expect from a young defender - tall, built like a Greek god, designer sweatsuit. His style was still in that new-money footballer phase, like he was buying everything with a visible logo just because he could.

"Is it true you're dating Koundé?"

"That's what the internet says." She moved to help him, already pulling better options. These boys were too predictable.

"Jules' girl, huh?" He was examining a wallet now. "Man's been different lately. Actually smiling at training."

"Are you here to shop or gossip?" She texted Jules while Levi glanced at various pieces: "your boy Colwill is fishing for tea."

"Both, actually," he said, his hands landing back to that Godforsaken duffle.

Jules replied instantly: "tell him to focus on his own love life."

"Not falling for it," she told Levi, who was definitely trying to get more details. "But you are falling for that basic duffle, which is honestly worse."

Her phone buzzed again. Jules: "he's probably gonna pull game on you 😂"

LV’s Meanest Stylist: oh? interesting. and look who’s texting me a lot. missing me already?

Jules (Da Boo): whatever. 🙄 i’m just making sure you hadn't exposed my skincare routine to your followers.

Levi pulled on a jacket that actually worked. "So about Jules..."

"So about this jacket," she countered, adjusting the sleeve. "Much better than that duffle you were eyeing. Unless you want to twin with every other footballer in Paris?"

"Including Jules?"

"You're really committed to this gossip mission, huh?" She pulled out a few more pieces for him to try on. "Did your teammates send you to investigate?"

"Maybe." Levi grinned, caught out. "They've got a betting pool going about whether you'll show up to his match this weekend."

Another text from Jules: "please tell me you didn't let him buy that basic duffle."

"give me some credit," she typed back. "already got him into the new collection. Chelsea boys are nosy af btw."

"What's the betting pool up to?" she asked Levi, who was now actually paying attention to the pieces she'd selected.

"Enough to make it worth telling me if you're coming to the match."

"Nice try." She started ringing up his purchases - none of which included that tragic duffle. "But I don't leak information to the opposition."

Her phone lit up again.

Jules (Da Boo): "they're really out here trying to spy on my love life through luxury shopping."

LV’s Meanest Stylist: don't worry babe, your secrets are safe with your fake girlfriend 😘

*******************************************

Lunch had been a sad salad affair while catching up on a week's worth of client emails. Her coworkers kept "casually" dropping by her station, fishing for details about Barcelona. The store's security had to turn away three different paparazzi trying to get shots of "Jules Koundé's girlfriend at work."

"Mila. Office. Now."

Her manager, Philippe, was wearing his serious face - the one he usually saved for customers who tried to return obviously fake bags. She followed him in, already counting the sales numbers in her head from the past week.

He stared at her reconstructed jacket first, mouth twitching like he wanted to start there. But apparently bigger issues were on his mind.

"Corporate called about your situation with Koundé."

"Is there a problem?"

"They're thrilled actually." He sounded like this physically pained him. "Sales are up. Social media engagement is through the roof."

"That's good, right?"

"It's..." he shuffled some papers on his desk, "unexpected. But I need you to remember this is still Louis Vuitton. We have standards to maintain."

Mila bit back a smile. "Of course."

"Just because corporate is excited about your... personal life going viral—"

"Our numbers have doubled since last week."

"Still." He straightened his tie. "Try to keep some separation between work and your... relationship."

She thought about the five influencers yesterday who'd bought everything she'd worn in stories with Jules. About the waitlist growing for pieces she'd reconstructed. "Absolutely. Totally separate."

The Metro was packed on her way home to the 11th. Her head stylist salary meant she could afford a decent spot near Bastille, even if it came with a third-floor walk-up. Two people definitely recognized her - she caught them trying to sneak photos.

Another buzz of her phone - a text from Jules: "eaten yet?"

LV’s Meanest Stylist: had a little something, but i had a fun meeting with philippe today.

Jules (Da Boo): your manager still mad about the sales boost?

LV’s Meanest Stylist: more like mad that corporate loves it. he had to pretend to be happy while telling me to keep things professional.

Jules (Da Boo): he’s a big hater 😆

She started the climb up to her apartment, cursing Paris's hatred of elevators. At least her place was still normal. Small, full of fabric scraps and design sketches, absolutely nothing like Jules' minimalist palace in Barcelona. The couch was covered in reconstructed pieces she'd been working on before this whole fake dating circus started.

Now, sprawled on her couch in leggings and an oversized t-shirt, Mila scrolled through an endless stream of notifications. Her tiny apartment was her sanctuary - the view wasn't much, just a typical Parisian courtyard, but it was still decent.

Her phone rung with a FaceTime request from Jules.

He was stretched out on his couch too, locs falling perfectly around his face like he was in some kind of high fashion editorial. The golden hour light in Barcelona hitting all his facial features just right.

"You look comfortable," he said, taking in her current state.

"You look like you're posing for Vogue." She propped her phone against a pile of sketches. "Bruno's influence?"

"Please. This is natural talent." He shifted, and she caught glimpse of his own off-duty fit - simple white tank that showed off exactly why footballers could charge so much for sponsored posts. "Bruno's been blowing up my phone about the Young Boys match."

"Here we go."

"The whole internet's speculating if you'll be there."

"The whole internet still needs to mind their business."

"It's an easy game," he pressed. "Perfect timing too, right after the gala."

"Watching you play against Swiss teams wasn't part of the deal."

"No, but making our fake relationship look real was." His smile was unfair through the phone screen. "What's more real than supporting your man at work?"

"My man?" She raised an eyebrow. "Getting extremely comfortable with the role, aren't you?"

"Method acting. Very serious about my craft." He sat up slightly, tank shifting in ways she refused to notice. "Come on. I'll even let you roast my warm-up kit."

"Let me? Like you could stop me." But she was smiling now. "I'll think about it."

"That's not a no."

"It's not a yes either." Mila shifted through her sketches. "Some of us have actual work to do, unlike certain footballers who just kick balls for a living."

"Says the girl who spends her day telling rich people their bags are fake."

"Someone has to maintain standards." She held up a sketch to the camera. "Like these gala fits I'm working on. Your usual style choices can't be trusted for our first official appearance."

"My style choices brought you into my life, didn't they?"

"Your tragic style choices gave me content for my blog." But she was grinning. "Now they're giving me gray hairs."

Jules adjusted his position. "The internet thinks you're my personal stylist now."

"The internet thinks I'm everything from an heiress to a spy." She started pinning fabric samples to her sketches. "Your ex's friends are still in my DMs by the way."

"Still?"

"Mhmm. Very interested in our weekend activities." She glanced at him through the screen. "Your ex must be devastated that you upgraded."

"Upgraded to someone who bullies me about my shoes?"

"Upgraded to someone who saves you from yourself." She paused. "Also your ex's style is basic. All Gucci everything? In 2024?"

Jules laughed, the sound doing things to her stomach. "You really have opinions about everyone's fashion choices."

"Only the bad ones." She switched cameras to show him her work table. "These are coming together though. The gala won't know what hit them."

"Bruno's going to have opinions."

"Bruno's going to deal with it. I'm not showing up in straight-off-the-rack anything." She flipped the camera back. "Plus, you like when I reconstruct pieces."

"I like when you're not roasting me."

"Lies. You live for my commentary." She caught his smile through the screen. "Your teammates confirmed it."

"My teammates need to mind their business too." He ran a hand through his locs. "Though if you came to the match, you could tell them yourself."

"Smooth transition back to that topic."

"I'm persistent." His eyes caught hers through the screen. "Come watch me play. I'll score for you."

"Bold promise for someone who plays defense."

"You've been studying football?"

"I've been studying you." The words slipped out before she could catch them.

The silence held for a beat too long, charged with something neither of them was ready to name.

"More market research for your role?" His voice was lower now.

"Method acting. Very serious about my craft." She threw his words back at him.

Another silence, heavy with possibilities they weren't supposed to be considering.

"Your ex is really getting on my nerves though," she said finally, breaking whatever moment was building.

"You're obsessed with my ex."

"Your ex is obsessed with me. I'm just taking notes." She shifted some fabric around. "Did she always watch this many stories?"

"Never dated anyone who posted enough to find out."

"So I'm special?"

"You're something." His smile was soft now. Different from his Instagram version.

Mila's phone buzzed with another notification. Probably Bruno with more gala details. Or another gossip blog with theories about their relationship. Or Philippe with more concerns about professionalism.

"You should sleep," she said, noting the darkening sky in Barcelona. "Early training tomorrow."

"You should say yes to the match."

"You should stop pushing your luck."

"Never." He adjusted his position again, all casual grace. "Think about it though? For real?"

"Go to sleep, Jules."

"That's still not a no."

She ended the call before he could see her smile. Her phone immediately lit up with a text from him: "sweet dreams, fake girlfriend 😘"

"don't make me block you," she sent back.

"you'd miss my tragic style choices."

She looked at her sketches for their gala outfits, then at the pile of notifications about the upcoming match. This fake relationship was getting dangerously comfortable.

Her phone buzzed one more time: "also I'm wearing those Balenciagas you hate tomorrow just to spite you"

Maybe comfortable wasn't the right word.

Mila ignored how her cheeks hurt from smiling too much. Her phone kept lighting up with his texts, each one more deliberately annoying than the last. She'd created a monster with all this fashion commentary.

The Barcelona charity gala proved exactly why she was right about their outfits. Her reconstructed LV pieces turned heads the moment they walked in - Jules in a sleek black suit with monogram details that only showed when he moved, her in a dress that made Vogue write a whole article about "the future of luxury reconstruction." The venue was stunning, all high ceilings and modern art, filled with football royalty trying their best at black tie fashion.

Bruno nearly had an aneurysm when they first arrived, but even he had to admit they'd stolen the show. Jules kept his hand on her lower back all night, leaning in to whisper commentary about his teammates' attempts at formal wear. They played their roles perfectly - the fashion-forward power couple, the defender and his brutally honest stylist. Every fashion house in attendance had someone slip her a business card. By the end of the night, no one remembered it was supposed to be fake.

Which is probably how she ended up here the very next day, at the Camp Nou, wearing a vintage Barcelona jersey Jules had "casually" sent her along with a limited edition LV bag she definitely wasn't supposed to have access to yet. She'd paired it with an LV skort and burgundy leather trench, because if she had to do team colors, she'd do them her way. The bag was just gilding the lily, but it worked. Of course it worked.

The stadium was massive, nothing like watching matches on TV. Her seat was in the VIP section, surrounded by other WAGs who definitely hadn't expected Louis Vuitton's meanest stylist to show up in team merch and thigh-high boots. But Jules had texted her that morning: "wear the jersey. it'll drive everyone crazy."

He wasn't wrong.

The WAG section was full of whispers and not-so-subtle photos of her outfit. Jules hadn't seen her yet - they were warming up on the pitch, all focus and match-day energy.

The match kicked off and suddenly Mila understood why people lost their minds over this sport. On TV, she could barely track Jules. Here, she couldn't take her eyes off him. The way he read the game, anticipated plays, and moved with precision reminded her of the careful way she arranged his closet after reorganizing it.

Young Boys scored first - some lucky break that had the crowd holding its breath. But then Barcelona's attack kicked in, and suddenly it was raining goals. 5-2 didn't even tell the whole story. Jules had been everywhere, breaking up plays, starting counterattacks.

"Your boy's having a game," some WAG next to her said after Jules made a particularly clean tackle. Mila just smiled, and then noticed that his socks were slightly different lengths.

The final whistle brought chaos - good chaos, victory chaos. The kind that had everyone in the VIP section heading for the family area, designer bags swinging. Mila followed the crowd, her new LV bag probably the only one that wasn't actually out yet.

She spotted him before he saw her. Fresh from the showers, locs still damp, wearing the team's post-match tracksuit that somehow didn't look tragic on him. He was talking to someone with a camera - probably post-match interviews.

Then he caught sight of her.

The way his face lit up wasn't for the cameras. Neither was the way he broke off mid-sentence to walk toward her, but the way he pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her cheek? That was definitely for show.

Except his lips lingered a beat too long, and his hand on her waist felt a little too natural, and maybe some of this wasn't entirely for the cameras anymore.

"You came," he murmured against her ear.

"You bribed me with unreleased merchandise." She kept her smile camera-ready. "Very unethical of you."

"Says the girl wearing my jersey."

"Your vintage jersey. There's a difference."

His laugh was genuine, even if their pose was practiced. Cameras clicked around them, probably catching what looked like an intimate moment between Barcelona's star defender and his fashion-forward girlfriend.

"The socks were uneven," she told him, just to maintain their dynamic.

"You actually watched my feet?"

"Of course I did."

He pulled back just enough to look at her, that smile that wasn't for Instagram making her stomach do things it definitely shouldn't. "Dinner? Team's celebrating but we could—"

"Go with your team." She adjusted his hoodie, knowing the cameras would eat it up. "I have an early flight anyway."

"Stay." His voice was low, just for her. "I'll make it worth your while."

"Another bag?"

"Better." His grin was dangerous. "I'll let you plan my outfits for the week."

She laughed despite herself. "Tempting, but I have a job to get back to."

More players were filing into the family area now, some with kids, others with WAGs who definitely noticed Mila's not-yet-released bag. Jules kept his hand on her waist, thumb tracing small circles that the cameras couldn't see.

"You're coming to the next one, right?" he asked as they posed for another photo.

"Don't push your luck."

But they both knew she would. Just like they both knew this was slowly starting to feel less and less fake with every camera flash, every casual touch, every smile that wasn't quite acting anymore.

"Your car's here," he said, checking his phone. "I had Bruno arrange it."

"Always taking care of your fake girlfriend."

"Only the best for Louis Vuitton's meanest stylist."

She reached up to fix his hair, a gesture that looked intimate to observers but was really just her being annoyed at how it was falling. "Go celebrate with your team. Try not to let them dress you for the club."

"You could come make sure they don't."

"Goodnight, Jules."

His kiss on her cheek this time wasn't for the cameras at all. "Text me when you land?"

She waved him off, already planning what she'd say about his uneven socks in their next FaceTime call. The cameras followed her exit, catching what probably looked like a perfect football couple moment.

Her phone buzzed before she even reached the car: "the socks were uneven on purpose. knew you'd notice."

She smiled despite herself. This fake relationship was slowly getting dangerous.

****************************

Mila's post from the match had over 100K likes by the time she got to work the next morning. The comments were a mess: "THE WAY HE LOOKS AT HER 😭" "notice how she styled the jersey tho? queen behavior" "that bag isn't even out yet omg the power" "they're actually perfect???"

Jules hadn't helped, reposting her story at the stadium with "merci d'être venue, chérie 🖤❤️" Like he hadn't basically bribed her with that unreleased bag. His teammates had jumped in too, commenting about how he couldn't stop smiling at training.

"Your match photos are trending," Philippe said instead of good morning. "Corporate wants to discuss your social media strategy."

"Corporate loves my social media strategy." She hung her trench on her office door. "The waiting list for my section is three months long now."

Her phone buzzed - Jules had posted a picture from the gala. She looked good, obviously, but it was the way he was looking at her in the photo that had her mentions exploding. The internet was having a field day analyzing their "couple style."

Another text from Jules: "bruno says we're doing too well. wants us to have a public fight to seem more realistic."

LV's Meanest Stylist: your sock choices are horrible.

Jules (Da Boo): that's not the kind of fight he meant

She bit back a smile. Her coworkers were already too invested in their "relationship" - no need to feed the gossip by grinning at her phone all day.

The store was chaos. After her appearance at the Barcelona match, suddenly everyone wanted Mila's opinion on everything. Three influencers tried to book private shopping sessions. Two footballers' wives came in specifically asking for "something like what Jules' girlfriend wears."

"Miss Lawrence, your two o'clock is here," her assistant called out. She'd never had an assistant before the McDonald's photo and now apparently she was hired a couple days ago.

Jules texted between her appointments: "training done. thinking about that kiss" LV's Meanest Stylist: it was on the cheek Jules (Da Boo): still thinking about it

She didn't have time to analyze that. A Saudi princess wanted her entire collection reconstructed. Two fashion houses had left messages about collaboration opportunities. Her phone wouldn't stop buzzing with notifications about her latest photos with Jules.

"hungry? we can facetime..." his text came through around four.

LV's Meanest Stylist: too busy. some of us work for a living. Jules (Da Boo): kicking balls is work 😤 LV's Meanest Stylist: sure it is, babe.

By closing, she was dead on her feet. The rain had started, turning Paris into a blur of lights and wet streets. She dug her umbrella out of her bag, checking her notifications one last time before heading towards the Metro.

That's when she saw it. A DM notification from Siobhan. Jules' ex.

What the fuck is this?

The Metro was packed with the usual post-work crowd, everyone dripping from the rain. Mila tapped her card at the turnstile, eyes fixed on her screen. After two weeks of watching her stories, viewing her posts, having her friends fish for information, Siobhan had finally made a direct move.

The message sat there, deceptively casual: "We should talk. Girl to girl."

Mila's thumb hovered over it as she descended to the platform. She'd seen enough photos of Siobhan to get why people made the comparisons - they had similar features, both brown-skinned beauties with good style, though Siobhan's aesthetic leaned more luxury influencer than fashion critic. The kind of girl who watched her ex's new girlfriend's every move.

Like the fucking weirdo she was...

Her phone buzzed with a text from Jules: "you've gone quiet. tired from all that actual work? 😏"

The unread DM from Siobhan sat there like a challenge. There were a hundred ways this could go wrong. A hundred reasons to ignore it. But Mila hadn't gotten where she was by playing it safe.

She clicked on the message, marking it as read. Time to see what Jules' ex really wanted.

Mila leaned against a pillar on the platform, watching her train's arrival time tick down. No point rushing to respond. Let Jules' ex sit with that read receipt for a minute.

Three dots appeared. Another message: "I know you saw this."

"did you need something?" Mila typed back, channeling her best 'dealing with difficult customers' energy.

@/siobhan_rchm: Just wanted to chat about Jules. Girl to girl.

"Mm." Mila grumbled, watching the dots appear and disappear for a beat before responding. "about what specifically? his uneven socks at the match? the way he organizes his sneakers? his skincare routine?"

A pause. Then: "You think you're cute."

"i know i am. was there something else?"

The train rumbled into the station. Mila stepped on, finding a spot to stand near the door. Her phone buzzed again.

@/siobhan_rchm: Just wanted to warn you about him.

"warn me that he has terrible taste in exes? already figured that out."

More angry dots. Mila smiled to herself. She could do this all day.

@/siobhan_rchm: You don't know him like I do."

"you're right. I actually let him dress himself occasionally."

The train lurched between stations. Siobhan was typing again.

@/siobhan_rchm: He's not as perfect as you think.

"never said he was perfect. his sock choices prove that."

@/siobhan_rchm: I'm trying to be serious.

"and I'm trying to commute. is there a point to this?"

Three dots. Delete. Three dots again. Mila switched to her chat with Jules: "your ex is sliding into my DMs"

His response was instant: "siobhan??"

"unless you have another ex I should know about?"

Back to Siobhan's message: "You think this is all a game but he'll do the same thing to you. Get bored. Move on."

"like posting thirst traps and watching my stories obsessively? that kind of bored?"

@/siobhan_rchm: You don't know what you're talking about.

"and you don't know when to move on. sad either way."

@/siobhan_rchm: Just remember I warned you. When he—"

Mila hit the block button before reading the rest. Some entertainment wasn't worth the effort.

Jules (Da Boo): what's she saying?

LV's Meanest Stylist: nothing worth repeating. your taste before me was questionable.

Jules (Da Boo): says the girl who dragged my sock choices at the match 😒

LV's Meanest Stylist: someone had to. even siobhan agreed about the socks

Jules (Da Boo): you did NOT talk about my socks with my ex

LV's Meanest Stylist: what can I say? it's the only thing we have in common.

The train ride felt longer than usual, Mila's mind stuck on Siobhan's messages. The night crowd was starting to fill the Metro - tourists heading to dinner, students with their backpacks, the usual mix of Paris after dark. She got off at her stop, umbrella ready for the rain that was still coming down.

The walk from the station to her building was quick but just long enough to get properly soaked despite the umbrella. Water dripped from the edges of her trench as she dug out her keys. At least her new LV bag was water resistant - perks of having the unreleased collection.

"I'm sorry about her," Jules texted as Mila climbed the stairs to her apartment. "Let me make it up to you?"

LV's Meanest Stylist: with another unreleased bag?

Jules (Da Boo): better. dinner in barcelona this weekend?

Mila paused on the second floor landing. "you want me to fly out for dinner?"

Jules (Da Boo): i know this place you'd love. very exclusive, very—

LV's Meanest Stylist: very in Barcelona when you could just come to Paris.

Jules (Da Boo): I have training...

LV's Meanest Stylist: and I have a job. a real one. none of that kick the ball bs.

Jules (Da Boo): next weekend then? I'll book Le Jules Verne.

LV's Meanest Stylist: now you're just showing off.

Jules (Da Boo): is it working?

She pushed open her apartment door, dropping her umbrella in the stand. "maybe. but you're still coming to Paris."

Jules (Da Boo): high maintenance.

LV's Meanest Stylist: you knew that when you fake chose me.

A pause, then: "about that..."

Her phone lit up with Jules' incoming call. Not a text this time. That was different.

"Calling to apologize properly?" she answered, kicking off her shoes.

"About what Siobhan said—"

"Already forgotten. Like I just did with her on Instagram."

"You blocked her?"

"Should've done it two weeks ago when she first started creeping." Mila dropped onto her couch. "Why? Want me to unblock your ex?"

"No," he said quickly. "No, it's just... look, about this whole fake thing—"

"Don't tell me you're catching feelings," she kept her voice light, teasing. "All it took was one match attendance?"

But Jules was quiet for a moment too long. The kind of quiet that made her stomach do things it shouldn't.

"Nah..." He scoffed, but something in his voice wasn't quite right. "Never that."

"Good. Wouldn't want this arrangement getting messy."

"Please. I have standards."

"You have those ugly ass Balenciaga crocs."

"We agreed never to speak of those again." The weird tension dissipated, back to their usual rhythm. "So about Paris next weekend..."

"You're really trying to get out of coming here, huh?"

"I just think Barcelona has better restaurants."

"Barcelona has you wrapped around Bruno's PR finger."

His laugh echoed through the phone. "You're actually impossible."

"Part of my charm."

"Besides," Jules said after a moment, "if I come to Paris, you'll make me carry your shopping bags again."

"That's literally what fake boyfriends are for."

"Thought it was for the Instagram engagement."

"That too." She kicked off her heels, settling deeper into her couch. "Though your ex might have opinions about that."

"Can we not talk about Siobhan?"

"Why? Worried she'll tell me all your secrets?"

"You already know all my secrets. You reorganized my closet."

"True. The real skeleton was that sneaker collection and those goddamn socks."

He made a noise of protest. "You're really never going to let that go?"

"Never."

"The socks were a choice."

"A bad one." She paused, then: "Like dating Siobhan?"

"Low blow."

"Someone had to say it."

Another silence, but different this time. She could almost see him running his hand through his locs, the way he did when he was thinking too hard.

"You really blocked her?" he asked finally.

"Should I not have?"

"No, it's... good. It's good."

More weight in those words than there should have been. This conversation was veering too close to something neither of them was ready to name.

"You really have these girls losing their minds," Mila said. "Between Siobhan and your fan pages..."

"Too much BDE. They can't handle it."

She rolled her eyes so hard it probably translated through the phone. "It's not that big," she muttered, mostly to herself.

But of course he caught it. "You can always find out."

"Never."

"Never say never." His voice was all smugness and suggestion.

Mila ignored the way her stomach flipped at his tone. This was exactly the kind of territory they didn't need to explore. Even if his voice was doing things to her that it absolutely shouldn't.

"I'll make a reservation for our dinner next weekend." Back to that practiced confidence.

"Whatever. Bye." She hung up before he could say anything else dangerous.

Her phone lit up immediately with his text: "bonne nuit, chérie ❤️"

She stared at that heart emoji longer than she'd ever admit to anyone.

A week later, Mila's Uber pulled up to the Eiffel Tower. She'd gone with a Dior slip dress because why not, paired with Aquazzura white slingbacks and a beige trench. The kind of outfit that said 'yes, I'm dating a footballer, but I dressed like this before him.'

Le Jules Verne was exactly what you'd expect from a Michelin-starred restaurant in the Eiffel Tower - all understated luxury and views that made even Paris locals pause. The kind of place where no one cared who you were because everyone was someone.

Jules was already at their table, standing as she approached. The bouquet in his hands was ridiculous - white roses and peonies, probably cost more than the dinner would.

"Ah, you shouldn't have," she said, accepting his hug.

"What kind of fake boyfriend would I be?" he murmured against her ear.

"But you really shouldn't have." She pulled back, taking off her trench coat. "They're gonna die in like two days. I have a brown thumb."

Jules pulled out her chair - unnecessarily gallant for a fake date. "You look nice."

"Just nice?" Mila arranged her dress. "You flew to Paris for 'nice'?"

"Beautiful. Stunning. Better?"

"Now you're trying too hard." But she was smiling. "Speaking of trying too hard, that fit is actually decent. Did you dress yourself?"

"Funny." He settled across from her. "But no. Someone reorganized my closet with very specific instructions."

The sommelier appeared with champagne they hadn't ordered. "Compliments of the house."

"The perks of dating a footballer." Mila raised her glass. "Even if it's fake."

"About that…" Jules started, but their server arrived with menus and a long explanation about the night's specials.

"The chef has prepared something special," the server finished.

"Of course he has." Mila caught Jules' eye over her glass. "More perks?"

"Bruno's influence, actually. He has opinions about our first Paris date."

"Opinions about everything except your sock choices."

"Are you ever going to let that go?"

"Never." She studied the menu. "Like I'll never let go of those Balenciaga crocs."

"I told Siobhan to leave us alone," Jules said between sips of champagne. "Well, technically I told her to leave you alone."

Mila shook her head, more intrigued than annoyed. "Your dick must cure diseases."

Jules choked on his champagne, actually coughed.

"You keep talking about my dick like you want to try it." He settled back in his chair, legs spreading, all casual like he'd practiced this move. "Just say the word and we can—"

"I'm gonna stop you there, buddy." She held up her hand. "I'm just saying these girls are acting like your dick cures diseases, is all. No one is thinking about taking a ride on that thing." She said 'thing' like it personally offended her.

Jules just watched her, that smile that said he saw right through her act. "Mmhm."

Their waiter appeared once more, ready to take their order, saving them both from whatever was about to happen next.

"The lamb," Jules told the waiter. "And she'll have—"

"I can order for myself," Mila cut in. "The fish, please."

The waiter disappeared with their menus and Jules' amused smirk. The restaurant buzzed around them, that particular energy of expensive meals and important conversations.

"So," Mila swirled her champagne. "How's training?"

"How's telling rich people how to dress?"

"Deflecting already? Did Siobhan shake you that bad?"

Jules leaned back in his chair. "Just looking out for my fake girlfriend."

"By making your ex block me on everything?" She raised an eyebrow. "I saw her Instagram's gone private too."

"Had to maintain our image."

"Our image needs that much maintenance?"

"Bruno's words, not mine." He took another sip of champagne. "Though the flowers were my idea."

"Ah yes, the dying flowers. Very thoughtful."

The first course arrived - something fancy with foam. Jules watched her taste it, that same look he had when she'd criticized his sneaker collection.

"You're staring."

"You have…" He gestured to her lip.

She wiped at nothing, knowing he was just messing with her. "Very mature." Mila sampled more of whatever was on her plate. "This is actually good."

"Better than McDonald's at two in the morning?"

"Nothing's better than that." She caught his smile. "Though this view comes close."

"Paris showing off for us."

"For you, maybe. I live here."

"And yet you've never been to Jules Verne before."

"Some of us don't make footballer money." She set down her fork. "Speaking of money, how much did you have to pay Siobhan to back off?"

"Just my eternal soul and first-born child."

"Reasonable price."

The main course appeared - her fish arranged like art, his lamb perfectly cooked. The waiter poured wine that definitely wasn't on the regular menu.

"Bruno's going to love the bill from this," Mila noted.

"Worth it for the content." Jules cut into his lamb. "Though we could give him better content."

"If you're about to suggest something inappropriate—"

"Just saying, the whole 'will they, won't they' thing is working for our engagement numbers."

Mila pointed her fork at him. "No one is engaging with your numbers."

"That's not what you said about my BDE earlier."

"I take it back. All of it." But she was fighting a smile. "Your ego needs no encouragement."

"Too late." He was doing that thing with his eyes again, the one that probably worked on everyone else. "You're already on record about my—"

"If you say dick energy one more time at this nice establishment, I'm leaving."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

Their eyes locked across the table. A challenge, maybe. Or something else neither of them was ready to name.

The waiter appeared with dessert menus, breaking whatever moment was building. Jules took his with a smile that was almost too casual.

"Should we share?" he asked.

"In your dreams."

"Often."

Mila kicked him under the table, right as the waiter returned. "He'll have the chocolate thing. I want the one with strawberries."

"Separate desserts?" The waiter looked between them. "Most couples share—"

"We're not most couples." Mila's smile was sweet but final.

Jules watched the waiter leave, that smirk back on his face. "No, we're definitely not."

The desserts arrived looking more like art installations than food. Mila caught Jules' eyes drifting to her neckline again - the third time since their main course.

"Stare harder why don't you?"

"I'm trying." He didn't even pretend to look away.

"Horndog." But she adjusted the strap of her dress anyway, watching his eyes track the movement.

"Can't help it. The dress is…"

"Expensive? Designer?"

"Both." He sampled his chocolate dessert, still watching her. "Though I was going to say dangerous."

"Please. This is modest for me." She tasted her strawberry creation. "You should see what I wear when I'm actually trying."

"Is that an invitation?"

"It's a warning." She pointed her spoon at him. "Your game's weak if you think this neckline is dangerous."

"My game's never weak."

"But you needed a McDonald's photo to go viral before making a move."

"I didn't make a move." He leaned back, all casual confidence again. "Bruno did."

"Tragic." She stole a bite of his dessert just to prove she could. "Using your agent as an excuse."

"Using my agent for business." His eyes dropped to her lips as she licked chocolate from her spoon. "This is pleasure."

"This is a fake date."

"With real dessert." He pushed his plate closer to her. "Want more?"

"Trying to sweeten me up?"

"Is it working?"

She took another bite of his dessert, maintaining eye contact just to watch him squirm. "You wish."

The waiter appeared with their bill - or rather, with no bill at all because apparently Jules had handled that hours ago. Of course he had.

"Very presumptuous," Mila noted as they stood. "What if I hated dinner?"

"You loved it." He helped her with her coat, fingers brushing her bare shoulders. "Even if you won't admit it."

"I admit nothing."

"Your empty plates admit plenty."

Outside, Paris was still showing off - all lights and early autumn beauty. Jules' hand found her lower back as they waited for their cars.

"This was nice," he said, too close to her ear.

"Just nice?"

"Beautiful. Stunning. Better?"

"Now you're recycling lines." But she didn't move away.

His car arrived first - some sleek thing that probably cost more than her annual salary. He opened the door but paused before getting in.

"Next time dinner's in Barcelona."

"Next time?"

"Can't let my fake girlfriend think I'm cheap."

"Too late for that. Your sock choices gave you away."

His laugh echoed even after his car pulled away. Her phone lit up immediately with his text:

Jules (Da Boo): already planning your outfit for barcelona?

LV's Meanest Stylist: planning how to roast whatever you wear.

Jules (Da Boo): worth it

********************************************

"The cheek kisses aren't cutting it anymore," Bruno's voice crackled through Mila's phone. "We need to up the ante."

"Up the ante?" Mila was packing for Barcelona, phone balanced between ear and shoulder. "What exactly do you want us to do, stick our tongues down each other's throats?"

"If that's what it takes—"

"The audacity." She dropped a reconstructed LV piece into her suitcase. "Who are you, our relationship choreographer?"

"The internet's getting restless. They want more."

"The internet needs therapy." But she knew what he meant. The comments were getting wild - theories about their relationship, demands for more content, the kind of attention that made her DMs look like a thirst trap comment section.

Three days later, she was walking through Barcelona's airport arrivals, spotting Jules before he saw her. He was trying to be incognito in a baseball cap and sunglasses, looking exactly like every footballer trying not to be recognized.

"Subtle," she said, reaching him.

"Says the girl in that dress." His eyes tracked over her travel fit - another slip dress because why not torture him a little.

"This old thing?" She let him take her bag. "Just something I threw on."

The Urus was parked illegally because of course it was. Jules loaded her suitcase while she settled into the passenger seat, already plotting how to reorganize his closet again.

"How was the flight?"

"Better than this car choice."

"Still judging my Urus?"

"Always." She pulled out her phone. "Though apparently I need new material. Bruno's orders."

"Heard about that call." He navigated through Barcelona traffic with one hand on the wheel. "No more roasting my fashion choices?"

"Or your ex."

"Tragic. Those were your best bits."

"Please. Everything I do is a best bit."

His laugh filled the car. Match 100 was tomorrow, and here they were, playing house again. At least this time she knew what she was getting into.

"So about Bruno's demands," Jules said, turning onto his street. "Think we should practice?"

"Practice what? Swapping spit for the cameras?" Mila fake gagged, but her heart wasn't in it.

"Could be worse assignments."

"Could be better ones too."

"You wound me." He pulled into his driveway. "Little birdie told me that Chanel's trying to steal you."

She rolled her eyes. "Sure is, and LV can suck my dick and jiggle my left testicle."

Jules let out a chuckle. "Damn, remind me to never get on your bad side. What happened at work?" She just stared at him blankly. "Philippe again?" His jaw tightened. "Should I give him a visit?"

"And do what exactly?"

Jules shrugged, but his grip on the steering wheel said otherwise. "I don't know. Tell him to leave my woman alone. Threaten him?"

"Whatever, Jules."

"I'm serious."

"Be so fucking for real right now."

"I'm so serious, Mila. He got the wrong one." His knuckles went white on the wheel.

Mila caught herself watching those hands, that tension in his jaw. Something about his willingness to protect her - fake relationship or not - was doing things to her pussy she refused to acknowledge.

The opportunities were piling up lately. Fashion houses sliding into her DMs. Offers to branch out on her own. She could do it - build her own brand, be an independent designer like she'd dreamed. Or worse… become an influencer. The thought alone made her want to gag. Though being a freelance stylist had potential.

"Mila." Jules was watching her, that look that saw too much. "You good?"

"Just plotting my escape from corporate hell."

"To Chanel?"

"Maybe." She stretched, knowing exactly what that did to her dress. "Or maybe I'll just become your full-time fake girlfriend. Seems less stressful."

*************************

"Your closet better be exactly how I left it," Mila said as they entered his house. "I'm not doing another intervention with your sneakers."

"Haven't touched anything." Jules carried her bag upstairs. "Too scared of your wrath."

"Smart man." She followed him to the guest room - her room now, basically. Her reconstructed pieces from last time still hung in the closet. "Though we need to talk about that jacket you wore to training yesterday."

"Thought you needed new material?"

"Some crimes can't be ignored."

He dropped her bag by the bed, lingering in the doorway. "Hungry?"

"Depends. Are you cooking?"

"God no. Ordered from that place you liked last time."

"The one with the pasta?"

"The one where you stole half my dinner, yes."

She kicked off her shoes, making herself at home. "It's not stealing if you let me."

"Is that what we're calling it?"

"That's what I'm calling it." She started unpacking, aware of him watching. "Don't you have a big match to rest for?"

"Don't you have a closet to reorganize?"

"Your closet can wait until tomorrow." She pulled out her outfit for the match. "This, however, needs steaming."

"Another reconstruction?"

"What else would I wear to your hundredth match?" She held up the piece - another LV remix that would probably give Philippe an aneurysm. "Think Bruno will approve?"

"Bruno would approve if you wore a trash bag at this point." Jules pushed off the doorframe. "He's desperate for content."

"Hence the kissing demands?"

"Hence everything." He watched her hang up the outfit. "Though the kissing thing…"

"Don't."

"Just saying, might need practice."

"In your dreams."

"Often." He ducked the shoe she threw at him. "Dinner's in twenty."

She waited until his footsteps faded before pulling out her phone. Three texts from Siobhan's friends, still trying to get intel. Two emails from Chanel about possible collaborations.

A new text from Jules: "brought you wine from that vineyard you pretended not to like"

Interesting...

Mila came downstairs to H.E.R. playing softly in the background. Jules was at the kitchen island, uncorking wine like this was totally normal.

"Are you trying to get at something?" She took in the dim lighting, the music, the actual fucking candles. What was this man up to?

"Just trying to relax," he said simply, holding out a glass of wine.

"Mmhm." She accepted the glass, watching him plate their food with way too much care before sliding it in front of her.

"Bonne appétit." He settled next to her at the island.

They ate in silence for a few beats before Mila couldn't take it anymore. "Seriously, what're you doing Jules?"

He had the nerve to shrug. "I told you I'm just trying to relax. Big match tomorrow, remember?"

"You're giving out too much game right now. You think I'm dumb?"

"No, Mila, you're far from dumb."

"So what's the play?" She set her napkin down, fixing him with that look she usually reserved for customers trying to play in her face. "What's going on because since when do we have this setup if we're fake—"

Her words cut off as Jules leaned over, pressing his lips to hers. He tasted like eggplant parmesan and wine, and despite herself, she sighed into it. His hands came up to cup her face, lips moving against hers with a precision that shouldn't have surprised her but did. Boy knew what he was doing with that mouth - the same confidence he had on the pitch but softer, more deliberate.

When he pulled back, Mila's brain took a second to come back online.

"What the hell?" she mumbled.

"Practice, right?" His voice was too casual for someone who just kissed her like that.

She blinked, tilting her head. "Bruno wanted us to have more PDA…"

"Oh, yeah." His thumb brushed her cheek where his hand still lingered.

"Was it good?"

Was it? Her mind screamed. But what came out was: "It was alright."

"Alright? Shit, Mila maybe I have to convince you again."

"Please don't." But her eyes dropped to his lips.

"Just a quick one." He leaned closer. "For research."

"No." She didn't move away.

"It's quick…" His mouth was already brushing hers. "For research."

This kiss wasn't quick at all. His hand slid into her hair, angling her head just right. She might have made a sound - something embarrassing she'd deny later - when his tongue traced her bottom lip. This wasn't practice anymore. This wasn't fake anything.

When they finally broke apart, the food was definitely cold.

******************************************

The absolute audacity of this man.

Mila spent the entire match trying not to think about that kiss. Those kisses. Multiple kisses that definitely weren't just "practice." She'd even texted Leon - her most reliable situation-handler - but he was "busy." All her usual distractions were unavailable, leaving her stuck with the memory of Jules' mouth and what his hands had felt like in her hair.

Barcelona was destroying Sevilla, which wasn't helping. Every time Jules made a play, the crowd lost it. Five goals, and he'd been involved in three of them. Show-off.

Then came the post-match ceremony. His hundredth game plaque, the crowd chanting his name, cameras everywhere. And this man - this absolute menace - had the nerve to call her down to the pitch.

"Come here, chérie," he said into the mic, and what was she supposed to do? Say no in front of 90,000 people?

She made her way down, reconstructed LV dress definitely not made for stadium stairs. The cameras were already going crazy, probably catching her "supportive girlfriend" moment.

Then this fucker kissed her. Not a peck, not a casual press of lips. A proper kiss, right there on the pitch, his plaque in one hand while the other pulled her close. The crowd absolutely lost it.

When he finally let her go, she was too disoriented to even pretend to be mad. The cameras caught everything - her slightly dazed expression, his satisfied smirk, the way she had to steady herself on his arm.

"For the cameras," he murmured in her ear as they posed with his plaque.

"I hate you," she whispered back, perfect smile in place.

"No you don't."

The worst part? He was right.

Her phone was already blowing up. The notifications would be insane - fashion blogs, football accounts, probably Bruno having a meltdown about their "organic PDA moment." But all she could think about was how she needed to call every single one of her rotation guys because this tension? Unacceptable.

"Dinner?" Jules asked as they left the pitch, still riding his match high.

"I have plans."

"No you don't."

"I could have plans."

His smile was dangerous. "But you don't."

The cameras were still catching everything - her pretend annoyance, his hand on her lower back, the way they moved together like this wasn't all for show.

"One dinner," he said.

"You already got your kiss for the cameras."

"Maybe I want another one."

She really needed to call Leon. Or Jean. Or both.

The family area was chaos. Mila scrolled through Twitter while waiting for Jules, watching their kiss go viral in real time.

"THE WAY SHE HAD TO STEADY HERSELF 😭" "that man must kiss like he plays football - elite" "did y'all see her face after??? HELLO???" "mila lawrence found SHOOK" "the way he just grabbed her like that i'm—"

Someone had already made an edit set to "Kiss Me More" - her dazed expression on loop, Jules looking too pleased with himself. The engagement numbers were insane. Bruno was probably having heart palpitations of joy.

More tweets kept coming: "jules koundé said watch me score off the pitch too" "miss mila really won" "the grip he has on her waist i'm studying it respectfully"

Her phone buzzed with texts from every single one of her situationship guys.

"You're trending," Jules' voice came from behind her. Fresh from the shower, hair still damp, wearing that post-match designer fit that actually worked for once. "Something about being 'dicked down by Barcelona's finest defender'?"

"That's disgusting." She kept scrolling. "Also inaccurate."

"Could be accurate."

"In your dreams."

"Maybe it can be reality?" He leaned over her shoulder, reading more tweets. "They're really analyzing your face in 4K."

"Your fans are unhinged."

"Our fans now."

Their eyes met in the reflection of her phone screen. That tension from last night was still there, crackling between them like static electricity.

"Dinner?" he asked again.

"I really do have plans."

"With who? Leon?" His smile was knowing. "Already saw his stories. He's in London."

"I have other options." Like Jean, like Gabriel, like Muhammad...

"But you're here with me and you're gonna stay."

The worst part was he was right. Again. Motherfucker.

"Fine." She locked her phone, ignoring another wave of notifications. "But no more surprise kisses."

"No promises."

Bruno was going to lose his mind over their engagement numbers. Their fake relationship was trending worldwide. The internet was already writing their love story.

But watching Jules guide her through the stadium with that hand on her lower back, Mila had to wonder how much of this was still fake.

............tbd

[lady-phasma]

I'm sure someone has probably already done this but it's nagging at me and I couldn't hear all the insults as they yelled at one another. (Bold are my emphasis because I am seated!) Specifically the parts about Paris and Marius. I'm not making any comments at the moment, just fact finding because this episode was brutal. Beautiful, but brutal.

Season 2 Episode 5

Louis: What? What?!

Armand: It's morning!

Louis: I lost time. Things got a little heated.

Armand: With a boy! Things got heated with a boy. I was at home picking lint off the sofa!

Louis: I said to join us!

Armand: The night's gone. The room's soiled and once again, I'm here with mop and mindlessness to clean it up.

Louis: So the room got dirty, so what? I'll clean it up.

Armand: No, I clean it up! You make the mess and I clean it up! Mark it on the calendar, align it with Ursa Major. Louis' tri-annual fսck off and find me with apologies to follow.

Louis: ( laughing ) I'm sorry.

Armand: Seek comfort in the arms of lowlifes and unfortunates, and broken children, fine.

Louis: Oh, fine! The fine that doesn't sound like…

But revealing our nature to a reporter you met in a bar ten hours ago? What if it was published?

Louis: I was having some fun!

Armand: You don't have enough to fear from Paris?

Louis: I was in the middle of ending things, when you…

Armand: You'd have been passed out on the floor next to him, Louis! Out on your feet from the drսg you stuffed him with!

Louis: Oh, this is boring! You're boring! You are so boring!

Armand: And here come the drսgs.

Louis: Colorless.

Armand: Up the fangs, down this road.

Louis: Flavorless. Dull! Dull! Dull!

Armand: Into the heart and off with the fingers, feet.

Louis: Dull nights, dull weeks!

Louis: And wallowing brain.

Louis: Dull months, dull as fսck! Suffocation by the world's softest, beige-est pillow! The ten hours I spent with that boy were more exciting, more fascinating, than decades with you! Oh, there it is! The half-blank, half-apocalyptic look! But what does it mean tonight, huh? Does he want to lick my boots or chop my hands off? Is it the gremlin or the good nurse tonight? Huh?

Armand: Okay. Okay, perhaps. But am I as boring as the blather committed onto the ferric tapes of your fascinating boy? "Oh, it's so, so hard to be me."

Louis: "Picking lint off the sofa?!"

Armand: "It's so hard to kill humans."

Armand: "I can feel their feelings as I drain them."

Louis: You sat on your hands and put your ear to the wind.

Armand: "Everyone I know wrongs me."

Louis: Okay. Okay, let's wake the boy up and let's try you. "I'm the vampire Armand and my daddy vampire groomed me into a little bitch."

Armand: "My brother, he tossed himself off a roof!"

Louis: "Vampires who murdered my daddy made me pretend I didn't have a dіck for 240 years."

Armand: "My sister, she buried me alive.” My daughter was my sister was my throw pillow. “Well, he wouldn't look at me kindly.” "Lestat. Lestat. Lestat. Lestat. Lestat. Lestat. Lestat."

Louis: I talked shit about him the whole time. So what?!

Armand: The name!! The name! Unuttered in our home for 23 years, said over and over again until it was pounding in my brain like a hammer.

Louis: Our problems aren't about him.

Armand: And you threw her name around just for cover, but it always circled back to him.

Louis: I loved her.

Armand: But she didn't love you. Not like he did, not like I have.

Louis: ( softly ) I know. I know! Yes! I know. ( softly ) Thank you for saying it. It's all creeping back. Paris and the, uh, what, what, what? But there's… all of it coming back. There's, uh, Paris. Paris. Can you hear that? Can you hear that, hm? Can you hear her? She's calling me.

Transcript (with some corrections) from TV Show Transcripts

[the-crooked-library]

Okay I wanted to tell you that I'm literally drinking your posts about Nosferatu, thank you so much for sharing all your thoughts! You're helping me better shaping my own opinions.

And I have another thing that can't leave my mind so I thought to share: Ellen is in perfect control of Orlok, and it's never the other way round.

She is the one that summons him first, and after their first encounters (I got the feeling that they met more than once before her father discovered her and the encounters got unpleasant, but I might be wrong), when she rejects him out of fear and disgust, *he leaves her be*. Okay, he visits her in her dreams, but dreams are manageable, right? In fact Ellen moves on, she tries to build a reasonable life, she falls in love, and Orlok just leaves her be. It's only when she marries that he acts: because the vows of marriage can break the oath they took years ago.

And even if moved by jealousy and rage, even if he is so powerful that he can control animals, weather and human minds, even if he can bring the plague to a whole city, even if he kills and tortures everyone, he can't touch her unless she gives her permission, her consent. He barely even look at her without her permission.

And in the end he knows the dawn is approaching, he knows he's gonna die, he is more than satisfied, more than fulfilled, but she says "more" and so he stays. And he dies. Because she wanted for him to die.

I don't think Ellen is fully aware of her power and control over him since the beginning, because to admit to herself this much is too much for her. A part of her still wants and impossible normal life. But surely she knows. She places her hair in the lock...

And in the end she fully embraces this power, to the extent of her own death too.

I think this is what hit me the most in this movie. How big a role the girl plays in the action of the vampire.

hi - and thank you so so much! I am delighted to hear that you've been enjoying my posts about this film, because, quite frankly, I haven't been able to shut up about it at any point since I saw it.

Regarding Ellen's control of Orlok: this might be just my opinion, but I think it is strongly reminiscent of the dynamic between Sarah and Jareth in Labyrinth (1986)! Sarah's situation is, naturally, less traumatic than Ellen's - but she is the heroine of a coming-of-age fantasy film, rather than a gothic horror, so that comes with the territory. The point is, their stories share the same essential plot beats and deal with a similar subject matter, and Sarah's story is punctuated by her interactions with the Goblin King. Like Orlok, he is ancient and in some ways immortal; he is obsessive, dangerous, and magical in a way that does not fit in with the Normal World - which provides a point of endless fascination for Sarah, who also feels like an outsider in it. As such, the Goblin King both excites and terrifies her, he adores her and menaces her at the same time - and, crucially, he has no power over her. Here's how the story develops:

the loneliness, the frustration with her life

the summons, however accidental

friends/family in danger

at the same time - thrill, excitement, seduction, obsession

fairy tale time limit - 13 hours or 3 nights

confrontation/declaration of love, offer of eternity

the evil is defeated because he isn't actually in control.

The Goblin King begs Sarah to just fear him, love him, and vows to be her slave if she does; Orlok does much the same, insisting time and time again that Ellen isn't meant for the human world - that he would give her the companionship she wanted for all eternity; and the same pattern repeats in a plethora of other media as well, vampire, fairytale, and various derivations thereof.

Just to throw a few examples into the mix - Ellen Hutter, Christine Daaé, Sarah Williams, Will Graham, and Louis de Pointe du Lac all follow that specific dance. Each one of their respective monsters seduces, threatens, adores, coerces, rages - and eventually submits. Orlok is reverent as he stays with Ellen past the sunrise; Erik releases Christine in the finale; the Goblin Kingdom crumbles, Hannibal kneels in the snow and falls from the cliff, and Lestat allows Louis to slit his throat. For the pursued, this is, first and foremost, a story of self-actualization; and a fantasy of being loved so deeply that it supersedes all other possible concerns. None of these characters have ever felt loved by another human being - and so it's not surprising that the thing that wants them so much isn't human. It's really more of a reasonable assumption than a leap.

I absolutely agree that Ellen's actions are often very subtly questionable, in a way that almost feels like reaching; and I think that this is likely the intention - though that could be debated until the cows come home, given a contrary enough group of people. Still, in the film itself, she is indeed torn between Morality and Desire. Lines are inevitably blurred. The locket miniature for Thomas, the perfumed lock of hair for Orlok; a sacrifice for the city, a night of passion for her.

One proper, sane; the other invariably personal, close to the skin - clinging, like the scent of lilacs; and it could be said that this dilemma is best encapsulated by her description of a dream she had in the very beginning of the movie. In it, she is wedded to Death. None of the witnesses survive it. She is horrified, she has never been happier in her life, and it's rooted in the very core of her anguish. Because what sort of thing is she, if the only person that loves her wholly is a monster?..

[roosterforme]

Meet the (Other) Parents (Rooster x Reader)

Part of The What If Collection of blurbs for Roo and Baby Girl. Written for an ask. My masterlist. Banner by @mak-32

Warnings: just fluff

You were laying on Bradley's bed in Bradley's bedroom in Bradley's house. And you felt warm and flushed. Not only because of what you and he just finished doing, but also because you knew deep down inside that he bought the craftsman for you.

"Mmm," he hummed, kissing your neck as you felt the bed dip. "I'm going to finish cleaning up from lunch, and then we can head to the airport.

"Okay," you whispered. You were so nervous. His parents were on their connecting flight out of St. Louis right now. Sure, they were coming out to appraise the house that Bradley closed on three days ago, but they were really coming out to do the same to you. This would be your first time meeting them. 

When you eventually made your way into the beautiful kitchen, your boyfriend pulled you in for a hug. "They are going to love you, Baby Girl. My mom asks about you every day, plus you've already talked to them on the phone."

"I hope so." Your own parents were pretty crazy about Bradley after meeting him less than two weeks ago, and you wanted to be just as impressive for Carole and Goose. 

But there were little signs of your presence everywhere here, even after just a few days. You'd spent nearly every moment in the house with Bradley since he got the keys. Your toothbrush was in the bathroom, your overnight bag full of clothing was sitting inside his closet. Your uniform was hanging in the laundry room. 

"Should I clean my stuff up and like put it in the garage or something?" you asked cautiously. 

Bradley looked at you like you'd lost your mind. "Why?"

"So your parents don't see my stuff here?"

Bradley snorted as he started to put his shoes on. "Trust me, Sweetheart. Carole and Goose know I have every intention of trying to get you to move in here with me as soon as possible. Short of leaving your sexiest underwear on the bed, they are not going to care."

"Alright," you whispered, following him out to the Bronco. He opened the door and then buckled you in, and you couldn't help but grin at what had become a little symbol of his love. And with a quick kiss to your shoulder, he had the door closed and was walking around to the other side.

There was no traffic. There was nothing to delay you. And it was all too soon before you were standing in baggage claim in your favorite sundress with Bradley's arm draped casually around your shoulders. Your heart was pounding. And then Bradley squeezed your bicep gently. 

"There they are," he said with a bright smile, and you saw the Bradshaws hustling toward you. The tropical print shirt nearly identical to the one Bradley was wearing would have been a dead giveaway, if you hadn't already seen photos of them. And Carole was waving and calling her son's name, even though he clearly saw her, which had you smiling at her.

"Bradley!" she gushed when she was close, and she still looked beautiful, even with silver threaded through her blonde hair. Bradley leaned down to hug her, and then the petite woman was practically shoving him out of the way to get a better look at you. She gasped and took your hand in hers. "Aren't you just even more gorgeous in person? Oh, I can't tell you how happy this makes me."

And then you were being squeezed so tight by someone so small, you were left muttering, "It's so nice to meet you, Mrs. Bradshaw."

She kissed your cheek as she released you and said, "Call me Carole! And this is Nick. Or Goose. Either one."

You reached out to shake his hand, but he also pulled you into a much less life threatening hug and said, "Just call me Goose. Everyone else does." And when he released you a second later, his chocolate brown eyes which were identical to his son's darted between you and Bradley. Then he just nodded before he hugged his son as well. 

You insisted that Goose sit in the front of the Bronco on the ride back to the craftsman, and that left you in the back with Carole. She asked about the naval academy and what part of Maryland you were from. She asked about your parents and your roommate and your job and everything else under the sun. You were about to ask her to tell you more about what Bradley was like when he was younger, but then she leaned across the seat and sighed softly, her blue eyes glittering. 

"Sorry. I just want to know everything about you. You're one of a kind."

"I am?" you asked with a soft laugh.

She nodded vigorously and said, "Oh, yes." She was looking at you like you were unbelievable. Just too much to take in all at once, and you started to squirm. "We've never met a girlfriend before."

"Oh," you replied softly. You knew Bradley hadn't been in many relationships, but this made you feel warm inside. 

"And he so obviously loves you," she added. "Goose and I just can't wait to spend the whole weekend with the two of you."

Her words still had you feeling flushed as Bradley pulled up to the house and unlocked the front door. 

"It's beautiful!" Carole said as Bradley led his parents around to see every room. You trailed at a bit of a distance until they beckoned you forward. And they didn't say anything about your toothbrush or your glasses case or your uniform. 

But you did hear Goose quietly tell Bradley, "This looks like a house you could raise a family in. Don't drag your feet."

And you did hear Carole whisper to Bradley. "I just love her. She's so charming. Oh my god, Bradley, I don't know how you managed to pull this one off, but please please please don't mess it up."

You were far less nervous as the four of you had pizza and beers on the back patio on the rickety old table and chairs the previous owner left. And you were even less nervous later that night when Bradley suggested his parents sleep on the queen bed. Carol responded with, "Nonsense. The two of you can stay in your room. We'll be fine on the double bed that you bought."

So you got changed and curled up next to Bradley in bed and whispered, "Your parents are awesome."

"They think you're awesome, too."

And you fell asleep wrapped up with his long limbs.

------------------------

When you were about to leave to take Bradley's parents back to the airport a few days later, you climbed into the backseat with Carole once again. She told you about all of the cousins she couldn't wait to introduce you to in Virginia. "If you can come for Thanksgiving, of course."

"Wouldn't miss it," you promised, and her smile filled you with happiness. 

After a beat, she leaned a little closer to you and said, "You know he bought that house for you, right?"

You opened your mouth, but you weren't quite sure what to say. You thought you'd made a good impression on them. You didn't want them to feel like you were taking advantage of their son. You really liked them. You were starting to panic.

But she could read your face in that way only a mom could, and she reached across the seat to squeeze your hand. "Oh, I mean that in a good way, darling. A very good way. Means he wants you to stick around."

You were surprised to find that you had tears in your eyes as you said goodbye to them, and as you watched them walk through the security screen area, Bradley said, "I'm pretty sure we have to go there for Thanksgiving."

"That's okay," you replied right away. "I want to." But when you turned to head back to the Bronco, something had you glancing back toward his parents. They were too far away for you to be certain, but you were nearly positive that Carole was leaving San Diego without her engagement ring. 

[theweepingangelofcas]

Hello ~

I've been following for a long time , but it's my first time requesting 🤧

May I request Moriarty bros with a childish fem!reader please ?

Thank you and take care ~

p.s : I Love YOUR WRITINGS ♡

Hi there! You make sure to take care as well please! p.s: STAY HYDRATED <3

*********

Childish - Moriarty Bros x Reader

William Moriarty

As a person who wants to see a kind, fair society, he adores your childlike innocence.

How could he not? The sparkle in your eyes when you see a particularly colorful bug, the cutesy gestures and habits you had... How could he not love it all?

However, loving your pure soul came with a price. He had to protect it. And there were so, so many things that could shatter it.

You had come home early to surprise him. Normally, he would have loved this. Treasured it. You were both often so busy it was difficult to get an evening together. But why, just why did it have to be this evening? He had just come back from another noble's house. And, par for the course of his plans, his clothes were covered in crimson red. You couldn't see this. You didn't even know it was happening. He only ever told you he was going to business meetings. If you saw him like this, he knew your sweet, childlike self might be ruined, "William?" You called, giggling as you dragged in a few boxes, "It's almost Christmas! I bought a few ornaments to decorate the tree and the house. Where are you, dear?" He was hiding in the guest suite bathroom, back pressed tightly to the door. "In the bathroom, dear!" He called back, fiddling to make sure the door was locked, "I'm feeling quite ill, but I'll join you in a few minutes!"

He could hear you stop outside the guest room, a worried tone betraying your calm words, "Are you alright, love? Do you need my help?" A spike of adrenaline coursed through his veins, "No, y/n. I'll be fine. I'm feeling much better now. Just washing up. Why don't you get a head start on unpacking those ornaments, and I'll be right there?" He could just imagine your elated face. You loved decorating for Christmas. When you walked away, he felt his heart slow to a more reasonable pace.

He came out of the bathroom 30 minutes later, dressed in simple pajamas and his hair freshly washed. You were organizing the ornaments by color, a giddy smile on your face. It made his own heart warm.

"I'm here, my love."

Louis Moriarty

He is a practical man. Even during his youth, he never acted particularly child like.

If it was any other person, he would find it dreadfully annoying. After all, he hated that Holmes man, and he was a walking example for 'immature'.

But you know how to act yourself around him, in a way he finds more endearing than troublesome.

"Y/n? What are you doing?" That, indeed, was a good question. He had walked in to get started on preparing lunch, when he found you, covered in flour on the floor. You grinned at him, "Cookies!" You tried to swipe the flour off your face, "I did spill the flour, though." Again, if it were anyone else, he would be livid. But something about your goofy self just made him shake his head. "Come along, let's get the broom. Then we can make cookies together." **************** You two settled on sugar cookies, after Louis chose a recipe that everyone in the manor would enjoy. He watched as you pulled a bit of cookie dough off of the sheet tray, popping it into your mouth like it was candy. Once again, if it were anyone else... Ah, hell. He ate a piece himself.

Albert Moriarty

Albert works hard. And, he works often.

So when he comes home to your laid back, fun self, he's more than happy.

"Albert!" You practically leaped into his arms, "How was your day?" All he could do in response was sigh, "It was quite long. But nothing an evening with you can't fix." You nodded, "Well, that's good! Because...." You backed up, revealing a few wooden boards and sets of cards, "It's game night! Now, help me round up your brothers." Once William and Louis got settled beside the two of you, it was on. Scrabble was, undeniably, a poor choice of games against a literal prodigy. But even though Albert and you were loosing quite terribly, neither of you really minded. No, in fact, you were both laughing. Jokes were being passed around like cigarettes, and by the end of the night, he could hardly tell what had made him so exhausted earlier in the day.

[blouisparadise]

Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of November. We hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) Countdown | Mature | 2,057 words

Note: The main pairing is Louis/Tommy Shelby.  

Tommy Shelby, pack alpha of the Peaky Blinders, has taken notice of The Garrison Pub’s new barmaid, an omega named Louis.

2) When The Going Gets Tough | Explicit | 2,486 words

Harry is going into unexpectedly early rut and right then, his new boyfriend Louis decides to be a dick and make him jealous.

3) The Things Nobody Talks About  | Explicit | 4,883 words

Twenty eight year old Louis Tomlinson walks past his stepsons room only to see the boy asleep spread out naked in bed with only a pillow covering his manhood and his arm over his face. His sheets are disheveled and it looks like he had a good time before passing out, but the reality is probably less exciting. England has been having a terribly hot summer and they don’t have air con. Louis stands at the door and looks in at the boy as he lays there. He has tattoos littering his fit wide chest and down his beautiful body and his long legs are spread out on the bed. He looks very inviting, Louis is sure he wouldn’t appreciate waking up to his overly horny stepfather ravishing him. Louis was married to Harry’s adoptive dad who passed away last year. Louis and Harry decided to continue living together even without his dad being around because they got on really well and have always been close. Louis and his late husband married when Harry was just nine years old so Louis became kind of another dad to him. Now Harry is an eighteen year old uni student who is home for summer break. Louis is still single and doesn’t get out much after becoming widower.

4) I Fall To Pieces When I'm With You (Cherry Kisses) | Explicit | 4,924 words

Where Louis lives in the country side of London and has a sort of long distance relationship with Italian Harry.

5) Do You Think We'll Be In Love (Forever)? | Mature | 4,983 words

Louis is the babysitter for Harry's children. The alpha invites him to spend the weekend with them at the summer house and there they put an end to the desires and fantasies of the two.

6) Eyes Full Of Stars, Heart Full Of Sins | Mature | 5,453 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

As their soul-tying ceremony approaches, Louis reminisces about his relationship with Harry, how they fell in love amidst the war, and how an uncertain foundation still led them to undeniable love.

7) Raise You Up, Pin You Down | Explicit | 5,679 words

Louis felt a bit distracted by the movement of the alphas lips, wet and pink. He gulped. “You can’t just pick up a stranger like that!” His green eyes flashed mischievously. “When I see a poor little helpless omega like you, I have to help. It’s in my nature.”  Signs of another smug look tugged at his lips. When Louis can't, for the life of him, reach the bar to get his drink, he's surprised with a little help from a handsome and cocky stranger.

8) Just Keep Holding Onto Me (And I’ll Hold You) | Explicit | 7,058 words

Harry, Louis, Zayn and Niall reminiscing and grieving together after Liams funeral.

9) I Used To Call You My Best Friend Way Back Before You Were My Everything | Explicit | 6,670 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

“Okay, this is going to sound insane, but I really can’t stop thinking about you.” Louis’ eyes widened and his heart skipped. “How do you mean?” he whispered. “I mean. I kind of, like, want you. And like. I don’t know if I can have you.” “Oh, yes you absolutely can,” Louis gained confidence at Harry’s sudden lack thereof. “What? I was supposed to look after you, and now, not only have I gone and put myself in a position to not be there for you, but I also just. Want you. What would everyone think?” “Harry, I—I want you, too. Who cares what anyone thinks? Do you mean my parents? They’ll live, considering they love you more than they love their own sons sometimes.”

10) Wild Love | Mature | 7,206 words

Louis don’t know how he ended up like that, he was just taking photos to post online, and now he has an feral alpha on top of him, scenting all his determination out, suddenly there seems cozy and a good place to be.

11) I Dig Your Cinema | Explicit | 7,331 words

Harry Styles is a famous actor in town. Louis Tomlinson doesn't care about him at all. Well, at least that's what Louis thinks. But when Harry's on his knees in front of Louis in the bathroom of a night club, he begins to draw different conclusions.

12) Free Falling | Explicit | 7,710 words

Harry came to London for a visit after meeting Louis at Superbloom, but he never really left. Now, sharing a life and a bed with Louis, he’s fallen deeply in love - but he doesn’t know if Louis feels the same. Navigating daily laughter and longing, Harry faces the uncertainty of their undefined bond. Is he truly part of Louis’ world, or just a passing chapter? As doubts build, he wonders: will their fragile connection deepen into something real, or will it slip away before it ever truly begins?

13) Always Yours | Explicit | 8,018 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Jealous and Possessive Harry when someone new arrives in their group and has a crush on Louis.

14) On a Night Like Tonight | Mature | 8,635 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Pop star meets star football player, aka Taylor Swift/Travis Kelce AU.

15) Airplanes & Apple Pies | Not Rated | 8,987 words

Harry & Louis are strangers flying home for Thanksgiving. They bond as the only passengers in business class - things may or may not get a little heated...

16) Cross My Heart And Hope You Die | Explicit | 9,347 words

Something about this man is getting under Harry’s skin in a record time. “Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?” he questions after a moment of silence. Tomlinson exhales a cloud of smoke, smirks and then shrugs. “I know who you are. You know who I am. What’s the point?”

17) Home | Mature | 9,988 words

Louis has a crush on Harry, and Harry has a crush on Louis and they obviously don't know about each other.

18) Lights Go Down | Explicit | 10,449 words

Note: The main pairing is Louis/Zayn Malik.

Louis is in need of the perfect dom, and the best dom in the club has just parted ways with his regular sub. Can Louis be the sub Zayn wants?

19) A Flicker Of Hope That I Wanna Keep (Please Don’t Leave) | Mature | 12,230 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Harry is in love with Louis, and he had thought Louis felt the same until he accidentally left his journal in Harry’s home. He knows he shouldn’t have read it, especially when it only proved to be a reality check he didn’t want. Once Harry finds the green-eyed, curly-haired, gangly fucker that’s stolen Louis’ heart, he’d like to have a strong word with him.

20) Our Sacred Place | Explicit | 15,842 words

Harry knows that, if he wants to keep something from his husband, he has to do it carefully, considering Louis' curious nature. Mia, their daughter, feels capable of helping her dad in this mision so that everything devolps successfully.

21) We’re Leading Each Other Out Of The Dark | Not Rated | 16,187 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Harry leaves and never looks back, only for him to eventually come home to find Louis and a little girl that looks exactly like him.

22) Meet Me At The Rat Hole | Explicit | 16,934 words

Harry's voice drifts into a nervous ramble. “I mean, I know it’s not my place, but he deserves someone who’s gonna make him laugh, not just… not just be there, and—” Shane holds up a hand, cutting him off, his face twisting into a sneer. “Oh, I get it now. You want to fuck him.” Harry and Louis are best friends. Harry is in love with Louis. But Louis has a boyfriend named Shane. He suuuuuuucks. Harry and Louis want to go see the Rat Hole. but again, Shane sucks. Let's see what happens.

23) After Hours | Mature | 17,605 words

"I want you to take me all night when you get back," Louis whispered against Harry's lips. "You think you can handle me all night?" Harry teased. "You know i can." Louis replied confidently, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips.

24) Wolves, I Hear Them Calling For You | Mature | 18,392 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Harry was in love with Louis, but the omega definitely didn't see him that way. Or maybe he did.

25) Raspberry Juice | Explicit | 18,657 words

1. Louis will take the farthest bedroom down the hall. 2.Louis’ room is off limits. 3.No going through Louis’ things 4.Will share food, just ask first. 5.Louis will take two showers. One in the morning and again at night. So, don’t hog the bathroom at either time. 6.Only one guest permitted at once. 7.No parties. Ever. 8.Keep listening/viewing entertainment at low volume. 9.If you're gonna pop your knot, I don’t need to hear the experience while it’s happening. 10.Be out of the apartment every third Thursday-Sunday of the month so I can help my omega with their heat. This list was perfectly fine when Harry first moved in. But Harry's somehow grown attached to the scent of his roommate's omega...even if he's never seen them. He's desperate to catch a glimpse of the couple, to force his wolf to understand the omega is taken. He has no idea it will end in him getting a taste of his own.

26) Limelight | Mature | 20,056 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

During his first semester at Boston University circa 1989, a shy, socially awkward Harry meets a kind, outspoken Louis. In an attempt to show Louis how he feels, he creates a mixtape of songs. But Harry’s deep anxieties cloud him, and he can’t seem to understand whether or not Louis even wants him around, let alone likes him back.

27) In The Spotlight, In His Arms | Not Rated | 20,115 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Popstar Harry Styles and uni student Louis. Harry accidentally goes live on Instagram and his phone captures Louis sleeping peacefully. That’s how he introduces Louis as his boyfriend to the world. The world falls in love with Louis Tomlinson but will everyone really? Slight angst, insecure Louis, but lots of fluff and Louis is so easy to fall in love with.

28) Waiting For The Winds To Change | Explicit | 21,366 words

After leaving his husband, Harry retreats to a remote beach house owned by a friend to escape the tangled mess his life has become. Looking for nothing but a few weeks of peace and tranquility by the water, Harry plans to get his thoughts in order as he prepares to start his life over again. When a stranger arrives, seeking refuge from an approaching storm, Harry is thrust into a whirlwind romance full of self discovery, some hard truths and more than just a few realisations. As the waves come crashing in, their little bubble bursts and when Louis’ own secrets are revealed, Harry must decide if he’s ready to jump head first into something that could inevitably leave him heartbroken and right back where he started.

29) One Last Time | Explicit | 24,295 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Louis is a werewolf, and Harry is a vampire. They’re supposed to hate each other, but they’re too busy fucking to care.

30) My Everything | Explicit | 31,061 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

They got to the building and right before the door of the elevator opened to the lobby, Harry grabbed Louis’ hand and brought him to his chest. “See you later, my love?” he brought Louis to him for a soft kiss. Louis smiled, blue eyes studying Harry’s face closely before he moved his tie back, patting his chest tenderly. “Go save the world, Agent.” Harry chuckled and pecked his lips again. “You’re ridiculous.” Louis scrunched his nose happily, “See you at lunch?” “Always.” He pecked his lips again before the door of the elevator opened to their new day.

31) No Bananas In The Library | Not Rated | 36,436 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Sometimes it all starts with a dare, sometimes the dare comes later, and sometimes the dare is actually the push someone needs to be brave enough to talk to someone. Louis wouldn’t say Harry is his enemy but that loud frat boy can be incredibly annoying, always disturbing Louis when he tries to study, and Louis has certainly told him so. And he’s always eating his disgusting bananas. However, one day Harry approaches him to say that he wants to get to know Louis.

32) In Dreams You're Mine | Explicit | 37,530 words

Harry age 10, and Louis age 12, meet on a seaside holiday and become the best of friends. Their visit to a fortune teller sets off a series of events that changes their lives and dreams forever.

33) I Want You To Need Me | Explicit | 37,609 words

For Harry, finding his soulmate had always been his life goal. For Louis, soulmarks don't matter as long as he loves the person he’s with. And he truly loves Harry. Fate brought them together, on Harry’s 18th birthday, and they couldn’t stay away from each other, even if they tried. Louis is sure their marks will match, their love is that strong. But how will it affect Louis when Harry’s mark doesn’t match his and Harry decides to go find his one true love?

34) Wherever You Are (That's Where I'll Be) | Mature | 50,151 words

Harry took a deep breath, his fingers tightening into a fist. “I... I haven’t been sleeping well. Actually, I haven’t been sleeping much at all,” he admitted, his voice hoarse. “It’s been getting worse for weeks now. I think it started with nightmares, but now... it’s something else.” Dr. Sinclair leaned forward slightly, his eyes focused on Harry. “Something else?” “Voices,” Harry whispered, almost as if he was afraid saying it aloud would make them worse. “I’ve been hearing voices, even when I’m awake.”

35) From Underneath Your Glow | Explicit | 53,524 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

With years of bitter experience and a tuition debt that would outlast three generations, Louis did what anyone in his position would; he developed an almost flawless five-step system for scamming alphas.

36) Forever Yours | Mature | 54,130 words

Harry and Louis are very much in love and expecting their first baby together. Everything is perfect until it's not anymore and hearts get shattered, promises broken... Five years later, Harry comes back after realizing the life he left behind was the one he should have chosen all along. Is it too late or can he get his family back?

37) Total Distraction | Explicit | 57,805 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Love On Tour just finished and Harry finds himself being shipped off to Mykonos for three weeks alone. He expects to spend them bored and lonely until Louis comes sashaying down the beach and changes his life forever... or at least for the next three weeks.

38) Midnight Doesn’t Last Forever | Explicit | 63,658 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

When Harry learns that his beloved grandfather has passed away, he also discovers that he's inherited the lake house that he so fondly remembers from childhood. However, it comes with a stipulation - he must be legally married before he can take possession of it. Enter his best friend, Louis, who is an accident-prone freelancer who has a desperate need for health insurance. All seems to be going well with the plan until Louis finds himself in an unfortunate accident that robs him of his memories of Harry and their marriage of convenience.

39) As The Summer Fades Away | Explicit | 66,491 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

Harry and Louis were not supposed to be. And that was a fact Louis had been very aware of for the past decade. It was just the way the universe was. And Louis knew there was no bending and pushing that would change the facts. Harry was his neighbor and his father’s best friend. A constant in Louis’s life for years. Sturdy and unmoving, with an ever present frown pulling on his mouth. Unattainable. When Louis landed back in Texas after graduating college, he learned that sometimes the universe could bend a little at his will.

40) I Love It Better If I Repeat It Many Times; Firefly, Firefly, Firefly  | Not Rated | 65,661 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

“Louis, don't marry him.” he gasped loudly as the alpha cornered him at the engagement party. Louis watched behind Harry to make sure that no one was paying attention to them. “Please don't.” he begged, Louis' blood was boiling, he roughly pulled away from the curly’s firm grip. He couldn't believe his audacity. “What's wrong with you? You just asked Naomi for her hand, you asshole!” He yelled through clenched teeth, still looking behind his back. Harry shook his head for a few seconds, holding his hair that was ruined in a flash. “I can't believe it. You’re-” “I know you don't love him. I saw it in your eyes, Lou. Please.” The brunette omega fell silent, opening his mouth in astonishment, the ring he'd received from Rowan identical to Naomi's weighed heavier against the accusation that fell from the alpha on him. Harry took a step closer, they were practically already close from a start, right now, their chests were brushing. He watched his pleading gaze, his large, warm hands clinging to his arms, Louis felt his mark burning. “Harry-” “If you ask me, I won't get married. If you ask me, I’ll give up on all of this.” His heart along with his knees went weak.

41) I Know Your Love’s Not Real | Mature | 67,890 words

Note: This fic was written for the Bottom Louis Fic Fest. Check out the full collection here.

With a simple bet that could’ve given him his ticket out of this town, Louis finds that taking the virginity of the nerdy alpha came with lots of difficulties and consequences. One being his lack of patience, the other being a broken heart.

42) Bring Me To Life | Explicit | 143,572 words

Louis no longer wants to live and his plan to leave the world behind was almost a success. Almost. That is, until Harry, a vampire, saves Louis' life and grants him immortality with his bite. However, Louis is far from grateful when he wakes up to his new reality. Harry had envisioned the creation of his first offspring very differently and now has to deal with a suicidal young vampire who hates him and constantly tries to end his own existence. As they navigate their tumultuous relationship, they begin to uncover secrets about Louis' family that could change everything they thought they knew.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[oracle-of-dream]

Photo Finisher

Minors DNI

Summary: You've been tasked with capturing photos of AB6IX for their comeback, Salute. Within the four-member group, you find a gem that's hidden away. All you need is to give him some encouragement to shine.

Warnings: Male Reader, Blowjob, Handjob, nickname: Hyung, Creampie, Backscratching, Flexible Reader, Vocal sex, Unprotected Sex

Wordcount: 2.1k

Today's client was AB6IX, a four-member boy group from Brandnew Music. When you'd read that it was a four-member group in the documents, you smiled to yourself. Fewer members meant you could leave sooner, a complete win if you could be done with the shoot before too long.

You walked into the studio that had been prepared for you. It was a black and gold theme with leather furniture everywhere, and golden-orange set lights drenched the room in a sunset glow. The staff on set greeted you as you walked by, avoiding your eyes and speaking softly.

You wore a white satin shirt with flowing wine-red pants flared at the base of your legs.

Inside the dressing room, the four idols were getting their make-up done. You'd seen the photos that were sent to you, but lackluster photos taken by mediocre photographers couldn't tell you anything. The four men were distinct in features, standing out from one another. Good. As you entered, the men stood to introduce themselves to you.

They all stood beside each other and bowed, saying in unison, "Hello, we are AB6IX! Thank you for working with us today."

The staff greeted them back as you nodded in acknowledgment toward them. You looked them over keenly. Their outfits were more risque than you originally expected. Satin black shirts and pants with a golden trim design, reminiscent of Louis Vuitton's styling patterns. It didn't match their small physical forms and round faces, but the contrast would make for excellent shots. You needed to give a word to their designer for this one, it made your job ten times easier.

One in particular stuck out to you. Woong, if you remember his name right, kept stealing glances at you. You knew he had something special about him, he just needed to show it to you.

You stood straight and addressed the room, "Alright everyone, let's work quickly today. I'm sure we're all busy people." You left the room after giving your short words, letting the makeup team finish their touches as you checked in with the stage set-up team.

The stage had lovely black marble flooring that reflected the furniture beautifully. It looked so clean you could eat off it. While admiring your reflection, you see another one come behind you. It was him again.

Woong cleared his throat and said, "Hello, Mister y/n, I wanted to bring you this gift on behalf of our group." He presented a signed album, with a small thank you message from each member.

He was on the shorter side of the idols you normally worked with. And his clothes covered some serious muscle definition, you could use that... "Thank you, how kind," You said with a smile as you took the gift from him, letting your hand graze against his.

Woong's ears took a soft shade of pink at the contact. "I look forward to working with you–bye now." Woong took off quickly toward the dressing room where his members watched from the doorway.

He was someone you needed to keep an eye on.

Not long after the shoot took off in full swing–You always allowed your interns to take group photos, coaching them on operating a camera. When it was time for solo shots, you started from Donghyun to Daewhi, then Woojin, purposely leaving Woong for last.

You were decently surprised by this group. The shadows of the lights and their muscle tones were captured beautifully without you needing to do much work. Woojin and Donghyun opened their shirts more to get that extra allure in the shot.

As Woong approached the set, you watched him closely. His posture and confidence changed from the boy you'd seen before, he seemed more like a man here.

You took a few shots, then told your team to take a break, giving you the room alone with Woong.

He lay on the black reflective surface of the coffee table, his hands behind his head as he looked at you. He noticed everyone leave and spoke softly, "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, not at all. I just think we need something a little more intimate. If you'll let me?" You approached him, and sat on the table, your hand on his chest. "Do you think we can open this a little?"

He nodded shyly. And his pink ears turned red as you unbuttoned his shirt, from top to bottom, leaning closely down and using both hands to open his shirt. You purposely took deeper breaths, letting the air rake across his skin as you slowly exposed his torso to the cold room. Your skin rubbed against Woong's muscular body as you worked on the shirt, as you focused on the shirt you could feel Woong's eyes watching you. You stepped back to look at your work–Woong's face turned pink as he looked around the room. Anywhere other than looking at you.

"Is it too open?" You giggled.

He nodded wordlessly.

"Would you like me to fix it?" You close one button in the middle of the line, covering his chest but leaving his abs open for display. The way they protruded and showed so proudly, he must've worked out right before the shoot. As you finished, you stayed close with your head hovering over his stomach as you looked up at him. "Better?" You asked.

"Y-Yes," His voice shook.

You noticed the bulge in his pants, getting more prominent.

"Mr. Woong, are you okay? You look like you're having a hard time," You cooed.

"N-No, I'm alright, just sore."

You looked at how his stomach flexed. "Oh, is this position uncomfy?" You climbed on top of him, resting your ass right above his waistline, and you leaned on his chest as you slid your hands under his head. "Please try and relax. I can't afford you cramping up."

Woong's eyes were wide as he slowly let his hands down, resting his body as you held him close. "We're so c-close," He muttered.

"What's that?" You leaned down further, letting your head lay in the crook of his neck. "I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you, could you say that again?"

Woong's hands rose, awkwardly, unsure what to do. "I–We're so close. I don't–"

You shifted, pushing your clothes dick against his abs, and moaned in his ear. "Mr. Woong, your body is too sexy. I just can't help myself. Can you help?" You reached down to touch his hard cock, squeezing it, "Maybe we can help each other."

Woong hummed in your ear, "Mhm. I want to help you, however you want me to." His hands find a place at your hips as he guides you, pushing your crotches together and brushing against one another. You plant your lips on his neck, as you moan sinfully in his ear at the sensation. Woong slips your shirt past your shoulder and kisses it before sucking on it. "Call me hyung," He commands.

You moan in his ear, "Hyung~"

"Fuck–Moan more for me, I want to hear every pretty noise from you," He said as his hips started bucking into yours, desperate for more.

"Can I see it? Your cock," You nibble on his ear as you ask. Woong nods quickly as he groans from you playing with his ear. You slid off his lap and kneeled before him as he removed the gold-belted jewelry around his waist. Woong slid his pants and underwear down to unveil his cock, so pretty and shaved. He propped himself on his elbows to watch you as you wrapped your hands around his stiffness, staying at a slow and even pace as you stroked him. "Tell me how you want it, Hyung."

Woong groaned, "faster, like this." He took your hand and moved it at the pace he wanted, which made his whole body shake as you continued without his hand to guide you.

You study his face as you try different parts of his skin, squeezing and kissing on his shaft as you search for any sensitive spots. Every time you found a sensitive spot, Woong's groans would spike, peaking into a more high-pitched moan. You took him into your mouth, making his head roll back as his eyes lost focus.

"A little warning next time," He moaned as you flexed your tongue around him, sucking at the same time. "Holy–You're so good. Keep going," He pants as his hand lands on your head. His hand started pushing, questioningly at first, but with more strength when you allowed him to move you. As you take him deeper into your throat, Woong's hand tightens in your hair. "That's it. You're doing it so well, don't forget to look at me." You look at Woong, your eyes wet and some spit dripping onto his abs. That look must've been a trigger as Woong pulled you off him, breathing heavily as he tried to compose himself.

You stroke him, earning more moans from him. "Did I do something wrong, hyung?"

Woong grabbed your hand, stopping you from stroking him. "N-No, you were perfect. So good, I almost came."

"I want you to cum, Hyung." You tried to move your hand, but Woong's grip was too tight.

"And I want to cum in you," He said with a deep voice. You smiled at him and that seemed to break his concentration on you. "I-If you'd let me," He added shyly.

You slid off your pants. "You want me to ride you, hyung?"

"No, you're already working so hard. Let me reward you now." Woong let you over to the leather couch, laying you on your back as his cock throbbed in anticipation. He lifts a leg onto his shoulder and positions himself at your hole. "Try not to get too loud, but let me hear you, beautiful." Your hands wrapped around Woong's neck as he pushed into you, your eyes rolling back as he stretched you. He gave an experimental thrust, sinking deeper into you. "Did you prepare early?"

"So what if I did?"

"You were going to seduce me the whole time, weren't you?"

You nodded. "Your afterglow will be an amazing capture in my camera."

Woong smirked as he fucked into you, starting with a quick pace. He felt you clench around him as he watched your face change from the sensations. "Fuck–Kiss me," Woong commanded as he leaned down to kiss you, fucking you as he did. He bit at your bottom lip before breaking the kiss and attacking your neck. "You're too much for me, I can't kiss everywhere." Woong moved to your collarbone, forcing your raised leg to your head. You arched your back as the burn from him flexing your leg and the pleasure from him hitting your prostate, made you see white.

Your hands scratched at Woong's back as you moaned. "I'm– Can't–"

Woong felt the way you tightened more around him. "You're close? Please, cum for me. Cum for hyung!" He pushed extra hard, getting deeper than before, instantly finishing you off as you came on your white shirt. Woong's eyes were sealed shut as his thrusts were getting more frantic. You rubbed his cheek, which made him look into your eyes. "You're so beautiful... I'm cumming–I’ll fucking cum, all in you. I'll cum so deep in you. I'll cum all I can!" Woong fulfilled his promise as he came inside you, pushing as far as he could. Your moans synced with his in harmony as Woong collapsed on top of you, his cock still pumping cum out.

You lifted his head, getting a look at his face. It was sweaty, his hair stuck to his forehead, with a lovely pinkish glow. "You're so perfect, we gotta hurry!" You pushed him off you, forcing his cock out of you with a pop. Woong was still exhausted so you dressed him again, leaving the couch behind and returning to the table. You posed him again and started taking photos as cum threatened to leak out of you.

You finished capturing him and got a change of clothes from one of your set bags. Woong came up behind you as you finished sliding on a new pair of pants, hugging you. "So, will hyung see you again?"

"Call your company and tell them to book a solo photo shoot. Then maybe."

"Maybe when you're not working?"

You turned and pat Woong on the head. "I'm always working, Mr. Woong."

Woong stared at you, awestruck. "No, hyung?"

"Sorry, special requests are only during photoshoot time. Like I said, have your company book another appointment. Work out, you can get on the cover of men's health. I know they call me for photos all the time."

Woong nodded quickly. "I'll make it as their front cover, and demand you take my pictures, love."

"That's Mr. Y/n, to you." You winked as you pushed past Woong.

A few weeks later, your work was displayed in the teaser photos for the comeback...

[happy74827]

Prisoner of Love

[S6! Mike Ross x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Making the effort to explain himself, Mike certainly has a lot on his plate, including breaks, not just from jail.

WC: 3205

Category: Slight Angst, Slight Fluff

This was an intrusive thought that I just wrote up last night… so, enjoy! (thanks for your wonderful feedback @yoursacredqueenmother)

『••✎••』

“Mike?”

You were in utter shock to see your friend Mike standing in front of you. Your best friend, the one person who always seemed to be there for you no matter what had turned out to be not only a complete fraud but also now a criminal. You were in such a state of disbelief that you hadn't realized you were standing there, looking at him, with your mouth agape and eyes wide.

After you said his name, you didn't know what else to say. Mike stood there with his hands on the door frame, not wanting to take one step forward and risk coming inside your apartment. He looked nervous, his head darting all over, trying to avoid eye contact with you. His breathing was quick and short as if he had just run a marathon, and his lips were pressed into a fine line, which meant that he was thinking of something to say.

Mike was arrested, he was in jail for two years because of a plea deal, and now here he was, standing in front of you only weeks later like it was any other day.

The silence was killing you. Mike still wouldn't make eye contact, and you were starting to feel the anger boil up inside of you. You felt betrayed. You had spent almost four years working at Pearson-Hardman with him and Rachel, and you considered yourself friends with him and his “on a break” girlfriend, so this came as a huge shock to you. You never saw him as a fraud, never would have suspected it in a million years, but here he was—a liar, a con artist, and now a fugitive.

Mike finally looked up at you, and the first thing he noticed was the tears forming in your eyes. Seeing you cry hurt him, but not as much as the words that came out of your mouth.

"Go away."

His eyes gave away the fact that he clearly was expecting this, but that didn't mean it hurt any less. The blue turned a dark gray, the way they always did when he was upset, and his eyes fell back down to the floor.

"Look, I— I’m not here to make excuses. I know that I just… Don’t you even care to know why I’m here? What happened to me?" He asked, finally finding the strength to keep eye contact.

"Could be more bullshit," you said, folding your arms across your chest and leaning against the door. You didn’t want to admit that you did want to know what happened to him. You were concerned; of course, you were. That was part of the reason you were so upset with him. Even after all that he put you through, the worry for him was still there.

"Can I at least explain myself?" Mike asked, and you rolled your eyes at his question.

"You already did, Mike. Well, everyone except me, apparently. You, Rachel, Harvey, Jessica, Louis. All of you knew about this, but I didn't. And why is that?"

"I told you I didn't want you to get involved," Mike replied. “You don’t deserve to go down for my mistakes. It was selfish of me to do that, I know that, but I thought I was protecting you."

"Yeah, well, you just stabbed me in the back instead," you said.

"Can I come inside? I only have so much time before—"

"Oh, so you’re protecting me again?" You asked, not waiting for an answer. "By breaking out of prison and coming to my place. I don't even want to think about what would happen to me if someone found out I'm hiding a fugitive!"

"I’m not—” Mike took a second to compose himself and start again. He couldn’t blame you for being so mad, not after everything he did. "I didn’t break out. I got released… sort of. It’s a bit messy, but to sum it up, I’ve got six hours with an ankle monitor."

"Then why are you here? Why not with Harvey?" You asked. "Or Rachel? I'm sure she’d be glad to see you, and she's better equipped to handle this."

"’Cause we need to talk. Now, can you let me inside, please? I’m feeling a little exposed out here," he said, his hand motioning towards the outside hallway.

Jokes. Of course, he would use jokes at a time like this.

“… Fine. You have an hour, tops. Then you have to leave," you said, taking a step back to let him inside.

Mike wasted no time stepping into your apartment, and as soon as you shut the door, his hands were on your shoulders, and he was pulling you into him. Your eyes went wide, and you had no idea what was going on. It was only when you felt his wet cheek against your own that you realized he was crying.

"I missed you," Mike said. “So so much."

It was like your brain went on autopilot, and suddenly, your arms were around him, and you were squeezing him tight. It was like nothing had changed. It was like no time had passed since you had last seen him, and it was so overwhelming that it had brought tears back to your eyes.

"I missed you too," you said, your voice quiet and barely above a whisper.

Mike pulled away from the hug but still had his hands on your shoulders. He was smiling at you, and his eyes were no longer that dark gray they were before but back to that bright blue.

"I’m sorry I never got to explain why I did what I did," Mike started, his voice a little shaky. "I wanted to tell you, I really did, but I couldn't. I didn’t want to put you in that position."

"But you were able to tell Rachel, Donna, and even Louis?" You asked.

"To be fair, Rachel figured it out on her own, and Donna knew from the moment I started working at Pearson-Hardman."

"What about Louis?"

"That was a whole different thing," Mike said, chuckling a bit. "He was a bit… theatrical, to say the least."

"But that still doesn't explain why you were able to tell them but not me."

At this, he looked away from you, his head turning and looking out the window. The night sky was beautiful, the way the full moon shone, and how the city lights made everything glow, including his face. The reflection of the moon against his skin made his eyes stand out, and the streetlights made him look like he was glowing.

"I knew you would understand," he finally said. "You would be the one person to listen to me and actually give me a chance, and I was afraid of that. If I had told you, I would've been afraid of what would've happened, and I would've probably ended up convincing myself to leave."

"Leave and do the right thing," you said.

"Maybe. But it doesn't matter. I'm here now, and we're talking," he said, the corners of his mouth turning up into a small smile. “I’m making up for it now."

"Yeah, yeah," you said, rolling your eyes. You couldn't help but smile as well.

"But, there's one other reason why I didn't tell you. And it's not because I didn't trust you, because I trust you more than anyone. It's just that I— I—" Mike stopped himself, taking a moment to figure out his words. His eyes were looking everywhere, but at you, and the more he avoided your gaze, the more concerned you became. "I just, I wanted to protect you. Because I—"

Before he could finish, a knock came from the door. Mike looked at the clock, and the time read 2:04 AM. Who would be visiting at this time? You didn't have to wonder long as Mike's watch started to beep, and the knock became a more forceful bang.

"Mike, let's go!" Someone yelled from the other side of the door. A very familiar voice, too.

"Who is that?" You asked.

Mike ignored your question, instead walking towards the door. His hand was on the knob, and he took a deep breath, preparing himself.

The door flew open as soon as he opened it, and a very angry Harvey Specter stood on the other side.

"Where the hell have you been?" He asked.

"Calm down, Harvey. I was with her," Mike said, motioning towards you. "We were catching up."

"Catching up? Mike, do you not care about getting out of this mess or not? I told you I had a plan, but if you go running off on your own, it's not gonna work."

"Oh, is this another one of your great plans? The ones I get left out of?" You asked, moving past Mike and standing between him and Harvey.

Mike practically face-palmed himself when he heard you speak up. This was definitely not the way he planned things to go. Just as he finally was on the path of making things right, things went downhill once again.

"I would be happy to explain the details of the plan to you if someone," he glanced over at Mike, who looked down at his feet, "cared to follow it. Now, can we get going? The car and Cahill are waiting."

"Five minutes, Harvey.”

"Mike,” Harvey said, his tone showing how frustrated he was becoming.

"Five. Minutes."

Another minute was wasted with the two men staring each other down, and the air was filled with tension. It was a stare-off, and neither seemed like they were going to back down. You stood there, watching and wondering whether you should make an escape or not, but were too intrigued to move.

Harvey broke the silence with a sigh, his head dropping.

"Fine. But if you aren’t downstairs in five minutes, I'm dragging your ass down whether you like it or not."

And with that, Harvey turned around and walked away with that sense of confidence he always seemed to have. You watched him until he turned the corner, and when you turned back, Mike was smiling.

"What are you smiling about? Your best friend is still mad at you," you said. It came out more sarcastically than you had hoped, but you didn't really care at this point.

“Are you? Still mad, I mean," he asked, ignoring your snarky remark. “It seems like you aren’t."

"I am. I still feel hurt, but I can't stay mad at you. You know how much I suck at staying mad at people," you said.

"It’s a problem, yeah."

"Hey!" You exclaimed, hitting him on the shoulder.

"Well, it is. You have a tendency to let people walk all over you and forgive them for the shitty things they do. Which, might I add, is not always the right thing to do."

"So, I shouldn’t forgive you? Logic isn’t really logicking, Michael," you said, raising an eyebrow and smirking.

"It is, and that’s not a real word," Mike laughed. “Besides, Michael? When did that start happening?”

"You’re the one with the photographic memory. Shouldn’t you know?"

Now you were both laughing. Like the good old days, the two of you would sit in his office or at his apartment, cracking jokes and laughing about the most ridiculous things: movies, TV shows, music, whatever.

You missed this. You missed him.

"I have to go," Mike said, the smile not leaving his face.

"Yeah," you said, the same sad smile on your lips. “Hey, is uh… is prison any fun?"

"Why, you wanna come visit?" Mike asked, chuckling a bit. You could tell he was faking his laugh, though. He was putting up a front, trying to seem like everything was okay when it clearly wasn’t.

"No, I mean… You’re okay, right? Harvey’s been talking about this Gallo guy, and it seems pretty bad," you said.

"I’m okay. I’ll be okay," Mike said, placing his hands on your shoulders. You couldn't help but notice how cold his hands were, and he couldn't help but notice the sadness in your eyes.

"Don’t look at me like that," he said.

"Like what?"

"Like that. The thing that you do when you know that something bad is going to happen," Mike said.

"You can't know that for sure," you said, your eyes not meeting his.

"But I do. Look at me."

You lifted your head, and his eyes bore into yours. It was almost as if he was trying to look straight into your soul.

"I will be fine. I promise. As long as you're not mad at me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Can you do that for me?"

"Of course, Mike," you said, staring into his blue eyes. They were brighter than ever despite the situation.

Mike's hand reached up to cup your cheek, and at first, you thought he was just wiping away a tear, but he didn’t move. He just kept his hand there, and his gaze never left yours.

"Mike..."

He was staring at your lips, and his eyes had a look in them you had never seen before. It was almost like a hunger, a longing for something.

"Yeah?" He asked, his voice just as quiet.

"What are you doing?"

Mike moved his head closer to yours, and the distance between you was getting shorter.

"Mike," you said again, and he finally looked back into your eyes. The longing look was still there, but this time it was more prominent, and there was a slight fear. “What about Rachel?"

Mike's thumb stroked your cheek, and he let out a long breath, closing his eyes.

"She knows."

"Wha—"

But you couldn't finish because, in a split second, Mike's lips were on yours. His kiss was soft, and his hands were pulling you in closer. Your arms found their way around his neck, and one hand ran through his hair, which was much shorter than before. It didn’t take long for him to part his lips and allow your tongue to meet his.

Your heart was racing, and the butterflies in your stomach were going crazy. This wasn’t like any of the other kisses you had before, not like the quick, rushed kisses you shared with your ex or the ones that felt like dead weight against your lips.

This kiss was perfect. A well-crafted masterpiece that was made to make you feel loved. You didn’t realize just how badly you needed a kiss like this. You didn't know that was what was missing, but now that you had it, you realized how empty you were without it.

And when the two of you finally pulled apart, Mike was smiling. It was a big, genuine smile that lit up his face and made his eyes bright. It was a look that could light up a dark room.

"Rachel and I talked a lot while I was inside, and we decided that... that she deserved better. I couldn’t give her the life that she deserved. She was still stuck with me, even when I was away. We were both miserable, and it was time to put an end to it," he said, and a sad smile made its way onto his face.

"So…”

"She's okay. Really. She also knows about how much you mean to me, and she's okay with this."

"Really?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"She also told me a wonderful piece of information about how you apparently love me."

"You did not just—"

"I did, and now we have to talk about that."

"Nope," you said, popping the 'p.' "You have a prison to go to and a plan to complete. So, get going. You've already wasted enough time."

"Aw, but I love talking about how much you like me," he said, a teasing smile on his face.

"Out."

Mike's smile widened, and he gave you one last quick kiss.

"Okay. I'm going."

Mike took a few steps towards the door, but then turned back to look at you. He didn't say anything, but instead just stared. He didn't have that hungry look in his eyes anymore, but a more content look.

Like he was taking in the last few moments he would have with you. A picture in his mind to cherish, and to remember you by.

"Mike?"

He took a deep breath, and looked at the floor, preparing himself for the next few moments.

"I don’t regret anything. And, if I had a chance to go back and do things differently, I wouldn’t change a single thing. Except maybe not getting caught," Mike said, his laugh coming out dry. "But, besides that, I don't regret any of it. Everything that happened, the people I've met, and the things I've done. The only thing I regret is not telling you sooner… about my feelings. How much I care for you. But, I want you to know that, I would do everything a million times over. If I knew that, in the end, it would lead me here, to this moment, with you, I would do it.”

He paused, and took another breath. It was clear he was struggling with his words, and the way he was looking at the ground showed that he was trying his best not to cry.

"I just wanted to tell you all of this before I go because I don’t know what will happen next. When I see you next, you know? I'm I just— I needed you to know, and I hope that, wherever I end up, and whatever happens, I’m glad we worked things out. At least, a little bit.”

You just stared. You knew Mike could feel your eyes on him, and that he probably didn’t like the silence, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. Instead, you just took in everything that was him.

He was standing in the doorway, his hands in his pockets. He looked so casual, despite the fact that he was about to go off to prison… well, not at that moment— but soon. It was like it was a normal day, and he was just hanging out with his friends.

His blue eyes were no longer on the floor, and instead were back on you. He gave you one last small, sad smile, before turning around and leaving the apartment.

You watched as he turned the corner and disappeared from your view. It was quiet, the only sounds were your own breathing and the sounds from the city below. You could hear the cars driving by, and the faint sound of sirens in the distance.

Everything was so different now. Everything was so strange.

Before, your world revolved around Mike. No matter what, he was always there. He was the thing that held you together and what tore you apart. And, for the past couple of months, everything had fallen apart. You were in a state of chaos, and nothing was right.

And yet, in just a matter of minutes, everything changed.

You weren’t sure if everything would work out, and you weren't sure what the future held. But, at least now, things were back to how they should be.

Or as close as they could be.

[paleprincessturtle]

hi! Hope you’re doing well! I was wondering if I could request a Harvey fic where Harvey gets jealous once reader gets some male attention. Harvey was always used to the reader falling at his feet, watching him with her doughy eyes, always finding an excuse to talk to him. But then he noticed her getting distant with him, almost not acknowledging his existence. Then he noticed flowers get delivered to her office, a guy coming by her office to take her out for lunch, etc. and poor little Harvey getting upset that she’s not at his mercy anymore lol & he confronts her about it :)

Happy New Year and I hope all of you people had a great holidays!

This one is for my friend @marjorie189! Thank you so much for the request and hopefully you like this.

Enjoy!!

Winner Takes It All

She walked briskly out of the elevator. Her bag was on her right shoulder while she tried to balance the two cups of coffee she carried and a few files she also carried at the crook of her arm. She made sure the one on her right hand was Harvey's coffee. Since Donna became COO, it wasn't unusual for her to see that Harvey had forgotten his coffee. Since then, she has made it her mission to bring Harvey his morning coffee. She was relieved to see the door to Harvey's office open. She invited herself in. "Hey, good morning," she said in a chirpy voice. "Morning," Harvey answered shortly. "I brought you coffee. Just how you like it," she hoped that Harvey would look up at her. But instead, his eyes were glued to the laptop in front of him. "Great, just put it here," Harvey signed with his head to the place around his desk. She shuffled around, trying to balance everything as she placed his coffee just beside his pen. "So, how was your morning?" She waited expectantly for Harvey to look up at her and probably finally realized the new dress she put on. Harvey finally looked up at her after a split second, but the expression on his face wasn't what she expected. There was annoyance in his face. "It was good and productive before you came in and decided that today would be a great day to just sit around and talk." She smiled curtly at his response. "Alright, I'll get back to work. Enjoy your coffee," she said as she waved at Harvey and walked out of his office.

She giggled to herself as she read the reports in the library. Harvey would like it, she thought. Scratch that; Harvey would love this. A huge help to his case. Even though she wasn't assigned to this case with him, she always secretly kept track of his cases. When she knew he was in trouble, she took extra time to help Harvey, aside from doing her own cases. She always ran to Harvey's office with her findings. "Harvey!" She barged into his office. Harvey's face was a mix of confusion and irritation. "I found this," she said, handing Harvey the papers she had photocopied earlier. "This is good," Harvey said, giving her a small smile as he nodded. She almost jumped in joy upon hearing that this would help Harvey. "Just good?" she teased. "I don't know, Harvey. I think this is brilliant!" Harvey sighed. "If you need praise and flowers, go to Louis. This is good, but get back to work. What are you doing anyway with my case?" Harvey questioned her. "I'm helping you, of course," she said as she giggled. "Thank you. Now, can you please go so I can call my client?" Harvey said as he picked up the telephone. "Bye, Harvey!" she said as she left his office, closing the door behind her.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was just like any other morning. Every partner had a meeting before the day started to touch base on everyone's cases. Harvey was assigning some new cases to every other partner. It wasn't long before the meeting finished. She stayed longer than everyone else, as she saw Harvey also stay longer. She looked like she was about to leave but stopped at the end of the table. Stopped exactly beside Harvey. "Do you need help with that?" Harvey, who was flipping some documents in front of him, stopped and looked up at the woman smiling down at him. "Actually, yes." She nodded excitedly. "Can you deliver this to the DA office?" She doesn't even ask questions. "Consider it done," she said, bowed, and left the room.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For the past few days, Harvey didn't realize anything different until one morning he saw his newest and youngest partner. She just walked by his office. He remembered how, in the past few weeks, she never stopped by his office to deliver him his morning coffee. He stood up, trying to catch a glimpse of her. She brought with her a cup of coffee. A cup, as in a singular cup. Harvey's brows knitted, but he just shrugged and got back to whatever he was doing before.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hey," Harvey said, entering her office after knocking. "Hey, Harvey," she greeted him, eyes never leaving the paper in front of her. Harvey noticed the unnecessarily big flower arrangement on a credenza behind her. She caught him staring at her freshly delivered flowers. "Are you going to tell me why you're here, or are you just going to stare at my flowers?" Harvey straightened himself; he seemed caught red-handed. She watched him impatiently. "I was wondering if you could help me with the deposition tomorrow." She shook her head. "I'm taking the rest of the week off ," she informed the clueless Harvey. "In the middle of the week?" Harvey folded both his arms in front of him. "Yes, I've asked Donna since 1 week ago. I've taken care of everything." Harvey looked at her as if she had two heads. "Where are you going?" She laughed. Harvey smiled at the sound he hadn't heard in the past few weeks. "Why is it your business?" Harvey was about to answer when she interrupted him. "I'll get someone else to help you, okay? Don't worry. Now, if you excuse me, I think my client just entered the conference room." Harvey stood there, flabbergasted.

Harvey was talking with Donna as they waited for the elevator. Harvey heard a familiar laugh approaching, but the voice was accompanied by a deeper laugh. Harvey whipped his body around and tried to locate the laughter. There, she was laughing with a man Harvey had never seen before in his life. They approached closer, seemingly wanting to leave the building as well. "Hi!" she greeted Donna and Harvey. "Oh, where are you two going? A lunch date?" Donna teased them. "Maybe," the stranger answered as she smirked at Donna. Okay, Harvey thought. This person knew Donna. "We haven't had the pleasure of an introduction," Harvey straightened himself. "Jonathan Seymour," the man said, smiling and extending his hand for Harvey to shake. Harvey took a quick second to look at his hand and chose to ignore it. "Harvey Specter, but you must've seen my name before seeing me," Harvey signed to the wall behind them with the name of the firm etched. "I need to see you before you go home," Harvey pointed his eyes directly at her. Before everyone could say anything, Harvey stepped inside the full elevator, leaving the three of them.

"Harvey, I'm about to leave. You need to see me?" Harvey moved his head, and she got inside his office. "Since you will take the rest of the week off, I need your help with those files." Harvey pointed at some folders stacked upon one another. She wanted to say no, but she felt bad now that she was taking the rest of the week off. "Okay, sure," she smiled. "What should we do?" she asked as she took off the coat she just put on.

Harvey watched her work. The fact that this was just a little over midnight, the fact that now her hair was in a high bun, and the fact that she looked very beautiful as she pouted, concentrating on the task at hand. He missed this. He missed her presence. Her chirpy voice. Her smile. Her scent is one of amber and rose. "Are you going to tell me where you are going for the rest of the week?" Harvey started the conversation. "I'm going to accompany Jonathan. His cousin is getting married in Aspen. But he said he wanted to show me around," she smiled. "Are you happy?" Harvey asked abruptly. She was taken aback by his question. The man he had been trying to get close to for almost a year was now asking personal questions. "I'm happy, Harvey. Any reason why I shouldn't?" Instead of answering her question, he asked her another question. "So you can positively say that you are happy with this Jonathan?" She sighed. "Where is this going, Harvey?" She put her pen down, giving Harvey her full intention. Harvey was quiet for some time; she raised her eyebrows at him and demanded that he continue. As she saw Harvey struggle to find words, she picked her pen back up and got back to work. "I like you," he blurted after a full five minutes of silence enveloping the room. "You what?" she asked, her voice higher than usual. "I like you. I don't like seeing you with Jonathan. I like you, and I never realized it before." She looked at him, and confusion marked her face. "Don't go with Jonathan. Go with me. I want to show you how sorry I am for treating you badly for the past couple of months, and I want to show you how much you mean to me," Harvey said as he kneeled in front of her, hands intertwined. She looked down at their hands. "You have to win me over, Harvey." But everyone knew, Harvey always won.

MASTERLIST

[freakcliff]

iwtv fanfic friday: random fics from my bookmarks with less than ~200 kudos

wanted to make sure the stuff i was linking wasn't stuff everyone's read so i tried to go for the less popular works in my bookmarks

filthy with a twisted tongue by @shineforthee. 4k

Reach out to touch a dead guy’s face one time and he takes off. It’s not like it’s thrusted Daniel into a bottomless pit of despair and psychosis or anything, so who cares? (Nobody, that’s who. Not a damn soul even knows he’s here.) The smell of stale sweat and hot sugar clings in the air. A stained piece of flannel covers the window but light trickles in through the threadbare fabric, so it must be daytime. He tries to remember if it was daytime last time he looked, but it wouldn’t do anything to give him a sense of how many days he’s been here anyway.

value form by leavethebees. 4k, M

"Hey, I'm a journalist," Daniel protests. "I follow the story, and you just tried to set a guy's head on fire. That's front-page news." "Chasing stories," Alice says in an unimpressed, withering tone. "You're a romantic, then. That's worse, you know."

relentless, unbearable by eggalbumin aka @pollyclonolly. 2k

Louis taps his arm. He looks lovely tonight, and his eyes are brilliant under the bar’s light. He’s as beautiful as he is in the memory that exists in Daniel’s head, of the first time they met at Mary’s. The glimmer in his eyes, the smoke curling in tendrils around his lips, the way he smiled as he said, I did a terrible thing, once. He smiles, and it’s lined with sweetness. “You bored?” “An unreasonable amount,” Armand says. He’s not, and he knows he’s not. Louis knows, too. He could spend every day for the rest of his never-ending life chasing the shape of Daniel’s shadow and it wouldn’t bore him. He drinks whatever is left in his glass and it tastes like chalk in his mouth. Sometimes, he thinks he’ll always be trying to chase down the taste of Daniel’s blood in his throat, with Louis and alcohol and prey, and it will still find a way to linger on his tongue for as long as he lives. “Weddings are long, dull affairs. I don’t see the appeal.” (It’s 1982. Daniel’s wedding is a pleasant, lively affair.)

isaiah 43:2 by quentsy. 2k

Paul de Pointe du Lac was dead, to begin with. This was to be distinctly understood.

the whole world was ready to return by exastris_scientia aka @keepoffthetardis . 2k

There he was. Standing just outside the halo of light given off by a streetlight. His face was shadowed, but even from the distance I was at, I could see how sunken his eyes were, how tired. And how blue they glowed. Like church windows, Grace had once said. Burning like two cold fires in the night. “Been a while,” was all Daniel said when he saw me. Louis and Daniel revisit the ethics of murder. In spite of it all, they also have a little fun with it.

rocket man by quentsy. 5k, M

It was a bad idea, but that was the story of his life, yeah? Bad decision after bad decision, the longest love affair of his life. If the first was racing, and the second was heroin, then here was the third: Armand and all the scraps he tossed Daniel’s way, just enough to keep the hunger at bay.

GOODREADS by riverrio. 1k

Interview with the Vampire Daniel Molloy 3.75 STARS 328473 RATINGS 5238 REVIEWS 285 pages, Hardcover First published September 15, 2022 FILTER REVIEWS SORT ORDER POPULAR REVIEWS ONE STAR

among the wildflowers by ipsilateral. 2k

"You're soft," Jonah whispers. He touches Louis's jaw. There he goes still smiling, like it's a revelation, like he oughta be in wonderment about it all. "You don't seem like it but you soft, Louis." Louis stares up at him. There's the anger, whipping at his heart and making it race like a horse on a track, but beyond that is something else, too. Something that makes him almost tremble under Jonah's open smile. For the briefest of moments, Louis allows himself to believe that softness is a pure good, through and through. -- a few of Louis's core memories

[yanderes-galore]

@an-ambiavalent prompts 12, 19, and 25 with Louis from Beastars, please?

Louis forces his Darling to join the Shishigumi as his partner and is forced to tag along with his plans and comments. It all leads to an argument where the Darling confesses that they hate the life he forced them into because of his selfishness. Louis however makes a point to explain to his Darling that he will always have the final say and that they belong to him, does he really have to remind them of that fact again?

Prompts Here

Sure, here you go! I hope you enjoy it :) I always have no idea if I got him OOC or not....

Yandere! Louis Prompts 12, 19, 25

"I’m only this desperate for you."

"Your happiness, your tears, your love, your hate – all of it belongs to me."

"You shouldn’t have tested my limits."

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Toxic relationship, Controlling behavior, Blood, Violence, Murder/Death, Trauma, Kidnapping, There's some physical scenes but he doesn't hit you, Forced relationship.

Two herbivores in a lion's den.

That's how you felt about joining the Shishigumi. You never liked the idea, being an herbivore roaming the black market.... Yet Louis, your boyfriend, insisted you be under his care.

You had begun dating Cherryton's star student months ago. You always found him charming, attractive... and the feeling was mutual. However...

You didn't expect him to drag you into a gang he commandeered....

Louis became much more... controlling after that. Around lions, carnivores, Louis felt he needed to show he was in charge to everyone. He needed to show he was strong and powerful. Which unfortunately led to you two having arguments.

For a while, because you loved Louis, you tolerated it. You put up with his orders and lived in the shadows because you cared. Even as an herbivore, you felt you could handle it because he could.

Then you saw the horrors in the black market.

Everything from herbivore meat to drugs made from carnivores... you've never seen so much blood. Even Ibuki, Louis' right hand lion, became concerned about your mental health. However... Ibuki was not in the position to tell Louis what to do with you.

Nowadays you feel Louis has changed since you two began dating. Ever since he joined the Shishigumi and soon dragged you into it... he wasn't the same animal. No... He can't be if he keeps ignoring you and your feelings.

Arguments grew more and more common between you and Louis. They often start due to the stress you're put through. Like when you have to watch people be shot... or see blood splatter on the floor....

This is not the life you deserve.

But once again... Louis doesn't seem to care.

Another argument occurs as you sit with Louis in his office. He's looking over something at his desk, looking oddly calm. It disturbs you... just like everything else here. From the lions to the meat and blood.

"Just let me leave." You plead suddenly, hoping to convince your fellow herbivore partner to be reasonable.

"No." Louis snarls. "You're meant to be here with me. You're under my protection here."

"Captivity." You correct, causing Louis' eye to twitch. "You're keeping me here. You dragged me here... and for what!?"

"I’m only this desperate for you!" Louis snaps, standing from his desk harshly. You jump back a bit but still glare. "Must we always have this conversation? Must I always remind you, sweetheart?"

"You're more than just desperate." You scoff, standing up. "You're selfish. This is not the deer I fell in love with. You've changed. Can't you see that? Can't you see it's wrong to keep me here?"

"Selfish?" Louis scoffs with a laugh. "Selfish, huh? You think I'm selfish...?"

Louis then comes closer, staring you down. Even now he's an herbivore obsessed with trying to be a predator. Trying to intimidate you into staying with him... much more than genuinely getting you to love him again.

"Maybe I am selfish..." Louis hums with an irritated grin. "Maybe it is selfish to make you love me... to force you beside me... to be in control... but I don't care anymore."

You yelp when he grabs your shirt. It's subtle but you can tell he doesn't want to harm you. He just wants you to focus on him... or he just wants to prevent you from running while he proves his point....

"Your happiness, your tears, your love, your hate – all of it belongs to me." Louis growls, watching as you squirm. "Call it selfish if you want... but I prefer to call it love. I love you... and this is my way of protecting you. I have power here... no matter the means...."

"Love?" You try to pull away, yet Louis doesn't relent. "Louis... I used to love you... but now? I just want to leave... I want to continue my life... I just want you to let me go...."

The deer then pauses, hesitating. It's enough time for you to pull away and back off. Louis looks... lost for a moment. His amber eyes staring at you as he slowly puts his hand down.

Then you see his teeth clench.

"Don't you dare walk out that damn door..." Louis warns, seeing you place a hand around the door knob.

"Don't act like you own me...." You growl, opening the door as Louis stares at you with irritation...

Yet you're then greeted by two lions.

Lions who were seemingly on stand by.

"Bring them back to me." Louis orders coldly, going back to sit on his desk as he watches his two subordinates drag you back and place you on the couch. Louis glances at your fearful expression before clicking his tongue. "Tie their hands and feet, too."

A brief look of pity is given to you by the two lions... but they listen anyways.

You scream and buck as the two lions listen to their leader, restraining you before Louis hums in approval. Louis then gives a wordless command to dismiss them. The lions nod, casting you a glance of concern before leaving the room. The moment the door locks, it's just you and Louis alone in the silence.

"You shouldn’t have tested my limits." Louis sighs, still reigning in his frustration. "Never say such things... You do love me."

"I don't." You remain defiant as Louis heaves a disappointed sigh.

"Fine... Maybe you just need to be reminded that you and I belong together..." Louis threatens, moving off his desk to stand in front of you.

"You aren't leaving this room..." Louis warns, glaring at you as he tilts your chin up to lock eyes with him.

"Not until you learn your place by my side... and we can stop having these irritating conversations."