#and I do really see how the lyrics are right up Louis' street

[statementlou]

In the article that came out this morning about Andrew Cushin's album, Pete Doherty was quoted being defensive about his decision to collaborate with Louis, saying, “Look at some of the great labels, look at The Sex Pistols with Malcolm McLaren getting together with Richard Branson. Over the years, labels’ main aim was to be a springboard for their artists to get as many people to hear the music they believe in. Whatever that takes – if that means having a major label take you up the alley for five minutes I will do that for my artists any day of the week.” Initially this just pissed me off (and it still does) but the more I thought about the more fascinating it is actually. There's never been any question that 78 Productions' role in co-releasing Andrew Cushin's album is primarily financial, and I'd say this confirms that, but he's saying more than that; he's saying that Louis and his label, that has never had a single release before now, offer more than just cash, that it is on par with Virgin Records in its infancy because of the position and reach Louis has in the industry... and he can be as sour as he wants about it, that's a hell of an admission and not a position you just automatically hold by being a former boyband member. We already know this but that doesn't mean I don't love it when people say it out loud!

[daisyblog]

Back To You

When We Were Young Masterlist Summary: YN and Louis admit they want each other back.

Since their reconciliation a few months ago, Louis and YN had become practically attached to the hip. When they weren't together, grabbing a cuppa at the coffee shop or walking the streets of London together, they were texting, calling, or facetiming each other.

YN wasn't sure if this was just them being friends or if it would turn into something more, but she was happy again. It was easier to get up in the morning, she found herself smiling a lot more and she would find herself checking to see if that one name would appear when she checked her phone. Who are you, a teenage girl? She thought to herself but still continued with the behaviour.

She was currently at his home, sitting opposite him and she blushed as she caught herself admiring him from afar. Something she had found herself doing a lot of lately, she'd noticed how he changed from that teenage boy she met years ago, to a man with stubble, but was still that funny, witty and beautiful boy she fell in love with.

YN had been thinking about it for a while, she'd even written a song about it, but it never seemed like the right time. She wanted to give her and Louis another try, but the fear of rejection scared her so she pushed the idea to the back of her mind.

Louis coughed into his hand, breaking her from her thoughts "I..uh..I've written a song"

"Can I hear it or-"

Louis nodded, but he was nervous, YN could tell by the way his body and shoulders were stiff.

I know my friends they give me bad advice Like move on, get you out my mind But don't you think I haven't even tried? You got me cornered and my hands are tied

You got me so addicted to the drama I tell myself I'm done with wicked games But then I get so numb with all the laughter That I forget about the pain

Whoa, you stress me out, you kill me You drag me down, you fuck me up We're on the ground, we're screaming I don't know how to make it stop I love it, I hate it, and I can't take it But I keep on coming back to you 

YN didn't want to make an assumption that he was referring to her in the song but was this him saying he felt the same as her. When did this become so complicated?

"Uh..I..um" YN was taken back slightly, not expecting the lyrics to be so open and direct "That was amazing Lou..I really think you've got something there..I think it could even be made into a pop beat..if you-"

Louis chuckling interrupted her rambling "You've always rambled when you're nervous"

"It's funny how you still know me so well"

Louis hesitated slightly, not wanting to move too fast but he'd waited two years for this moment and he wasn't going to waste it "I want you back"

Louis didn't know what he expected her to do at his words, but roar with laughter was not it "W-why are you fookin' laughing..I'm being serious darlin'"

"You're not the only one who's written a song" YN began to explain "It's like you already knew the title of it"

"You can't tease me like..c'mon show me your magic" Louis moved closer to her side.

Why do I only remember the good? I tell myself we were just misunderstood When you never did a thing you know you should If I could just kiss you, I know that I would

I'll say it Yeah, I want you, I want you, I want you back Like, baby How can you be the worst and the best l've had? I need it I could tell you a lie, so I don't seem sad But it drives me mad 'Cause I want you, I want you, I want you back

YN didn't have a chance to sing any more of the song before fingers on the back of her neck pulled her forward and her lips met Louis's, his stubble tickling her lip. Two years of missing his touch, two years of wanting his love, two years and she was home.

Tag List: (let me know if you would like to be added) @peterholland04 @werewolfbansheelove

[sadaveniren]

Louis isn't a perfectionist though. He doesn't learn the lyrics to his own songs, didn't know the date his tour started, was consistently late on stage during ltwt. He's a sweet messy scamp and should just own it. The first thing you learn in boxing is the correct stance and he didn't have it, he was kicking up his legs and doing street fight moves.

See I definitely believe he’s a perfectionist about the things he cares about (much the way Harry is). We’ve seen him try to do top bins (the football move) time and time again just to get it right. He works very hard on getting his lyrics and music sounding exactly how he wants. We know he has a hand in his merch design. His priorities when it comes to his music are different from Harry so it looks like they are differing ideas of perfectionism but that doesn’t mean he’s NOT.

On top of that… we literally just saw in AOTV that he’s spent the majority of his time as a solo artist hating everything he did/performed because it wasn’t good enough or it wasn’t right. That was like… a huge story arc in the documentary; him trying to feel comfortable on stage and get to a point where he felt like what he was doing was good enough for his own standards. Which… if you’ve been following Louis for a long time is also something he talked about having to change (his standards/definition of success). In 2019 he made a whole IG post about how he had to sit and think about doing things FOR HIMSELF and not what everyone else wanted.

So yes. I do think Louis is a perfectionist about stuff he truly cares about. I think he works INSANELY hard at his music and also putting on the best show he can. But his definition of a best show is what HE enjoys doing. He wants it to be a fun show. He wants to feel good during the show about his performance. And I think it’s very obvious he strives to enjoy himself while putting on a great show every single time.

And tbh a lot of artists have no clue the dates or places they are playing. You really don't understand how much an entire tour can just blur together. It even happens to people who follow along with tours, not being able to remember which show they're at. And being late to his own show? That’s also very common. A non-fandom friend went with me to one of Harry’s show at MSG and she was SHOCKED it started on time. Honestly fucking shocked. Because she’d never been to a show where the main act showed up on time.

[alarrytale]

ola, what do you men by "arrogant in his relationship with louis" and that he loves attention....and that H has narcissistic personality traits (which ones do you mean)...I always viewed H as a private dude he likes privacy but I am thrilled to learn about your views❤️

Hey, anon!

I was mostly referring to his lyrics (and i assumed the anon did too)

You can't blame me, darling

Not even a little bit

I was away

And I'm just an arrogant son of a bitch

Who can't admit when he's sorry

I can totally see Harry being arrogant by standing his ground and being unwilling to compromise and apologise when he feels like he's not the one in the wrong. Louis might be willing to let bygones be bygones and have them both apologise to each other for the hurt they caused. I don't think H is as willing to forgive and forget that easily, especially if he believes what Louis did hurt him more than what he did to hurt Louis. I think Louis often has to be "the bigger man" and suggest to H that they should make up and end their disagreement/fight/dispute. I think Harry could hold a grudge for a long while, and give Louis the silent treatment. Even if Louis is actually in the right in a situation/dispute (big or small) i don't think H admits he was wrong that easily. He'd rather double down.

Idk i might be totally wrong about this, but i could see this happening.

About H having narcissistic personality traits. I think he absolutely loves attention, entertaining people and showing himself off. We're talking about the dude who walked around practically naked in the txf house and who leaked his own nude lmao. I think it gives him confidence and happiness when he sees how people positively responds to him. It's like an adrenaline high for him. He'll do anything for some attention. He doesn’t exactly look mad about being caught with his pants down by Sir mix-a-lot lol.

Source

About him being private. Ohh, you said the P word. I don't think Harry is private at all. I think he's closeted and has an extremely curated image in order to stay closeted and appeal to his fanbase. So he's got an image of a private person, but he's really not. If he could he would skip down Oxford Street hand in hand with Louis showing everyone how in love they are. He'd snog him (with tongue) on a bench in Hyde Park. He'd tweet his favourite quotes by Louis (or resume doing so he used to do that all the time). I've talked about this many a time before. Check out my "privacy" tag for that whole discussion.

[seasurfacefullofclouds1]

Huh. I have been thinking about how Liam was the one who helped more with the melodies when it came to the songwriting, according to his own words, and yet 1D songs don’t really sound like his solo stuff. Louis is really the one who pushed for the rockier, maturing sound in the last three albums and that was also reported by other people. It shows how they listened to Louis, how his vision for 1D influenced how the others wrote on the songs. 1D’s legacy would simply not be what it is if it wasn’t for Louis. 1D itself was a juggernaut no one could really have predicted. None of their solo careers will do what 1D did simply because of how much of a phenomenon it was.

To be fair, I don’t think Liam wrote on most of the songs associated with his solo career. Maybe it was his insecurity or ambition to put out big hit songs?

Louis’ vision for 1D was so strong (and at the time, so controversial and indelible) that the MAIN 1D SONGWRITER, Savan Kotecha, talked about it in bitter terms four years later. Later he gave Louis the credit that he was due.

Still, there was the inherent pressure of the second album to contend with. The label wanted a “What Makes You Beautiful, Part 2,” and evidence that the 1D phenomenon wasn’t slowing down appeared outside the window of the Stockholm studio: so many fans, the street had to be shut down. Kotecha even remembers seeing police officers with missing-person photos, combing through the girls camped outside, looking for teens to return to their parents.

At this pivotal moment, One Direction made it clear that they wanted a greater say in their artistic future. Kotecha admits he was wary at first, but the band was determined. To help manage the workload, Kotecha had brought in two young songwriters, Kristoffer Fogelmark and Albin Nedler, who’d arrived with a handful of ideas, including a chorus for a booming power ballad called “Last First Kiss.”

Even Kotecha knew that from his boy-band history: Album three is, after all, when you start moving on. One Direction was ready, too. Kotecha credits Louis, the oldest member of the group, for “shepherding them into adulthood, away from the very poppy stuff of the first two albums. He was leading the charge to make sure that they had a more mature sound. And at the time, being in it, it was a little difficult for me, Rami and Carl to grasp — but hindsight, that was the right thing to do.”

“For three years, this was our schedule,” Bunetta says. “We did X Factor October, November, December. Took off January. February, flew to London. We’d gather ideas with the band, come up with sounds, hang out. Then back to L.A. for March, produce some stuff, then go out on the road with them in April. Get vocals, write a song or two, come back for May, work on the vocals, and produce the songs we wrote on the road. Back to London in June-ish. Back here for July, produce it up. Go back on tour in August, get last bits of vocals, mix in September, back to X Factor in October, album out in November, January off, start it all over again.”

Now here’s an interesting passage from Julian Bunetta, 1D songwriter:

For the most part, Bunetta, Ryan, and 1D doubled down on the rock sound their predecessors had forged, but there was one outlier from that week. A stunning bit of post-Mumford festival folk buoyed by a new kind of lyrical and vocal maturity called “Story of My Life.”

“This was a make-or-break moment for them,” Bunetta says. “They needed to grow up, or they were gonna go away — and they wanted to grow up. To get to the level they got to, you need more than just your fan base. That song extended far beyond their fan base and made people really pay attention.”

Julian got it right: TO GET TO THE LEVEL THEY GOT TO, YOU NEED MORE THAN JUST YOUR FAN BASE.

LTHQ, please pay attention.

Here’s another telling part:

… now that One Direction were four years into being the biggest band on the planet, it was natural that the relationships within the band would make it into the music as well.

“I think that on Four,” Bunetta says, with a slight pause, “there were some tensions going on. A lot of the songs were double — like somebody might be singing about their girlfriend, but there was another meaning that applied to the group as well.”

He continues: “It’s tough going through that age, having to spread your wings with so many eyeballs on you, so much money and no break. It was tough for them to carve out their individual manhood, space, and point of view, while learning how to communicate with each other. Even more than relationship things that were going on, that was the bigger blanket that was in there every day, seeping into the songs.”

You can read the Rolling Stone article here.

[thequibblah]

hi so i'm looking for some new music to listen to and i thought you could help because you have great taste!

if this helps, i'll tell you what i normally listen to, which is very basic & basically the same few artists over and over lol

- mostly just taylor swift, she makes up 70+% of my listening probably haha and if i had to pick a favorite genre of hers it would be the folkmore style

- some other pop, like olivia rodrigo and conan gray and lorde & some doja cat but i'm not a huge fan of doja's lyrics

- lyrics are really big for me, so is having a pretty voice and nice melodies

- i love your playlists but the old songs are usually not my style (there's been some though that i really like, ty for that !! <3)

- ceremonials is my favorite florence album

- liability is my favorite lorde song

no problem if u don't want to!

OH i basically recommend things for a living so why not music, eh?

so. what i'm getting from this is that you have three big listening buckets: soft acoustic and indie pop and just plain old pop. so i will divide my recs by those broad genres! i too prefer singable music so i will try to lay off on especially dissonant artists, or mark them as such so you can be prepared (LOL)

acoustic/folksy (i'll admit i am a big indie pop girl so this stuff will be a bit sparser)

phoebe bridgers — admittedly she is more alt-rocky, but see garden song, savior complex, moon song, graceland too, prayer in open D

waxahatchee — can't do much (GOD THIS SONG), lilacs, st. cloud

lucy dacus — also more alt-rocky, but here r some softer jams: hot & heavy, christine, green eyes, red face (a jily song)

anything by first aid kit! start with stay gold and the lion's roar

hozier — i feel like most people on the internet have listened to SOME hozier but check out wasteland, baby! (i tried to pick individual songs and ended up listing most of the album LOL)

kacey musgraves — another artist you've probably listened to already, but try golden hour

brittany howard — stay high must be the sweetest song in existence, and basically all of her album jaime

arlo parks — the whole album but especially caroline, hurt, and black dog

lake street dive — i can change, good kisser (a mary song if i've ever heard one), and i adore their hall & oates cover!

anya marina — this whole album has had me by the throat since like 2013

lucius — just the whole album wildewoman, h/t @figg-anon for putting me onto this!

idk what tf genre fiona apple is but try her out as well!

artists i listen to less of but are in this vein: the lumineers, bon iver, vance joy

u know i had to rec some old people shit (LOLLLL), so in this vein, joni mitchell, heart, judee sills, emmylou harris, joan baez, vashti bunyan

one-off songs you might like: hold you now by vampire weekend, big wheel by samia, i eat boys by chloe moriondo, strawberry blond by mitski (i worship at the altar of mitski but she might not be your speed haha), like i used to (acoustic) by sharon van etten & angel olsen, body by julia jacklin, jackie onassis by sammy rae and the friends, cowgirl bebop by HANA

indie pop BELOVED

maggie rogers — ok i cannot recommend this higher like if u like lorde and conan gray drop everything now and mainline maggie's brilliant debut album

HAIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! — they've got poppier songs like want you back and more mellow songs like summer girl, but honestly i would just recommend a deep dive because they have a pretty surprising breadth within their own alt-rock/pop niche

caroline polachek — can sometimes get way out n weird in the pop sense but so hot you're hurting my feelings is a very listenable pop standard (also it's so funny she's such a clever lyricist also this is irrelevant here but she sounds amazing live), also love look at me now and her cover of breathless

charli xcx is more experimental pop but would rec trying out warm (FT HAIM!!!), blame it on your love (FT LIZZO!!), and official

rina sawayama — technically her album is all sorts of genres but especially XS, comme des garcons, paradisin', bad friend, and tokyo love hotel

orla gartland is a lil softer and i love more like you, oh GOD, and did it to myself

king princess — especially cheap queen, 1950, holy, but basically all of cheap queen

more one-offs: kansas by ashe, comeback by CRJ (full paean in her honour to come in the pop section), i am a big fan of other people covering the bleachers (LOL) especially rollercoaster by charli xcx and i wanna get better by tinashe (full tinashe praise to come too), saturdays by twin shadow (FT HAIM!!!), the kiss of venus and 3 nights by dominic fike (also his interlude on halsey's album), aute cuture and milionària by rosalía, young lover by st. vincent (i love her but again might not be for u haha), good days by sza, backyard boy by claire rosinkranz, slow dancing by aly & aj, hot sugar by glass animals

if ur down to try out something weird witchy and cool, kate bush is like the originator of 9 billion pop and rock genres and hounds of love is a masterpiece

pure pop (we can split hairs on what makes pure pop LOL but basically everything here is based on ur enjoyment of doja)

carly rae jepsen — ok if u haven't listened to her non-radio-hits u may be like "what?? call me maybe lady???" to which i say YES, especially window, stay away, no drug like me, and too much

victoria monet — this may or may not be a selling point to you, but victoria is a frequent ariana grande collaborator and you can absolutely hear it in her music (see also: the mattress spring background noises in dive JUST like they are in positions...), and i love experience, go there with you, and we might even be falling in love, and why not throw in her ariana grande collab monopoly

magdalena bay — how to get physical which i am destined, nay, contractually bound, to put in a jily modern AU someday, killshot, stop & go

tinashe — basically ALL of her new album!!! SO good. i also love rascal (superstar), esther, and old jams like company (and i JUST found out she has a chaka khan cover!)

chloe x halle have the most angelic vocals in the world

this might sound actually demented because WHO hasn't heard love on the brain but rly... go give ANTI a re-listen...

tove lo — especially are u gonna tell her, mateo, and jacques

WAIT I FORGOT TO SAY ROBYN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! EVERY ROBYN SONG!!!!!!!

for that throwback poppy sound u may as well go real throwback KJAHKJA and check out donna summer!

one-offs: right to it by louis the child n ashe, serial lover by kehlani (also more by her but im getting lazy now kdjfhgk), missed calls by max n hayley kiyoko, peppers and onions by tierra whack, idk who hasnt heard this song but circles by meg, todo de ti by rauw alejandro (the way i wanted this to be song of the summer so bad ;___;)

hope you enjoy and pls come back and tell me if you really liked any of these!!!! xoxo

[spectacularlyignorantt]

From the dining table

March 2017

Louis sat in the kitchen looking around, dust covering every possible surface. Princess Park, their first home, the place they bought together without telling anyone and then never sold after the breakup. Maybe because they couldn't see each other and not end up in bed, regretting it in the morning. Maybe because they both knew this time apart meant nothing. They were destined to be together, a love no one could understand, right?

The last time he saw Harry was after the presentation of his single Just Hold On on the X-Factor, but they had not been a proper couple for around a year. If you didn’t count the sex, of course. Louis didn’t. Sex didn’t mean much, not when he knew what it felt like to be in a relationship with Harry Styles for 5 years. They would have stopped seeing each other when the band started the hiatus if it wasn’t for his mom's health getting worse. Harry stood next to him all those months, giving him comfort, keeping her company when Louis was too tired to stay awake. Harry was part of his family, after all. And Louis knew Anne, Gems and Robin felt the same way about him. 

The reason for their break up was a mystery for everyone, a question never answered. They belonged together, no one could say the opposite after expending time with the couple for 10 minutes. Either you were blind or disgusted by their love, in a cute way. 

Louis knew, of course. It was a decision, more than anything. They felt like the only thing holding them together was the band and decided to take a break to figure out if there was more than that. So they never sold their first home because there was no chance they weren't going back together. 

Lately, Louis wasn’t so sure about that. To be honest, he wasn't sure about anything. The sky was pouring like it should be, for mood purposes. The lump in his throat made breathing hard, the weight in his chest holding him down in the chair. He closed his eyes, he wasn’t going to cry. The promise he made to his mother was still clear in his mind and it was killing him. Because lately, it felt like Harry had forgotten about them. With his solo music, the movie, all that pr girlfriends Louis knew he hated. All that glamour, all those lights. Why would he be thinking about Louis? Maybe they were right, maybe it wasn’t destiny but circumstance. 

Things got worse recently, after Niall went to his flat a couple of days before, wearing that big old tee and Louis told him he smelled like Harry. He wasn’t jealous, not really. It was Niall, for god’s sake. But Niall was around his baby a lot, they had a close friendship not many knew about. Something about the unusual sadness in Niall's eyes told him much more than the calls Haz never answered. Harry didn’t want him anymore. They were done. 

The pressure in his head felt compressive like the one in his heart. All those shots, pints and pot weren’t a good combination. Neither was that boy with curls but the wrong shade of green when he woke up that morning in a hotel room, unable to remember much about the night before. But what else could he do? How could he go to Harry right now and tell him he was sorry for his insecurities? For ruining everything without a good reason? How could he tell him he was sorry? Liam and Oli said he needed to give it time, but everyday felt a little bit more far away from home. So he came back. 

There was a notepad where they used to write the grocery list sitting on the counter, next to the fridge. He took it and the pen on the table, the dim light coming from the closed window. He didn't know what to do, how to get out of this pain, this love. How to be himself again. 

So Louis did the only thing he felt like he could do right: he wrote a song. It was more of a letter, really. But it was shaped like a song, that was his strong suit after all.  And Harry loved to see him write, once upon a time. Used to dance with him in that kitchen, used to make him pancakes in the morning. They used to talk and fuck and chat for hours between those walls. 

To Harry: 

Woke up alone in this hotel room

Played with myself, where were you?

Fell back to sleep, I got drunk by noon

I've never felt less cool 

We haven't spoke since you went away

Comfortable silence is so overrated, Harry

Why won't you ever be the first one to break?

Even my phone misses your call, by the way

I saw Niall the other day

He said you feel just fine

I see you gave him my old t-shirt

More of what was once mine

I see it's written, it's all over his face

Comfortable silence is so overrated

Why won't you ever say what you want to say?

Even my phone misses your call,

And by the way

Maybe one day you'll call me and tell me that you're sorry too

But you, you never do

Woke up this boy who looked just like you

I almost said your name

We haven't spoke since you went away

Comfortable silence is so overrated

Why won't you ever say what you want to say?

Even my phone misses your call

By the way…

 He stopped there, unable to continue. His hand was shaking, the tears were smushing the ink on the paper. What a fucking cliche, crying after promising himself he wasn’t going to do it. Nothing could hurt as much as losing his mum, nothing could compare. So why was he crying? Why couldn’t he just fucking stop?

Louis got up from the chair and walked away from the dining table, leaving the notepad there. He knew deep in his broken heart that the next time he came back it was going to be there. Left and forgotten, just like that house and those memories. Louis left it there next to his allowance to feel sorry for himself. He needed to grow up, get away from those parties and false people. He was going to get his shit together, write away his feelings and find his sound. 

And if Harry didn’t want him in his life, then there was nothing left to do, right?

May 2017

 The recording of Back to you was finally over and now they need it to work in the music video and he wanted to film it on Doncaster. It felt right to go back to his ‘home’, if he couldn't go back home, you know what I mean? It went well with the theme. 

Louis was driving back from the studio to his flat when a notification popped out in this phone: Harry’s album was out and apparently, people thought a couple of songs were about him. Louis wasn't going to be surprised if they were, both wrote about each other a lot along the way. And the fans loved to link things, made up theories about the Larry situation. Something he wished he could out and say ‘yes it was true but it's over now, please stop tagging me, it hurts’. It didn’t. not as much anymore. 

Or that’s what he thought until he heard track 4, Two Ghost. He knew those lyrics, Harry had written them years ago. That is what they used to call each other’s public images: ghosts. Images without a soul. What a young and dramatic pair they used to be, back in 2013. 

He didn't cry with that one, maybe because of its familiarity. And he wasn’t even mad about the songs about girls, he knew Harry better than that, even after all this time. 

Next was Sweet Creature, the one everyone was speculating about, and honestly Harry, ‘two hearts, one home’? The song felt different. Maybe because he thought that Harry didn’t really remember about their lost home, about being young and in love. Too young to know, most people used to say. What a fool he was for listening. Now he knew, and it was too late. 

Kiwi was funny in the most depressing way for him, Woman felt like an anthem, it felt like Harry’s jealousy, his deep and most dark possessive behavior. But then, when a chord from a guitar came in he went to his phone to check the name. He wasn’t quick enough, tho. The first verse stopped him right there. It was a good thing he parked in his apartment building a couple of songs ago. 

Because there, in the shape of the last song of H’s first album, it was Louis' letter. His feelings in a notepad, in the shape of an awkward song. Almost word by word, Harry’s voice filled the car with calmness and longing, a branch of olive. He was giving the first step. If those little easter eggs along the album weren’t enough, he took Louis letter from two fucking months ago and put it there. He probably had to push the label to do it, with such short notice. Harry went out of his way to let him know it wasn’t over. 

Harry went back to Princess Park, just like him. He went back home. 

 ----

His friend picked up the phone after two missed calls. 

‘Oi Lou, how ya doin?’ the thick Irish accent wasn’t enough of a distraction. 

‘Hey lad, I’m fine. Sorry to bother but I need to ask you something’ he could hear the urgency in his own voice. 

‘Never a bother mate, whatever you need’ Niall, always the optimistic. Louis loved him. 

‘Is Harry staying here? In London I mean’ 

‘What? What's going on?’ and then ‘Oh, the album is out, innit?’ 

‘Yeah…’

‘Okay, well, Harry was going to be with Nick today so yeah, he must be doing press shit’

‘Of course, makes sense, thank you mate. I will explain later ’

‘Sure, use protection’

Louis rolled his eyes but didn’t deny the implications. The car came to life once again and he started driving to Harry’s house. The one they used to spend time in when they had some time between recording and touring. He didn’t even feel annoyed by the traffic, listening to the album all over again. Letting his body welcome Harry once again.

Of course, he still had his keys, drowned deep in the glovebox. He wasn’t going to enter the actual house, but it wouldn’t have been smart to stay outside on the street, someone could recognise him. 

So once he parked in front of the building and noticed Harry wasn’t home, he closed his eyes and took a breath after what felt like hours. The next time he opened them there was a hand taping on his windows, he had fallen asleep.

It was a big hand adorned with rings and some nail polish. Louis knew what it felt to hold it more than he knew his own face. He took a deep breath and opened the door. Harry was waiting outside, a small smile making just one dimple appear. It was the first time they had seen each other in months but Louis felt like no time had passed. And if Louis was going to turn into an idiotic helpless cliche then it better be because of a boy as wonderful and beautiful as him. There was no one else. Harry was it. 

‘I thought it was going to take you longer ’

‘To listen to the album or to get my shit together? ’

Harry seemed to consider his answer for a second, the dramatic little shit that he was. Then he smiled and Louis forgave him immediately. 

‘Both’

Louis laughed and took a step closer to the love of his life. 

‘I’m sorry, baby, I'm really sorry ’

‘Me too’

‘If you let me kiss you right now I’m never letting you go again. It's your choice’

‘Never wanted you to go in the first place’

‘Right answer’

And then they kissed because there wasn't much left to say. At least not right now. The conversation could wait for the next morning, once they had sex, pancakes and maybe a little dance in the kitchen. For old times sake.

----

Soooo, I wrote this because I couldn’t get the idea of Louis writing this song out of my head. And like, it sounds so much like Harry’s writing, this is not a theory at all. But I liked the idea so yeah. It’s probably gonna be my first and only fic about Larry, hope you like it. 

All the mistakes are mine and its noy my first language, sorry if the grammar is trashy. Thanks. 

[etoileholland]

I'd gladly surrender myself to you, body and soul

 Anonymous asked: I’ve always loved this idea. A lonely Tom wanders into an old jazz club where reader is a last minute substitute sultry singer. The two lock eyes and reader makes the first move by getting flirty during her song and Tom is desperate to find her after the show.

Pairing: Tom and female reader

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: none

A/N: I loved this idea too, thank you so much for requesting it! I really hope you enjoy it and I hope I did it justice. As always, let me know if you want to be added to the taglist.

Also the songs I used in order were: Crazy He Calls Me by Billie Holliday, Autumn Leaves by Nat King Cole and Why Don’t You Do Right? by Benny Goodman (all song lyrics are italicised)

Tom solemnly walked down the streets of Greenwich Village in New York, his coat collar popped to attempt to conceal his face, which also helped provide some warmth against the chilling autumn wind. It was nearly midnight, and Tom was enjoying some solace in a city that never sleeps.

He hadn’t wanted to be bothered by anyone, while at the same time wanting people to care. Since fame, he’s grown increasingly lonely as people cared less about him and more about the idea of him.

Looking up at the vast skyscrapers and massive apartment buildings that lined the streets, he wondered how many of their inhabitants felt as lonely as he, a thought he pondered for a while.

Tom took solace in knowing that many of the loneliest and most talented people have spent time and come from this city, and somehow that was a comforting thought. In the distance he heard some smooth jazz echoing in the streets, and as he walked down Seventh Avenue, the music grew louder. A few blocks down, he was standing in front of an old jazz club- its name, ‘Village Vanguard’. The name of the club was illuminated in a red neon glow that was a stark difference to the noir of the night sky.

Hesitantly, he gently pushed open the red doors and was met with an intense red lighting illuminating the club, the smell of cigar smoke lingering in the atmosphere. The club was intimate, maybe only fifty seats, and on the wall were photos of famous jazz musicians who’ve performed here. He wandered over to the bartender who was talking to an older gentleman about something pressing. He took a seat right nearby the talking strangers, slightly eavesdropping in on their conversation.

“What do you mean he’s out sick? I know that kid is lying to me.” The older gentleman stated. He was a hefty gentleman who spoke with a dangling pipe in his mouth, not caring that small particles of ash floated downwards onto the bar table. He wore a gold ring on his pinky and had a deep bellowing voice.

“Listen, all I know is he texted me and said he can’t make it, but he knows of a replacement. He called her a ‘throwback to the golden era of jazz’, with a voice as sweet and sultry as honey. He promised he wouldn’t let you down.” He poured some scotch into a glass, added ice and slid it over to Tom.

“Um how did you know-”

“I have a gift, I know what everyone’s usual is without even knowing them.” The bartender interrupted, his gaze shifting back to the older man.

“He better not be lying to me, that idiot kid. God if he weren’t my grandson I would’ve fired him immediately.” He downed his drink and looked at Tom, who instantly tensed up.

“Where are you from kid?” The gentleman puffed on his cigar, allowing the smoke to sit in his lungs a second before blowing it into the bartender’s face.

“London.”

“So what brings you here to New York, Londoner?”

Tom took a second to contemplate the man’s question, deciding whether or not he should tell the truth. “I was looking for a change of scenery, I suppose. And tonight I was wandering around for a bit and stumbled upon this place.”

“Well you stumbled into the right place, ya classy man. Ya like jazz?” He asked as he took another puff of his cigar.

“I’ve heard some songs but I’m not the most avid listener.” Tom swirled the glass in his hands, the ice clinking against the glass.

“Oh after this you will, jazz has to be listened to live, you see. You need to feel the energy coming from the percussions and brass, and bask in the aura. It’s an otherworldly experience.” He patted Tom on the back and he nearly choked.

“I’ll take your word for it.” Tom added as he downed his drink. The bartender was quick to pour Tom another drink, sliding it over to him.

“Where is this replacement, huh?” The man asked as the bartender pulled out his phone. “Should be here any minute according to him.” He stuffed it back in his pocket before resuming his work.

The front door swung open and Tom, along with everyone else, looked at the figure who sauntered into the room. You were wearing a long evening gown and heels, neck adorned with jewelry. Your hair was up in a vintage updo with little tendrils of hair framing your face. The men howled and whistled at you, and you playfully rolled your eyes. Your eyes then scanned the room as you looked for the owner of the establishment that your friend described to you. Deciding to ask the bartender, you moseyed over to him.

“Excuse me; I’m looking for a gentleman named Tony. I’m the replacement singer for tonight.” Your voice was low and sultry, matching the ‘honey’ description. Tom was mesmerized by your plump red lips, and he couldn’t tear his gaze away.

“Well you found him, I’m Tony.” He grabbed your hand, lightly caressing it before kissing the top of it. Your gaze met the bartender’s as he slid a drink over to you.

“Hmm, gin and tonic, how’d you know?” You took a long sip while the men gazed at you, the bartender raising an eyebrow. To say you were entrancing was an understatement, and they all watched your lips hug the rim around the glass. You finished the drink and set the glass on the bar table.

“You never did tell us your name.” The bartender smirked, your lips curling up slightly. “Y/N.”

A beautiful name for a beautiful girl, Tom thought. You noticed him looking at you and you smiled.

“You never did tell me your name, darling.” You looked right into Tom’s eyes and smiled, making sure to emphasize the last word.

Tom gulped, attempting to match your sultry and seductive energy. “It’s Tom.” He took a drink of his scotch and your eyes glinted in the red lighting.

“Enchanté, London boy.” You winked, playfully tilting your head to the side. Tom looked at you curiously when you guessed where he was from, and you smirked. Already loving the attention that he was feeding you, you made sure to keep his focus solely on you. Returning your gaze to Tony, you let out a breathy sigh before asking, “Well, when do I go on?”

“Right now princess, go talk to Big Louis over there on the piano and let him know you’re ready.” The men watched you walk away, making sure you were out of earshot before speaking.

“Say, if I didn’t know any better son, I would think you’ve already fallen in love with her.” Tony remarked, swirling his drink in his hand before taking a sip.

“Maybe so.” Tom stated as he leaned onto the bar table.

“I hate to break it to you but you have no chance.” Tony paused, looking over his shoulder as if he expected someone to be eavesdropping in on their conversation. “I’ve heard my grandson gush about her nonstop but they never got together. This is the first time I’ve ever met her and I now see why he chased after her pathetically.” He paused, taking a sip of his brandy.

“Apparently, at least according to my grandson, she doesn’t bother finding love. She knows that there’s no man good enough, and she’s right. Look at her and tell me there’s anyone worthy enough to love that.” He downed his third drink of the night and motioned for the bartender to pass him a glass of water.

Tom, looking down at his hands which were clutching the glass, began to ponder what the man said. He wondered if the man was right, since his grandson apparently is quite familiar with you. The way you looked at him though said otherwise, and he held onto the tiny bit of hope that maybe you were as mesmerized by him as he were you.

The men watched you saunter over to Louis on the piano, lightly placing your hand on his back as you whispered in his ear. You bent down slowly and you felt the gaze of fifty people on you. Louis got up from the stool and you sat down, adjusting your dress and checking the microphone.

“Hello cool cats, how’s the night been treating you?” You spoke in your signature low voice as the room exploded in whistles and hollers. You smirked and looked coyly at Tom, who began to blush. You composed yourself before speaking again. “I’m only here for a short time tonight but trust me, I’ll make it worth your while.” You breathed, the men in the crowd whistling loudly. “It would be wrong if I didn’t perform a song by the one and only Billie Holliday, so ladies and gentlemen, here’s ‘Crazy He Calls Me’.”

You rested your fingers over the keys and mentally prepared yourself to sing in front of an already captivated audience. Your fingers glided over the keys with ease, making it seem effortless.

“I say I’ll move the mountains, and I’ll move the mountains, if he wants them out of the way.” You sang softly. You looked over at Tom who was leaning back against the bar table, arms crossed as he watched you sing. You lightly bit your bottom lip, which drove the men wild.

“Crazy he calls me. Sure, I'm crazy, crazy in love, I say.” You began to improvise the notes slightly, embellishing it as you went along. You looked into the crowd, quickly meeting Tom’s gaze again before looking down at the keys.

Tom instantly knew he was already madly in love with you. His mind wandered to what Tony said earlier about you not deeming any man worthy enough for your affection, but Tom was determined that he would be the one who could change your mind.

He observed the way you looked at him with a glint in your eye, a smile always leaving your lips as your eyes studied his face. He was hoping and praying that you were as captivated by him as he were you.

As you wrapped up the song, you made sure to sing the last verse straight to him. There was something that drew you in about him, and you were desperate to get close to him.

“I say I'll care forever, and I mean forever, if I have to hold up the sky. Crazy he calls me, sure, I'm crazy, crazy in love am I.” You embellished the last few notes on the piano and the room erupted with hollers, whistles and even love proclamations.

As the room filled with applause, you stood up from the piano stool, bowing as you basked in the attention. Licking your lips, you looked over at Tom, who had a grin on his face. You smiled back at him, clearing your throat to prompt the audience to settle down.

“I could use a drink right now, how about a scotch on the rocks?” You said into the microphone, making sure to look over at Tom who now had a smirk on his face. That was his drink of choice, and to make sure he knew you paid attention to detail, you ordered the same thing he had. Tom winked at you which illicited a small giggle. The bartender, whom Tom discovered was named Lionel, swiftly prepared your drink, leaving his workplace to bring it to you.

“Merci, darling.” You whispered, taking a long drink from the glass and setting it gently on top of the grand piano. He swiftly made his way off stage, heading back to the bar to continue preparing drinks for the audience.

Tom watched the way your lips went around the rim of the glass, observing how you lightly smack them after every sip. He was well aware of the fact that he was making his attraction obvious to you, but in that moment he didn’t care. He only wanted you, now more than ever.

As you lightly tapped on the microphone to ensure that the attention was back on you, you spoke to the audience. “This song means a lot to me, and hopeful it’ll mean a lot to you as well. It’s autumn here in New York, and the song is fitting for reminiscing a love no longer in one of the most beautiful seasons here.” You began to play the first notes of the song; the trombone player following your rhythm.

“The falling leaves drift by the window, the autumn leaves of red and gold. I see your lips, the summer kisses, the sun-burned hands I used to hold.” The rawness and pure vulnerability in your voice when you sang the lyrics made Tom’s heart sink. He couldn’t fathom the idea that someone would love you, and then leave you. It was evident from your voice that you were missing someone, the sheer thought of it alone was heart wrenching.

“Since you went away the days grow long, and soon I'll hear old winter's song. But I miss you most of all my darling, when autumn leaves start to fall.” You slowed your playing as the violinist took over, playing their solo as the song came to an end. The audience paused a second before applauding, as a man in the front row wiped away a stray tear from his cheek.

“I’m sorry there’s not one dry eye in the room.” You joked. The man in the front row let out a little sob as others laughed lightly.

The audience watched as you made your way from the piano over to the microphone in center stage.

“I’m gonna finish off tonight with a rendition of one of my favourite Benny Goodman’s songs. Also, a large thank you to ‘Swinging Louis’s Big Band Orchestra’ for accompanying me tonight.” You clapped as you watched the ensemble stand up, bowing before taking their seats.

Looking over at the players and giving them a little nod to signify you were ready, the cellist began to play as you slowly swayed your head to the beat.

You glanced over at Tom, blowing him a kiss and stifling a laugh as his face turned beet red in a matter of milliseconds. Everyone in the crowd turned their heads to see who you were giving your attention to, looking at Tom, then shifting their focus back to you.

“Maybe I was wrong kid, you might just have a chance with her.” Tony remarked as he slapped Tom on the back.

“My heart is sad and lonely, for you I sigh, for you dear only. Why haven't you seen it? I'm all for you, body and soul.” Your gaze pierced through Tom and he smiled. He knew that you were his and he was yours, he felt it in his bones. His eyes trailed down your body, gaze stopping right where your gown’s neckline plunged. You, noticing where his gaze rested, retaliated by putting your hand on your chest and moving it slowly up to your cheek. His face turned red when he saw you wink at him.

“My life a wreck you're making, you know I'm yours for the very taking. I'd gladly surrender myself to you, body and soul.” You finished the song and the room erupted into a loud fit of applause, whooping and whistling, and even some roses being passed to you by men in the front row. You bowed, slowly making your way upstage as someone asked for your autograph.

“I’m not famous sugar.” You laughed but the man shook his head. “Trust me you will be.” He handed you a napkin and a pen. You walked over to the piano so that you would have something hard to write on, autographing it for him as you lightly kissed the paper which left a red lipstick stain below your name. Handing the napkin back to him, he blushed, grabbing your hand and placing a light kiss on the top of it. Now blushing, you spoke into the microphone one last time to wrap up the performance.

“I appreciate everyone allowing me to play tonight. Go find someone to love and have a good night.” More applause filled the room as you walked off backstage.

As the applause died down, Tom looked over to his right to ask Tony where he could find you. When he saw a vacant seat next to him, he began to panic. He didn’t even notice that Tony was no longer sat there, but then again, he was so entranced by you that he didn’t pay attention to much else.

He glanced over at Lionel who was pouring a glass for the gentleman who had asked for your autograph.

“Lionel, where would Y/N be?” He asked with a hint of urgency in his voice. Lionel pondered it for a second and pointed at the back door. Tom nodded, hopping onto the stage and going through the back door. He hesitantly made his way down the corridor, careful to not make any sounds that would draw attention to himself. His ears perked up when he heard your voice, conversing with Tony who was discussing your pay. Peeking his head around the corner from where he stood, he listened some more as he then heard Tony give you an offer he thought you couldn’t refuse.

“C’mon princess, the crowd loves you. Just think, you could play here every weekend and make a ton of money.” You scoffed and Tony rolled his eyes. “You could easily become famous, you have an amazing stage presence and you’re clearly talented. Come on Y/N, take the offer.”

“Listen Tony, tonight was fun but I only did it for one night. After a while I would inevitably lose my charm and people wouldn’t come to see me anymore, so I better quit while I’m ahead.”

“You and I both know that wouldn’t happen, you could easily be as famous as Holliday, or even Fitzgerald. You can’t try to tell me you don’t have that kind of talent in you.”

You paused for a minute, pondering the idea once over in your mind.

“I’ll think about it, but for right now I still stand behind my answer. Singing will become a chore and then I’ll be miserable.” You crossed your arms in front of your chest as Tony let out a sigh.

“Alright, there’s no reasoning with you. The offer still stands though, so one day when you change your mind you can let me know.” Tony said as he watched you walk out the back door of the club, the door slamming shut. Just then Tom turned the corner to follow after you, and he and Tony met face to face.

Tony looked at Tom sympathetically, and spoke. “Kid, I know you like her but she’s stubborn.” He paused a second, wagging his finger as a thought flashed over him. “On second thought, I can tell that you are too, so if you want to chase after her she went out that way and walked down Waverly Place. While you’re at it try to convince her to change her mind, will ya? You and I both know she’s extremely talented. Now go.” He pointed towards the door and moved out of Tom’s way.

“Thank you.” He replied quickly, bolting out of the building as he looked for you. He ran down the street and stood at the intersection of Waverly and 7th Avenue to try to find you.

A fair distance away, he saw you walk towards an apartment building, calling your name as he watched you stop in your tracks. Turning your head around to see Tom running towards you, you waved to him and waited for him to catch up.

“Y/N, you were amazing.” He breathed heavily, fatigued from nearly sprinting.

“Thank you Tom, I really appreciate that. It was nice to know you were in the crowd.” You looked him up and down, noticing his broad shoulders and his slightly tousled curls.

“Why won’t you take the offer though?” He asked, out of breath as he bent forward and rested his hands on his knees.

“Oh so you heard that?” Tom only nodded as he began to catch his breath. “Personally, I would love to perform every weekend, but I don’t want the fame. Contrary to what you might believe, and what you’re accustomed to,” she poked his chest softly, “I’m not in it for the fame. I just want to enjoy what I’m doing, and not make it a chore.”

Tom stood there slightly dumbfounded at what you had just said, and let out a small laugh. “You know, that hit close to home. That’s the whole reason I ended up in New York, for the anonymity. Being famous is exhausting and right now I’m sick of it.”

“I think it would be torturous to be famous.” You remarked, and Tom agreed. “Oh yeah, it definitely can be.” Playing with your apartment keys nervously, you stuffed them back in your coat pocket and looked up at Tom, who was looking at you.

“Where did you learn-” Tom began to ask but you interrupted him. “Self taught.”

“Wow.” He gasped. You gave him a half smile and looked down at the ground. “I would love to teach you, if you’d want.” You said which caused Tom to smile. “I’d love that.”

You both stood there in silence, unsure of what to say next. The air was brisk, and the city was quieting down. After a minute, you decided to speak.

“Hey since it’s late I should probably get going, but-.”

“Wait, would you-”, he exhaled, “want to go out with me? At least, until I inevitably have to go back home to London.” His hand reached for the nape of his neck and rubbed it, the other stuffed into his pocket as he awaited your answer.

Blushing, you bit your lip and looked at him coyly. It was evident that he was becoming flustered as you stood there, silent.

Taking a step forward, you placed your arms around his neck, lightly pressing your chest to his. He hesitated before putting one hand on your hip, the other on the small of your back.

You leaned your face closer to his and closed the gap between you two. He kissed you back; his lips were soft, still tasting vaguely like scotch. After a minute you were the first to pull away but he pulled you back in, kissing you more passionately.

“I would love to go out with you, London boy.” You whispered against his lips as he kissed you again.

——

Additional A/N: I don’t give enough credit to my best friend/beta reader @scarletxwidow​ for always helping me revise and edit all of my stories. She deserves the world and please go send her some love. Also to everyone who has sent in a request, thank you and know that I am working on them 💛

mes anges (taglist): @sunflowerhollands @fangirlwithasweettooth @lmaotshollandd @musicalkeys @taciturnspidey @graceluvsyouu

[honey-andtea1889]

Night Changes

AN: Hi darlings!! I’m really happy to see a lot of people enjoying Battered and Bruised! With that in mind, I’m writing yet another story! This time with the absolutely amazing Niall Horan! I hope y’all love it and please feel free to request something! 

Summary: Y/N’s best friend Niall invites her over to celebrate the success of Heartbreak Weather. However, the night takes a sweet twist after a few glasses of wine

Warnings: swearing, tons of fluff

Song: Night Changes by One Direction

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“In celebrity news today, Niall Horan released a new album called ‘Heartbreak Weather’. So far the album has sold almost record breaking copies and has two singles on Billboard’s hot 100!” 

You smiled brightly hearing the news. Your best friend was doing such an amazing job with his new album, you could help the feeling of happiness filling your heart. You of all people knew how much this album meant to him. He wanted to make sure it was perfect for the fans, he didn’t waste one second correcting lyrics that sounded funny, getting the right chord, even making sure that his voice flowed with said lyrics. Niall worked so hard for where he’s at today and you couldn’t be more proud. 

The two of you go way back. You meant when you were two years old. 

Your parents had just moved from London to Mullingar, Ireland due to your mother’s job promotion. Your family was moving their things in the house when you ran across the street, your little, chubby. legs flying over to the new neighbor’s yard. Your giggles filled the air as you pick up a small ball on the ground. 

Soon, a young boy came and snatched the all away from you. Your tears and cries filled the air, causing both yours and the boys parents to run over to the noise. 

“Lovie, what happened? Are you hurt?” Your mother asked, picking you up and rubbing your hair. 

All you could do was cry and point at the little ball that the boy was holding. His parents coming over and slipped him into his mother’s arms. The boy grumbled as he clutched onto the ball. His mother noticed and let out a breathy chuckle. 

“Niall, darling, we ‘ave to share with the new neighbors. Can’t keep all these toys to ya self.” His mother spoke. 

Niall turned his head into his mother’s neck, shying away from the new family. Both sets of parents chuckled and introduced themselves. They chatted for a while, leaving the two children to their own devices. Niall eventually gave you the ball and you both played together. 

As the years went on, you both became closer than ever. Your parents almost believed you two would end up married, however that was a long shot. You knew your feelings for Niall were strong, but you weren’t sure how he felt. Once you began to think Niall had feelings for you, he’d end up with a girlfriend. Your heart would shatter but you knew that his happiness was more important than anything, so you’d simply let it happen and support his every move. 

Your phone lit up as it rang. Niall’s contact photo showed up on the screen and you smiled before answering it. 

“Hello superstar!” You greeted. 

“Hi ya darlin’! You doin’ anythin’ tonight?” He asked. 

“No actually. I had a date but he ended up cancelling. Caught me at a good time, Horan.” You giggled as you entered your room. 

“Am I needing sleepover clothes?” 

“Yes! We’re celebrating the new album! Don’t want ya driving if ya’ve been drinking.” Niall said, chuckling over his own excitement. 

You smiled. He’s always been so protective over you. That’s part of the reason why you had caught feelings for him. He was always so caring. He’d make sure that you were safe and happy whenever you went out, he’d check up on whenever you were anxious about something. He always put your happiness first, that’s what made him one of the best. 

You packed an overnight bag, grabbing your toothbrush, pajamas, clothes for the next day, and even slipped in a nice bottle of red wine that your father gave you as a promotion gift from work. You made sure everything was set and ready to go before telling Niall you were on your way. Once you hung up the phone, you grabbed your bag and headed to the car. 

Niall’s place wasn’t too far from yours. Ten minute drive at most, really. You pulled into the driveway, turning down the radio and grabbing your bag. You got to the door and entered his home. 

“OH NIALLER!” you yelled as you took off your shoes. 

You could hear Niall laugh as he made his way to you. You dropped your bag and ran over to give him the biggest hug you can. His arms wrapped around your waist and picked you up, squeezing you tightly as he spun you around. Your giggles filled the air when he kissed your temple sweetly. 

Your friendship was one that everyone craved. Not only did you two laugh together but you also managed to be there for each other when times got hard. You were his rock and he was yours and whenever something big happened, you both were there to celebrate. It was almost like you two needed each other. 

“Niall I’m so proud of you! Never fail to make me proud.” You gushed, squishing his face as he giggled. 

“Thanks Y/N. I really couldn’t have done it without ya.” He said. 

You blushed and hugged him tightly. His cologne entered your nostrils and you swooned. He smelled of vanilla and whiskey. Your favorite. 

As you pulled away, you smiled at the Irish lad in front of you, taking in his appearance. He wore a white t shirt with some black sweatpants, accompanying it with his signature glasses. He looked so cozy and warm. His light brown hair was a bit of a floppy mess but that was what pulled the look together. 

“Oh! Guess what I brought!” You said as you ran over to your bag. 

You pulled out the bottle of wine. Niall smiled brightly as he grabbed the wine from you and went to the kitchen. You followed quickly. You caught up to him and hopped up on the counter. A loud pop sounded though the house as Niall opened the wine. He poured the sweet drink in two glasses, handing one to you an raising his in the air.

“To new beginnings!” Niall cheered. 

“To Heartbreak Weather!” You smiled as you both sipped your drinks. 

Niall grinned and downed his drink. The night took off from there. 

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After a few hours, the two of you were more wine drunk than mothers at a PTA meeting. You both were dancing to Niall’s song ‘Small Talk’, belting the lyrics. 

“Tell me what you want because you know I want it too Let's skip all the small talk and go straight up to your room I've been thinking what I'd do when I'm alone with you Just say nothing, small talk only gets in the way“ 

The song ended and ‘No Judgement’ started up. Niall’s eyes lit up and he went back to singing. You laughed at him, watching as he danced around his living room. You joined back in the dancing, closing the large distance between the two of you. 

Niall took your hand and spun you around. You both smiled and giggled when he pulls you closer to him. Niall leaned his forehead on yours as the song ended, wrapping his arms around your waist. You lived for intimate moments like this, just the two of you holding each other, whispering like someone will hear your darkest secrets. Just the two of you being yourselves with no one to tell you that you’re not allowed to even hug one another. 

 Ever since he auditioned for the X Factor, it was hard to do this. He had the paps on him for the last ten years and with touring, he just couldn’t have these moments with you like he wanted to. Niall himself wanted times like this one more often than he’ d like to admit, especially to you. 

Truth was, Niall couldn’t get you out of his head. 

It started after the release of ‘Flicker’. You guys were at the release party just enjoying the music and the feeling of the night. You wore a stunning dress that ended at the middle of your thigh. The red, low cut dress accentuated your curves. The long sleeves were flowy but fit snuggly around your wrists. The look was completed with a pair of Louis Vuitton red bottoms. 

Niall’s eyes bulged out of his sockets when he spotted you in the crowd. You just looked beautiful, it took his breath away. 

“Hey stranger! Congrats on the album!” You squealed as you hugged him tightly. 

Niall smiled and hugged you back tightly, slowly trying to keep his hips away from you so you don’t see the growing erection he had. 

“I’m so glad you’re here, love. It means way more than you could ever know.” He smiled. 

You blushed and looked at the floor. Soon, Niall was pulled away to give a quick announcement before they played the album. As he made his way to the stage, Niall’s eyes found yours and you smiled at him. 

His heart damn near leaped out of his chest. He was more nervous for you to hear the album. There was one song on there that was not only for you, but about you. His heart pounded in his chest as he made his way to the microphone. He just really wanted to make you proud.

“Hello everyone! Thank you so much for comin’ out. This is my first solo album and I’m quite nervous about everyone likin’ it. I worked so hard on this album and I’m really proud of it. Thanks again for joinin’ me in releasin’ it and I hope you enjoy!” Niall said

You smiled up at him and his heart melted. He wasn’t sure when his feelings for you really came about but tonight, they were for sure confirmed. 

The music started up, starting with ‘On The Loose’. Niall watched you dance around. He didn’t realize how hard he was smiling until he felt how sore his cheeks were. He could tell that you were enjoying every ounce of the album and he couldn’t be happier about it

That was three years ago. He’s has some girlfriends since then but they just didn’t make him feel the way you made him feel. He wanted to give you the world. Niall wanted to give you everything, he just didn’t know if you felt the same way he did. The fear of rejection and a broken friendship helped him to contain himself. 

Although, the moment you two were in right now, it was something you both could feel. There was something that just pulled you two together, something that connected you both. 

You two were standing in the middle of his living room, his song ‘Still’ playing in the background.

“I wrote ‘No Judgement’ for ya.” Niall whispered as he played with your hair. 

You smiled. 

“I also wrote this one.” 

You listened carefully as the chorus started up.

“Tell me you want it A thousand miles away from the day that we started But I'm standing here with you just tryna be honest If honesty means telling you the truth Well, I'm still in love with you“

Your heart dropped into your stomach. You looked up into the beautiful blue eyes that you fell in love with, a smile growing as your cheeks became a slight pink. He had a lazy grinned plastered on his face. You couldn’t tell if it was the moment or the wine getting to the both of you. You allowed your hands to slip up around his neck and play with the baby hairs at the bottom of his scalp.

“Y/N I have to tell you something..” Niall started. 

You bit your lip, trying to retain a bigger smile breaking out. 

“Y/N I can’t tell ya how much ya mean to me. I don’t know if I could’ve done any of this without ya. Ya make me so much more confident and ya always tell me shit straight. I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is....I..I love ya Y/N. And not just like a best friend love. I’m in love with ya.” Niall confessed. 

You couldn’t hold back your actions next. Your hand slides down to cup his face, bringing your lips to meet his. 

The kiss was tender and sweet. You both could feel the passion between the two of you and you were loving every ounce of it. You’re heart felt like it was going to explode as it pounded against your chest. 

Niall pulled away, taking a deep breath and leaned his forehead on yours. You grinned and sighed happily. 

“So I take it ya feel the same then?” Niall chuckled. 

You giggled. 

“Of course I do, you knob head.” You said, playing with his hair again. 

Niall smiled and kissed you sweetly.

Does it ever drive you crazy just how fast the night changes?

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 8: The Light]

Hi y’all! Thank you so much for reading and supporting my writing. Each and every message/reblog/comment/etc makes me smile, and it’s a dream come true to get to share my work with you! 💜

Chapter summary: John shares a secret; Y/N excels at Scrabble; Brian makes peace; Roger suffers a misstep.

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, medical stuff, pregnancy (not who you think!).

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @loveandbeloved29​ @killer-queen-xo​ @maggieroseevans​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queenlover05​ @someforeigntragedy​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @joemazzmatazz​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​ @namelesslosers​ @inthegardensofourminds​ @deacyblues​ @youngpastafanmug​ @sleepretreat​ @hardyshoe​ @bramblesforbreakfast​ @sevenseasofcats​ @tensecondvacation​ @bookandband​ @queen-crue​ @jennyggggrrr​ @madeinheavxn​ @whatgoeson-itslate​ @brianssixpence​ @simonedk​

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

Medicine teaches you to be fiercely skeptical of things that seem too good to be true. Bodies fail—completely and inevitably, though the timing may differ—and patients lie. Medical records don’t, fingerprints don’t, track marks up the underside of an arm don’t, blood and paternity tests don’t, oftentimes the eyes don’t; but given half a chance, people will lie themselves right into the grave.

Those bruises, doc? Got ‘em from a nasty fall down the stairs. I’m lucky I didn’t break my neck!

Nope, never done drugs, not even a joint, I swear on my mother’s life.

I’ll give it up, I’ll go to rehab. Never again. I promise. I don’t want to die.

Doc, I don’t care if the timing doesn’t seem quite right. My husband IS the father. There’s been no one else!

That doting fiancé is flirting with the nurses. Those grown-up children who fluff pillows and dab away tears are asking about the will. That wife is never going to testify against her abusive husband. That addict is going to relapse again...and again...and again. Are there exceptions? Of course. But if you get in the habit of trusting people—of believing all those tantalizingly attractive, hopeful lies—it’ll break your heart six ways to Sunday. There is no perfection in medicine, and there are very rarely miracles.

And so during those first few weeks with Roger—as you watch him from the reeling crowd, from the other side of the tour bus, from across the restaurant table, from the tiny viewfinder of the Canon F-1—you can’t stop searching for the cracks, the shadows, the lies, the dark malignancies breeding beneath the surface. Because everything about Roger Taylor is too good to be true. He’s bright and he’s loud and he’s brilliant and he’s always smiling, always warm. He careens backstage after every show—you keep bracing yourself not to be disappointed when the novelty wears away, when it ends, but it doesn’t—pushing aside roadies and reporters, shouting “Where’s the love of my life? Where’s my Boston babe?” with the most absurd grin you’ve ever seen until he finds you, collides with you, scoops you up and spins you in ungainly circles as your toes skim the floor. Then he cradles your face in his scarred hands and kisses you, breathes you in, tells you everything about the show (even though you were there to see it) in a rush of pure, manic adrenaline. And you stumble into some dressing room together—or a hotel room, or a taxi, or a limousine, or an elevator—and finally it’s your bare thighs his palms are gliding over, your tongue tasting the Heineken and craving on his lips, and it feels impossible for that to ever change. Roger is too good to be true, that’s undeniable; but when you watch him with those doubtful, cautious eyes, you can’t find anything but light.

He wakes up at 6 a.m. to join you on a bayou tour in New Orleans, taps his cigarette over the moss-covered sides of the boat, points out the alligators with leathered skin and ancient yellow irises lurking in the depths. He walks Fremont Street with you in Las Vegas and makes you choose his numbers for the Roulette wheel, for his fate. He snaps photos of you on a sun-drenched balcony in Miami, roaring cobalt waves crashing in the background. He takes you to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City, the Art Institute of Chicago, the National Aquarium in Baltimore, the Philadelphia Zoo, Myrtle Beach and the Saint Louis Arch and the Santa Monica Pier. Because he was telling the truth when he said he could show you the world all those months ago when Queen was at Top of the Pops; he was telling you the truth about the list that’s etched into the rushing scarlet chambers of his heart.

When the American leg of the tour ends and the band gets a brief reprieve in London, you move into Roger’s paltry, disorganized flat and scrub away all the remnants of his past life: dust and empty cigarette boxes and women’s socks, ashes and copies of Vogue, a tube of lipstick that isn’t yours. You don’t complain, don’t even frown; you’re under no delusions that something eternal can be founded on resentment, on lies. And so you clear out the clutter and open the windows so sunshine and crisp spring air can breathe through the apartment, so you can both start fresh along with the bellflowers and delphiniums and roses and the tawny newborn ducklings scampering behind their mothers. You hang photos from the tour and John’s sketches on the refrigerator, place your Canon F-1 and pink conch shell from Ostia on the nightstand, litter the drawers with your own socks and makeup. You teach Roger how to sew (although he’s not much good at it) and how to treat blisters (although you’ll always be there to do it for him); and in return Roger teaches you how to trust, how to believe, how to stop searching desperately for faults in the light.  

On the second day of April, Queen boards their flight to Tokyo. Brian settles into a plushy, billowing blanket and loses himself in an astronomy magazine; he’s an engaged man now, an honest man in the eyes of society at large...and, far more importantly, his parents. Freddie pens lyrics in his notebook, humming disjointedly, napping like a cat when the mood strikes him. Roger snacks constantly and tries to get John chatting, but John is particularly subdued today, preoccupied, prone to gazing unfocusedly at the clouds that drift by outside and wringing his hands.

And you think, as you peer down into the glistening sapphire waters of the East China Sea: Brian’s a willow tree, Freddie’s a lightning storm, Roger is wildfire...but what is John?

Something deep, something beautiful and strong and constant and hidden.

The ocean, you decide as Queen’s private plane soars over the quicksilver waves that conceal the abyss. John is the ocean.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You didn’t have to stay, you know.”

John is lying on his back under a small grove of cherry blossom trees outside the hotel, sketching grey outlines of petals and arcing branches in a new notebook. He hasn’t given any sign that he heard you coming, doesn’t turn his head to see you. You freeze, startled.

“How’d you know it was me?!”

“You have very distinct footsteps. Dainty, yet purposeful.” He sets aside his notebook and sits up, crossing his long legs. “Why didn’t you go to lunch?”

“Because you didn’t. You turned down ramen, and you never turn down ramen. I was worried. Plus someone has to make sure a roving posse of screaming Japanese girls doesn’t carry you off.”

That makes him laugh. The Japanese fans are inexplicably obsessed with John; or maybe it’s not so inexplicable, maybe they just have a better eye for quiet, unassuming wonders. “Always so thoughtful.”

You sit down beside him, open a pack of chocolate-flavored Pocky and offer John a piece, frown when he lights a cigarette instead. “That’s really bad for you. Seriously. You should quit.”

“At last. One thing you and Brian agree on.” He exhales a gale of smoke and peers up at the cherry blossoms.

“John?”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t break up with Veronica, did you?” Chrissie and Mary didn’t mention anything about her tearful devastation, and you suspect they would have had John gone through with it.

He sighs. “I did not.”

“And...are we feeling...okay about that...?”

He twirls the cigarette nervously between his fingers. After a silence, he surrenders. “Look, I haven’t told anybody yet, but I’d tell you first anyway. So here it goes.” He glances over at you guiltily, gloomily, wishing he could disappear. “I didn’t break up with Veronica because she’s pregnant.”

Your jaw falls open. A half-eaten stick of Pocky rolls out of your mouth and onto the grass. She’s what? She’s WHAT?

“Please don’t be disappointed,” John pleads. “I’m disappointed in myself enough for both of us, believe me.”

“I...I...I’m not disappointed, John, I’m just...” You blink at him. “Oh my god.”

He nods, acquiescent. “I’m in complete agreement.”

You shake your head, gaping at him, stunned; and suddenly you don’t like what you’re feeling at all. Because it isn’t just shock and horror, it isn’t just apprehension. You hate the thought of him touching her, of her delicate white hands on him, of innocence stripped away and memories impressed into muscle, into soul.

Because you know she’s not right for him. Because you know he doesn’t love her the way he should. Because you want the best for him and always have.

Oh, there’s a comforting rationale; but is it true?

And then: You fucking hypocrite. Since when do you get an opinion on who anyone sleeps with?

“It must have happened in January,” John says miserably. “Right before we left for the States. She didn’t want to tell me over the phone...I guess maybe she thought if she did I’d never come back. So she told me as soon as I landed in London. And here we all are.”

You stare down at your shoes, trying to compose yourself. “What are you going to do?”

“There’s only one option.”

“Actually, there are quite a few. But I know you’d never consider them.” John’s father died when he was ten, and he never talks about it; which is precisely how you know it’s a wound that can’t ever heal, a gash that goes straight down to the bone. He would never leave his child, never banish them to some dusty, repressed corner of his consciousness while he moves on with a blissfully unencumbered life. You whisper: “I’m so fucking sorry, John.”

That snaps something in him, something he was choking back. He buries his face in his hands. “What the fuck am I doing?” he moans. “I’m twenty-three years old, I’m broke, I turned down loads of jobs, good jobs, as an electrical engineer, I’ve somehow become the bassist in an increasingly famous rock band...I mean, how the hell did this happen? How did any of this happen?”

“It’ll be okay,” you insist with newfound resolve. I have to save him. I have to protect him.

John rolls those soft greyish eyes, hopeless, distraught. “Sure.”

“It will be, I promise you. The tour is going great. I had my doubts about the band when I first met you, I’ll admit it, I didn’t know if there was a future for Queen. But you’ve made me a believer. You’ve made millions of people all over the world believers. The money will keep rolling in, Queen will finally start seeing some of it, you won’t be broke forever. You’ll have two more months on the road and then we’ll be back in London, and it’ll be on to recording the next album, more shows, more money...the hard times are almost over, John. You can do this. And I’ll help you.”

His brow furrows. “You will?”

“Of course. If it’s easier for Veronica, it’ll be easier for you. So I’ll be extra friendly, take her to appointments when you’re busy, help organize the wedding, babysit the littlest Deacon whenever she needs me to. We’ll get through this. I’ll be there to help every step of the way.”

“You’re happy, aren’t you?” he asks suddenly. “You and Roger. You aren’t going anywhere.” He’s reading you closely, sifting through your words and forced smile for something deeper.

“I’m happy,” you assure him. “You don’t need to be concerned about that. I’m staying with the band, I’m staying in London. Whenever Queen is home, that is.”

He nods, but perhaps that wasn’t exactly what he was looking for. He finally accepts a piece of Pocky from you and takes a bite. “Then I guess we’ll plan for a summer wedding.”

“You could do a double one with Brian and Chrissie.”

He laughs so hard he almost inhales the Pocky, then doubles over coughing. “I think Bri would rather slit his own throat, but a charming thought. Thank you for that. Bravo.”

You smile at John, genuinely this time. “You’re going to be an amazing father. I hope you aren’t worried about that part of it, at least.”

“Will you be their godparent?”

“What? Me?!”

“Yeah. Because, you know...” John averts his gaze. “You’d be the person I would want to raise them if something happened to me and Veronica. You’re the most dedicated, stubborn, capable, nurturing, remarkable person I’ve ever met. You’re my best friend. And maybe Roger’s your best friend and you’re his, and that’s all fine, that’s alright, but you’re still mine.”

“Roger is a lot of incredible things, but he’s not my best friend.” You lie flat on the grass and lace your hands behind your head, tracking the weightless snowy clouds as they float by above. When did we become adults? When did all of these rules catch up to us? “I would be honored to be your child’s godparent.”

John plops down beside you. “Don’t tell the others yet, okay? I want to wait until the tour’s over. I don’t want them to panic and think I’m leaving and try to replace me or anything.”

“They wouldn’t try to replace you, John.”

“No?” he asks doubtfully.

“No. Roger knows it, Fred knows it, I think even Bri knows it.” You reach out and weave a lock of his hair through your fingers as cherry blossom petals tumble in the breeze. “You’re irreplaceable.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Sod,” Freddie mocks. “That’s the best you could do? Really? Sod?”

Roger flings up his hands in frustration. “Freddie, I’ve got like a million Cs!”

“You could have done cod,” Brian notes, sipping a cup of hot tea. “Cods, actually.”

Roger glowers down at his Scrabble tiles. “Fuck.”

“And I’m so delighted he didn’t!” You place your tiles, expanding on sod to make rhapsody. John high-fives you and records the points in his notebook. Freddie and Brian groan in defeat.

“What the hell is a rhapsody?!” Roger snatches the Official Scrabble Dictionary off the table and flips through it.

“It’s a, like a...” Freddie waves his cigarette, scattering smoke through the air. “It’s like an epic poem. Or an opera. With lots of bizarre, different parts all pieced together.”

“That sounds made up.”

Freddie cackles. “Darling, it’s a real thing, I swear!”

Roger locates the pertinent page in the Scrabble Dictionary and his shoulders slump. “Goddammit. Fucking...too smart...nerdy...college-educated...girlfriend.” He drags you into his lap and kisses your temple. “You’re lucky you’re cute. I don’t usually tolerate being conquered like this.”

Bri smirks from behind his teacup. “I rather think you conquered her, Rog.”

“Oh, a rare good one from Bri!” Freddie trills as everyone laughs, although John soon busies himself with clearing empty bottles and cigarette butts off the table.

“Yes,” Roger agrees. “Against her superior judgment, I finally won her over. Only took eight months. Which is approximately...wait, let me count...seven and a half months longer than it has ever taken me before.”

You trace your fingertips across his stubbled cheeks, his soft lips, his little dark blond tufts of sideburns. “No one knows how to say no to you, do they?”

“It’s impossible. I’m too charming. Blindingly heroic. Perseus in the flesh.” He kisses your forehead and steadies you, his hands on your waist, as the brakes squeal and the tour bus lurches to a halt.

Freddie leaps to his feet and claps. “Alright, darlings! Off to the new digs we go. Deaky, hand me my shoes, they’re under the table...yes, right there...and toss over Brian’s hideous clogs as well.”

You help the roadies and the band drag luggage into the hotel (no small feat, as the elevator is out of order), unpack your toothbrush and hairbrush and a floral-patterned dress for dinner, giggle as you listen to Roger’s feral, raspy singing in the shower. It’s something about loving a car, how perfectly on-brand for him. Then Roger goes to fetch Freddie and John for dinner while you find Brian. Bri is collapsed on his bed in a striped t-shirt and jeans, freshly-washed and dewy, gazing up at the ceiling in a daze.

You tap gently on the doorframe. “Bri? You want to join us for dinner? There’s a sushi place a few blocks away that’s a local legend, apparently. Lots of veggie options too.”

He looks over at you. You haven’t spoken about the argument since you had it two months ago. Brian sometimes grimaces or smirks or rolls his willowy viridescent eyes, but he never says anything; not to you, and not to Roger as far as you’re aware. “I’m sorry,” he says simply. “I may have been out of line before. Incorrect, even.”

“No need to apologize, Bri. I’ve forgotten all about it.” You haven’t, but there’s no reason for Brian to know that.

“I just want what’s best for you. For you to be happy.”

“I know, Brian.” You cross the room and take his long, moon-white, artful hands in your own. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ll be in the wedding party, won’t you? I know Chris will ask.”

“Of course. And I’ll proudly wear whatever dreadfully tacky and uncomfortable bridesmaid dresses she picks out.”

“Even if they’re a frightful shimmery green?”

“Oh god.” You swallow noisily. “I’ll still do it. And then burn the photos.”

Brian chuckles as he climbs out of bed. “In a stroke of luck, I suspect she’ll ask you to take the pictures. So you can avoid being in them as much as you’d like. And conveniently lose the unflattering ones.”

You study him thoughtfully. “Are you happy, Brian?”

“I am. Chrissie’s excited, my parents are thrilled, they’ll be sitting in the front row with the proudest smiles you’ve ever seen. Next comes a proper house, and children, and all the rest of it.” But something in those mellow olivey eyes is resigned, melancholy. His words from two months ago echo in your skull: It’s necessary. It’s self-preservation. Because sometimes the people who set us on fire would burn us alive.

“Do you still think about New Orleans?” you ask softly. About the woman he’d fallen in love with there before you ever met Queen, about the utopian passion he never quite stops searching for. Everyone has demons, secrets, shadowy trenches like cracks in porcelain; you’ve learned all about Brian’s. What about Roger’s? What about mine?

He shrugs, staring out the window at the dusky skyline of Yokohama. “Maybe I’ll always think about New Orleans. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have to grow up and start taking responsibility.”

“Responsibility,” you reply cynically, before you can stop yourself. “Is that all love is about anymore?”

“Not for you. Not for Roger. You both want your freedom, your adventure, your true and uncomplicated love. And you’ll get to keep it.”

For now. But you don’t say that. Instead, you smile appeasingly and gesture for Brian to follow you out into the hallway.

The others are waiting by the door to the stairwell: John in a smart grey suit, Freddie in his black-and-yellow jacket, Roger in sunglasses and a ridiculous leopard-print vest he’d dug out of a trashcan somewhere and precariously tall boots.

“At last, Nurse Nightingale and my darling Brian!” Freddie chirps. “Come on, I’m positively famished, and also I’ve bet five pounds that I can consume more sake shots than Roger and I could really use the dough.”

Roger pushes through the door, leading the way. “Prepare to lose!”

“Roger, please,” you implore. “New livers don’t grow on trees, and I can’t give you half of mine. I’m the wrong blood type.”

Roger laughs as he bounds down the steps, then whirls to grin up at you as he walks backwards. “Relax, Deaks will share! You’re type A, aren’t you John—?”

Roger’s heel slips and he plummets down the flight of stairs. He tumbles as the four of you shriek in horror and bolt after him, slams into the wall of the landing, ricochets off of it and plunges down the next flight as well. There’s blood, you think frenziedly as you descend, screaming Roger’s name. There’s blood all over the steps.

Roger, crumpled on the maroon-streaked landing, slowly unravels and groans. He glances down, appraises himself, then hammers his left fist against the concrete wall of the stairwell, roaring in raw agony and rage. “No no no no no no!”

“Roger—!”

And then you see it.

Roger’s right arm hangs uselessly, unnaturally, his snapped radius bloody and splitting through the skin.

[statementlou]

I'm not gonna lie, Louis referring to his queer fans or the fact the he has them as "weird" would be pretty disheartening. one thing was to do that in 2014 around the great gay war, with so many indicators that they were actively fighting. another is to do this now, in 2023. and even a straight artist not for one second to consider his lyrics could resonate with queer fans regardless of larry would be a bit shitty. I'm just saying that whatever he says is gonna be VERY hard to believe he was forced to. And if he openly shits on Harry it's safe to say his career - as the chance of 1D ever reunite even for a quick photo - is over.

well I absolutely agree that he will not have been 'forced' to say anything that he says in this movie. And I hear where you are coming from, but I just think the catastrophizing is unnecessary. First of all, we have ONE (1) almost certainly made up and definitely purposefully shit stirring anon (and a slow news day) to thank for all this discourse, we have no idea yet what will be in the movie, and it is always weird to me that people are so ready to believe the worst when I, personally, feel like Louis always comes through for me and gives me the BEST. Have FAITH in LOUIS!! WHEN does he let us down like literally WHEN???? (Unless all you care about is him coming out/ ending it/ confirming larry, in which case, IDK, get your priorities right and appreciate what's in front of you? Cause those things are not happening.) But anyway...

I can completely imagine a scenario in which Louis says he thinks it's weird that so many queers feel inspired by him and it makes me want to hug him forever- because I think he does find it weird and remarkable. It makes me think of that one 1D days receipt where someone said they met him on the street and told him he inspired them as a gay and he was like "I don't see how with the way things are but that means a lot." I think that was probably made up, but also it rings true to me, I feel like he does find it wild that with the public face of everything we still are here and love him so much and see what we do in him and think he's brave. As for the Harry thing, anything he says about him will be taken wrong and distorted and picked on by everyone, if he says anything at all less than "he's my husband and has never done anything wrong in his entire life he is perfect" people will say he's "shitting on Harry"; but that said, Louis is an intelligent media trained person, why are people seriously debating whether he's gonna get on screen and talk shit about Harry Styles?! also literally when in Louis' entire life has he ever said one single bad thing about Harry come on It's not fucking realistic and that alone should tell you that that anon either made all that up or it's just a really bad interpretation of whatever was actually said because the person, like everyone else around here, was so busy expecting the worst that they couldn't just chill and listen to Louis. Like, worst case scenario, let's say he does say that Harry was being offered some really incredible opportunities and he wanted to take them and Louis hadn't really thought about what he would do after the band and so when that happened he felt blindsided and adrift by suddenly not having his ever waking moment scheduled and accounted for (as Liam has also talked about experiencing), would that be so horrible??? That sounds like real life stuff and I don't personally think anyone is the bad guy there or it's horrible to say, but also I BET HE DOESN'T SAY THAT. IDK man, I just think we should all calm down and wait and see, but I'm REALLY not worried that the bombshell of this movie will be Louis coming out as being against Harry or talking shit about his fans, you know?! Come ON. I expect that with the premieres before the release we're going to get a whole lot more overwrought interpretations of things but I don't buy it; I look forward to hearing what Louis has to say and I will be real surprised if it isn't reasonable and interesting and probably mostly NOT THAT BIG A DEAL

[loustyleshtommo]

Remember how I was analysing Louis’s Walls album structure and calling it ‘Days of Future Past’ & ‘Beginning of the End’ ? Yeah. So...

Here’s my #LouTay conSPiracY’s take on some curious LYRICS going backwards starting from his a copy of a copy of a copy and her No body, No crime

Caring only kills, love

No. No body, no crime.

A kiss won’t bring it back

I ain’t letting up until the day I die.

Only the Brave: It’s the church of burnt romances

Mirrorball: I’m still a believer and I don’t know why.

KMM: You kill my mind

LWYMMD: Honey, I rose up from the dead.

KMM: Raise my body back to life

LWYMMD: I do it all the time.

KMM: And I don’t know what I’d do without you now

Willow: Wait for the signal and I’ll meet you after dark

So 🤡 in me thinks Louis’s Walls album was the first signal. Why? Well, in my previous #loutay posts I’ve already talked at length about folklore track 8 being a hoax and H’s infamous tweet with Louis’s Then & Now meme and the link to Louis’s Walls album track 8 Always You AND:

Willow: Every bait and switch was a work of art

This is where Everyone in Queen’s Court Adores Babie expansion pack comes into play

Exhibit 1: Shawn Mendes Lost In Japan

Always You: I went to gay street in Amsterdam without you

Looking through your timeline, seeing all the rainbow

Always You: I went to Tokyo to let it go

I’m a couple hundreds miles from Japan tonight. I was thinking I could fly I’d be coming right back home to you to your hotel tonight

Perfect: If you like causing trouble up in hotel room, and if you like having secret little rendezvous, if you like to do the things you know that we shouldn’t do, baby, I’m perfect. Baby, I’m perfect for you

Plus, the thing is, Louis & Taylor have been telling us all along (H, too)

Willow: Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind

Fireproof: I think I’m gonna win this time, riding on the wind and I won’t give up.

False God: We might just get away with this

Fireproof: I think I’m gonna win this time. I roll, and I roll til I change my luck

Stockholm’s Syndrome: Baby, I’ll never leave if you keep holding me this way

I did something bad: They never see it coming what I do next

So even if Louis just sang,

You won’t be the first or the last to bleed

What he really means is:

These High Walls, They Came Up Short. Now I Stand Taller Than Them All.

These High Walls Never Broke My Soul And I

I Watch Them All Come Falling Down

I Watch Them All Come Falling Down

For You

🤡

ps. while LouTay have been playing kitten and CAT (🦊 🦊) with the industry in I Know Places to bait all these cynical clones & hunters with cellphones so ‘they’ll be chasing their tails trying to track us down’

Fine Line be super busy making good on They say, “She’s gone too far this time”

[bluejeanlouis]

COMING SOON: The Yellow Roof, 1970s AU by kiddle

Louis is a gifted musician spending his days on the wrong side of a drive-thru window. Harry is the lead singer of a band in need of a little talent. Their big break is a thousand miles away. 

Preview under the cut:

With a deep sigh, Louis leaned his chair on its back two legs, propping one of his feet up next to the till in front of him. The sun was blinding between the trees of the neighbourhood across the street, striking his eyes through the drive-thru window. He yanked the blind closed even though he wasn’t supposed to when the Fotomat was open. But there was no one around and his ability to give a shit had decreased significantly today. Slurping on the can of Coke he brought with him, he pulled out his lyric book.

Louis was not a poet. In fact, the pretentious and dull poetry class he took in his second semester at college was detrimental in his decision to drop out a year later. He didn’t like the confusion of poetry and the rules despite being an art form that claimed to be free of them. Don’t get him wrong, he was confident in his own writing, he just didn’t want to be taught how to do it.

But one look under the cover of that notebook would reveal pages and pages of poetic garbage. Some of it was great, and a couple had even ended up as actual songs back when Louis was performing solo at bars before he gave up on that too. Most of it was scribbled chicken scratch. That was just his process.

He held the notebook against his knees, tracing dark lines across the last words he wrote last night with his pen. It was some bullshit angsty heartbreak harnessed from his high school first love mixed with the anger of being sacked from a band that he was the best instrumentalist in. Sometimes that kind of emotion makes for a perfect writing session, and sometimes it’s a diary entry you never want to see the light of day.

Louis bit the end of his pen, rereading the words on his page. ‘Heart’ had to be the most overused word in love songs, and he had it down in every verse and the chorus. Love songs weren’t even what he wanted to write about. It wasn’t the only feeling out there. It sure as hell wasn’t the most predominant one in his mind.

A loud and abrupt knock on the window made Louis nearly leap out of his seat. His notebook and pen tumbled to the ground as he dropped his feet from the desk. He yanked on the string to make the blind spring back up, knocking his Coke over in the process. He picked it up just as quick, groaning at the mess it made. All the commotion caused the stack of pickup envelopes next to the widow to splay out over the desk in front of him. Now that the customer could see him, he tried to push him all out of the way before he slid the window open.

“Hi, welcome to— Shit!”

One of the envelopes had landed in the small puddle of spilled Coke. He tried to wipe it off on his jeans as quickly as he could before returning it to the scattered pile with the others. Once he finally composed himself, he tried to greet the customer properly.

But then his face fell to disgust.

“What are you doing here?”

“You left so quickly yesterday, we didn’t have the chance to talk,” said Harry, the lead singer of Louis’ former going-nowhere band. Harry had one hand casually rested on the steering wheel, the other elbow poking out the window, and sunglasses sitting low on his nose. Louis hated how effortlessly cool he could always look. It made him the perfect goddamn lead singer.

Louis rolled his eyes. “What did you want me to do? Beg for you to let me stay? ‘You’re out of the band’ was pretty loud and clear.”

“I mean, I thought we could have a discussion about it.”

“So you showed up to my work to have a discussion about it?” He hunched over so just his head was sticking out the window, his fist squished into his cheek to hold his head up.

“You wouldn’t answer the phone last night.”

“Take a hint,” he snapped, then slid the window shut with enough force to make it bounce halfway open again. He pushed it the rest of the way closed in a huff.

But Harry hadn’t driven away yet, so Louis slumped over in his chair and refused to look in his direction. Why the hell would he show up here? Just to rub it in his face? The new guy always loses the band argument. Louis was over it, and he had the faint remnants of a hangover to prove it.

He took a swig of his Coke that was now almost empty. No one ever left any napkins around here, but a few tissues seemed to do the trick to sop up that puddle. As he tried to avoid getting sticky hands, Louis could see Harry getting out of his car in the bottom corner of his eye. Then he heard the window opening again.

“Louis, listen to me,” Harry pressed. He had his hand in the way so Louis couldn’t shut it, but it did cross Louis’ mind to crush his fingers just to get him out of here.

“Go away,” he stated, pulling the roller blind between them. If only it was soundproof.

The blind sprung up again, revealing a wildly frustrated Harry on one side and an indifferent Louis on the other. He was pretending to read a copy of Vogue that one of the girls from the after-school shift left behind last night.

“We have a meeting with a record company in L.A. and they’re expecting a four-piece to show up. There’s no time to find a new bassist, so you’re back in the band.”

Louis folded down one corner and peeked his eye over Carrie Fisher’s head.

“How’d you get a meeting? The band sucks.”

Harry stared at him, angrily chewing on his lip, then turned around with a huff. “Fuck you,” he muttered, opening his car door.

Louis waited for him to start the engine and leave, but then the words “L.A.” and “record company” flashed with lights and sirens in his mind, and he imagined this opportunity driving off and never looking back.

“Wait!” Louis called out, tossing the magazine to the side and launching himself out the back door. He ran across the front of the car and slammed his hands on the hood so Harry couldn’t move the car an inch further. They eyed each other, and when Louis trusted that Harry wouldn’t speed off the moment he moved, Louis ran around to the passenger seat and got in.

Harry shook his head, both hands gripped tight on the steering wheel. “I’ve been dealing with your bullshit for ten years, man,” he said.

So maybe Louis wasn’t being totally truthful about what happened with the band.

Louis met Harry in his first year of middle school. They ended up in the same gym class, which was hell for every twelve-year-old, but for people like Louis and Harry, it was just a little too much to bear. They found skillful ways to ditch whenever possible, especially when it came to running the mile. Sometimes they’d hang out near the back of the group when everyone was filling out the gym doors, then slip out the side and circle the building before the teacher saw. The equipment closet was full of plenty of hiding spaces that begged to be taken advantage of. The best days were when they had a substitute who wouldn’t even notice that they never came back from a bathroom break in the change room.

In high school, they drifted, hanging out in the same group of freaks and burnouts, but not often with each other. They’d find themselves at the same parties and bickering in the same cars full of friends, but that initial bond had faded. Once college rolled around, they weren’t surprised to find out they’d be going to the same state school, but discovering their dorms were across the hall from each other was quite the shock.

They had become inseparable again, except for the inevitable monthly fights that left them not speaking to each other for days at a time. That went on for about two years until Louis dropped out and Harry continued with his literature degree. During that time, they hardly saw each other at all. Louis began to wonder if their friendship had only ever been one of convenience. But just as the year of 1972 was beginning, Louis got a phone call from that on-and-off best friend of his asking if he wanted to join his band.  

Harry and Louis fought from day one, but just as much as they hated each other’s guts, they loved each other too. Louis would still consider Harry his friend, but he would have no problem telling him what an insufferable bastard he was right to his face. It was a brotherly bond. Sort of.

“How’d you get the meeting?” Louis asked, turning sideways in his seat. “When is it?”

“We sent in our demo and they want to talk to us. That’s it,” he said. “The meeting is next week and they want all of us there.”

“Me included?”

“You’re on the demo.”

The demo was pretty shit if you asked Louis, but he decided to keep that to himself. They recorded it at their old college in the crummy basement studio run by students, and you could guess that by the first listen. Louis looked out at the empty parking lot ahead of them. He had memorized every detail of this parking lot. It had become the scenery for his life. He couldn’t wait until he never had to look at it again.

“Do you actually want me back in the band?” Louis wondered, sincerity in his voice for once.

“I—” Harry started, but didn’t look him in the eye. “I want to be at a place where you could be in the band without the two of us constantly at each other’s necks.”

“That would be nice, yeah,” Louis sighed.

They sat in silence, Louis weighing his options and Harry wondering if he really should’ve taken that ignored phone call as a hint.

“So, what, is this to discuss an album deal?” Louis asked, hoping more detail might help his decision.

“It’s to discuss our potential. They didn’t tell me a whole lot, but if they want to spend their time on us then they gotta have some hope.”

A car horn blared loudly behind them, an impatient customer waiting his turn to desperately develop the photos from his five-year-old’s birthday party, surely. It startled them, but that was Louis’ cue to get back to work, he supposed.

“Can I think about it?” Louis asked. He was already halfway out the door.

“Not for too long. We meet them next week.”

The horn blared again.

“One second!” Louis called out. The guy in the car flipped him the bird and Louis wasn’t hesitant to send him one right back.

“What’s the label?”

“CBS,” Harry said.

Shit, Louis thought. CBS was no joke.

“Move your fucking car!” the guy behind them hollered out his window.

Harry glanced at the angry face in his rear-view mirror, then ignored it completely. Louis looked like he was about to leave, but Harry grabbed his arm to stop him. “Before you go, take this.” He dropped a roll of film into Louis’ open palm.

Louis looked at it curiously, his other hand on the door handle. “What’s this?”

Harry laughed. “Photos I need to get developed. This is a Fotomat, is it not?”

“It is,” Louis said slowly.

“I’ll be back in twenty-four hours,” Harry said, plucking his sunglasses off the dash and sliding them onto his face. “For those photos and for an answer.”

[aion-rsa]

How The Rolling Stones’ Exile on Main Street Earned Its Rep

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Apple TV+’s docuseries 1971: The Year That Music Changed Everything makes it seem like The Rolling Stones’ Exile On Main Street album was more fun to record than listen to, and that sets a high standard. The record distills the band’s sounds, from acoustic world music political ballads, through deep heartfelt blues, to honky tonk so funky you have to shake your ass. The group plays country, Southern blues, R&B, and the almost-punk-before-punk “Rip This Joint.” “Tumbling Dice,” is a radio staple. Keith Richards even took the lead vocals on a track to keep you happy. There was so much material, it came out as a double album. What could be more fun than that?

Richards’ Nellcôte mansion, on the Côte d’Azur in the South of France, was the hardest rocking musical getaway paradise in 1971. It was a Rock and Roll Main Street, and even the most mainstream players mainlined the exile vibe. Guitar god Eric Clapton and underground country legend Gram Parsons mixed drinks and drugs with movie stars like James Caan and Faye Dunaway, while playwright Terry Southern stopped taking note, according to Robert Greenfield’s book Exile on Main Street: A Season In Hell With The Rolling Stones. 

William S. Burroughs inspired Mick Jagger to cut and paste a word collage together to form the lyrics to “Casino Boogie.” Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr dropped by the almost-week-long afterparty for Jagger’s wedding to Nicaraguan-born model Bianca Pérez Morena de Macias in Saint-Tropez. John Lennon, who was on methadone treatment, reputedly threw up at the foot of the grand staircase and passed out in it.

“The sunshine bores the daylights out of me,” Jagger sings on “Rocks Off,” the album’s opening song. The Rolling Stones strolled through their recent past darkly. The murder of Meredith Hunter at the Altamont speedway concert in late 1969 signaled, to many, the death of decade’s peace-and-love counterculture. But the band’s troubles went all the way back to the Redlands drug bust of 1967, and the death of Brian Jones. Adversity worked well, creatively, for the Stones, and they continued to pump out classics like “Gimme Shelter” in 1969, and controversy like “Brown Sugar” in 1971. Sticky Fingers, their ninth album, hung nicely at the top of the charts on both sides of the Atlantic.

The songs, and Allen Klein’s aggressive managerial money-making maneuvers, put the band in the 93% tax bracket for Britain’s highest earners. The Stones owed more than they could pay. To avoid penalties, they moved to France. Mick went to Paris. Mick Taylor, Bill Wyman and Charlie Watts bought or rented places along the French Riviera. Richards and his girlfriend, German-Italian actress and model Anita Pallenberg, moved into Nellcôte, a villa in Villefranche-sur-Mer, near Nice. During the Nazi occupation of France during World War II, the seaside mansion was the headquarters of the local Gestapo. Swastikas were carved into floor vents, staircases and ventilator grates.

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As pointed out in 1971: The Year That Music Changed Everything, the Stones had recently signed with Atlantic Records, and the label wanted an album. The band scoured the Riviera for a suitable recording studio, but wound up parking their mobile studio next to Keith’s house. Richards transformed the basement into a recording studio, and the band stole electricity from the railway tracks across the street to power amplifiers and the mobile recording truck. 

The layout wasn’t the best. Bill Wyman, who is only credited for eight of the album’s songs on bass, plugged into an amp which was mic’d up in the hallway. Producer Jimmy Miller ended each take by running from the truck into the basement to check sound. The humidity caused the guitars to go out of tune. This gave the album its working title: “Tropical Disease.” The song “Ventilator Blues” was inspired by the conditions.

The band also had to deal with Keith’s erratic schedule. “I never plan anything,” Richards says in the documentary Stones in Exile. “Mick needs to know what he’s going to do tomorrow. Whereas I’m just happy to wake up and see who’s hanging around. Mick’s rock; I’m roll.” Richards, Taylor, Watts, pianist Nicky Hopkins, saxophonist Bobby Keys, drummer Jimmy Miller, and horn player Jim Price would jam all night while engineer Andy Johns ran the reels. Sessions would start when the guitarist rolled out of bed, or before he slipped off to put his son Marlon to sleep. After that Keith might pull a disappearing act, playing guitar in the un-mic’d second floor bathroom, or passing out. Richards was open about pot and alcohol, sharing liberally, but quiet about his heroin use.

Richards got clean in the spring of 1971, but hurt his back in a go-kart accident, according to Greenfield’s book. His vehicle flipped while racing his friend Tommy Weber at a track in Cannes. Richards took morphine for the pain, and within a few months, was using again. For sessions, he’d down a Mandrax, which is like a Quaalude, with whiskey. Charlie Watts was drinking brandy until he was past sloppy, and Jagger was taking speed to keep up with the hours Keith set. It was Richards’ place, and Mick was almost a hostage. When he left, it seemed nothing got done. Richards, left alone, could be downright dangerous. He almost burned himself, Anita and the entire house down when he fell asleep with a lit cigarette.

Richards was buying pure, uncut heroin from Castilian dealers. He was getting it by the kilo, and it became part of the social regimen of the villa. He shared so regularly with Gram Parsons that Mick got jealous, professionally. Parsons wanted Richards to produce his next album and join him on tour, which would have left the Stones without their guitarist for two years. Parsons was quietly asked to leave. Drugs split the Stones into two camps: Jagger, Wyman and Watts stuck to pills, booze and softer drugs. Richards, Taylor, producer Jimmy Miller, sax player Bobby Keys and engineer Andy Johns shot dope.

It cost them their gear. Wyman’s bass, Keys’ saxophone and nine of Richards’ guitars were stolen by dealers from Marseille who were owed money, while the entourage was watching television during the day. The Stones’ lawyers bribed local police to keep the party going, but even the most corrupt French cops, like Captain Louis Renault in Casablanca, have their limits. Besides, the Stones were welcomed in France because they were rich rock stars who were going to spend lots of money. If all their cash went to illegal and nontaxable drugs, the French government didn’t have much use for them.

The tipping point seems to have come with Anita Pallenberg. She maintained a steadily rocky relationship with the Stones. Richards stole, or saved, her from a paranoid and abusive Brian Jones, and there were rumors Jagger had an affair with her while filming Nic Roeg’s Performance in 1968. According to Greenfield’s book, Mick also slept with her while Richards was on the nod during the Exile sessions. Police came knocking to ask about a claim that Pallenberg had given heroin to the 14-year-old daughter of the villa’s chef. 

The French police left without validating the charge, but said they’d be back to have a better look around the mansion. Richards and Pallenberg took off on his speedboat, fittingly named Mandrax II. The rest of the band slipped out soon after with the tapes. Pallenberg and Richards were charged with possession of heroin with intent to traffic in 1973. They were then exiled from France for the next two years.

The party continued when the Rolling Stones reconvened in Sunset Sound studios in Los Angeles. The band tossed TVs off the balconies of hotel rooms with Marc Bolan and Neil Young. The tapes for the album stretched from 1969 to 1972. The band edited hours of jams into song structure. Jagger scatted melodic placeholders for unfinished lyrics, and recruited session players like Billy Preston and Doctor John to fill in any sonic emptiness. The words to “Tumbling Dice,” for instance, were written last minute. The song has an unusual structure, as the verses become shorter, the choruses get longer. It may have Watts’ best drum performance.

Exile on Main Street contains some of Richards’ best guitar work. The album really belongs to Keith. “Happy” is almost entirely his. He’s on vocals, guitar and bass, with Miller on drums, Keys on maracas, overdubs from Taylor, and backing vocals from Jagger. “Sweet Black Angel” is a political love letter to civil rights activist Angela Davis. “Shake Your Hips” put the hair on ZZ Top’s lips. The album cover set the visual tone for punk. Some people claim it’s the Rolling Stones’ best work. It is a classic which catches them at their hedonistic peak. Its dirty, loosely played backing created an identifiable sound. The Stones’ first double LP, it is best heard in its entirety, and earned its street cred.

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1971: The Year Music Changed Everything is available to stream on Apple TV+ now.

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[1ddiscourseoftheday]

24 Oct 19

We Made It is out!! [literally redacted for length, me going on and on about how great the song is] But not just that, LT TOUR DATES ARE OUT!! The tour starts in Europe and the UK in March (the Apollo! Donny Dome!), goes international, then wraps up in North America in July, and most of the venues are small and the tickets are on sale in less then two weeks so basically, write your wills/bankruptcy paperwork now cause it's about to get real. Fans are already camping out in South America and TBH they might just have the right idea. We're told there will be "a few more dates" at a "later date" but not soon enough to ease this frenzy I'm guessing. Anyway WMI! The video is out too and continues but doesn't finish the story started in the KMM video- again there's a snippet of the next single at the end and it's Don't Let It Break Your Heart! DLIBYH was recently registered, showing Louis as a performer only, no writing credit, which was surprising. Not clear if he didn't write on it at all or just not enough of it to put his name on there. New writer of note who is credited: Wrabel, a singer songwriter who also runs their own label, Big Gay Records. Louis is in NYC doing promo. He sang at Sirius this morning (airs tomorrow). Also tomorrow Elvis Duran, and he records his Build Series interview in front of a small fan audience. He got papped, just a man, his bodyguard, and his latte casually strolling the streets, and then headed off to a fan meet and greet. If your heart isn't already in tatters from the many many moving fan accounts of Louis taking his time and connecting personally with and loving each one of the lucky fans, how about the picture of Louis jokingly flipping off the huge poster of his own face? And if that hasn't done you in, get ready for Louis asking to hold a baby named Louis and yeah. The cutest fucking Louis+baby pics you'll ever see [commentary redacted] Anyway coverage of the single: lots of quotes about the song and its nostalgic slant, Louis telling all kinds of stories about what inspired the lyrics, and I do mean all kinds! When more than one media outlet comment that he "has shared a few different stories behind what it could mean" you know it's getting shifty out there. So is about the fans, Eleanor, touring (that was a good one!), his mates, or "some other relationship" as one outlet offered? To quote Louis, "I think if the fans really listen to my lyrics you'll know what I'm singing about," and "this song is a message to my fans."

And on the topic of Harry, what is he up to? Well! He's is gonna be on Saturday Night Live on Nov 16, he's gonna fully take it over! That's right he's the host and musical guest and will get to introduce himself and you know he'll make the most of that... He'll be the 28th person to do the double duty which led to much being made of the 28, which led to people crying to Jeff to get the tweet about him being the 28th presenter performer deleted and sue the outlet for announcing it LMAO. Obviously that didn't happen because, what.

Liam's Christmas tune is out and it's a really lovely song! All I Want (for Christmas) was released midnight everywhere so technically not yet lots of places but you know, it's out. The lyric vid is on YouTube, it's the adorable tale of animated game of thrones Liam, his pink haired ex girlfriend (is that the NTMY girl?) and his new significant other, a giant fluffy wolf. And Liam performed tonight (not the new song it was before that.) It wasn't scheduled but he stepped in to fill Rita Ora's slot (she was taken ill and cancelled) to play at the Amazon Music Fashion Europe Event in Berlin. He plays the Kiss Haunted House Party tomorrow night at Wembley, which given that it's Halloween themed I don't expect the Christmas song but who knows.

A new version of NTMY was announced for midnight local time tonight, which it for sure is somewhere (see: Liam's song being out) but I don't see it and honestly it's busy today anyway. Tomorrow for that! But for today, the Niall and Lewis Capaldi friendship test video is out and whatever you were imagining and hoping it would be, it absolutely is. It's Quality Content indeed y'all. It doesn't have a best part, it's all the best part, buuuut Lewis making Niall turn bright red is pretty damn good. Niall will be on Graham Norton Nov 8 as a guest and performer.

[abundanceofsoph]

SkyFire 2: Chapter 8

Louis in NYC: June 2016

Word count: 2.5k

SkyFire 2 MASTERLIST

The song Louis and Rori write in this chapter is Leave a Light On by Tom Walker. I decided really early on in this fic that this song was going to be one of Aurora’s and I just think it’s beautiful

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The night after Niall left, Aurora woke with a start, sweat beading across her forehead and her left arm aching. She laid still in the darkness, staring up towards the ceiling as her chest heaved with every laboured breath. After a while she began to calm but after looking at the clock and seeing that it was around 4 in the morning she groaned, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep. She grabbed her phone off the bedside table and opened WhatsApp.

◊Aurora: Are you free?

◊Harry: I am. What are you doing up so early?

Instead of replying, she hit the call button at the top of the screen, waiting as the dial tone rang for a brief moment.

“What’s wrong love?” Harry asked.

“Sorry,” Aurora murmured. “Are you sure I’m not interrupting anything?”

“Not at all. We’re just broke for an early lunch,” Harry said. “Now tell me what’s got awake at 4am?”

Aurora sighed heavily, her heart already settling back into its normal rhythm, soothed by the familiar cadence of Harry’s voice. “Nightmare’s again.”

“Thought you said they were getting better?” he asked, concern thick in his voice and she could picture the way his brows would be lowered over his eyes.

“They were,” she sighed. “I think having Niall around all the time helped.”

“He went home yesterday?”

“Yeah,” she said.

“Saw you two went out on the town,” he chuckled. “Looked like fun.”

“It was. Felt like old times.”

“I’m glad you had fun…” his voice trailed off, struggling to keep up the light-hearted mood in the wake of his concern for her.

“I’ll be alright H. Just missing you.”

“I’ll be home before you know it,” he promised and she smiled softly, happy to hear him referring to the tower as home.

“Enough about me,” she said. “Tell me all about being a big movie star.”

He chuckled but told her all about being on set and how he was getting along with his co-stars. “Baby, I gotta get back to work,” he said after a while. “You gonna be able to sleep now?”

“Probably not,” she sighed. “Might just go downstairs and paint for a while.”

“Ok. I love you.”

“And I love you Harry.”

xXx

Aurora was in the kitchen a few days after her early morning talk with Harry. She was making a cup of tea, her back to the rest of the room where the open plan kitchen looked out across the large living room. She heard the elevator doors slide open over in the far corner of the room, paying it no mind, assuming it was one of the towers residence coming or going as they often did. She added a splash of milk to her mug and returned the carton to the fridge, almost dropping the bottle when a familiar voice yelled out. “Oi Oi!”

She spun around, her face already lighting up with a grin the moment her eyes landed on him. “Louis!” she screamed, running across the room to throw herself into his arms. “What are you doing here?” she asked as he spun her around, his bags forgotten at his feet.

“Missed you love,” he replied. “Got jealous that you spent 3 weeks straight with Irish and I had to come get my own quality time with ya.”

“Harry called, didn’t he?” she asked.

“He was just worried about you getting a bit lonely without him,” Louis explained, finally putting her back on her feet. “Don’t be mad at him.”

“I’m not mad,” Aurora argued. Louis laughed as she followed him into the living room, sitting down next to her on the sofa, folding his leg underneath him to turn and face her completely. “I’m not. I just wish everything would go back to normal. It’s not like I can be angry at him or my parents treating me like I’m broken. They’re not wrong.”

“You’re fine,” Louis scoffed. “There’s nothing wrong with needing to have people around you who care about you. H didn’t ask me to be here with you because he thinks you’ll fall apart on your own, he wanted me here because he feels guilty that he left right after the surgery.”

“I know he feels guilty not being here,” she said. “I think I worried him when I called him the night after Niall left.”

“Why’s that?” Louis asked, his hand resting on her knee.

“I have nightmares when I’m alone at night,” she explained. “Most nights that Niall was here I ended up crashing in his room because I didn’t want to be on my own.”

“Sounds like we’re gonna have plenty of sleepovers then,” Louis joked.

“I really am glad that you’re here, but I’m surprised you’re not out in California with Freddie.”

“I was,” he replied, “but my little sister needed me.”

“Thanks Lou.”

“Anytime, love.”

“He’s beautiful by the way,” Aurora added, happy to change the subject to something happier.

“Wanna see some more photos?” Louis asked, already pulling out his phone.

“Of course,” Rori laughed, leaning in to see Louis and the little baby on his screen. They spent the rest of the afternoon talking about Louis son and what the first few months of fatherhood had been like for him. Steve and Tony were both happy to find the pair in the living room when they arrived home in the early evening, having noticed the change in Rori’s mood since Niall had left the previous week.  They had JARVIS order pizza and the rest of the crew made their way up to the penthouse for dinner. Aurora really was glad to have Louis there and was grateful that Harry had called him. Over the years Louis had taken on the roll of older brother in her life and she had missed him in the months since the band had gone their separate ways.

Eventually it started to get late and slowly everyone excused themselves, heading off to bed one by one. Louis didn’t even pretend that he would be staying in one of the many guest rooms, and instead headed straight for Aurora’s room and dropped his bag at the end of the bed. Rori took her pyjamas into the bathroom to change and by the time she came back out, Louis had changed and was lying on Harry’s side of the bed. She climbed in next to him, a respectful distance between them which caused Louis to laugh.

“Get over here and give us a cuddle,” he said, opening his arms out as he turned on his side to face her. “You know Harold won’t mind.”

She let out her own chuckle, remembering how many times the two of them had fallen asleep on the tour bus or on green room couches together. Harry had of course never had a problem with it, knowing that there was nothing romantic about it and that they were just comfortable around each other. She scooted over towards the centre of the bed, letting Louis wrap his arms around her and she snuggled in against his chest. She fell asleep quickly, sleeping better than she had in weeks.

xXx

As was always the case when the two of them were together, Aurora and Louis spent more time goofing around and having fun than they did actually working. Even so they still managed to pull together a couple of songs they were happy with.

“Wanna take another pass at that house on the hill song we were messing with the other day?” Louis asked.

“Yeah sure thing,” Rori smiled back. “Take it from the second verse?”

Louis nodded and began strumming away on the guitar, Aurora joining in with her lyrics a few beats later.

Tell me what's been happening, what's been on your mind Lately, you've been searching for a darker place to hide That's alright But if you carry on spiralling, they'll be robbed from us I refuse to lose another friend to guns Just come home, don't let go

If you look into the distance, there's a house upon the hill Guidin' like a lighthouse To a place where you'll be safe to feel our grace 'Cause we've all made mistakes If you've lost your way

I will leave the light on

If you look into the distance, there's a house upon the hill Guidin' like a lighthouse It's a place where you'll be safe to feel our grace And if you've lost your way, if you've lost your way I will leave the light on And I know you're down and out now, but I need you to be brave Hidin' from the truth ain't gonna make this all okay I see your pain If you don't feel our grace and you've lost your way

I will leave the light on

“I’m thinking we should add a piano track,” Aurora suggested when she finished singing. She moved over to the upright piano and started putting together the right hand of the melody.

“Maybe go up here in the bridge,” Louis suggested. He nodded when Aurora tried it. “Yeah that’s better, kinda cuts through the melody nicely.”

“I like it,” Aurora agreed.

“Think you want to keep this one?” he asked when they finished.

“Nah, I still don’t really see myself doing the whole solo thing. You want it?”

“No thanks love,” Louis replied. “Don’t think it’s the direction I wanna head in.”

“Any idea what that is?” she asked.

“Not yet,” he sighed. “I know the others are chomping at it to get out there on their own, but I think I wanna ease it into.”

“I get that,” Rori said.

“Think you’re probably the only one that does get it. Everyone else is on my ass about writing and getting a solo album out as quick as possible.”

“Tell ‘em to fuck off, Lou.”

Louis let out a loud peel of laughter in response, rolling backwards where he was sitting on the floor. “Jesus I really did miss hanging out with you,” he finally said when he pulled himself together.

xXx

They were up on the roof one night, the hot summer air still hanging over the city even though the sun had set hours ago and they both lay on their backs staring up at the sky. Aurora’s head was cushioned on Louis chest, and she toed off her shoes, the hem of her dress covering her thighs.

“Hey Rors?” Louis asked, breaking the stillness of the evening. The sound of traffic below them floated up but given how high they were above the streets it was more of a soft background noise than it would have been down below.

“Yeah?” she replied, turning her head to the side, only able to see the underside of his chin as he continued looking up at the hint of stars above them.

“I never really asked you about the shooting because I didn’t want to upset you, but I was wondering if you ever wanted to talk about it?”

“For a while I kept trying to pretend it never happened,” she said, turning back to look at the darkness spread out above them. “I know that probably sounds ridiculous given that my hand was held together by metal plates and my shoulder was in pieces, but I couldn’t think about it at first. Then I started talking to Sam and it helped, so I started talking to Harry. I’m not ready to talk to the press or anything, but I think it helps to talk with the people around me.”

“What was it like?” Louis asked.

“Terrifying.” His hand lifted to comb through her hair while she spoke. “I was confused at first, but then once we all realised what was happening, we got under the tables and I had JARVIS send out an S.O.S.” She paused for a moment, thinking back to that day in the library. “I remember the bullets feeling hot, like a hot iron poker. I think I went into shock pretty quick and my head was spinning. I remember Pops lifting me up. His face is what I see in my nightmares most nights. The fear in his eyes was what made me realise I was dying. By the time I got to the hospital I’d lost consciousness, but they said I lost so much blood that it was close. And then I woke up and I couldn’t really believe I was alive, but my dads were there and so was Harry.”

“I hate that that happened to you,” Louis whispered. “When we found out what happened and they were trying to get Harry on a plane and cancel the show, we saw that photo of you in Steve’s arms and I kept thinking; what are we gonna do if you die?”

“I’m sorry, Lou. I forget that it wasn’t just me that went through hell that day.”

“Don’t ever apologise,” he told her. “I’m just glad you’re still here.”

“Me too.”

They both let the conversation drop, the silence wrapping back around them as they lay out in the summer night. Over the past few months, Aurora had found herself resenting how much Harry, Steve and Tony were hovering over her. She’d hated the way they watched her constantly as if afraid that the moment they turned away she would fall apart. She’d thought they saw her as weak and resented their pity. It was only now, lying in the darkness with Louis that she realised that everything they’d done was just their way of loving her and trying to protect her. So much focus was on her injuries, both physical and mental, that she often forgot how traumatising the shooting had been on all of them. How could she possibly blame them for being overprotective of her when they had so very nearly lost her. It wasn’t that she wasn’t able to look after herself, it was more that they wanted to help her in any way they could. She felt stupid for not realising any of this sooner considering how painfully obvious it now seemed.

“I can hear you thinking,” Louis muttered. “Care to share with the class?”

“Just thinking about how much you all love me,” Rori replied. “You’d really do anything to make sure I’m ok.”

“You best believe it,” he said, his hand resting on her shoulder, squeezing gently. “So, stop complaining and just let us help you.”

“I love you Lou,” she murmured, sitting up to look at him in the soft light. “Growing up I always wanted a brother and I’m so grateful I got the best one.”

“Love you too Rors.” He also sat up, pulling her into a tight hug. “I think we all blame ourselves for not being able to protect you. I know it’s not rational because how could anyone of us have stopped what happened, but seeing you hurting kills us. Please don’t feel like you need to put on a brave face around any of us, because we would walk through fire for you.”

Aurora didn’t say anything, still clinging to Louis and he let the silence once again fall around them, glad that he’d finally said everything that had been gnawing away at him for months and happy that she finally understood why her family was hovering over her.

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