#he meets louis and louis looks at him one (1) time in a vague way and marius is like damn he worships me. bro?????

[platoapproved]

honestly not even going to try to liveblog the marius-narrated sections of Queen of the Damned, vacillating wildly between utter boredom and profound disgust.

[blouisparadise]

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

1) Coming Home | Explicit | 2,605 words

It’s coming home, one way or another.

2) Intoxicated | Mature | 4,611 words

In which Louis opens a bar and Harry quickly becomes a regular.

3) Rosas | General Audiences | 4,774 words

Note: This fic has been locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson are friends until they are not.

4) Babydoll | Explicit | 4,775 words

Married to one of the most powerful men in the Mafia, Louis feels nothing but loneliness and dissatisfaction. Lucky for him, his security guard is there to fill the void. Literally.

5) Kiss Me, Don’t Let Go | Not Rated | 6,147 words

Harry turns around, and as soon as he does, he’s met with the most beautiful blue eyes he has ever seen. He doesn’t know why or how, but he finds himself walking towards the sweet vanilla scent that is filling all his senses and making him feel dizzy. “Hey, do you mind if I sit here while I wait for a table to clear up?”

6) Couldn't Forget You If I Tried | Explicit | 7,064 words

“What if he’s ugly?” Zayn leans in the doorway to the living room, raising an eyebrow and fixing Louis with a perplexed gaze. “Then you’ll call me and get me out of it,” Louis attempts a shrug as best as he can with the couch cushions laid out around him. Louis smirks, “I’m going to text him back.” Louis sits up, his eyebrows pull together, and he crafts a perfectly worded text back to the mysterious man he’s been texting with vaguely throughout the week. He writes: "7 is perfect. See you then. x" “I’m not bailing you out of this one. If he’s ugly and boring and terrible you’re just going to have to deal with it,” Zayn shakes his head and crosses his arms, his signal that the conversation is well and truly done. Louis doesn’t mind. He’s got a date.

7) If I Know What Love Is, It's Because Of You | Mature | 7,343 words

Larry sneaks off while filming 'this is us' to go skinny dipping. Leads to extracurricular activities.

8) Finally Free | Explicit | 7,044 words

Note: This fic has been locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Harry and Louis are room mates studying Psychology at university. They have just finished their final year and are on a pub crawl celebrating. Harry leaves the pub crawl early and Louis leaves with Eleanor, but when they get to the next pub Louis has had enough and dumps Eleanor and runs home to look for Harry and accidentally walks in on Harry stroking his cock and moaning Louis’ name. he smiles, walks to Harry... and then they shag!

9) Whatever Words I Say, However Long I Stay | Not Rated | 7,640 words

Louis is an actor, Harry is his soon to be ex husband's lawyer. There are a lot of things that can go wrong.

10) My Spiteful Ballerina | Mature | 7,809 words

Four times Harry wanted an explanation of Louis' hatred toward him, and one time Louis gives in, in Louis' fashion.

11) Only You Can Set My Heart On Fire | Explicit |9,164 words

Louis fights with management and storms off. Harry comes back and takes care of him. As louis gets lower, Harry becomes more dominant, changing the dynamics of their relationship going forward.

12) Bro To Hoe | Explicit | 9,395 words

The progression of Harry turning Louis into a ‘sissy’. When they first meet, Louis is very much one of the ‘lads’ with his facial hair and tracksuits downing pints of beer and making out with his girlfriend. But when Louis and his girlfriend break up, Harry decides to shoot his shot. Under his instruction and influence, the once ‘straight’ Louis Tomlinson becomes an effeminate pantie-clad bottom desperate to be stuffed full of Harry’s big fat cock.

13) Something ‘Bout You Makes Me Wanna Do Things That I Shouldn't | Explicit | 12,212 words

Note: this is the sequel to this fic.

Harry is infatuated with Louis, and now he found a new way to stalk him. He is still far away from him, but will that stop him from making the boy his?

14) Little Loon, To Love is to Obey | Explicit | 13,742 words

“Checkmate.” Louis grinned like a Cheshire cat that got the cream, relishing the sight of a flustered officer in front of him. He knocked down his opponent's chess piece, savouring the delicious sight of the officer's face contorting with exasperation, anger, and defeat. Louis knew he had won. A story about love, loyalty and indulgence.

15) If Control is My Religion… | Explicit | 14,000 words

“So just to recap, you’ve been vomiting every single morning, and then you seem to be fine for the rest of the day?” Louis nods. “Except for yesterday when Liam was eating a tuna sandwich after practice and it smelled vile. Who the hell even likes tuna sandwiches?” Niall sighs in the way that a disappointed parent might. “Louis, please don’t take this in the wrong way, because I’m not judging you at all. But is there any possibility that you’re pregnant?” Louis scoffs. Technically, it is possible. Louis’ known he was a male carrier since his routine physical when he was sixteen. But it isn’t actually possible, not really. He and Harry always use a condom. Except for that one day a few weeks ago when Louis had forgotten to buy more and they couldn’t wait. And the time the week before that when the condom had broke, but they both figured it was probably fine. Shit.

16) Love Is A Verb | Mature | 15,602 words

What happens when two strangers end up booking a weekend getaway at a cabin that's been double booked?

17) Does It Make You Feel Alive | Mature | 16,715 words

“Hello Mr. Tomlinson, I’m Harry. It’s nice to meet you” Harry walks towards Louis with an outstretched hand. Louis takes his hand and gives him a firm handshake, offering a polite smile. “Please just call me Louis, it’s nice to meet you as well Harry. Although under different circumstances, it would have been nice I suppose” Louis grunts slightly in pain as he chuckles. Harry frowns and sets down his bag, kneeling in front of Louis. “How about we get you that shot huh? Seems like you're in a lot of pain” Harry opens his bag and begins to rifle through it in search of the needed materials.

18) Behind The Scenes Of Us | Not Rated | 16,774 words

A day in the life of vlogger Louis, hockey player Harry, and their son, Oscar.

19) Smooth Like Chocolate | Explicit | 17,609 words

Omega Louis babysits Alpha Harry’s little siblings. Harry comes home from uni break to see this pretty omega baking cookies in his family home.

20) It's Coming Home | Explicit | 20,649 words

Louis arrives at the Euro final, full of anticipation for a night of celebration, camaraderie, and indulgence. As England faces off against Spain, he is ready to enjoy the game, relish the company of his friends, and perhaps let loose with a few drinks. The atmosphere in the VIP area is electrifying, and Louis is in high spirits, revelling in the opulence of the exclusive event. However, his world is turned upside down when a familiar, unmistakable laughter reaches his ears from the crowd. In that split second, a tidal wave of emotions crashes over him—fear, shock, anger, and frustration.

21) Beautiful, Dirty, Rich | Explicit | 23,534 words

Later that night, Louis arrived home and screamed into his pillow when he flopped onto his mattress. This prompted Niall to appear in the doorway with a concerned look on his face. A beer was being nursed carefully in his hand, blue eyes glassy from the booze. “Um… Are you okay?” It came out quietly like he was scared of spooking Louis. Louis dramatically flipped over to stare at his roommate, “I met the love of my life at work, but he’s a club member so it’s forbidden.” He whined loudly, jutting his bottom lip out in faux distress. “Shit Lou, you had me worried. Thought someone died or something,” The boy groaned, strolling over to plop himself onto the mattress, “So, tell me about this guy you wanna fuck.” “Ni he’s the sexiest person I’ve ever met. I want to be his trophy wife he shows off, and have all his babies, and be at his beck and call twenty-four seven,” All he received in return was an unimpressed stare, his friend rolling his eyes at the antics.

22) Bitter Ends Turn Sweet | Explicit | 27,134 words

Louis is an omega who's just completed his criminal justice degree and hoping to get into the alpha-dominated field of police work. He's spent four years hiding his secondary gender in fear that he'll not be taken seriously, or worse, not be able to continue with his chosen career path. After his summer internship is complete, he has plans to move to a more progressive city, where his secondary gender won't be an issue. He goes home to finally relax and spend the last summer with his mother and sisters before he moves and finds that his younger sister has a new best friend - a gorgeous alpha named Harry. With the singer-songwriter alpha in the house hanging around all summer long, Louis has to work even harder to keep his secondary gender hidden, which means drastic measures have to be taken. It certainly doesn't help that Harry is friendly, flirtatious, and extremely tactile...

23) Alone Together | Explicit | 28,320 words

Alpha Harry moves to Oslo, Norway and is perfectly content being mostly alone in a strange foreign land where he barely speaks the language, until a certain skittish blue-eyed boy seeks refuge in his video rental store. Almost immediately, Harry feels connected and protective over him. So what choice does he have when the boy drops other than to take him home and nurse him back to health?

24) About You | Explicit | 38,694 words

Streamer Louis and Harry have been friends for four years (except Louis has no idea what Harry looks like) when he finally surprises Harry by flying to LA for his birthday. They're best friends, they've always been best friends, but living together proves that maybe they've always been a little more than that as well.

25) Coração Selvage | Not Rated | 50,124 words

Louis keeps his eyes on the Wolf, careful about every movement he makes. He keeps his head tilted, deliberately showing the right side of his neck; the mating gland is on the other side, but this still shows he’s not a threat. Zayn answers at the third ring. “Lou?” he asks, confusion seeping into his voice. “Zed,” Louis says quietly, trying to keep his tone as calm as possible. “Zed, I’ve found Harry. He’s feral.”

26) All I've Ever Known | Not Rated | 85,738 words

“H-harry, I-I can’t” Louis put his empty cup on the coffee table and sighed, “I just don’t want to get into it yeah? Why can’t we just catch up, then you go your way, I’ll go mine and we can pretend that all is well and not have this conversation?” He sighed in defeat, he did not want Harry to make him feel, well anything ever again. He knew that talking about them, their relationship, would bring back all those feelings again and he would have to do something about it.

27) Invisible Strings | Explicit | 102,431 words

Louis has been struggling with his social anxiety for years now and is completely content with not leaving the house and having no social contacts. It gives him peace and safety. But when his new delivery guy, Harry, wants to get to know him Louis just can't resist. Together, they find new, creative ways to communicate despite his anxiety. Soon their connection deepens and Louis doesn't want his protected life anymore and instead tries to fight his social anxiety for the first time in years. But how can you change what became your personality over the years? And how can you feel safe again in a world that showed you exactly how dangerous it is outside? A story about finding your inner strength, healing and love that fights all odds.

28) Put A Little Love On Me | Explicit | 105,348 words

Louis is a YouTuber who tells true crime stories, driven by a desire to spread awareness of the horrors happening in the world. Harry, always cynical and annoying to everyone around him, is a detective assigned a case that forces him, against his will, to deal with a person he deeply despises. As their worlds inevitably collide, both are forced to confront themselves and the other person. And neither of them ever thought that something as frightening as what they both have to deal with would end up being the best thing they could find, between the purring of a kitten and the shared warmth under a blanket.

29) Part Time Lover (Shattering Your Illusions Of Love) | Not Rated | 108,174 words

They never warn you about how unexpected finding your soulmate can be. In fact, they only talk about how good and magical it is to have a life shared with this miracle. All the problems you have ever had in life disappear after you exchange your first look with the person assigned by the Universe to you. They never talk about how the people around you act about these soulmates — how they act strange or super excited… It's not practical to have a soulmate or to live with a destined couple. Harry was struck by the presence of his soulmate enough to not accept or be extremely happy about it, and it took a while to understand its importance. Both Louis and Nathan were affected by the influence of soulmates in their lives, but Louis chose one path and Nathan another. Louis was fine with never being involved with anyone like that, and Nathan longed for true love. The three become a clear example of how the Universe should stop interfering with worldly concerns.

30)��Streetlights In The Dark Blue | Mature | 120,867 words

Louis Tomlinson is an investigative journalist. He's spent the better part of his life researching the psyches of serial killers, and publishing articles to provide a deeper understanding into their methodologies. His pen-name, Orion, is well known around the globe. An alter-ego that keeps his pockets lined, and his identity private. That is, until a letter arrives at his home address. A letter containing a symbol. One dubbed by a serial killer who'd vanished three years prior. The postage stamp? Bainbridge Island. He'd spent so long peering into the darkness, it should be no surprise to discover that something had been looking back. The island presents a host of mysteries. It also houses a nosy witch, determined to break down his walls. And an FBI agent hellbent on shattering his carefully constructed world.

31) Siren Calls Me Home | Explicit | 133,762 words

Harry’s father had warned him. King Edward of Erendor had whispered his suspicions that Prince Louis of Blackmont was descended from the sirens, monsters from cautionary tales Harry was told as a child. A cruel, cold-hearted, and vicious nature wreathed in a breathtaking exterior, with coy smirks and slow blinks used to bend everyone to his will. His beauty was as well known as his cunning, his greed, and his ruthless grab for power. Time only proved the rumors to be true, and Harry made sure to keep his distance from the prince, never once speaking to him, and doing his best not to even meet his eye. Unfortunately, the ghosts of whispered warnings are powerless when one is up against the very tangible experience of being in Prince Louis’ presence.

32) Prisoner | Explicit | 140,445 words

When Louis Tomlinson heard the jury's verdict, the world crumbled before his glassy blue eyes. Sentenced to five years in prison for a medical malpractice he did not commit, he was transferred to a maximum security prison. His days were numbered, he knew. Harry Styles, his cellmate and the monarch of the prison. Sadist like no other. The fumes coming out of his mouth were pure, bitter, flaming poison. Louis swallowed, certain it would be the last time he would ever do so. His body convulsed and his legs felt tremulous. He could have peed himself from the fear. "When I asked for a cellmate to have fun with, I didn't imagine they'd bring me a little lamb." If God had created Adam, the devil had created Harry.

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

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[danielmolloystits]

looks just like an angel (Armand/Daniel, 1/1)

Summary:

The man in the chair—who Daniel assumes must be the priest, judging by his black button-down and white collar—looks up and smiles as he enters, all gleaming white teeth like one of those ads for toothpaste that four out of five dentists recommend. He has deep skin and dark, curly hair that he keeps having to brush away from his brown eyes. “Hello,” the priests greets him. “Welcome.” “Um,” Daniel says. “Hi.” — The drug den Daniel wakes up in after his encounter with Louis and Armand gets busted, and Armand decides to pretend to be the priest at his court-ordered N.A. meetings. That’s it. That’s the fic.

Pairing: M/M, Armand/Daniel Molloy (Devil's Minion) Rating: E WC: 5,555

It’s 9:52 in the morning. Daniel’s mouth tastes like he ate roadkill for breakfast and his head is pounding so loud he wants to tell it to come back with a warrant. Across from him sits his probation officer, whose name he’s pretty sure is Sarah, wielding a kind expression and a notepad that contains a quick summary of Daniel’s many sins.

So far, he likes Sarah. Sarah is nice. Sarah is telling him how she’s going to get him through this without it destroying his entire life. Well, she hasn’t used those precise words, exactly, but Daniel has been able to glean the gist of it—she’s been saying things like “first offense” and “dismiss the charges” and it has all vaguely sounded like it might not screw everything up for him forever.

So that’s something, at least.

“Of course, pretrial diversion does come with some requirements on your end,” Probably-Sarah is saying, with a look of what appears to be genuine concern on her face. Maybe she’s a good liar, but Daniel thinks there’s a chance she actually cares about the dumb hungover kid who’s half-sitting, half-melting in her office chair. “You’ll need to start attending NA—Narcotics Anonymous, that is—and we’re going to administer periodic drug tests to make sure you’re keeping clean.”

Christ, he’s such an idiot. A stupid fucking idiot who’s just lucky to not be dead right now. His innards churn miserably in agreement with that thought, and Daniel hopes that they’re at the tail end of this pretrial check-in thingy. He really doesn’t want to throw up on this nice lady’s carpet.

Sarah continues, “But if you hold up your end of the bargain, then I’ll hold up mine.” She smiles at him, apparently oblivious to the imminently-threatening hostage situation that is Daniel’s stomach right now. It’s kind of sweet, though; she looks like she really believes he’s gonna make it through this program. Like she thinks he could maybe be somebody someday.

A bright young reporter with a point of view.

“And if all goes well, then after your probationary period is up, you’ll never have to see me again.” She tilts her head at him, and sure, it’s condescending. But, like, in the nice way moms are sometimes. “Let’s try to make sure that happens, yeah?” She passes him a stack of papers that repeat all of the information she just gave him verbally, which Daniel is grateful for, because it’s been challenging to try to pay attention when his insides are so valiantly attempting to become his outsides. “I’ll see you two weeks from now.”

Daniel nods and hurries out of the room, right as the hostage situation devolves into a massacre with no survivors. He swallows against the gastric acid and bits of egg that are currently attempting to escape his throat and rushes to the single-stall bathroom down the hall, sending a prayer of thanks to every higher power he can think of that it’s unoccupied. By some small miracle, he manages to keep his shit together until he is on his knees in front of the toilet, at which point everything he’s put in his body for the past week unceremoniously comes back out.

Idly, he wonders how many public bathrooms he’s done this in by now, how many times he has been in this same stupid situation—his mouth and nose hovering above a filthy fucking toilet seat that’s touched the asses of God knows how many strangers—as the choices from the night before come back to haunt him like an ex-lover after a bad breakup.

Too many, he thinks. Definitely too many.

He looks down at where the informational materials are still crumpled in his left fist, pastel-colored pamphlets with titles like Self-Acceptance and Am I An Addict?, and thinks he could probably use a break from living like this. Thinks maybe this won’t be such a bad thing if it leads to him finally getting clean.

After all, it sure as hell can’t get any worse.

***

Two nights later, Daniel arrives at the church closest to where he’s staying in the Castro, which the Welcome to Narcotics Anonymous pamphlet told him hosts meetings three nights a week. Our Lady of Most Holy and Ardent Redemptions, or whatever. He doesn’t actually remember, but he’s sure it was something like that: all overwrought and Catholic, a name that’s meant to imply you have to absolve yourself for the crime of being born.

As he walks through the vestibule, he’s surprised to find it utterly abandoned, blanketed in a thick layer of silence that clings to the dusty pews and eggshell-colored walls like a film. It’s eerie, almost, this conspicuous absence of life—if it weren’t for the printed-out sign attached to the back of the pulpit that reads NA meeting downstairs in Rosary Room!, he’d assume he’d gone to the wrong place entirely. As it is, he wanders around the nave with a vague sense of unease until he finds the stairs to the basement, then follows the unsettlingly-cheery instructions of yet more signs until he reaches one that says NA Meeting here!!! taped to a mahogany door.

For a moment, he has the absurd impulse to knock, as if he’s intruding on something he shouldn’t be. He shakes himself out of it and opens the door.

Inside, there isn’t much to look at: a handful of low bookshelves pressed snugly against the wall, a long table with a coffee pot and an unopened box of donuts, and seven or eight folding chairs arranged in a circle.

Only one of them is occupied.

The man in the chair—who Daniel assumes must be the priest, judging by his black button-down and white collar—looks up and smiles as he enters, all gleaming white teeth like one of those ads for toothpaste that four out of five dentists recommend. He has deep skin and dark, curly hair that he keeps having to brush away from his brown eyes.

“Hello,” the priests greets him. “Welcome.”

“Um,” Daniel says. “Hi.”

“It would seem you are our only attendee for this evening.” A sheepish little laugh rumbles out from the priest’s chest as he adds, “I suppose sobriety is not so much in vogue these days.” He has an accent, Daniel notes, like maybe he emigrated from England but was somewhere else before that. The way it squeezes around his vowels is dimly familiar.

“Guess not,” Daniel agrees, casting a sideways glance at all of the empty chairs. The poor attendance doesn’t bode great for the overall well-being of the Castro’s citizenry, he reckons; it’s certainly not because they don’t need to be here. “Isn’t NA supposed to be group therapy? Is it still gonna...work?”

The priest chuckles softly again, a light exhalation of air to break the stillness in the room. “Yes, though it appears our session will perhaps be a touch more intimate than most. I hope you don’t mind a bit of individualized attention.” His eyes sparkle, almost seem to shine, as he gestures for Daniel to take the seat across from him. “Please, sit. I’m Father Armand.”

He does. “Daniel.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Daniel,” Father Armand says sweetly, and wow, he has really thick eyelashes. So thick and dark that Daniel wonders briefly whether he’s wearing mascara—though he isn’t sure whether priests are allowed to do that. “What brings you to Narcotics Anonymous?”

“Um.” He stutters, flushed and awkward with the weight of Father Armand’s undivided attention. “This is the part where I’m supposed to say I’m an addict, right?”

“It’s just us, Daniel,” the other man replies, in a low and conspiratorial whisper. Like the two of them are getting away with something, like this is a part of an inside joke they’ve shared for years. “You may say whatever you’d like.”

“What if I don’t want to say anything?”

“That’s fine, too,” Father Armand answers easily, a reassuring smile on his face. “Though we might not make much progress on the issues that brought you here if we sit in silence.”

“Fair enough,” Daniel says. “All right, I guess I’m here because a court ordered it. I’d really rather not be.”

“This is not the outcome you’d have wanted, then, but perhaps it is the one you need.” And, warm and friendly as he is trying to be, the priest’s stare seems to cut straight through him, right down to the ugly things inside him that he endeavors to hide. It is wildly discomforting. “An intervention from a higher power, of sorts.”

“Not how I’d put it, personally,” Daniel says, simultaneously bemused and on-edge. He scratches an itch on his forehead. “More like an intervention from the SFPD.”

“Even the SFPD answers to God, Daniel.”

“O-kay.” Unsurprisingly, the fatalistic religious bullshit is not doing much to set Daniel at ease in this situation. “But yeah. I’m, uh. Here because I got busted. In a drug den.”

“What were you doing in a drug den?”

“Well.” Daniel blinks at him. “Drugs, mostly.”

“Yes, that much is obvious,” Father Armand says, waving a gloved hand dismissively. “But what compelled you to the drug den in the first place?” Then, before Daniel can answer, he continues, “Don’t say ‘drugs’ again.”

Daniel was definitely about to say ‘drugs’ again. “I’m not sure what you’re looking for here, man,” he answers instead, shrugging one shoulder noncommittally. “I like getting high. Not a lot more to it.”

“There’s always more to it,” the priest replies, sage-like and frustratingly stoic. “Whether we want to admit to it or not.”

“Orrr,” he drawls the single syllable out sarcastically, “maybe it’s just not worth telling. I was there because I wanted to do drugs and I got caught, dude.”

Father Armand hums thoughtfully. “Surely something in the evening must have led you there, though.”

“I don’t really remember,” Daniel says, and he’s maybe starting to lose his patience a little. “Probably on account of being radically high.”

“You can’t recall anything about the evening other than its conclusion?” In the dim lighting of the basement, the priest’s expression is difficult to read.

He frowns. “I might’ve met a guy at a bar, before. I think I was at Polynesian Mary’s, maybe?”

“Do you meet guys at bars often, Daniel?”

Immediately, he tenses, a frisson of indignation alighting in his gut at the priest’s thinly-veiled judgment.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He probably should’ve known better than to expect anything approaching compassion or understanding from the Catholic fucking Church. Lesson learned for next time—maybe the Episcopalians are running NA somewhere in the city.

“I meant no offense, Daniel,” Father Armand says, voice calm and composed in stark contrast to Daniel’s rising indignation. “I’m just inquiring as to your habits, to get a sense of where you could benefit from some lifestyle changes.”

“Oh, and I’m sure whatever you think I’m doing with these men is high on that list, right? This is the Castro, dude. Fuck you.”

“You have quite a lot of anger,” the priest comments dryly, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees as though he’s inspecting Daniel. “Is that what drives you to use?”

Is that what makes you fascinating?

“No, seriously, dude: fuck you. I’m not putting up with this shit.” He stands to leave, but Father Armand reaches out and grabs his wrist before he can, his grip unexpectedly steely.

“A reminder, Daniel, that your participation in this process is necessary if you wish to avoid jail time,” he says, still smiling that same, infuriating smile.

Daniel stops in his tracks. “Maybe not. I’ll work something out with my P.O., I’ll–”

“Yes, Sarah, was it?” Father Armand asks. “I wonder how she would react to news of your resistance to the process.”

“You–”

“I’m only here to help, Daniel,” the priest interrupts with an infuriatingly placid smile. “Now, are you intending to cooperate, or shall I go ahead and inform Sarah of your refusal to participate?” He gestures once more for Daniel to sit, his expression replete with a cool smugness. Begrudgingly, Daniel complies.

“Fucking—whatever, fine.” He closes his eyes and exhales noisily through his nose, trying to will himself into a state of calm. When he opens them again, the priest is staring at him expectantly. “I guess I use because I...I get bored.”

“Bored of what?”

“I dunno, dude.” He shrugs. “Sobriety. Life. Everything.”

Father Armand leans in even closer. “Interesting.”

“If you say so, man.” Daniel rolls his eyes. “Mostly it’s just tedious. I mean, all of it.”

“How so?” There is nothing but apparent sincerity in the question, which makes Daniel’s shoulders relax a fraction.

“It’s the same shit every day, isn’t it? Wake up, go to work, eat dinner, watch TV, over and over until you die,” he says, and the priest nods along as he speaks attentively. “At least drugs break up the monotony a little.”

The unnamed malaise you feel on Sunday afternoons.

“Sure,” Father Armand agrees breezily, his eyes never straying from Daniel’s. “If you do them once in a while, maybe. But they’ve become part of your routine, haven’t they?”

Daniel crosses his arms belligerently. “You don’t know me, man. You’re not my fuckin’ friend.”

“I’m not here to be your friend, Daniel,” Father Armand replies, tone clipped and succinct; annoyed, almost. But then, more delicately, he adds, “I’m here to help you get better. The first step is admitting you have a problem, no?”

“I guess.” Daniel slumps back in his seat, running a hand over his face in exasperation. “All right, so let’s say I have a problem. What next?”

“The next step is coming to believe in a power greater than yourself.” The priest’s hands are clasped together, his thumbs twiddling idly as he speaks, “One that is capable of delivering you from your illness.”

“So, what,” Daniel deadpans. “I’ve gotta convert to Catholicism?”

“If you’re so inclined,” Father Armand responds wryly, as if he’s privy to some great secret that eludes the poor, ailing addict. Daniel wonders in that moment how old the other man is. He can’t have too many years on Daniel, surely, but he seems so much older that it’s almost a little unnerving. “However, it could be anything, really; your love for your family, your will to live. It could even be me, if you wanted.”

He says it like it’s meant to be another bad joke, but something about it brings Daniel up short. Like he’s not really joking at all, actually. “You could be my higher power?” he asks flatly, unsettled and using a fair amount of bluster to cover it. “Isn’t that sort of sacrilegious?”

“I’m not suggesting you pray to me; I’m suggesting you allow me to carry some of the pain that troubles you. To share in the weight of the dreary mundanities that lead you to use.” The priest’s eyes bore into his, his tone soft and reassuring. “I assure you, Daniel, God will have nothing to say about it.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

Father Armand smiles. “I want to help you. Is that so difficult to believe?”

And it is, really. But despite his misgivings—practically against his will—a sense of calm washes over Daniel at the sound of the priest’s voice; the crash of a wave lapping gently at a shoreline, soothing the impotent swell of restless irritation that has been building inside of him since he first sat down. All of that rage, those years and years of tiresome anger, snuffed out as easily as the flickering light of a candle. With nothing more than a few words, Father Armand has taken the heft of that burden from him, as effortlessly as if Daniel had handed it over to him willingly.

Rest, now.

Maybe he wouldn’t mind so much after all, he thinks—putting the confusing knot of chaos inside of him into someone else’s hands. Maybe it would be nice to give his will over to something greater than himself.

“Okay,” Daniel hears himself saying, as though from a great distance. He’s hardly even aware he’s speaking. “Okay. It can be you.”

Rest.

Father Armand beams at him then, and Daniel realizes for the first time how beautiful he is; he looks just like an angel in a Renaissance painting, like a portrait of a martyred saint. His eyes seem less brown, now, closer to the rich and vibrant glow of an ember. Of course Daniel can trust him. Of course.

“Excellent,” he says, and his hands extend to clasp around one of Daniel’s. The leather over his skin is cold. “You are safe with me, Daniel.”

Rest.

Mutely, Daniel nods. The part of him that wishes to object is so quickly subdued, as if smothered by an insistent hand.

“Now,” Father Armand begins, the dingy gold of the basement lights glistening off of his teeth, “you’re going to tell me about what happened before the drug den. What do you remember, Daniel?”

I’m the quiet you’ve been longing for.

As the unspoken words pierce through the veil of his cognition, Daniel jerks like a sleeper agent awakened. In between one moment and the next, his mind is inundated with lurid images of an apartment, the apartment he was in before he wound up in the den: a man—if he can even be called a man—who looks so much like the priest is hovering over Daniel, whispering devastating kindnesses into his ear until the fight slowly drains from his body. He tries to hold onto the shape of them, to remember what it was that happened, but the flashes slip through his fingers as easily as soap bubbles off of a dinner plate. As he reaches for them, grasps at them, a pressure builds in the base of his skull like a low roll of thunder, and a scream tears through his shaking body. He cannot hear it over the ringing in his ears, but he can feel it, feel it rattle his chest and reverberate in his bones. It is agony, unending and complete. It is torture.

The only comfort through all of it is the weight of Father Armand’s hand around his own.

“It hurts,” Daniel whines, instinctively trying to shy away from the throbbing fissure in his head by leaning further into Father Armand’s touch. Tears prick the corners of his eyes like pins.

“Does it?” the priest asks, voice steady and still like the face of a mountain. “Good. Pain is your body’s way of telling you to avoid something. If it hurts, move away from it.”

Daniel sobs, and the next thing he knows he is on the ground, having fallen off of his chair; the hard press of the floor underneath him is the only thing holding him up. “Please,” he begs, not really sure what it is he’s asking for.

A cool finger crooks under his chin to tilt his head up. Through his swimming vision, Daniel sees Father Armand looking down at him. “Do you want me to make it stop?”

“Yes,” he breathes, his body curling up into the fetal position like a dying cockroach. “Please.”

The priest frowns, dispassionate. “What would you do for it? What would you give?”

I could be on my knees in a second.

Another burst of pain blossoms underneath Daniel’s eyes and he winces, cries out. “Anything,” he promises, his fingers reaching out to clutch at the leg of Father Armand’s trousers. “I’d give anything.”

“Would you give me money, Daniel?”

He nods enthusiastically even as the motion of it only exacerbates his anguish. “Yeah,” he says, “everything I have.”

“Hmm,” the priest hums. His expression as he watches Daniel is calculating, frigid. Slowly, he lifts one Doc Marten-booted foot to rest on Daniel’s chest. “Would you give me your obedience?”

Instinctively, Daniel’s spine straightens under the weight of his heel, the firm way it presses down on him a strange but poignant comfort in his addled state. The feeling it grants him is not quite relief, but it is something adjacent to it, something that loosens the tightly-wound tangle of anxiety that squeezes his lungs. He craves more of it. “Yes.”

“Yes what, Daniel?”

He swallows roughly. “Yes, Father.”

Lowly, the priest murmurs, “Good boy.” He runs his tongue over his teeth, his gaze growing half-lidded and hungry. “Ask me what you can do for me, Daniel.”

A shudder runs through him, sharp and electric. His mouth tastes of ozone. “What can I do for you, Father?”

The priest grins at him, then, wicked and predatory. “Worship me.”

The words echo around Daniel’s mind like a hollow room, silencing all other thought. Silencing the terrible cacophony that has been threatening to rend his very self in two. He squirms with the ecstasy of it—the unparalleled bliss of reprieve—mewling his acquiescence to the priest’s demand.

He can feel Father Armand’s pleasure at his submission trickling like a leaky faucet down his spine. “Do you feel that, Daniel?” he asks, as calmly as if he were asking about the weather.

Tears are still streaming down Daniel’s cheeks; his nose is stuffed and snotty from crying. “Yes, Father,” he croaks.

“That is solace, my dear boy,” the priest tells him, unwavering and impassive. “I have given it to you, and I can take it away from you just as easily.”

At the thought of the pain returning, a fierce panic slices through Daniel, hot and pointed as a knife in his guts. “No,” he moans, his bottom lip quivering as he stares at Father Armand. “Please don’t.”

The boot presses down harder, pinning him to the yellowed carpet. “You forget yourself, Daniel,” the priest replies.

He whimpers and corrects himself: “Please don’t, Father.”

“That’s better,” Father Armand says with a mean twist of his lips. “Tell me: where is your place?”

And Daniel has played this role before, knows the script by heart. Could recite it in his sleep if he had to. “Beneath you, Father.”

The priest grinds his heel into Daniel’s sternum, then, wrenching a pitiful cry from between the boy’s lips. It hurts, of course, but in a different way than before; this isn’t the horror of his soul being cracked in half and poured over the ground. This is a familiar pain, a welcome one, one that Daniel arches up into like a cat stretching its back.

“Do you like that, Daniel?” Father Armand asks, a trace of amusement coloring his voice. “Do you like it when I hurt you?”

Wordlessly, Daniel nods, because he does. He always has. He’s always pining to feel something, anything. Whatever it takes if it means not being bored.

“Say it.”

“I like it,” Daniel wheezes, forcing the words out from underneath the weight on his chest. “I like when you hurt me, Father.”

“Greedy, aren’t you?” the priest purrs, half-aroused and half-contemptuous.

“Yes.” Daniel hisses, his fingers clawing into the carpet as his body curves to accommodate—to seek out—the press of Father Armand’s heavy boot. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, that he wants this after everything that’s happened today (the past week, some distant part of his mind whispers), but he does. Maybe he simply craves the release of oblivion after teetering over the edge of it. “Yes, Father.”

“I could make you feel good, too. If I felt like it.” He lifts his foot a fraction of an inch, enough to make Daniel’s lungs expand gratefully where they’ve been compressed. Then, slowly, he drags the toe of his boot down, down, down to where the boy is hard and aching in his jeans. He runs his instep along the shameful bulge that presses against Daniel’s zipper, pressing just lightly enough to tease. To threaten. “Do you want me to make you feel good?”

Daniel moans, a needful, pathetic little sound that makes Father Armand snarl. “I do, Father.”

“Do you think you deserve that, Daniel?” His boot pushes down a bit harder, and Daniel writhes into it, gasps at the delicious torment of the priest’s brutality.

“No, Father.”

“Beg for it, then.” Even though Daniel’s eyes are screwed shut, he can feel the burning weight of the other man’s stare boring into him. His boot steps harder still. “Beg for me. Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

Daniel wants to reply, knows that he needs to reply, but he can’t; his mouth is too occupied with crying out, held captive as he is in a state of delirium.

“Pathetic,” Father Armand spits at him. “Must I speak for you now, too?”

He can do nothing more than nod, than accept the fate he has been dealt at the hands of this cruel master.

“You want me to fuck you.” It isn’t a question; rather, the priest speaks flatly, clinically, down at the boy he has pinned. “You want me to bury my tongue in your ass until your voice gives out from screaming and then fill you to the point of breaking, is that right?”

The words are torn directly from Daniel’s thoughts as though Father Armand heard them uttered aloud. As though he can read the twisted desires playing on repeat in Daniel’s mind as plainly as thumbing through a children’s picture book. The noise Daniel makes isn’t so much language as one of desperation distilled.

The boot lifts off of his chest, suddenly. “Stand.”

Daniel does, albeit slowly and on shaky legs that threaten to buckle from underneath him.

Father Armand smiles. “Good boy.” He gestures with his chin in the direction of the table, still covered in untouched donuts and cold coffee. “Bend over. And drop your pants.”

Sweating and trembling, Daniel feels more of a mess now than he did the day he awoke from his bender. Like the screws holding him together have been loosened and he is the lightest touch away from falling to pieces. Nevertheless, he complies, bracing himself on his elbows as he awaits further instruction.

“You’ve been insolent,” Father Armand comments as he slowly comes to stand behind Daniel. He runs the fingertips of one gloved hand over the swell of the boy’s ass. “Don’t you think you deserve to be disciplined for that?”

And Daniel is still beyond the point of language, so all he can manage is a thin, reedy little moan. Internally, he is only capable of thinking the word please on a recursive loop.

There’s a rush of air, then, followed by the sharp sting of Father Armand’s leather-covered palm striking one cheek. Daniel sucks in a harsh breath, an involuntary inhalation somewhere between a hiccup and a gasp. He gets almost no break before he is being hit again, then again, over and over until he can feel the blood rising to the skin from the burst capillaries. Almost as if from another room, he can hear himself crying out. Although the soles of his feet are rooted to the church carpet, he feels as though his consciousness has abandoned his body to wander elsewhere. The pain is practically transcendent in its savage persistence, the only thing anchoring him to this material plane the rhythmic pulse of the blood rushing to his cock.

Father Armand is relentless, and Daniel wonders whether he is going to be punished past the point where he can no longer withstand it. Until suddenly, the abuse stops, and the priest instead permits his cool fingers to trace over the damaged skin. His touch is surprisingly gentle, laced with a fragile sort of reverence; Daniel can hear the rustling of fabric as the priest crouches down, as if seeking out a better angle from which to admire his own handiwork.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, spreading Daniel’s ass open, the word ghosting feather-light over the sensitive flesh. Daniel whines, restless with the effort of keeping himself still against the overwhelming urge to arch into the contact. “What a beautiful little thing you are.”

The praise wrenches a strangled cry from Daniel’s throat, wanton and depraved. He wishes he still possessed the ability to speak, wishes he could beg for Father Armand to please, please fuck him now. Beg the priest to make him full, to try and satisfy the yearning cavern inside of him.

He’d do anything to not be so fucking hungry.

The priest laughs as though he knows precisely what Daniel is thinking and then, with no warning, he is blowing a teasing breath over Daniel’s hole.

The boy nearly screams, his mind still running on the frantic hamster wheel of please, please, please, please, please—

Father Armand interrupts that train of thought by dragging the flat of his tongue over the skin that his breath just kissed, carefully unraveling what little remains of Daniel’s sentience until all that is left in its place is a moaning, bestial creature. A thing composed entirely of impulse, the only thing he understands at this point being what it means to want.

Instinctively, Daniel tries to grind back into the sensation, but the priest does not allow it, his leather-clad hold on Daniel wrought in immovable iron. At the denial, Daniel merely whimpers, no longer able to beg with anything other than his body and sincerely running the risk of going mad with need.

Patience, Daniel, he hears Father Armand admonish, as if from a stereo system inside of his head while the priest licks over him once more. He doesn’t even question it, really, content to assume that the universe is fracturing around him and that reality itself is simply splintering. It certainly feels that way, with how Father Armand’s tongue writes filthy love poems into his skin, with how he fucks into Daniel just enough to torture.

It is not unlike he is drowning, stranded in the middle of a vast ocean and being pulled under by the grasping appendages of the monsters below. He is overcome with a pleasure too fathomless to name, one that threatens to steal the air from his lungs and fill them with something more volatile and fluid. It’s exquisite. He needs it to stop. He never wants it to stop.

Again, Daniel hears the priest’s voice inside of his mind. So very needy, aren’t you? Filled to the brim with unrealized desire, aching for anything that might scratch the persistent itch deep within you.

The words seem to strip him bare, to peel back his skin and the viscera that holds him together until all of his nerves are exposed to Father Armand’s touch. At this point, he is cognizant only of the places where the two of them connect, the world zeroed in like a pinhole on the press of the priest’s tongue against his ass. He has no self outside of this point of contact, he thinks, and he doesn’t care at all. Can’t imagine caring about anything else ever again.

He keens, his hips attempting to roll back once more. This time, Father Armand lets him, allows Daniel to ride his tongue in the way he so desperately craves, and he gasps with the relief of it, his face buried in the crook of his arm as he thrusts backwards to where the priest’s mouth is waiting for him.

Then, one of Father Armand’s hands snakes around to grip Daniel in his fist, and it only takes a few strokes before the feeling of it swells into a feverish crescendo, before Daniel is twitching and spilling messily over the priest’s fingers.

Good boy, Father Armand says, tongue still deep in Daniel’s ass as he works him through the spasming aftershocks. Now, I need you to do something for me.

Daniel slumps onto the table, barely able to hold himself up, and nods limply. Anything. He’d do anything.

Stay still, Daniel.

Father Armand’s mouth moves to lavish a hot, wet kiss to where Daniel’s pulse pounds in his thigh, his teeth scraping delicately over the skin there. Then, there is the sensation of ice piercing his arteries, of numb and cold and bad and wrong.

The world begins to grow dim around the edges. The last thing Daniel remembers thinking before it all goes dark is, Please don’t kill me.

***

When Daniel awakens in his apartment the next morning, he has a bruise on his butt the size of an apple, a killer headache, and a voicemail on his answering machine:

Hey Daniel, this is Sandra. I was wondering why you missed your first N.A. meeting last night; Father Reynolds said you didn’t show. If you need help getting to them, let me know and I’ll help you work something out. Either way, try not to let it happen again, okay?

As he listens to his P.O.—who is apparently not named Sarah—speak, a lot of conflicting thoughts occur to him at once. Most of them are confused, disoriented, wondering what the fuck happened last night and who the fuck Father Armand really was.

But perhaps the loudest of all of them is the realization that that part of him that is so constantly reaching, so constantly starving, is finally contented.

For the first time he can remember, he is satisfied.

[cecilysass]

Shine On (1/16)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter One: Vandy

Rawlins Middle School Rawlins, Wyoming February 3, 2015

“Vandy.” Louis slams into Jackson with the force of his entire body. It’s an affectionate body slam, but also hard enough for Jackson to lose his pencil and nearly his armful of books and binders. “Did you hear? I hope it’s true. It better be true.”

“What are you talking about?” Jackson bends over to pick up the pencil, trying not to get knocked over again by the continual current of students on their way to third period.

“The police came to shut the school down. We’re getting out of here, bro.”

Jackson looks up at his friend skeptically. “Louis, what are you talking about, seriously?”

“Second period we could see the police coming into the building.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m positive. And I heard it was because there was a bomb threat and they’re going to close school right after lunch.”

“If it was a bomb threat, they wouldn’t wait to close school,” Jackson points out. “They’d close it right away.”

“Maybe it’s not a for sure bomb threat,” Louis replies. He looks suddenly doubtful. “Fuck, it better be true. I haven’t finished my essay yet.”

“What did you plan to do if there wasn’t a bomb threat?” Jackson asks curiously.

“Hey Vandy.” Delia Rich suddenly appears next to Jackson, and he quickly straightens his posture. Delia is so pretty: brown hair, bangs, pink cheeks, round behind. “Did you hear about the girl in seventh grade?”

“No, I didn’t,” Jackson says. His tone is considerably more polite all of a sudden. “What about her?”

Delia leans toward him seriously and lowers her voice. “She killed her parents and herself and the police are here to question everyone.”

“Naw, the police are here for the bomb threat,” Louis says dismissively, shimmying to the side to avoid a group of loud and oblivious sixth grade girls walking past them.

“Who told you about that?” Jackson asks Delia, frowning.

“Hannah R. in 8C,” Delia says, shrugging. She seems to think of something else. “Oh, Vandy.” Her eyes widen and roll dramatically. “Did you study for algebra? Oh my god, it was awful.”

“Yeah.” Jackson nods, but he’s distracted, even from a conversation he would normally be thrilled to be having.

“I spent three hours last night on quadratic equations,” Delia says. “I’m not even exaggerating. I should have asked you for help.”

“Because he’s such a fucking nerd?” Louis adds helpfully.

“No, because he’s really good at helping with math,” Delia says to Jackson, bumping into him a little. “Can you quiz me before class?”

Over Delia’s shoulder, Louis begins to raise his eyebrows up and down significantly like a maniac. Jackson studiously ignores him.

“Yeah, but I, uh, gotta stop in there first,” Jackson says, gesturing vaguely behind her.

“Stop in where?” She looks around the hall.

“Restroom,” Jackson says, irrationally embarrassed.

“Oh, right.” Delia turns back around. “I’ll see you in a few minutes then?”

“Yeah,” Jackson says, attempting the most winning smile he can muster as she darts across the hall into the classroom.

Louis immediately shoves his shoulder. “What are you doing, dumbass? I thought you liked her.”

“I do,” Jackson says pathetically. “But I have to use the restroom. For real.”

“Jesus, you have absolutely no game.”

Jackson decides not to bring up his friend’s own unsuccessful record with girls. “I’ll talk to you later, Louis.” He begins to make a beeline for the boys’ room.

“Wait, are we playing GTA after school?” Louis calls as Jackson begins to walk away.

“Uh, no,” Jackson calls back. “I can’t today. My parents stayed home to meet the guy delivering our new washer and dryer.” Jackson’s mom hates Grand Theft Auto, so he can only play when she’s out of the house.

“You’re a loser,” Louis responds good-naturedly. “See you later.”

Jackson flees, weaving in and out between students hurrying to make it to class on time.

As soon as Jackson is inside the restroom, he heads directly for the third stall, the only one with a fully functioning lock on the door.

By some miracle, it’s unoccupied. Actually, the whole bathroom is empty. He hurries inside and fastens the latch as quickly as possible.

And then for a moment he stands there, clutching his books and trying to catch his breath. He stares at the back of the stall door. It is covered in scrawled “suck my dick” and “turrrn uuup” in black marker.

Jackson’s not sure why the news of the police coming to his school has him so worked up, but it does. He can still feel his heart racing. Every muscle in his body is tense.

Calm down. Calm down.

He places a hand on his chest and counts to four as he breathes in, then holds his breath for a count of seven, then breathes out. It’s a technique his therapist likes to recommend to him. He’s slightly skeptical that it really works, but he tries it anyway. When he’s getting worried or irrationally fearful, when his emotions start to betray him, he wants anything that will help.

After a minute, the bell rings. Now he’s officially late for algebra. And they’re having a test, one he’s prepared for.

He should leave this bathroom.

He should go to class right now, take his tardy gracefully, sit down, smile at Delia, get out his pencil, and take his test.

Still, he doesn’t move. He doesn’t even begin to move. Every instinct is telling him not to move.

Instead, he closes his eyes and empties his mind.

Hesitantly, he begins to push out cautious little tendrils to probe around him in the school. He doesn’t really want to do this, but something deep inside tells him it’s important. That he needs to.

People’s minds feel different, have different textures to them. Right now, as he shines into people, as he gently touches the minds closest around him with his own, he can tell that most of them are kids, his friends and classmates. Kids’ minds are usually sort of bright and loud and flashy, like commercials for kids’ cereals. Every once in a while there’s a kid mind that’s very sad, unusually sad, but even then it’s sad in stark, dramatic colors, clear and tragic and obvious. Kids don’t hide things well.

But he brushes against adult minds in the school, too: teachers, mainly. Adults’ inner lives are so much more complicated than kids’. Harder to get into. Some of them are complex and curlicued, like honeycombs, and others are like smooth stones you find on a riverbed. Some are like an animal carcass rotting, full of holes you don’t want to shine into too deep.

It’s because of adults’ minds that Jackson doesn’t like shining into people’s heads very much. He’d prefer to stay out of other people’s minds as much as possible.

He peeks into the teachers’ minds just enough to identify them, to see their memories: their own faces in the mirror, their classes back up at them, bored faces staring from desks. He’s not looking for a teacher, so he moves along quickly. He doesn’t want to see any of their secrets.

Finally he’s found something different: the front office, a group of minds clustered together, a cloud of anxiety shared among them. One of them he recognizes must be his principal, Mr. Werther – he can see in his memories speaking into the intercom for the morning announcements today. Mr. Werther is feeling very troubled about something right now. His thoughts are racing. He’s wondering what the right decision is. He’s wondering whether he will be blamed if something goes wrong. His mind feels like a soda bottle shook up, ready to burst.

Quickly, Jackson switches his shine to another mind in the group, someone calmer. This mind is sharper, metallic-feeling, and he realizes that it’s a police officer, someone in charge, someone named Davis. He pushes further into Davis’s mind, into his current consciousness, and he sees that Davis is trying to explain the situation to Mr. Werther, trying to assure him that everyone will be safe, trying to let him know that there is back-up waiting right outside the school. Davis doesn’t think Mr. Werther is very smart.

Dimly, Jackson is aware that he is tightening his grip on his books, his anxiety rising. Something is very wrong here. He feels it in Davis’s thoughts. He sees flashes of himself.

He prods the shine deeper into Davis’s mind, pushing back thin layers that seem a little like aluminum foil.

In Davis’s recent memory, there is an image of something horrible: a crime scene. Bodies, shot, a man and a woman. Lying on their kitchen floor in a pool of blood, their faces vacant. Davis stands over them, shaking his head, writing notes.

The bodies’ faces are familiar. They’re Jackson’s parents.

Jackson feels himself start to breathe faster.

As though seeing light behind a dirty window, he starts to see what Davis thinks happened.

He thinks Jackson shot his parents before he went to school that morning. Davis pictures it happening: Jackson, shouting, lifting a gun and shooting first his father and then his mother. Davis thinks he possibly has a gun on him now, at school. The police want to apprehend him safely, with no one being hurt.

“We need to consider him dangerous,” Davis’s voice is echoing through his thoughts. “But we can do this in a way that makes sure no one gets hurt.”

All at once Jackson opens his eyes, falling back into his own consciousness, feeling short of breath.

He realizes he’s trembling. Mom. His parents.

Are his parents really dead? How could they be? He saw them just this morning. His mom had reminded him about his therapy appointment tomorrow and his dad had told him to stop leaving lights on. He hadn’t kissed his mom good-bye. He had been in a hurry.

Jackson feels sick. Mom. Mommy.

It’s impossible. He doesn’t want to think about it. He wants his mom. He wants to throw up.

There is a crackling sound echoing through the bathroom, and then the sound of a tinny voice speaking over an intercom. “Students and teachers, please pardon the interruption. Jackson Van De Kamp in eighth grade, would you please come to the main office? Jackson Van De Kamp in eighth grade, come to the main office.”

Jackson tenses his whole body behind the door of the bathroom stall, ready to push through, an instinctive defensive maneuver.

They’re really going to try to arrest him, he realizes. They really think he killed his parents.

He feels panic rising in his stomach, seriously threatening to make him lose his breakfast. They think he’s a killer.

You don’t have to worry. Not you. You can protect yourself. Stay calm.

He closes his eyes again and carefully shifts the perception of all minds around him, giving himself a thirty foot perimeter of altered reality.

It’s a big effort for him — bigger than his usual modest experiments — but he doesn’t feel any headache. Maybe it’s the adrenaline.

Walking like he’s in a dream—like he’s in a nightmare, really—he cautiously steps out of the bathroom.

Anyone looking in the hall simply sees Louis.

Jackson, as Louis, walks down the hallways of his school at the same slow pace, so as not to attract attention. It’s an effort to keep the minds around him altered and his own posture casual and unassuming. He walks past classrooms, watching all around him with his peripheral vision and the little fingers of his mind. Louis, please don’t happen to come out in the hall to use the restroom at this exact moment. Please.

He heads towards the entrance of the school, which means passing the front office. As he approaches, he sees that now there is actually almost no one around the front office at all. That seems weird—usually there are tons of students and teachers congregating near it.

Just keep walking, he thinks. Hopefully you’ll be unnoticed.

As he’s stepping past the door, two policemen emerge, moving quickly.

“Where are you headed, son?” From a quick tap of his mind, Jackson recognizes this man as Davis, the officer apparently in charge.

“My mom’s car. Dentist appointment,” Jackson mutters.

Davis glances out the door, where there is fortunately a car in the parking lot that looks plausibly like a waiting parent. “All right, go quickly. Don’t hang around. We need all students out of this general vicinity.”

Davis waves him out, and Jackson eagerly follows in the direction of his gesture out the door.

The February temperature hits him like a slap in the face. Regretfully he realizes his good winter coat is in his locker, back inside the school.

He keeps walking casually down the steps of the school and down the driveway, already beginning to shiver uncontrollably.

When he gets to the road, out of easy eyesight of the school, he drops his books on the ground and begins to jog. The school is on a wind blown, gray, desolate-looking Wyoming road, with little traffic except for those coming to the school. He drops his Louis perception filter. There’s no one to see.

And after he does, he discovers to his surprise that he’s crying.

He has no idea where he’s going now.

He has a vague idea that he should get out of town—maybe to a big city, like Cheyenne or Denver—but he isn’t sure how to get there. He has no money. He could hitchhike, but the idea of hitchhiking scares him, which makes him feel ashamed.

It’s just he’s too familiar with the kinds of things that adults think about. And after all, someone just killed his parents.

Why did someone kill his parents? Who would do that? His parents never did anything to anyone. They weren’t drug dealers or thieves. They were Lutherans. His mom made casseroles, and his dad carved wooden ducks. They were cheerful, optimistic, the type of people to see the good in everyone. Sometimes Jackson felt like he didn’t have much in common with them— like they saw the world very differently from him— but he loved them. He could never have hurt them. And he hates to think of what they thought, in the moment they died.

He finds himself crying harder as he jogs. He shouldn’t do this now; it’s too cold for tears. He tries to wipe them off with the sleeve of his sweater. But it’s hard to stop crying once he’s started.

He tries to jog faster. Turns it into a run. Maybe this will snap him out of it, clear his head. He’s always been good at running. At the very least it will warm him up.

Just keep running, he tells himself. He smiles a little, because it reminds him of a line from one of his favorite movies when he was a kid, Finding Nemo. Just keep swimming. His mom would repeat the line to him as a joke when he was learning to swim.

He blinks back the tears again and runs harder.

He wonders if Louis will think he really did kill his parents. He wonders if Delia will. He wonders if the other kids at school will all talk about it: Jackson Van De Kamp, the psycho kid who shot his family and was planning on shooting up the school. If they will make up stories about why he was going to do it.

A car passes on the road, and he quickly slips a filter into the driver’s mind: he’s a nice old lady picking up trash along the side of the road.

When the car passes, he continues running and considers his options. He doesn’t have a phone. His parents were waiting until high school to get him one. Even if he did, he couldn’t use it now anyway—the police would track him.

Shelter is an immediate problem. There’s a Frontier Museum in downtown Rawlins. He wonders if he might go inside and find a place to hide overnight, at least until he has a better idea. But the museum costs money to get a ticket, and he doesn’t have money.

He could try to contact his Uncle Wyatt to see if he would help him. But what if Uncle Wyatt believes the story and thinks Jackson killed his parents? Uncle Wyatt has always found Jackson annoying, ever since Jackson threw that basketball into his flatscreen TV when he was six. He could very well decide to turn his nephew in.

Then there is his birth mom. Jackson wishes he could ask her. He thinks he’s seen her, once or twice, in his occasional visions that come in fast and bewildering flashes. At least he thinks it’s her. It’s a woman he has some very close connection to, a red-headed woman, who is always very sad. He wonders if she would help him. He likes to think she would. But that’s a childish fantasy, because he has no clue where to find her. He can’t reach out and try to shine every mind in the whole world to try to locate her. He needs to stick with practical ideas right now.

He’s been walking and running for three miles, the wind biting incessantly into his clothes, when he hears another car coming down the road. With the fingers of his mind, he reaches out towards the driver’s mind to tweak their perception.

But strangely, he finds he can’t. Something in the driver’s mind is pushing back, keeping a wall up so that Jackson can’t change what they see.

He feels a stab of panic. He didn’t know this was possible. He’s never seen this before. Some paranoid part of him wonders if this is the person who killed his parents.

The car is sleek and black, with mirrored windows. It slows down right next to him. Jackson looks wildly back and forth for somewhere to run and hide, just in case there is someone inside with a gun—but there is nothing around him but open land, no possible shelter for miles.

He finds himself doing nothing but standing there stupidly, an open target, his eyes widening as the window rolls down.

“Jackson Van De Kamp?” a female voice says.

“Yeah,” Jackson manages, his voice scarcely a whisper.

It’s a woman: a surprisingly young woman wearing mirrored sunglasses, her blondish hair pulled back in a ponytail. She doesn’t look like a killer. But Jackson knows very well that evil people don’t always look evil.

“It’s come to my attention that you might need some assistance.”

He can’t think of anything to do but bob his chin up and down in a nod.

“Why don’t you get in the car, and we’ll talk?”

It looks so warm inside. He has nowhere to go. She dangles the promise of information, something important he doesn’t know.

Still, some sense of self preservation keeps him from stepping forward. Desperately, he tries to noodle a shine into her mind, trying to see what she’s all about. But he can’t. It’s like it’s boarded up.

She smiles a little at him in a guarded way, not showing her teeth. He has the weirdest feeling that she knows exactly what he is trying to do.

“W-who are you?” he says hoarsely. “Do I know you?”

She sighs, as if she expected this. “If you get in the car, I promise I’ll explain, Jackson.”

He hesitates. Then, taking a deep breath, he starts to make his way toward the passenger door.

Really, what other choice does he have?

***

[blorbocedes]

prompt: lewis' film debuting at cannes, nico only an hour away

Lewis' film is premiering at Cannes. Nico takes his daughters to go.

It's apparently in collaboration with Liberty Media, lots of big Hollywood A-listers attached as producers, and actual F1 tracks and cars in use. The story is loosely based on Lewis' life, the titular Black kid from a small town in England becoming the Greatest Of All Time. So not too loosely, the main character is named Louis Harrison after all.

It's the kind of feel-good inspirational movie that Nico thinks is important for his girls to watch. The promotion for the film went all out, inviting all F1 stars. Nico himself has been vaguely aware of this film, his social media guy told him his mentions and engagement was way up ever since the main cast included a German blonde, with some speculating it would focus on the "silver war." He clarified to the German tabloids he had absolutely nothing to do with the making of the film after they spread rumours about it being a collaboration.

His daughters, like their father, love to dress up and they walk the red carpet hand in hand in their matching floral dresses, and Nico in his organic, tailored velvet green suit; pausing for the photos.

Their seats aren't too awful, very middle of the pack. A few rows ahead Nico can recognize Lewis from the distinctive shape of his braids, and glittery jacket; talking to someone Nico assumes is the director. Nico never quite had that Hollywood fever, but it seems Lewis is enjoying his retirement.

As the theatre goes dark, his daughter appropriately chastises him for having his phone out, texting Vivian a thumbs up on when she wants the girls home before pocketing it. It starts off with Young Lewis -- or Louis -- watching Senna race, a voiceover about dreams and becoming the best. The younger actor is appropriately charming, doesn't have Lewis' gap tooth but has a mean scowl when people underestimate him. It reminds him a lot of the real Lewis. The usual diatribe about the humble beginnings, the actor playing Anthony being Louis' one man pit crew taking him to races within England, an incredible wholesome father-son racing representation, one Nico was lucky to experience in his own life.

Moving on to karting years, Louis as the only black kid getting certain looks from the rest of the boys, lily-white and jealous. One even shoves him while walking past, making a pointed racially charged comment. There is a time when Nico would've assumed this is exaggerated for dramatic purposes, that his experience on the paddock, even being around Lewis as tightknit as they were, was never that bad. But he knows better now, that there's some things he will simply never experience or flew over his head at that age, and makes a mental note to bring it up with his girls and make it a teachable moment later.

And then, a young blonde boy with the thickest German accent congratulates Louis on winning the race, and Louis' eyes go wide. "You're Julian Richter. Your family is racing legend, man."

Julian. Nico snorts. He supposed it's better than Erik or Klaus as far as stereotype go. He tries not to read too much into it, as Julian and Louis become best friends -- skateboarding on the tracks, instead of unicycling, probably to seem cooler or relating to the kids, -- and karting teammates. Something wistful in Nico aches when the scene is on a beach in Spain, and the characters in the face of their uncertain futures promise they're going to become F1 World Champions together.

The story focuses on Louis' unlikely odds, a chance meeting with an F1 team principal, nothing but a handshake promise and then the road to F1, to win on his rookie year.

And then Julian enters Formula 1. And then Julian signs with Redbull. And then Julian wins consecutive championships, in the backdrop of which his and Louis' friendship crumbles in jealousy and competitiveness, and Nico feels sick to his stomach because Julian Richter is Sebastian Vettel, and the racing legend family he comes from -- the Richters -- are the fucking Schumachers.

The regulations change, Louis starts winning, he has a famous actress of a girlfriend, there's a love story angle. It isn't until Louis wins his 4th title that Julian comes over to congratulate him, both equals again -- remember what we promised on that beach in Spain? and their friendship rekindles. If the timeline Nico's keeping track of adds up, that makes it 2016. His daughter excitedly squeezes his hand when the two characters embrace on screen, making up.

The third act conflict sets the stage for Abu Dhabi 2021, naturally. But before that, it does show Louis becoming complacent with winning, arrogant and cocky as his celebrity profile increased, a rocky relationship. And then, the Niki Lauda wise mentor older character who was there for Louis all this time passes, and it tugs at the heartstrings -- is also Louis' wake up call to change. His girlfriend ends things with him. The young Belgian villain has fully set the stage.

There's a lot of emphasis how winning this final race will match Harrison to Richter's record, the legacy of it all. And then, the controversial safety car decision. Louis Harrison has the championship slip out of his fingers. The crowd gasps, the FIA are not painted charitably, stubbornly sticking to the decision out of 'decorum' after the Mercedes team argues for it to be reversed. Someone definitely boos from the back.

One thing Nico can admit is the racing scenes are quite fun and realistic, even if Toto doesn't break headphones quite as often and once a car was in 5th gear instead of 3rd.

The Julian Richter character shows up after the race to tell Louis he's retiring to go plant trees, and that Louis needs to "win it back and match my dad's legacy, it's what he would've wanted." Nico wishes he knew where Sebastian was so they could lock eyes in this moment at this Frankenstein caricature of them, that exists only to support Louis.

'Loosely based' is correct, because this shows the next season after a lot of sulking and Louis not believing in himself, the Mercedes is immediately competitive instead of whatever the W-13 was. It's a repeat of the 2021 season, which is a repeat of the 2016 season when Julian and Louis were bitter rivals. Louis is also more outspoken now, and shows how he's changed. It all comes down to the final race. The film narrates the speech from the beginning, of believing in yourself, there's a montage of Louis ever since he was a kid falling and getting back up with dramatic music swelling, and then a shot of him slapping down his visor. Lights out and away we go.

Louis Harrison wins the race.

They got Crofty to do a voiceover line for 'This year while off the track Louis Harrison has found his voice, and on it, once again he’s found his groove, and now he finds himself alongside Richter, as top in the record books, the world championship record is equaled,' His girlfriend jumps into his arms in parc ferme. Somewhere, Julian is planting a tree and smiling at the small radio. It's hugs and kisses all around the team, champagnes bursting.

The actual crowd erupts in cheers of emotional catharsis, and it cuts to a future scene of the real Lewis Hamilton in an interview setting, being asked about how he feels about his journey in F1 and if he ever thought he would make it -- if he believed in himself, winks at the camera.

The screen goes black. A Kendrick Lamar song plays as the credits roll.

There is a minutes long standing ovation, which Nico stands and encourages his daughters to clap along, with an inscrutable feeling in his chest. It was a good movie, very awards season bait, the director and lead actors are on stage giving a speech about how much it means to be able to inspire young people with Hamilton's real life story. Nico walks down the steps with others almost on autopilot.

He hadn't realized it, he didn't know he'd been holding out some tiny shred of hope that they would watch this film and through sheer nostalgia of shared memories, he and Lewis would have something to talk about again. He didn't realise how much weight he'd held to those childhood memories until he saw it be attributed to Sebastian Vettel of all people, who was too young to kart with them. It's a piece of fiction, that Nico has no right to harbour resentment towards, he tells himself.

Nico stops for a second, and is in direct eyeline of Lewis in his glittery jacket who is conducting an interview. He feels frozen when they lock eyes.

"People are saying the true heart of the film is Julian and Louis' friendship. How closely does it mirror real life from the actual F1 scene? Like the whole best friends as kids. Would you say you guys are still close friends now, and will the driver it's based on be attending the screenings like a few other F1 drivers have?"

"Yeah definitely, man, as fans have already figured out that friendship is loosely based on my friendship with Seb -- Sebastian Vettel. And yeah, it's -- you've been racing these guys since you're in karting, you feel like you've known them your whole life. [...] No, I don't think Seb's attending, this isn't really his scene."

Lewis meets Nico's eyes for a split second, before turning back to the camera. Nico carefully plucks the emotion he's feeling for something to be discussed with a licensed professional. To be quite honest, he didn't know Lewis could still make him feel like this.

His daughter tugs at his suit jacket sleeve, and Nico guides them towards the vegan ice cream and gelato stalls. There's a PG rated animated film screening at 4.

[rottenbrainstuff]

IWTV s1 ep 5 + 6 - hmmm.

Vampire domestic violence - that was a tough one to watch. My initial reaction to episode five was fairly negative all around. But, the fight was superbly filmed, btw - by focusing on Claudia as she only hears noises, it made it very frightening.

Lestat was always arrogant and insufferable and often cruel, but this was something new that was very very ugly. Initially I didn't like it. I don't know though, I don't know.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this. Look, Lestat was always Anne Rice's special little blorbo and it kind of annoyed me. I don't think a character that kills people or even enjoys killing people is particularly shocking and uncomfortable in fiction these days. I don't want Lestat to be perfectly, prettily flawed in all the right, safe ways. In the end, I don't... necessarily hate the idea of giving him some actual bad traits that are actually not likeable.

And he was intriguing in the next ep. I know it's very much the guy who hits you then makes a big apology the next day about how it will never happen again... But I was genuinely intrigued by his sincerity, which I did think was genuine. The whole thing is so uncomfortable and I like that. The violence of episode 5 makes me uncomfortable. His sincerity in episode 6 makes me legitimately feel bad for him, and that ALSO makes me uncomfortable. It's very challenging. I don't think that's bad.

It was surprising to hear him talk about all of these backstory things, and to be honest about it. (I mean, vague and brief, but honest) I kept thinking about Lestat telling the awful story of Magnus, and then Claudia and her assault. Louis tore the pages out of her diary and told Daniel he didn't need to read it. Louis asks Claudia if she wants to talk about it, and she says no. Claudia's privacy is protected and she doesn't want to talk about it; Lestat has to talk about it, it’s part of the “new rules”. I don't really know what that all means, but somehow my brain is interested in this and I keep thinking about it.

Claudia: I don't like the inclusion of Bruce, for a lot of reasons. I don't see the point. I don't really understand the benefit of having something so awful happen to Claudia, I don't like that it introduces other random vampires running around so early (one of the things I liked in the book was their loneliness and wanting to meet other people like them, then the disappointment when they did finally find others after so long), I don't like that it's just this stupid random assault clumsily written in to make Claudia sad, give her some darkness, and make her want to go back to Louis. I dunno. Just didn't sit well with me. It still doesn’t.

I also don't really like Antoinette. I don't mind the mistress subplot, but I just think another random new character thrown in isn't needed, and she feels uninteresting and two dimensional, so far. I guess she'll have some things to do in the season 1 finale but... myeh. I feel like the writing is best when they're adapting things from the books - the stuff they just totally make up new feels underdeveloped. Or something.

I did like how they show Louis now seriously struggling with depression. He was just sad about everything all the time in the books and it was really his main personality trait (I didn't much enjoy book Louis). I like how in the show Louis is also still deeply affected by his sadness, but it feels more fleshed out. More sad. I wonder how Lestat must have felt watching this develop, watching Louis get worse and worse, and I wonder if he thought about Nicki at all, and if it made him afraid.

Claudia is amazing by the end of the episode, the chess match was a brilliant scene.

Louis is such an odd character right now. He is so incurious about vampirism - Claudia is always the one who wants to learn more. Louis for most of the season was shown still keeping up his business dealings and still struggling with the white bureaucrats. Really, becoming a vampire seems to have changed very little for him, besides just making everything more complicated, and sometimes I wonder why he even wanted to do this in the first place. I wonder if this is Louis trying to hold on to his humanity, not being willing to let go of that part of himself and become unmoored, not just yet.

My daughter just finished the season one finale so now I can finally talk a little bit about Armand with her. She's also asking questions that are ABSOLUTELY HILARIOUS - why isn't Claudia around in the present day? Is Lestat gonna come back now and be the abusive ex that won't go away or what? etc etc etc. She feels like all the sad drama has been neatly wrapped up now, and wonders if season two is just going to be about the plot moving forward - oh hon! Season one was just the BACKSTORY for the drama! The real messed up stuff has BARELY BEGUN! It's been so fun watching her see all this narrative for the first time. Lmao!

That's all my thoughts for now. One more ep then I'm on to season two, and I'm excited for that. I'm absolutely fascinated by the clips I've seen of Daniel and Armand and everything to do with the first interview. I absolutely adore young Daniel. Wow! He’s so… what’s the opposite of jaded? Even though this is such a low time for him, he’s so unguarded, laughing, he seems so charmed by everything. What a contrast. I can’t wait to see more.

[whatavery]

Ordained Defiance Ch. 2

And here comes the second chapter. I don't really have too much to say here, honestly, but I hope y'all enjoy.

Chapter 1 here.

-----

The wooden floor creaked slightly as Cainan stepped into the post office behind Father Arbogast, the taller man guiding the way. Cainan had of course been here before, but that was years and years ago. The white cat had hoped to avoid actually talking to anyone who might remember him, but odds were that Mr. Lang would. The gray tabby was around the same age as Cainan's parents, and Cainan vaguely recognized him on sight. Of course, he did look older now than how Cainan remembered him.

Just being back in town was starting to feel more and more like a mistake, as the sinking feeling in Cainan's stomach grew harder to ignore with each passing moment. He didn’t know what he’d been thinking; of all the places he could have gone, he had to be an idiot and choose to return to Defiance.

Maybe he really should have stayed over in Cottleville instead, and looked for easier work there. But the allure of the familiar was too strong. Well, mostly familiar. The town had changed slightly, but it still had a sense of familiarity whenever Cainan looked around. Everything he saw seemed to stir memories of years past.

And Mr. Lang was no exception. The older cat stared at him with a look of realization, recognition. Cainan knew he ought to, but he didn’t smile at the tabby behind the counter as he cautiously approached.

The post office itself was rather small, barely looking larger than a small apartment, like the ones Cainan had lived in when he stayed in St. Louis. Hell, some of them might actually have been bigger. If Cainan had to guess, he’d assume the place used to be a foyer for the house, before it was made into what it was now. At the very least, the floor space didn’t feel cramped and the office itself was decently lit by the sunlight that made it through the windows. The place carried the smell that Cainan had come to recognize as the smell of paper. At least he thought that was what it was; he’d visited libraries where that same smell hung around the books.

The interior didn’t leave much to look at, though there were post cards, some magazines and newspapers in a stand in front of the counter. Behind the counter where Mr. Lang was, a door led further into the house, though that was entirely for Mr. Lang and not for any customers.

“Ah, hello there, Father Arbogast… Mr. Wirth…” Cainan's eyes darted to Mr. Lang when he was addressed directly. Cainan's fingers anxiously gripped the hem of his sweater. This was not a good sign; not only did Mr. Lang remember him right down to his name, but he also seemed to address him with considerably less warmth than he did Father Arbogast.

“Hello…” Cainan said hesitantly, his tone stiff. Mr. Lang didn’t react much, though Cainan did get a look from Father Arbogast. Cainan averted his gaze quickly and said nothing else, letting Father Arbogast take the lead. The reverend seemed to hesitate. Cainan could feel his stare on him, even if their eyes didn’t meet.

“Well, I certainly hope we aren't troubling you, Mr. Lang. Our young visitor here is looking to settle down in his hometown once more. I don’t suppose you could use a hand around here? He’s willing to work.” When the golden-brown cat finally spoke, Cainan relaxed a bit once more, letting his gaze wander around the small shop. There really wasn't much to look at; besides the magazines and papers in the stand, there was a small desk in the corner where Cainan spotted envelopes, blank paper, post cards and writing utensils waiting to be used.

Thinking it prudent to seem a bit more interested, Cainan turned his gaze back on Mr. Lang. For the first time Cainan offered a small, albeit somewhat forced smile. A smile that wasn't returned, not even slightly.

“Is he now…?” Mr. Lang fixed Cainan with a hard stare that Cainan found hard to stomach, given that he knew exactly what was going through the older man’s head. His yellow-green eyes practically glared into Cainan's, but Cainan did his best not to break eye-contact. “I’m afraid I won’t be much help – there isn’t enough of a workload here these days. I’m sorry to disappoint, Father Arbogast.”

Although Cainan noticed that Mr. Lang didn’t sound very sorry, he just nodded. It was also clear that he only seemed to acknowledge the reverend’s existence when he spoke. Cainan cleared his throat. “Ah that’s a shame. But it’s nice to see a familiar and friendly face again…”

Though Cainan could tell Mr. Lang didn’t appear to be very happy to see him, he hoped to at least lighten the mood, relieve some of the tension he felt whenever the older tabby looked at him. Father Arbogast seemed to have noticed the tension as well, fixing Cainan with those striking blue eyes of his. He watched Cainan for a moment, before turning back to Mr. Lang and grunting, “Very well. Thank you for your time. We’d best be on our way. Good day to you, Mr. Lang.”

“And to you,” Mr. Lang replied, though Cainan could tell it was still primarily (if not solely) aimed at Father Arbogast. Not that it surprised him; he supposed he ought to have expected that at least someone would remember him, and perhaps remember the less than ideal circumstances of his departure from Defiance.

In any case, Cainan was grateful to step out of the post office, knowing he wasn't likely to visit it again anytime soon, even if he truly were to stick around. It was strange being back in Defiance and knowing that he couldn’t even go to his childhood home. At least he felt as though he shouldn’t. A small part of him was curious as to who may or may not be living in it these days, curious as to whether it looked the same or not. Wherever his parents were, he supposed he couldn’t complain about their absence, if he did stay in town.

“Well, thanks for trying,” the Turkish Angora half-muttered to the village minister once he joined him outside. Now to consider his other options…

The rest of Defiance was scattered out amongst the fields; with the small centralized area here, there wasn't much else to see besides what they’d already passed. If memory served him right, there was a store nearby as well, but he knew with almost absolute certainty that the store owner would remember him.

If the brief visit to the post office was any indication, Cainan didn’t think he'd receive much warmth from any of the older residents. He would probably know some of the younger residents, the ones around his own age, though he hadn't a clue how many among them would remember him. Defiance had been one of those small countryside towns where everyone knew everyone, however. Maybe he would actually have better luck with the people around his own age. What would they remember of him?

The Wirth family had lived right by a grove near the river, their large garden fenced in by trees. It was where Cainan had lived up till the day when he had left. He hardly remembered exactly when he did run away, but he didn’t regret his decision, not even now. It would have been a lot harder to swallow his pride and stay in town if his parents were still around. He was rather glad they weren't; it meant that there would be no confrontation and it meant he didn’t have to come crawling back to them to ask for shelter or food. The very thought alone made him feel slightly sick.

Cainan grimaced at the thought of having to walk up and knock on his parents’ front door. He knew he would have had to do that sooner than later, if they still lived in Defiance. After all, it would be rather difficult to settle down here again, and avoid interacting with them completely. The drive from Cottleville to Defiance had given Cainan time to go over a thousand scenarios in his mind. They all usually fell into one of two categories, rarely anything in-between.

Sometimes he’d imagine a heated confrontation that even the neighbors could hear from all around; Cainan’s father shouting at him, maybe his mother would even slap him. They’d be upset with him and tell him to get lost and never show his face near them again. Other times Cainan imagined that they’d be glad to finally see him after over a decade. They’d welcome him in with open arms and just be glad the Lord had brought their lost boy home again.

“Is something the matter, young man? What is that look on your face?” Cainan looked up when Father Arbogast spoke in a rather contemptuous tone. He hadn't realized that the distaste his thoughts brought him had also showed on his face.

“Nothing, nothing,” Cainan hastily replied, making his face as neutral as he could. Their eyes met. Cainan could tell Father Arbogast was far from convinced, given the way he squinted and scowled at him. At least it wasn't outright hostility, like with Mr. Lang in the post office. Cainan knew Father Arbogast was simply scrutinizing his actions – he could tell the older reverend didn’t trust him.

Cainan was no idiot; he realized he hadn’t exactly been making the best first impression. The fact that the reverend of the town was willing to do this much for him was more than he deserved. Cainan supposed he would have to go about looking for a job himself for now. If there truly was nothing to be done around Defiance, Cainan didn’t know where else he could, should or would go. He didn’t want to go back to Cottleville and certainly not back to St. Louis either. Perhaps he ought to head out eastwards instead, maybe go up and down the eastern seaboard…

“Well, I think there’s not much use in me keeping you anymore for today… Father Arbogast.” Though Cainan knew that it was simply the kind of thing one was supposed to call a reverend – a title – it still felt strange to call someone father when they weren't his parent. “I should just head on back to Cottleville for today, maybe I’ll have more luck tomorrow.”

“Hold it, Mr. Wirth. I still fail to understand exactly what it is you’re attempting here,” the older cat said, crossing his arms as he once more fixed Cainan with that searching stare, as if he were inspecting a piece of work for mistakes and imperfections. It was a look Cainan didn’t like very much. It reminded him of- “You’re not here to start any trouble, are you? Mr. Lang isn't typically like that with people around here. I cannot help but feel as though you’re omitting some details.”

Cainan had no idea how to explain himself to the reverend in a way that didn’t make him look or sound bad. What could he tell him? The truth?

The truth…

The real story would certainly explain a lot, and Cainan knew he probably owed it to Father Arbogast to be truthful and honest. Not because of any sense of pressure given his stature, or the idea that he'd be judged by a made-up higher power, but rather… Here he was, helping him out – at least he was trying to. Who was Cainan to repay that with dishonesty?

“It’s complicated…” was all Cainan could think to say for the moment, knowing it wasn't a real answer. He knew for a fact that the older cat would not be satisfied with it.

The golden-brown reverend scoffed and crossed his arms. Of course Cainan had expected such a reaction. “Complicated? It sounds to me as though you’re simply trying to avoid the question, Mr. Wirth.”

Cainan's face twitched slightly. “Just call me Cainan, please-”

“No. I’ll address you as I see fit until you start being honest.” Cainan glanced around. Thankfully, they were all alone for the time being, but with how loud Father Arbogast was being, Cainan knew it wouldn't be long before they might attract some unwanted attention. The tall, slender cat scoffed down at Cainan. “If you wish to behave like an unruly child, I will treat you as such.”

Cainan felt his cheeks burning under his fur and he didn’t meet the older cat’s eyes, his ears each giving an irate twitch. “Alright, fine, fine…! But not here… please.”

Cainan took a few steps away, towards the entrance to Defiance, before he turned, waiting for the slender cat to follow. The reverend still scowled at him, but nevertheless he followed. Cainan could tell that the golden-brown cat’s patience was wearing thin, the older cat didn’t even need to say anything.

“Alright, we are all alone out here, now explain yourself,” the taller cat demanded as the two turned down a road that would take them around the fields near the entrance to Defiance. Father Arbogast’s fluffy, lighter brown cheek fur swayed in the wind as the two of them walked, same with the tufts on the tips of Cainan's ears. He’d had always enjoyed that feeling…

“Don’t worry, I was going to,” Cainan answered casually. He stuck his hands back into his pants pockets as they walked, left hand gripping his rather light wallet. “Alright, so… When I was a kid and I left home, my parents and I didn’t part ways on very good terms. I’m surprised you didn’t know. I bet it was the talk of the town at the time-”

“I do not partake in petty gossip,” the taller cat almost spat with disgust. He shot Cainan a look that told him just how much he detested the very idea of it, those sky blue eyes looking almost fiery for a moment. “I do not spread words and rumors about people, and I trust the good people of Defiance don’t either.”

Cainan opened his mouth to contradict Father Arbogast, but he thought better of it when he thought over the response that came to mind. He not only doubted Father Arbogast’s claim, but he also wouldn't use that descriptor of the people here. Well, at least he wouldn't, if Mr. Lang was any indication. But ultimately he thought better of it, barely managing to stop himself. It really wouldn't be the best choice, if he wanted to stay here; he'd already single himself out and more or less prove Mr. Lang’s cold welcome to be warranted. No, he needed to be the bigger person for once in his life.

“Right… Well, I’m just saying it might be why Mr. Lang wasn't all too pleased to see me again.” Of course Cainan wasn't going to bring up the real reason him leaving had likely been a minor scandal amongst the locals. At the very least, he wasn't going to, unless he had to. Father Arbogast already didn’t seem to trust him or think highly of him; choosing to omit the truth seemed like the lesser of two evils at this moment in time. And it also wasn't lying, Cainan thought to himself, at least not technically.

The two were left in silence as they walked further from the more populated part of Defiance. The countryside roads were indeed rather nostalgic to Cainan, even if being back here did fill him with many very conflicting emotions.

“So I take it you returned in order to set things right with your family then? Was that what you were hoping for?” Cainan had to think about it for a moment, which surprised him. Did he actually want to see them? While Cainan wasn't sure he wanted to reconcile with them, perhaps he had hoped for a chance to talk to them as an adult. He couldn’t exactly say he expected it to have gone well, but maybe there was a small part of him that wanted to show them that he'd managed to survive on his own. He could show them that he’d managed to get by without them trying to force how he lived his life. They couldn’t control him anymore, he was his own person now- “… Mr. Wirth?”

Cainan gave a light start when Father Arbogast waved a hand in front of his face. “What? Oh, sorry… That just reminded me- Whatever… To answer your question, I suppose so. At the very least, I’d want to see them.”

The older cat looked at him skeptically, but ultimately he just silently nodded. He straightened up a bit and adjusted his hat. “I would advice that you don’t go poking around your old home. That wouldn’t be very proper of you, and I doubt the current occupants would enjoy that very much.”

“Of course, I wasn’t going to,” he almost scoffed. Of course, he wasn't going to mention that a small part of him had wanted to at least look at the large farm house near the river. He wasn’t sure he remembered the exact way there, at least he had a general idea of its location in relation to where they currently were. While his last memories in that place weren't entirely pleasant, he at least had some good memories of living there. Cainan did suppose it might not be smart to go snooping around on his own; he certainly would've been alarmed himself if a stranger turned up to sneakily look at his house, then left.

“So what will you do now? Do you intend on going around town on your own? And answer me this truthfully… Do you truly have anywhere to stay over in Cottleville?” the older cat suddenly inquired, hitting Cainan with a flurry of questions seemingly out of the blue. The white cat stood and blinked as he thought about each question.

“Well… Yes, I’d like to just go around and ask if there’s work to be done, I guess. That’s probably the best way to go about it, I think… Well, I assume.” Cainan hesitated to answer the last question, however. He’d already said he did, but he also didn’t want to be caught lying to Father Arbogast’s face. “I-… It’s fine, I do have a place to stay, but it’s not in Cottleville. I’m staying just outside town.”

Seeing the way the older cat scowled down at him, Cainan could tell he didn’t believe him. His eyes once more bore into Cainan's in a moment of silence. The older cat sighed and shook his head when his gaze finally softened considerably. “Mr. Wirth… Although I still have my doubts about you… If you’re in need of place to stay…”

“No! Uh… I mean… No thank you, Father Arbogast.” It was bad enough that the reverend was willing to help him with the job, but offering him a place to stay was far more than Cainan deserved. Of course, he did needit, but he wasn't in a position where he was comfortable accepting an offer like that. “I do have somewhere to stay. I just need work till I can afford to live somewhere more permanent.”

“I see… Very well then.” Cainan still had a feeling the older cat didn’t believe him, but the fact that he didn’t inquire further for the moment at least put the Turkish Angora’s mind at ease. “In any case, young Mr. Wirth, I think perhaps I’ll let you go for now. If you are to stick around, I’ll try and ask around town today, maybe tomorrow as well. And you're absolutely certain you'd be fine with any kind of work?”

Cainan gave a firm nod. “That I am. And I’ll return the favor any way I can, if you really want to help me, Father. I really do appreciate it.”

As Cainan held out his hand, the reverend didn’t hesitate much before shaking it. Cainan offered a small smile. “Well, I ought to, maybe, get back to it, I suppose. I need to take care of a few things. Should I come find you by the church tomorrow?”

“You may. If you're going to look around for work, may I suggest you try some of the farmers? I imagine most of them might have need for an additional set of hands,” Father Arbogast told him before once more adjusting that black hat of his. “But for now, I’d best be on my way. You be well, young Mr. Wirth.”

“And you, Reverend.” Cainan didn’t leave immediately, watching the tall, lean, black-clad figure as he walked away. He was a strange one for sure, but he seemed to have good intentions, even if he was rather difficult to read. While Father Arbogast turned back to take the main road, Cainan continued down the side road they’d been walking, headed for the forested area that bordered a different part of Defiance. Acting as a natural border for some of the fields, it was a small grove at best, but as he got closer, he soon found what had been his home for a while by now.

His black 1922 Lafayette-134 was hidden from view, for the most part. It was the last remnant that Cainan had from his days of living large in the big city. It was a nice car and it had been a big investment from his side of things, though these days it looked slightly worse for wear. It wasn't as pristine and clean as it once was, but it could still drive and that was all that mattered to Cainan these days.

It was a lovely car, but whenever the young cat looked at it, he was reminded of what his life had been like when he felt like he was untouchable, when he felt like he had achieved the pinnacle of urban living. Unlocking the door, Cainan got into the driver’s seat, slumping against the backrest. This car was all he had, holding the few belongings he was able to bring with him wherever he went.

Scooting sideways, Cainan laid down on his back across the front seat, staring up at the black ceiling. He'd forgotten how quiet it was out here away from the city. Everything was so calm, almost to an unsettling degree. Sure, he could hear birds every now and then, but it wasn’t like the constant ambient noises of the city that he'd grown used to over the past decade.

Should he have taken up the reverend’s offer and come stay with him? Perhaps he really ought to have done it, a wiser man likely would have. But if the reverend was already going to try and help him find work, didn’t he already owe him enough? Difficult as it might turn out to be, the best Cainan could really hope for was that he might eventually find somewhere better to stay in this small town.

As he reached a hand up to trace circles against the hard, dark car ceiling, Cainan started wondering if perhaps he should actually do what he'd considered for a few weeks now; take his car and drive east till he hit the coastal cities, try and find a new start far, far away from the Midwest.

And yet life had brought him back here to where he was born.

It felt like a cruel sort of irony, returning to the place he had once adamantly sworn he'd never set foot in again. There wasn't much help to seek here outside of Father Arbogast; his parents were gone, and if the experience in the post office was any indication, perhaps he wouldn't be quite so welcome with the locals. Maybe it was all a mistake, driven by some inexplicable sense of nostalgia.

How much could he sell his car for? It was a couple of years old by now, and although it might need a bit of maintenance, it still worked just about as well as the day he bought it… give or take. He grimaced as he thought back on it. In hindsight, he really shouldn’t have… but in the moment it had seemed like such a good idea; a car – his car – had felt like a symbol of freedom, like proof that he had accomplished something with his life all on his own.

Cainan didn’t know what else he was going to do for the rest of the day. Perhaps he ought to drive somewhere, maybe actually head out to the nearby farms to see what he could find. He had the other towns all around Defiance he could visit too. But gas was finite and he hadn’t a clue where or when he’d manage to refuel his car. And what little money he had was finite as well. The black vehicle was the closest thing he had to home these days anyway, so perhaps he should just stay there for now.

Sitting up once more, Cainan looked past the backrest at the backseat where he’d stashed his belongings, most of them in suitcases or little boxes. He didn’t own much these days – for one, he didn’t have room to lug a lot of stuff around on the road. But he had clothes to wear, a place to sleep, some food and a bit of cash – the bare essentials for surviving. For whatever reason, he had kept his radio, however. Just looking at the thing now, Cainan wondered if he could sell that for some petty cash…

***

“Oh, Lord give me strength…” Abelard sighed to himself as he shook his head after rubbing his temples. Trudging his way back to the church had given him plenty to think about, all revolving around Cainan Wirth. He was a strange one and Abelard admittedly didn’t have the best feeling about him. There was something about his presence that gave Abelard a sense of foreboding. Abelard wasn't sure if it was a sign, but every single time he spoke to Cainan, he got a bad feeling inside, like he was talking to some kind of… entity. It was hard to explain, even to himself, but the way Cainan dodged questions and seemed to answer with what Abelard had a feeling was half-truths only made it all the harder to want to help him.

But even despite his reservations about the younger cat, Abelard felt as though he should.

Cainan, troublemaker or not, was clearly a young man struggling to find his place in the world. Though Abelard couldn’t say he'd ever quite been in a similar situation, he supposed he could find it in his heart to sympathize with the younger man. But still, he couldn’t shake that nagging feeling in the back of his mind, whenever he went over their conversations in his head…

Looking at the altar, the reverend shook his head again. The altar was elevated on a small platform, fenced in by white, wooden, ornate railing with rounded balusters. An opening in the center of the railing allowed Abelard access to it. On said altar, two large candles stood in copper candlesticks and on the wall above them hung two large, dark wooden tablets with the ten commandments carved into them.

He'd need to figure out what to make of Cainan soon. He had a distinct feeling that the younger cat was in a dire situation, even if he wouldn't admit it. Abelard didn’t bring up the idea of groundskeeper at the time. After all, hiring someone to take care of the church grounds was… different. The church was his domain, the house of God. He could not – would not – let just anyone do it.

But was that even true? Surely, he could hire anyone to do it, but perhaps… perhaps it was down to how untrustworthy Cainan had presented himself as. Indeed, the idea of allowing Cainan to take on the job, no, the responsibility, of looking after the grounds seemed like a recipe for disaster. If only he'd been honest with Abelard, perhaps then things might have been different.

Abelard had been into town a few more times that day, but he hadn't seen the white cat around. He'd walked the stretch between the houses a few times in the day, keeping an eye out for him, thinking, pondering. He was surprised he hadn't seen him. Was he perhaps back wherever he was staying? Had he thought better of it and left town? Whatever the case, Abelard wasn’t sure what to make of Cainan's strange behavior while they had been walking together.

But all the same, Abelard couldn’t help but wonder about the encounter with Mr. Lang in the post office. He'd never seen him acting that way with people before, and yet he appeared rather cold towards Cainan, at best. Maybe there was something to what Cainan had said, but at the same time, Abelard couldn’t be certain. Maybe the postman was having a bad day – it wasn't so unreasonable to assume.

Abelard was struggling to think of ways he could assist the young cat with his pursuits, when he didn’t even know what exactly he was after. It was a strange thing, leaving your hometown so abruptly as a child, then returning a decade later. Abelard had spent his entire life in Defiance, and even in his youth, he'd never felt the desire to leave this small town, at least not for as long as Cainan had. Sure, he had left on occasion, but not for extended periods of time, outside of spending time in other churches before the days when he became ordained himself.

What was the reasonable thing to do in a case like this? Give him a chance to prove himself? Maybe if he got other work around town, then Abelard could-

“Abelard?” He heard approaching footsteps, the sound echoing throughout the vacant, darkening church. It wasn’t even particularly late, but already the sun was setting outside. Thankfully, it was only a matter of time before the days would start to get longer.

“Yes?” As the groundskeeper approached, Abelard watched him. He was up there in the years, quite a bit older than Abelard himself, and yet he'd been looking after the church grounds, since before the day Abelard had become village minister. His gait was one that showed that time had not been kind to him, as he had a limp, but nevertheless he still kept going like a man half his age would.

Tomas Wendell was a black tuxedo cat with white forearms, a white-furred face, ear tips and tail tip. His black fur had started showing quite a few specs of gray years ago, the silver hairs standing out very noticeably against the predominantly black fur. He had a lean build, though Abelard knew him to be quite strong; as recently as last summer, he’d seen him lugging branches of fallen trees around and big, heavy sacks holding mulch and the like. Clad in a pair of blue denim overalls over his clothes, the old cat was dressed in a rather humble attire.

“Any luck today?” Wendell’s tone sounded hopeful, even despite his deep, gruff voice. Abelard knew he should have made a bigger effort, but as it turned out today, the Lord had only brought him… Well, Cainan. The young straggler had since occupied Abelard's mind for the majority of the day, and not necessarily in a good way. “Did you find someone yet?”

Abelard didn’t respond right away. In truth, he really hadn’t looked into finding someone. He hadn't even sent letters to any of the contacts he thought might know of viable candidates in the neighboring towns. “No, not yet. I’m sure we’ll find someone soon. The Lord shall provide, there’s no need to worry.”

“Hmmm…” Wendell’s tone wasn't all too pleased, but he didn’t seem to be in the mood to get into a big discussion over it. The monochromatic cat nodded. “Well, let’s just hope the right man finds his way to our humble, little town. I finished with the path to the cemetery. I’d best be heading home now, you take care, Abelard.”

After bidding Wendell goodbye, Abelard turned back to face the altar one last time. Sighing, Abelard turned his sights on the beautiful, round stained glass window up above it. Depicting a single white dove in flight, it was surrounded by shapes that invoked the imagery of a rising sun over the sea; shades of blues towards the bottom half; a rounded silhouette of the sun and its rays in yellows and oranges around the flying bird. Abelard had always liked that window. Even as a small child, he remembered being mesmerized by stained glass windows. It had been so impressive to him, how people could make such wondrous things.

He closed his eyes, sighed and moved his hand in the cross gesture in front of his chest, before he turned and left the church himself. By the exit, he grabbed a single lantern, which he lit with one of his matches, using it to light his way in the darkening afternoon. He spotted Wendell on the way out, who was headed down the road towards the little collection of buildings that was Defiance. He too carried a lantern as he walked. Though he clearly struggled to walk these days, the stubborn old groundskeeper refused to use a cane.

As Abelard took the path that led from the church and past the cemetery, his thoughts drifted back to the soon-to-be-vacant position as groundskeeper… And then they drifted back to Cainan. He grimaced at the thought. He couldn’t trust this position to someone who seemed to have so much to hide. Abelard knew that he was letting his personal bias make this decision, but at the end of the day, he was the one with final say.

With hills all around, the flattest land around the church had been designated as cemetery. Here the wild vegetation was kept relatively short, the headstones sticking up from the grass. The older graves were admittedly placed very haphazardly with irregular spacing in between, by earlier grave keepers and priests. There had been no attempt to move them, of course – no need to disturb the dead for the sake of a change that would mostly affect aesthetic and superficiality.

As Abelard made his way to the side of the church along the small cemetery, he sighed.

Cainan didn’t seem like a completely bad person, but the way he acted did him no favors. A more honest man was perhaps more suited for the job. And besides, odds were that Cainan wouldn't have the experience or knowhow to be a suitable groundskeeper.

Surely that would make all the difference in the world. At least Abelard thought it very well might, as he moved along the path towards a line of trees. Like most of the fields around Defiance, the place where Abelard lived was also partially fenced in by trees. Even with the sun only starting to set in the sky, it was already getting dark, especially amongst the trees, as they blocked out the last sunlight of the day. Thankfully the lantern could light the way. It wasn't a long walk through the woods, it was a walk Abelard had taken more times than he could count in the five decades he'd been alive. It was a straight path lined with woods on both sides, which had always reminded Abelard of the aisle between pews of a church. Fitting, really.

The woods eventually opened up to a wide field of grassland. The grass here was wild and mostly unkempt, growing up to the height of Abelard's shins. That wasn't to say there was no space dedicated to farmland, far from it. For instance, the sprawling fields around Abelard’s childhood home were used to grow corn, like many other fields in Defiance.

Slowly he approached his home. His sister used to have episodes of being very easily startled, among other things. Therefore he always made sure to make himself as visible as he could when approaching his home – it was part of why he brought the lantern before it was even nightfall. Walking along the lonely path up to his home, Abelard was plainly visible from a distance. Things had been getting better for her the past few years, but Abelard still took extra care not to startle her.

As he approached the three-story house that he’d grown up in, Abelard could see a single figure watching from the window, the telltale outline of his younger sister, Elsa. It was a large house with many rooms and it even had a basement, which now served as a chapel and embalming room.

Abelard eventually reached the large stone sign out front. The plot around the Arbogast Funeral Home was lined in by a short, white fence, and the premises included a small shed off to the side of it. The backyard held a single tall tree close to the main house, while smaller ones stood around the surrounding area.

The building itself was old, a large farm house with an exterior of grayish beige planks. The ground had steps leading up to the front porch, which ran along the front and the sides of the house. White railing led along the steps and flowerbeds that were usually so beautiful in summer lined the front porch. Above the porch, a similar balcony stretched along the outside of the first floor, including the turret that overlooked the front-yard with its many windows. The turret reached all the way to the ground, the part that was attached to the ground floor serving as part of their parlor. At the very top of the building, the house also had a few dormers with windows overlooking the front yard. The house had two chimneys, one of which was currently giving off smoke.

Stepping onto the porch, Abelard heard the creaking of the chains suspending the swing seat to the right of the parlor door, a familiar, ambient noise to him. Throughout his life, Abelard had found himself seated there many times. As a breeze swept by him, Abelard was also greeted by the sound of the wind chimes hanging off the ornate railing of the balcony above. He quietly made it past the swing seat and unlocked the side door, which was the one they primarily used. The parlor door was mainly for business relating to funeral services.

Abelard stepped into the small foyer, which was dimly lit, the scent of food hanging in the air. In the foyer, doors led to the living room and to the hall that connected the parlor to the rest of the house.

Closing the door behind him, Abelard removed his hat and hung it on the coat-tree by the door, before he put out the lantern he'd carried and set it down on the floor. He sighed as the slender figure of his sister Elsa appeared in the doorway from the hall.

Fourteen years younger than Abelard, they both had a strong family resemblance, from their apricot fur, down to their bright blue eyes and even some of their facial features. Elsa’s long, blonde hair was tied into a neat ponytail and she wore a simple blue dress with a white collar and a pattern of tiny dots of darker blues all over. It had short sleeves and it contrasted quite a bit with her golden brown fur.

“Welcome home, Abelard,” was the greeting she gave him. Her neutral expression often times made her appear disinterested in what was going on around her, always looking so calm, unbothered, almost bored. It was a trait Elsa had had for most of her adult life, so Abelard was very much used to it. “How was your day?”

“Fine, Elsa. It was… fine, just…” Abelard rubbed his temples with the fingers of his left hand. He sighed. “I just have a lot of things that need dealing with.”

“So, you didn’t find a new organ player or groundskeeper? Is that what’s troubling you?” It wasn't a surprise to Abelard, Elsa knew him enough to read him quite easily, and she was far from ignorant to what was going on in Abelard's life.

“There’s indeed that…” Abelard removed his jacket as well, hanging it under his hat. “It’s just more for me to think about, and on top of that, now we have a young troublemaker running around town.”

“Really now?” she asked in a low, yet surprised tone. Always soft-spoken, Abelard couldn’t remember the last time he'd heard her raise her voice – as far as he recalled she’d never even done so in their youth. “What kind of troublemaker? Vandal? Or… Marigold?”

“No. No, he’s a different breed of troublemaker – he’s… something else. It’s a lot to explain – and I’m not in the mood right now. Perhaps over dinner. Where’s Bobby? Out back?” Elsa nodded without saying a word, as usual looking almost bored. The blonde cat simply turned and quietly made her way back to the kitchen, her footsteps so light she may as well be sneaking around. Abelard made his way to the living room past the staircase. The house hadn't changed much since the days when their parents were still around. There were still some of the same pictures and paintings on the living room walls, and the room still held some of the same old furniture that had been there since Abelard and Elsa were children.

The living room was where they had one of the fireplaces, which helped keep the house warm in winter. Windows on either side of it showed the area where the shed was, and a single window on the right side of the room also showed a view of the front porch as well. Abelard could still see the swing seat in the dim light, even as it progressively got darker and darker outside. On the opposite side of the room, there was a door leading out to the backyard, which was often left open in summertime.

A coffee table rested in the center of the living room in front of the fireplace on top of a dark brown old-world carpet with intricate, white patterns woven into it. On the left side of the table was a large arm chair that both Abelard and Bobby – Elsa’s husband – enjoyed sitting in, while on the opposite side there was a large couch.

Abelard sat down in the arm chair in front of the crackling fireplace and sighed. He let the warmth wash over him as he found himself relaxing finally. He'd barely closed his eyes before his thoughts drifted back to Cainan once again. Where was he in this moment in time? Where was he really staying? He hadn’t convinced Abelard that he had somewhere nice to stay – or really that he had anywhere to stay at all.

Opening his eyes, Abelard glanced out the nearest window at the darkening garden where he could still see the outline of the tall tree that had been there since before he and Elsa were born. He got up and walked to the window, looking out at the dark garden.

Stupid boy.

Abelard hoped he wasn't out in the cold without shelter. That was the last thing he wanted for anyone, even someone as dodgy as the young Turkish Angora…

***

Laying on the front seat of his car, Cainan tossed and turned, trying his best to get comfortable. The old blanket he had wrapped around himself could only do so much for warmth and comfort. His car didn’t retain heat very well, so it was his best shot at trapping heat in the cold spring night. Every second Cainan laid awake was another second spent regretting not taking Father Arbogast up on his offer; each shiver and shudder a reminder that he'd chosen this for himself.

Perhaps a strange sense of pride; perhaps a sense of guilt over already owing the older village minister; whatever the case, Cainan was reaping what he'd sowed now. He closed his eyes tightly and turned again till he could look out the windshield, up at the dark, but starry sky above the trees, as much as he could see of it at least. Opening his eyes, he looked up at it, a beautiful sight that he might have appreciated more, had he been more comfortable.

Cainan sat up, blanket around him as he reached down to the floor between the seat and the windshield. Pulling up his jacket, he put it over himself while still wrapped in the blanket. It didn’t help much, but as he sat there, he leaned forward and let his eyes wander up to the sky above once more.

A nostalgic sight; the stars above Defiance were as beautiful as he remembered them. Granted, he could still see those same stars elsewhere, but it was the memories they were tied to; him gazing up at the sky from his childhood bedroom, learning some of the easy to find constellations and seeing the full moon casting its mysterious bluish glow over the world at night.

But Cainan knew he'd be fine; tomorrow everything would be better, hopefully. With any luck, tomorrow would bring new opportunities – opportunities that he was willing to go looking for himself, even if it would take him all day. He had to find something, anything better than living out of his car like this.

Tomorrow is another day, Cainan thought to himself, closing his eyes again as he laid down for another attempt at sleeping. Tomorrow is another day…

[butchybats]

ELABORATE ON THE 5+1 TSHOT ADVENTURES PLEAS?

!!! OKAY SO. This started because months ago I saw a post asking if you’d let your icon do your hrt for you which no I wouldn’t <3 but it got me thinking and I think that he absolutely would for Daniel, even if he doesn’t really understand it at first. Armand’s also trans in this because I say so but hrt came out centuries after he was turned, and I don’t think he would even know about it (let alone consider it an option) until he met Daniel, or if we’re going off of amc verse, until he and Louis started bar hopping in the 70s (which, coincidentally, is when they meet Daniel.)

I think that when the interview takes place Daniel hasn’t began to medically transition, maybe he’s not even sure if he wants to, but he’s socially transitioned. Moving to sf for college was the perfect opportunity to present as himself without anyone knowing otherwise. Then when he’s doing the cat and mouse game with Armand, he doesn’t really have the time to think about it more until after pompeii (which also gives an additional layer of meaning to “you are mine, beautiful boy.) Once things have settled down a bit is when he decides that he wants to go on testosterone and is also when he officially comes out to Armand.

Which brings me back to my silly little fic idea; five times that Armand assists Daniel with his t shot, and the time that Daniel helps him with his. (This is amc verse but if I ever get the idea/motivation for a t4t vc fic...)

So, idea #1: It's Daniel's first time doing his t shot and he's really nervous so Armand offers to do it for him which he agrees to, and it'd just be a very intimate moment for both of them

#2: Daniel has been stressed out of his mind and forgets to take it and just as he’s about to fall asleep Armand reminds him that he should probably do it and Daniel says he doesn’t have the energy or patience to do it so Armand does it for him

#3: Because I absolutely love Armand tormenting old maniel: “You're scheduled to have your testosterone injection tomorrow." Aka Daniel’s like. You mean the shot I’ve been giving myself every week for the past 45 years? Why are you making it seem like such a big deal?” and Armand role playing as Rashid goes “what? Don’t be silly. I’ll give it to you :)” and Daniel has to pretend like he isn’t short circuiting. While the first two are more serious this one's really funny to me because realistically there's no way that Daniel would let "Rashid" do that but he looks to Louis for help and he just smiles and gives him a thumbs up HGHG

#4: So people on t produce more blood. Armand's a vampire. Enough said. (but because I can't shut up:) Daniel bleeds a bit from the needle which gets Armand excited and they fuck nasty about it <3 (initially I was picturing dm era but it could also be in dubai??)

#5: I haven't gotten this far yet but if anyone has any ideas please tell me!!

+1: Armand decides that he wants to try t, and together they experiment to come up with something that works (again, this could be dm era or dubai, there's too many decisions)

I know that #3 is more detailed than the other ones, initially I was writing down what was essentially an outline and then decided that I needed to be way more vague but I was struggling to condense that one hghg

If you've read this far ily, let me know how we're feeling about this!!

[madamemorisot]

To her brother Tiburce, who had gone to seek his fortune in far-off lands, Berthe announced her marriage as follows, in a letter of January, 1875:

“My dear Tiburce: Eugéne tells me that this is the day the mail goes off and for fear of missing another opportunity of writing to you, I am scribbling a few words in haste. The thought of you has obsessed me for several weeks, mon pauvre ami; where are you, what are you doing? I should give a great deal to know these things, and even more to be able to contribute in some way to your happiness. As for myself, I have been married a month now; it's strange, isn't it? T went through that great ceremony without the least pomp, in a dress and a hat, like the old woman that I am, and without guests.

“Since then I have been awaiting developments, but up to now luck has not favoured us much. The trip to Constantinople, so definite, so certain at first, is no longer so. I must not complain, however, since I have found an honest and excellent man, who I think loves me sincerely. I am facing the realities of life after living for quite a long time in chimeras that did not give me much happiness — and yet, thinking of my mother, I wonder if I have really done my duty. All these questions are complicated, and it is not easy, for me at least, to distinguish clearly between the right and the wrong.

“Mother is at Cambrai with Yves; she will have written to you, I think. She is there, poor woman, seeking a little peace of mind that she does not find. Her sorrows are not appeased by time, and you, my dear friend, you are a great cause of anxiety to her.

“How long it is since we heard from you! Today is January 24, a sad day, the anniversary of the death of poor father. How my heart tightens at the thought of these last years that were so agonizing, of his long suffering, and how I regret that 1 did not know how to ease his last moments!

“No, you see, my dear Tiburce, life is too short — we cannot afford to live so far from one another. Come back . . . unless you are getting rich, since that wretched thing, money, represents perfect happiness.

“Edma is still at Passy with her two babies and her husband; she has  again been very ill; decidedly the state of her health has been very precarious since her last confinement.“Do not take too many risks with your own health; you know that in the long run those climates are murderous. At times 1 have a kind of vague hope that you are on your way back home, and since I have never lost my faith in your future I can see you here, writing and making money, which is the ultimate goal of success... Where did you meet with Louis C—? Recently he has praised you to the Duchess Colonna in the most glowing terms: you are a genius . .. those are the words he used. Itis a pity that such praise does not come from someone else; but never mind, it is the fools who run the world — one must not scorn them too much. Are you still interested in your country'spolitics?”

A little later she wrote to him again:

“My dear Tiburce: I am writing to you today for the last time —at least, that is my ardent wish. I should like to know that you are already en route, far from that dreadful climate, and ready to return to us. Mother has sent me your letter; I read it with much emotion, realizing how much you have suffered and how sick you still are. Take care of yourself, be prudent; the change of air will do the rest.

“How we are looking forward to seeing you again, to be talking with you about so many extraordinary adventures! We'll make you relate them in detail. Then you will replace me a little at the side of poor mother, whom I have deserted; she will even benefit a great deal from the change, for our téte-4-téte has not been gay. You will give her new life.

“I  am just as confident of your future here; do not be distressed because you are returning empty-handed. Life is full of sudden changes; let us hope that this time they will be favourable for you.”

[alwaysxlarrie]

my fav fics masterlist part 1 (A-M)

i’m currently procrastinating learning autocad & editing youtube videos, so here i am. this post is long bc of the format of the summaries - sorry about that, wanted to keep them formatted how the authors had them! anyway, this is all my fav fics, alphabetically. this is part 1. part 2 will be coming...at some point. grab a snack, grab a beverage & settle in friends. :)

as small as possible by mickey_d

“Harry is a rather shy omega who's quite convinced everyone (except his best friends) laughs at him behind his back and sometimes to his face.

Louis is a confident alpha who is taken with his best artist's friend.”

a million roses (bathed in rock n’ roll) by deLILAh

“au. harry sings in smoky dive bars; louis misses his flight home. they go to coney island in the morning.

(aka - harry is lana del rey, and louis makes him a star.)”

adore you by @isthatyoularry

““We invited our new acquaintances from uptown. You’ve simply got to meet their oldest son!” said his mother with a flourish, and suddenly it became abundantly clear as to why his parents had so adamantly demanded he join them in Deansville for the entirety of the summer.

Against his wishes, Harry spends the holidays at his family’s summer estate, and is reluctantly pulled into a courtship he didn’t ask for. Harry doesn’t want to get married, but Louis does. They don’t fit, but then again they really, really do.

Vaguely set in the 1920’s. Headpieces, jazz, fashionable canes, and flapper dresses, and that.”

are you taking clients? by @jaerie

“Escaping had been the hardest thing Harry had ever done. They'd stolen his child and nearly stolen his life. Being homeless and pregnant gave Harry few options. It's a last resort to let men fetishize his body, but the luxury of choice is something Harry doesn't have.”

and the truth shall set you free... by @jaerie

“Betism: A religion based on the belief that the beta gender has been chosen by God to protect and defend the purity and dignity of the human race by resisting and condemning the lustful ways and flawed biology of the alpha and omega”

ain’t that a kick in the head! by @karasunonolibero and keysmashlesbian

““Well.” Niall unlocks his phone. “It wasn’t getting the traction I wanted on Snapchat. So…I tweeted it.”

What.

“You tweeted it,” Harry states, nearing a state of brain dead. “To your ten thousand followers.”

Niall nods, handing Harry the phone. “You’re a meme, Harry.”

“I’m a what?”

“A meme. It’s like an internet—”

“I know what a fucking meme is, Niall! Why did you make me into one?”

Niall has the fucking balls to cackle at that while Harry looks at the mess his former friend created. Videos of him screaming at Tomlinson about Tide Pods and his ass are being quoted and combined with memes to a create a level of memeception Harry has never seen before. That isn’t even including the thousands of tweets of him falling up the stairs remixed with random Top 40 songs.

~

In which Harry’s a disaster gay who doesn’t know shit about soccer, Liam drinks too many blue raspberry Coolattas, Niall knows everyone, Zayn looks dead, and Louis is Not Happy about sharing his breakout moment with “Drunk Hawaiian Guy.””

atlas at last by louisandthealien

“He doesn’t know what he had been expecting out of the road trip itself besides burping contests and too much shitty gas station food with Oli and Stan, but in the brief moment before Harry ambles up his driveway, Louis idly wonders if this is about to become some sort of Gay Coming of Age story.

Maine to California in ten days. In which Zayn’s an open-shirt hippie they meet somewhere in Ohio, Liam’s the pastor’s son running away from home, and Niall’s the number they call on the bathroom wall.

It’s 1978. Harry and Louis are just trying to get to San Fran in time for the Queen concert.”

all i want is to fall with you by @2tiedships2

“The pair looked at each other for a few moments before Harry moved forward and gathered Louis in an unexpected hug.

It was nice, but why the fuck was an unknown alpha hugging him? Maybe an even better question would be why did Louis feel so secure in this stranger's arms?

Harry quickly let go and Louis felt something pull at him.

"Sorry," Harry said, holding his hands up in surrender. "Shit, um, that just seemed a natural response for some reason. I’m so sorry."

Louis smiled up at the alpha. "It's okay. Thanks again, Harry."

"You're welcome. I know it's horrible weather, and less than optimal circumstances, but this was a brilliant meet-cute."

What the fuck was a meet-cute?

Or the weekend ski trip where omega Louis discovers that he can’t change a tire and his skiing skills are debatable but still manages to find the alpha who will change his life.”

ask and i’ll obey by orphan account

““So, tell me what you want?” The younger boy demanded, and Louis’ mind filled with inappropriate images of Harry. Everything to do with Harry.

“I…” He couldn’t think. Could barely breathe, and his dick was so fucking hard in his track pants he didn’t know why Harry wasn’t pointing it out.

“You…have to do whatever I say for a whole day.” Louis blurted out.

“Deal.” Harry said without missing a beat, his green eyes shining like the light in The Great Gatsby. His easy agreement had Louis groaning, because Harry already did whatever Louis told him to do.

Or, the one where Harry and Louis challenge each other not to get off to see who will break first.”

and that’s the tea by @2tiedships2

“I’d like an Earl Grey with milk and sugar, please.

Louis had the phrase memorized, even though it had disappeared off its place on his upper arm over thirteen years ago now.

At fourteen he didn’t understand. Soulmarks don’t just disappear. Not unless…

Unless one of them dies.

Or, the one where Louis loses his soulmate before even getting the chance to meet them, and he is in no way prepared for the kind of distraction his new friend Harry proves to be.”

a cauldron of love by @zimriya

““Oh for Merlin’s sake, yes,” Niall interrupts finally. “Harry’s been in love with Louis Tomlinson since that time in second year when he went and accidentally peed on him.”

Harry turns to face him, horrified. “Niall!” he squeaks out. “You promised you wouldn’t tell anyone about that!”

Niall just shrugs and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Aw, come off it, Hazza, was it really a secret?” When Harry doesn’t say anything, he pauses and looks up. “It was?” he says. “Ah, bollocks.””

a fully armed battalion (to remind you of my love) by @mediawhorefics

““He was flirting with you by the way,” Niall says casually once he’s finished saying goodbye to Louis and he’s joined Harry outside.

“No he wasn’t,” Harry replies automatically, feeling his heart clench at the thought. Was he?

Niall simply raises a mocking eyebrow in response before wrapping his scarf twice around his neck.

“Not that it matters!” Harry says quickly, eyes widening. “I wouldn’t care even if he did because he’s awful and the worst.”

Everyone at Hogwarts knows that Professor Styles and Professor Tomlinson absolutely despise each other. It's too bad that they're in love.”

all your mates are here by @londonfoginacup

“"The pack is... It's folding, Harry."

Like every werewolf does when they get to a new town, Harry joined one of the many local packs when he started university. Now, three years into his program, he's hit with the news that his pack is giving up, going their separate ways. In the wake of the holidays, the three single wolves from the Majestic pack are pointed in the direction of a new pack to join; one that's got struggles of its own.

A new pack, a new house, and two new roommates with personal space issues... Plus exams, of course.

Happy Christmas, here's to many more.”

a cage for every ugly spirit by @povverbottoms

“First-year uni student Harry gives up orgasms for Lent, featuring a cock cage and weekly prostate milkings on Sundays. Warning for religion kink. Written for the 1D Novena Ficathon.”

at last, at last by @suspendrs

““Come with us,” Tommo says, stopping at the other end of the gymnasium, near the doors. “Don’t let them make you suffer any longer. Come with us, and be human.”

Before Harry has even finished thinking it through, he’s on his feet, gaining the attention of every single person in the gymnasium. What has he got to lose, anyway?

Or, Harry is born into a cult in a post-apocalyptic world, and Louis is the leader of the rebel group tasked with the mission of shutting them down. Together, they make a rather effective team.”

all we have by colourexplosion

“He looks at the person who’s asked him a question and then immediately wishes he hadn’t. He’s beautiful, is the thing, and Harry’s met him before.

“No, sorry,” he says, shaking his head, averting his eyes. It’s an old habit, one he’s gotten better about resisting, but he supposes seeing Louis Tomlinson out in the wild transports him right back to youth club.

“Ah, s’fine really,” Louis says, instead of just walking away like a normal person, “Pretty boy like you shouldn’t be smoking anyway, yeah?”

Harry’s cheeks flood with heat before he can stop it, and he squeezes his eyes shut. Of course. Of course Louis Tomlinson — the boy who basically made Harry realize he’s gay — thinks he’s cute now. Ten years after the fact, and much too late for it to do any good at all. Or, a 'Grown' au”

a million one, a million two (a million more will never do) by @littlelostpieces

“While Harry doesn’t want to spend his final year at Wilshire Academy sharing his space with yet another idiot roommate, he figures he could have ended up with a lot worse than Niall. As the school’s newest scholarship student, Niall provides a fresh perspective on Harry’s privileged life, as well as a grounding presence when Harry’s other friends, Liam and Zayn, are acting like lunatics. Most importantly, though, Niall introduces him to Louis, a cynical townie with zero interest in spending his time around entitled boarding school kids. Convincing Louis that he’s more than a trust fund and a charming smile won’t be easy, but Harry’s never been one to back down from a challenge.

An AU loosely inspired by the short-lived WB drama, Young Americans, and the Gotta Be You music video.”

a life that we share (i owe it all to you) by @all-these-larrythings

“When Harry's son came home from school crying he didn't think things could get any worse. Lucky for them, things were just about to change for the best.

or

Harry's son get bullied until Louis' son shows up :)”

all the right moves by @cherrystreet

“This is the third game in a row that Harry has been distracted by the noisy boy in the stands, five rows back.

There’s really no reason that he should feel compelled to stare into the audience as frequently as he is, but he can’t help it. This boy is a nuisance. And he’s loud. Even from basketball court with nine other players running by him, shoes squeaking on the shiny hardwood floor, and thousands of cheering college students, Harry can hear this boy nearly shrieking, his laugh more like a cackle than anything.

It’s seriously obnoxious.”

boys fall like dominoes by orphan account

“Harry slips into an early heat while riding the tube. Naturally, that's when he meets Louis.”

baby we could be enough (i’ll make this feel like home) by orphan account

““Did you clean the table?” Harry asks Louis once Rose is done speaking, now occupied with trying to see if she can reach over and touch Harry’s hair from where she’s sat. At Louis’ nod, Harry frowns. “You didn’t have to do that. You’re my guests here, I could’ve dealt with it later.”

Louis just smiles easily, though, adjusting Rose on his lap so that she’s facing Harry better. She manages to tug on a loose wave of hair, and she makes a noise of triumph that both Louis and Harry smile at.

“I don’t mind,” Louis murmurs to Harry, even though he’s looking at Rose. “This one here seemed very excited to talk to you.”

And, okay. Harry can’t help but think of how domestic this feels, all of a sudden.

[harry is a photographer who's trying to find his place. louis is a single father with a smile that feels like home.]”

but if you close your eyes does it almost feel like by pukeandcry

“Marcel’s not sure what the draw is for Louis, but he finds himself looking forward to it, glancing out into the hall several times an hour to see if Louis might be walking by. Louis is just -- he’s magnetic, like he’s got his own gravitational field around him, and it makes Marcel’s stomach jump around nervously just being around him, but it only takes him a few days to realize how much he likes that feeling, the hitch in his chest he gets when he spots Louis across the office and smiles at him.”

burn this flame by @rainbowninja

““You’ve played keeper before?” Tomlinson asks suspiciously, hands on his waist.“

Er, yeah,” Harry coughs. “Loads of times.”

“Alright Popstar, if you’re sure,” Tomlinson tells him with a shrug, his professional expression already curling into laughter. Harry tries not to read too much into it. After all, how hard can goalkeeping really be?

When Harry gets invited to play in a celebrity charity match with Louis Tomlinson, Manchester United's star player, he's determined to impress him with brilliant football skills. The only flaw in Harry's otherwise foolproof plan? He has absolutely no football skills, brilliant or otherwise.”

but why wonder, why wonder? by @100percentsassy

“The one where Marcel Styles has improbably landed a job in the fashion industry, and Louis Tomlinson is the actor-turned-lingerie-designer he’s been infatuated with for years.”

babydoll blues by @thedevilinmybrain

“Louis is a high profile, filthy rich label executive who has the world at his feet - a music god.. Harry is the sugar baby trying to make a name for himself singing in shady bars and hanging off the arm of Louis' biggest rival. What Louis wants, Louis gets. But what if the game gets too hot and hits a little too close to the heart?”

back to seventeen by @ireallysawanangel

“As a first grade teacher in a small town in Illinois, Harry’s life is pretty simple. He loves his job, is close with his family, and has a best friend he would go to the ends of the earth for. When a new soccer coach starts at the local high school, things start to get a bit more exciting for Harry. Because that coach just happens to be Louis Tomlinson; the guy Harry was unrequitedly in love with in high school.

Or the one where Louis moves back to his hometown and Harry realizes he’s still not over his high school crush.”

business or pleasure by therogueskimo

“Boss: Know why I called you in here? Employee: Because I accidentally sent you a dick pic. Boss: (stops pouring 2 glasses of wine) Accidentally?

or the one where Harry sends a snapchat to the wrong person, who just so happens to be Louis Tomlinson, aka his boss.”

baby shut your mouth and turn me inside out by ballsdeepinjesus

“And it’s good. It’s really, really good. Except they haven’t really talked about any of this and Harry can’t muster the courage to bring it up. Niall’s words at the bar run through his mind nearly every day. Fresh meat. Is this a thing Louis does, then? Find a toy to play with for awhile until he gets bored?

He knows Louis, though. He’s been friends with him for months now and he knows that he’s not just some heartless asshole. But he doesn’t know if this is just a nice convenient hook-up to him or something more, like how Harry feels. And he knows he should ask, but he’s not brave enough. Not brave enough to possibly ruin everything when Harry can take what he’s being offered without complaints.

[harry and louis meet in a mcdonalds. louis is everything harry needs.]”

be my little good luck charm by @100percentsassy

“In which Harry is a promising amateur golfer making his debut at the PGA Championship, and Louis is a Sky Sports anchor who would really rather be commentating on footie.

The other boys are around too: caddy!Niall provides victory pints, Liam is Louis's Very Serious co-anchor, and poor Zayn just gets his face drawn on.”

baby thinking of you keeps me up all night by ballsdeepinjesus

“Louis sputters in response, shaking his head wildly. Harry moves closer, placing his hand on Louis’ chest and trailing it up towards his neck to curve around. “I am younger than you. Bet you like that. Think you can push me around.”

Louis fishmouths, glaring at Harry who reminds him suspiciously of a shark at the moment. He smells blood in the water.

“Is that what this is about, Louis?” Harry asks. He leans in and fits his mouth against Louis’ earlobe, huffing hot breaths into his ear. “You want to fuck me, don’t you?”

[harry is a 19 y/o singer and louis is a 29 y/o actor with no love for teenage popstars.]”

but when we kiss... by @indiaalphawhiskey

“Louis only nodded, still smiling. “Right, okay. As much fun as this has been, I really doubt the lovely heated seating of my car will dull our banter. Or...” he dragged out the ‘r’, eyes mischievous. “Are you really going to let a…” he assessed Harry. “Twenty? Twenty year gap,” he confirmed. “Be the reason you get hypothermia? Is that really the hill you want to freeze on, Mr. Principled?”

–– Or, while Harry and Louis adore the chase, they find they adore each other much, much more.”

boom, boom, don’t you wanna go by anonymous

“It doesn't take much to convince Harry to participate in Lambda Sig's annual ceremony for graduating seniors. She's hooked up with a few of the brothers already anyway, as lackluster as they were. She has to have her legs and bare bottom half on display for the rest of the brothers in the senior class to see, but she's always kind of liked being played with and definitely likes being on display. She's graduating in a few weeks anyway. What's the worst that can happen?

She doesn't expect contestant number fifteen to blow her mind in the first round. He doesn't let up.”

caught in your gravity by @lululawrence

“It felt like the blood froze in Harry’s veins even as he got a bit lightheaded. He hadn’t even made it two practices, only one of which he was remotely in charge of, without giving it all away and now he and Liam were both absolutely fucked.

“Shit,” Harry breathed out. “Who all have you told? Does everyone know? I thought I covered it better than that…”

“No, no,” Louis said quickly. "They’ll figure it out soon enough, though, because they’ll get used to you changing things up, but you’re only going to trip over your so called Americanisms for so long before they realize it’s because you don’t actually know fuck all about football.”

Harry sighed. “Yeah. I figured. I just need to bullshit for long enough to allow Liam to get the situation figured out from his end.”

“Right, which brings me to my entire point. I think we can find a mutually beneficial arrangement with all of this.” Louis leaned forward. “You need to learn the ins and outs of the sport incredibly fast. I can help you with that.”

“What do you want in exchange?”

Or, an AU inspired by a 30 second trailer of Ted Lasso that doesn't actually have much in common with the show at all.”

counting the steps between us by zarah5

“AU. So, yeah. That year abroad helped Harry establish that he is in love with his best friend. Now, if Louis would stop treating him like a little brother, that would be awesome. (Additional ingredients: a collapsing tree house, a lot of pining, the other three boys as Louis' new best mates from university, and a camping trip. Serve hot.)”

come in and change my life by @lightwoodsmagic

“He’d had the same neighbours since he’d moved into the building, a lovely, wealthy couple in their late sixties who had always invited him around for tea on Sundays. Martha had dropped off homemade biscuits the day he’d moved in, so Harry figured he may as well repeat the sentiment. He could hear someone getting closer to the door just as a flush ran through his body; oh fuck. His heat was close, too close to be knocking on a potentially unknown alpha’s door, but it was too late. The door swung open, and Harry’s mouth dropped. He’d never been overly interested in football, couldn’t find the fascination in watching men run around after a ball for hours aside from their uniforms, but he knew who this was. Louis Tomlinson, alpha, captain of Manchester United, star in a number of Harry’s heat addled fantasies, was his new next-door neighbour.

Or, Harry and Louis become friends when Harry looks after Louis' cat during away games, until one night at a party changes everything between them. It's just a shame Louis' going to be away for the FIFA World Cup for three months.”

cookie jar by fanshae

“Louis catches Harry with his hand in the metaphorical cookie jar and stays to watch.”

counterculture by @sadaveniren

“It all culminated to this: Harry in the middle of a crowded basement, music blasting from the live show on the far side, shirtless amongst alphas and omegas who all weren’t covering their scents. He took a deep breath of the heavy air and he felt alive.”

convalescent boy (with a heart of gold) by @londonfoginacup

“Just as the professor beginning to mess with his powerpoint, the door at the back of the balcony creaks open and Marcel looks back to notice Louis Tomlinson, The Louis Tomlinson, slip in and take a seat in the very back.

Marcel is starting to feel like his life is a comedy. Only yesterday was Louis Tomlinson on his floor at the library. Now he’s in his seminar. What is happening?

“Hey Mars,” Nick says, not particularly quietly as he leans over. “Isn’t that your crush?”

Marcel smacks him.

Or, the one where Marcel is a nerd who loves to learn but loves to go to theatre productions even more, and may or may not have a long time crush on the lead in most of the plays, Louis Tomlinson. The same Louis Tomlinson who seems to be appearing wherever Marcel is. Funny, that.”

drape me in your warmth by @husbandau

“TMH era fic where Harry is an omega whose heat comes a little earlier than expected and really, who is Louis to deny him his knot?”

deep in my heart i know there’s only you by ballsdeepinjesus

“"Will you do it?” Harry whispers. Louis has to lean closer just to hear him. He furrows his brows and shakes his head, not knowing what Harry means. “Would you donate for me?”

Louis is dumbfounded. “I’m sorry, I thought you just asked if I’d donate my sperm. Can you repeat yourself?”

[harry and louis are best friends who engage in some platonic baby-making. very platonic.]”

don’t move in (don’t move out) by @2tiedships2

“Only one more week and Harry would be living under the same roof. Gone would be Liam’s alpha scent, quickly replaced with Harry’s. All Harry. Louis was going to fucking die. You’d think Louis would be used to it by now, that Harry’s scent would simply fade into the background like Liam’s did. But Louis had a feeling he would simultaneously be living in Heaven and Hell once Harry moved in.

Louis was pulled out of his thoughts when Niall smacked him on the back of his head.

"The fuck was that for?" Louis asked, rubbing his head and looking at the bloody Irishman he called his other best friend.

"You were basically drooling, mate,” Niall said. “That was a courtesy smack to keep your daydreaming from seeping into your pheromones."”

do you like my sweater? by @icanhazzalou

““Look, for a Sadie Hawkins dance the omegas are supposed to invite the alphas instead of the other way around.”

Niall and Liam shared a look. “That… sounds like the sort of thing you would usually be all over, Lou,” Liam said, face pinched in confusion. Niall nodded his agreement.

“Yeah, if omegas were hosting it,” Louis replied sourly. “It’s one thing if we decide that we’re going to ask the alphas for a change. It’s insulting that they think we need their permission.”

When Harry's alpha fraternity decides to host a Sadie Hawkins dance, outspoken omega Louis has a thing or two to say about it.”

don’t have to go to the pool by @kingsoftheimpossible

“Louis is the captain of the swim team, Harry is in love with him a bit, and there's this ritual before Big Meets. Everything goes fine. alternative summary: a suspicious lack of swimming for a story involving a swim team.”

dom louis by @comebackassholes (summary is from first work in the series)

“Dear Mr. Louis, Hello. I’m Harry. I got your contact from a good friend of mine and was wondering if I can get your services. My 30th birthday is coming up and all I’ve ever wanted is to get spanked, maybe more? If you’re interested, please contact me. I’d love to hear from you. Sincerely, Harry Marcel reads over the words. He guesses there isn’t a much better way to ask for what he needs. He almost changes the name again but decides Harry is fine. It’s generic and nothing that can be traced to him. At least he doesn’t think so. Okay, he’s overthinking again so he clicks the send button before he can talk himself out of it. His heart races as soon as he does. He almost wants to take it back, figure out a way to undo it, but he takes a big gulp of his wine to calm down. It’s fine. This is fine. He can do this.”

do not falter (there’s a star ahead) by @londonfoginacup

“It's Christmas Eve, and every single one of Louis' family members are crowded inside his little flat. Really, what more could he ask for on his birthday?

The present he never knew he wanted - in the form of an omega from his past - might just make this his most memorable Christmas.”

enjoy the ride by @2tiedships2

““Stop sulking and get up. I have a proposition to make.”

“Niall?” Louis questioned. “Do you think I should put glow in the dark stars on my ceiling?”

He looked over and found Niall giving him an unimpressed look.

“So, no?” Louis asked. “No stars?”

“We’re going on a road trip,” Niall stated.

Louis looked back at his starless ceiling and waved farewell to Niall. “Cool. Have fun!”

“No, you idiot.” Niall let out a frustrated sigh. “You, me, Liam, and Harry.”

Louis glanced over to Niall and back to the ceiling. “Who’s Harry?”

Or the one where Louis, an omega more than tired of being treated as lesser than alphas, is forced on a road trip by his beta besties only to meet Harry who might just be the alpha he never knew he wanted.”

even as young as you are by ologist

“Harry’s sister has a baby. When he goes to meet her, he finds more than one new love of his life at the hospital.”

everywhere and nowhere by @2tiedships2

“Niall took a seat and said, "Apparently Louis' downstairs neighbor is a fan of giving Louis creepy gifts. Maybe I should go introduce myself and tell him that Louis actually prefers food."

"What has he given you?" Liam asked.

Louis shrugged as it were no big deal. "There was a rabbit's foot keychain on the door a little after he left from introducing himself and there was a small teddy bear sitting by my door tonight. Obviously I can't prove it's from him, but they seem to have his scent. I could be wrong though."

"Wow," Liam said, looking deep in thought. "That's old school."

"What's old school?" Niall asked. "Giving creepy gifts?"

"I've never known an alpha to do it, to be honest, but he's courting you."

Louis couldn't contain his look of disbelief directed at Liam. "He's courting me. Like some sort of romantic shit they'd do in the 1800s or something?"”

from eight until late, i think about you by supernope

“After finding out that his University of Brighton roommate has a YouTube channel, Harry starts up his own channel, on which he posts videos of himself doing weekly challenges. He strikes up a friendship with Louis, a popular youtuber in London, that starts in the comments on their videos and progresses to texting, skyping, and talking about each other in their own videos far too often. They fall for each other long-distance, but put off meeting face-to-face as long as possible, too nervous that they'll screw it all up.

Involves a bunch of YouTube challenges (AKA excuses for Harry to get naked), some awkward snapchat mishaps, and a whole lot of pining.”

face your fears by @sadaveniren

“Harry is a single father, pretending to be a beta after his alpha mated him and left him. He’s getting by just fine raising the twins when Louis walks into his bakery. Too bad him and Louis will never be a thing.”

foolishly, completely falling by dea_liberty

“"Now that he’s actually gone and done it, there seems to be no way of going back - no rinse and repeat, no ctrl+alt+del, no abort button, no help to be had. He’s fallen into a black hole and he cannot seem to find a way out. The black hole is also known as Tumblr. More specifically, it’s known as Tumblr’s Larry Stylinson tag."

OR: The one where Louis becomes a Larry shipper by accident.”

faking it by @donotdialnine

“A uni AU in which Louis has been Harry’s best friend since he offered him cubed fruit on the playground, and they spend more time cuddling in their dorm beds than they do apart, but it’s not like that. Or is it?

Aka Harry pretends to date his best friend to escape unwanted attention from a too insistent classmate and hopes it won’t blow up in his face. Featuring embarrassing dildo accidents, awkward boners, longing, first times, late night conversations, emotional discoveries and Niall as the exasperated friend with bad advice.”

feel so foolish by @juliusschmidt

“Louis and his friends keep laughing at Harry; he's sure of it. But he's not sure why.”

fever started long ago by @mediaville

“"Stay." His brain is skipping backwards but his mouth is skipping forward. "Like, in this bed? With me."

The words hang in the air, somewhere in between their naked chests. Louis licks his lips, and a tiny crinkle appears between his eyebrows. "Why?"

Does there have to be a reason for everything? Does everything have to be a debate? Why does Louis ask 'why?' and not 'why not?' Harry's already annoyed that he wants him to stay. "I'm ill," he says, sniffling for good measure. "I need supervision."

Louis hesitates, looking uncertain, and Harry doesn't like that look on him. "It's late," he says eventually. "You need your rest."

"We'll sleep," Harry promises, and as if on cue, he yawns. He is rather sleepy. "It will be restful."

SPOILER: Styles gets his way. It's not restful.”

fiction romance by orphan account

“Harry has a type.

He likes older, sophisticated, mature men. Well-educated men. Men with life experience and passion for arts and social causes. Men who are established in their careers, who've sorted their lives out.

Niall knows this.

And so Harry can't understand why he's sat here opposite Louis Tomlinson.

A punk Louis/uni Harry blind date AU.”

freeze this moment in a frame and stay like this by @rosesau

“Harry (not so) secretly crushes on the cute footie player and fills pages with sketches of him.”

follow me down this time by supernope

“Harry first noticed Louis in his second term at Hogwarts, and despite three years of inventing ways to stumble across Louis, he's never managed to actually work up the courage to speak to him. Also known as, self-indulgent Hogwarts AU, because every fandom needs Hogwarts AUs.”

faith, trust, and a little pixie dust by orphan account

“Louis loves Halloween. Harry hates everything about it, but he loves Louis. And Niall loves vodka and glitter so there's that.

Or the one where Harry has been pining for his best friend and roommate for years. It takes a costume party, an Irish fairy and a sprinkle of pixie dust to give this fairytale prince his happy ending.”

foolishly laying our hearts on the table by @runaway-train-works

““You think Harry wants that?”

“Dunno. Maybe. Wanna make him happy.” Harry takes advantage of the red light he’s pulled up to turn and look properly at Louis’ face. He’s not even looking in Harry’s direction though, focused instead on something out of his side window, head drooped, mindlessly playing with the string of his hoodie between his fingers, lost in his own world somewhere. For some reason, it makes Harry’s spine straighten. 

“Because he’s your best mate?” Harry questions carefully. 

“He’s my boyfriend.”

He couldn’t have heard him right. “What?”

Louis releases a deep breath, still not turning around. Harry wonders who he thinks he’s talking to right now. “He’s so pretty. Want to kiss him all day long. And buy him a big house and give him presents and marry him.”

Or

The one where Harry is in love with his best friend Louis but doesn't think he stands a chance until some wisdom teeth and a rather unusual confession might just change his mind.”

give you my fever by beautlouis

“And he’s wanted it even more since he met Louis, it's driven him insane, he spends 90% of his life turned on because of Louis and he’s had no relief at all. He’ll wake up at night too hot and itchy, with Louis warm and sweet smelling next to him, and unable to do anything but wank unsuccessfully, with no release. “I can try,” Louis says, close enough that Harry’s eyes cross a little trying to look at him. “I want to, I’ve never been with anybody, like, I’ve snogged people, lots of people, but I’ve never—touched anyone.” He clears his throat. “I’d touch you, Hazza.”

Harry’s breathing picks up. “Yes.” He doesn’t think there was a question but he’s a little overwhelmed. “Yes,” he repeats, dizzy.

*x-factor era. harry's never had an orgasm before, louis gives him his first”

gathered on wings by @twopoppies

“As Harry lay by Louis’ side, covered in sweat and come, he knew he should feel ugly, messy, ruined, like the life he’d left behind. But something about the way Louis looked at him, the way he stared at him with want and awe, made Harry wonder if he’d ever feel this beautiful again.

Harry rolled his eyes at himself for his momentary romantic dreaminess. As good as this was, he knew it was nothing more than sex. He literally couldn’t afford to fall for just anyone, no matter how fit they were.

-----

What Harry Styles wanted was to be taken seriously as an artist. What he needed was a new sugar daddy to pave the way. Louis Tomlinson is an artist who isn’t what Harry is looking for. Somehow he still manages to turn Harry's world upside down. “

gorgeous (it makes me so mad) by @artxghoul

“Harry’s a coffee barista with nothing really going on for him except for the occasional flirting with, some, particularly hot male customers. But when a new guy starts coming in, he suddenly doesn’t know what to make out of any single situation anymore.

or: Harry is a hot mess. Liam is a brilliant roommate. Niall is a wise lesbian co-worker. Clifford is a good boy. Louis is a bad boy. Circumstances are bizarre.”

got my eyes on you by @eleadore

“Harry’s not supposed to take off his clothes, but it’s one of those unspoken rules, much like don’t have a wank with your best mate and definitely don’t make that a regular thing, fuck, what the fuck.”

give a little sing to the singles by @londonfoginacup

“Harry Styles is an adult now, with a real adult job (and benefits! Whatever those are!). He spends his days at the copier. Copying things.

That being said, no one told Harry that being an adult came with a confusingly chaotic boss, a copier machine that would be hell-bent on ruining his life, and a coworker so good looking that Harry might just have to quit. After all, Christmas is coming and if their office doesn’t win the decorating contest, Louis has threatened to break several laws and kneecaps in retaliation.

Happy Christmas, here’s to many more.”

haven by orphan account

“"I take it you’re not a new student?” “What?” Harry mumbles, caught up in the way his eyes are quite literally sparkling in the light. “Oh—No. Not a student.” “Are you a sub?” Louis asks. Harry clenches his hands into fists, holding them behind his back as he stumbles a bit. “I don’t, uh—I mean. I’ve never really gotten a chance to be a true sub, you know? My ex-partners were always scared they’d hurt me. But, like—If I trusted someone a lot, and if we used a, a safeword. And talked about, you know, boundaries, then—Yes, yeah, I-I’m a sub.” Louis’ eyes are so wide, his cheeks puffing out in the effort to not burst into laughter. “Oh shit, oh my god,” Harry whispers. “You meant—Oh god."”

horizontal like a quarter to three by orphan account

“The worst part is that Louis just wants to get really rough with him. He's wanted it right from the start, and it doesn't make sense, because Harry's always been so gentle and understanding and sweet, and yet all Louis wants to do is fuck him up.”

homegrown by casuallyhl

““It wasn’t an easy decision, if I’m honest,” Harry admits, shoulders sagging in on himself. “Moving is really difficult. My whole life was in Manchester. But Manchester didn’t want me. Leeds did.”

“Well, Leeds is happy to have you,” Louis says, giving Harry a kind smile.

Harry brightens a bit at that, undeniably pleased. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis replies, expression soft and lips curved.

Or, a gardening AU where Harry is new to town and the newest volunteer at the local gardening club, Louis is the attractive grandson of one of the members, and the nosy volunteers hatch a plan to get them together.”

hike up your skirt (and show your world to me) by anonymous

“Louis has a very hands on approach to training his new secretary. How else can he make sure Harry realizes his full potential?”

have a nice trip by @kingsofeverything

“While Harry and his roommate Louis are stuck at home practicing social distancing, they decide to take a little trip to pass the time.”

holiday greetings (and gay happy meetings) by @2tiedships2

“"Onwards to drop me off at Robert's before you go to Harry's!" Louis proclaimed when they were safely in the car. Or at least Louis was safely in. Niall was still brushing the snow out of his hair that Louis had accidentally dropped on him.

"We're picking up biscuits first," Niall grumbled as the snow melted into his hair. "You can wait in the car."

After three times of the car sounding like it was dying a slow and tragic death, it finally decided to start.

"This is what happens when you try to change the name of your car after five years," Louis said as a reminder of Niall's stupidity. "You'd be upset too if you were a car named Greased Lightning with a passenger trying to get it renamed to Dusty."

"To be fair," Niall explained, "the name Dusty does seem a bit more accurate."

"Make sure to leave the car running while you're getting whatever you're getting from Harry," Louis said in disgust. "This car is going to choke for good after that comment and I don't want to be stuck at Harry's place when that happens."

Or the one where Niall's dead car and and a foot of snow conspire to force Louis into spending time with an alpha he hates.... or does he?”

hard for me to know i might see you around by @coffeelouis

“The next profile shows a guy and his horse both crashing into the ground, the bio below reading:

"Hi, I'm Louis, I suck at riding horses so I ride dick."

Harry rolls his eyes and swipes left, but before he can consider the next profile in his feed, there’s a quiet “Oof” from right behind him.

[or, a TINDER AU where Harry swipes left on Louis' joke of a profile, then ends up stuck next to him on a trans-Atlantic flight.]”

in all its imperfections by @briannamarguerite

“From: Louis Tomlinson To: Undisclosed Recipients

Hello!

I’ve asked the front desk and you lovely folks are the ones who are on the same level as me in the car park. I found a to-do list today that looked somewhat important because it has lines of poetry scribbled at the bottom that seemed like they might be for a card project. The stationary has a moose in a canoe at the top of it (and he is quite adorable). Let me know if it’s yours!

Cheers!

“Oh. My. Fucking. God,” Harry whispered, his eyes darting over the sentences again willing them not to make sense. They did, they did make sense. “Oh. My. Bloody. Fucking. God.”

The next thing he knew he was on the floor, staring at the ceiling, with a very concerned Liam hovering over his head.

"What happened, mate?" Liam asked.

Harry just pointed to his computer.

Liam bent over Harry’s desk to read the email. “What? This isn’t bad. Is that your to-do list? Did you finally come up with the inside text for those cards?”

“Leeyum" he groaned. “It’s what’s on the list.”

“Oh,” Liam paused for a beat. “Is it dirty stuff?”

Harry nodded.

There was more silence. And then, “Dirty stuff with Louis?””

i wanna get dirty with you by awriterwrites

““You good?”

The man’s voice rang out like clear bells from a church tower, light and airy with a gentle rasp like a knife on toast.

It took Harry a moment to realize he was talking to him.

“Me?” Harry squeaked out, his voice a bit wobbly around the edges.

“Just waiting for you to get settled, sweetheart.”

This guy was a naturalist? The headmaster of an outdoor preschool? Harry felt a little woozy. Like he might collapse or propose. He wasn’t quite sure.

**** Harry is a kindergarten teacher. Louis is revolutionizing education--one child at a time. A conference may be an unlikely place to meet someone, but somehow Harry finds Louis and Louis helps Harry find himself.”

i don’t wanna be your friend, i wanna kiss your neck by crybaby

“Harry has been in love with Louis Tomlinson for four years, five months, and thirteen days.

Harry had fallen in love with Louis Tomlinson like how he’d seen in movies, and how he’d read in all the books he’d stolen from Gemma, headfirst and shameless.

The only problem was, that in films and books, love was always either returned instantly, or else it took time for unrequited love to lose the first two letters, and since the first option was obviously not true, Harry decided he would wait for the second to become reality. And so Harry waited, three years, eight months, and four days, before his heart had been broken by a gentle rejection and a misplaced blowjob, before Louis and Gemma had packed up and gone to Manchester for university.

(Harry is a hopelessly romantic omega and Louis is his sister's best friend)”

i want your high love and emotion, endlessly by deLILAh

“au. louis is sick of vajazzling, harry is saving up for a tandem bike, and they master their own destinies.

[or, camboy harry goes in for some intimate detailing, and something big happens.]”

if tomorrow never comes (we had last night) by @fallinglikethis and @all-these-larrythings

“Louis accepts the call without bothering to look at the caller ID. Only Zayn would be a big enough asshole to call him at two in the morning. This fucking better be important. “This fucking better be important,” Louis greets.

On the other end of the line comes a soft giggle. “Li, you don’t usually curse. I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I like it.” 

Yeah, that’s not Zayn. Louis sighs, his anger melting into resignation when he realizes that it’s some poor bastard probably drunk dialing his ex or something. “Sorry, mate. Think you’ve got the wrong number.” Based on this Tumblr prompt: "Accidentally called your number while drunk asking for a ride and you actually came au"”

i’ll crash until you notice me by @aliensingucci

“Louis sets off to Barbados to oversee the massive resort his family owns known as Sandy Hill. For years, he's been looking for a change in the monotony of his life, seeking adventure and perhaps love too. What he doesn't expect is the bright eyed boy who spills a milkshake on his shoes.

Cue the summer loving.”

into another (another) serotonin overflow by mercutionotromeo

“Harry wants this year to be different - wants it to be the year that he finally gets over this stupid crush. He’s going to uni, he needs to decide what he wants to do with his life.

Instead, he’s deciding what he wants to do to Louis Tomlinson.

Or: Sweet first time sex wherein Harry's adorably awkward, Louis is achingly cool, and Harry rides Louis wearing his jersey.”

i’ve been thinking ‘bout it all day lsforever

“When he heard about the job opening, from his nosy Aunt of course, Harry was ecstatic to go down there and talk to the shop owner. Her name is Perrie, and she and her best friend Louis opened the shop together not too long ago. Harry remembers the pair well from when he was in school.

or, Harry gets a job in Perrie and Louis' potion shop. He wasn't planning on the huge crush he develops on his boss.”

i’m not that other guy by @jaerie

“Harry has just come back from maternity leave when he unexpectedly goes into heat. He runs into a coworker on his way out.”

introduction to dynamics by @juliusschmidt

“Louis Tomlinson is the outspoken omega in the 'Introduction to Dynamics' course Harry wishes he didn't have to take. He's nearly certain to present as a beta, after all. Things will be simple for him.”

it’s not what it looks like by @kingsofeverything

“Quarantine allows Harry the time to improve his sewing skills, thanks to the face masks he makes for friends and family. Proud of his work, he posts a picture on Instagram, but it's not what it looks like.”

i’d burn this city down to show you the light by @nobodymoves 

“Harry's a sheltered rich kid and Louis's a punk with a heart of gold. They meet when Louis breaks into Harry's house, Harry obtains an instant and all-encompassing crush, and they spend the summer falling into a whirlwind romance.”

i made a map of your stars by @brightbluelou 

“Harry does not have a crush on Louis Tomlinson. Yes, Louis is very pretty and funny, and Harry may have had more than a few inappropriate thoughts about him, but he certainly doesn’t like him. (Except for the fact that he totally does.) or, Harry is the shy boy in the back of the class that no one really notices. Louis is the loud, outgoing football player that everybody likes.”

in dreams by @haydolce

“AU. When Harry moves to a new city, his new flat come with a number of sweet, anonymous gifts and surprises that brighten his days. Could it be a friendly ghost? Another friendly presence in his new building is his tattooed neighbor, Louis, who seems determined to put a smile back on his face.”

i do not feel the fear of falling (thought i could fly) by turismoemocional

“"After months of being showered with attention from the gorgeous boy, Louis feels like he’s experiencing a drought, and he yearns for even a single look in his general direction. He's pining and he knows it, feels like he's wilting. He can’t decide if being fired and arrested and disowned by his mum would have been the better outcome at this point."

Or - Harry is 19, Louis is 25. Student/Teacher relationships should remain strictly professional at all times... That's not to say they always do. Things get messy quickly.”

it’s halftime. are you ready to go? by @gaycousinlarry

“Reason #12 - Because it's halftime.

Harry would like to think that he doesn’t know how he got himself into this. Only… he’d be lying. Because he knows exactly how he got himself into this. Oh man, does he know, and it’s all because of a certain Louis Tomlinson. Alternatively - football is gay and Harry is trying to cope.”

it’s like i breathe you by orphan account

“Louis shrugs, grabbing the smoothie and taking a sip of it. He’s not really bragging. But. “I’ve kind of always had everything I wanted.”

“Everything?” Harry asks, genuinely interested, his green eyes wide.

Louis looks at Harry, smiling at him across the table and twirling a curl around his finger. Not everything.

or the one where louis volunteers to teach high school students about the ropes of business and running a company of your own, but he certainly does not plan on running into harry styles.”

i know how to whisk (but teach me anyway) by @2tiedships2

“Louis scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. “I don’t understand. Unmated alphas don’t just go into a rut out of nowhere. Unless…”

Louis grabbed onto Niall’s arm in desperation. “Am I a homewrecker? Does Harry have a mate? Oh my God, was he not flirting? Did the change in his scent not have anything to do with my smell yesterday? Did I just make that up!?”

Louis let go of Niall and dropped his face in his hands. “I knew it was too good to be true.”

“You’re an idiot,” Niall stated. Louis looked up to find Niall rolling his eyes. He snapped his laptop closed and moved to stand up. “I need to get some work done. Why don’t you stay here and think back to ABO dynamics 101.”

With that Niall hopped off the couch and headed to his room. He stopped and turned to Louis before he made it to the hall and said, “Oh, and Lou. You may want to reconsider your outlook on soulmates.”

Louis yelled after him. “Soulmates aren’t a thing, Niall!”

Or the one in which banana bread just might make Louis change his mind about soulmates.”

it’s in the contract by anonymous

““I can’t make rent this month,” Harry says.

“Awesome,” says Mitch. Mitch is the house leader. He’s the one leading the house meeting. “Free your schedule on Friday, Phi Sigma Kappa are coming over for game night anyway.

Harry swallows, nodding. “Alright,” he says.

Harris puts a hand on his thigh. “Hey,” he whispers into Harry’s ear. “I’d pay at least thirty for you.”

Harry snorts. “Thanks,” he says. “Good to know I’m an expensive bitch.””

just jump by @jaerie 

“Finally, after years of suffering alone, the insurance plan at Harry's new job covered omega heat services. As a grown omega adult, it finally felt like the right time to try it out. And, since taking an entire week of heat leave would really put him behind at work, using a service to shorten it seemed like a responsible decision. At least that’s how he rationalized it. He was nervous about his decision but it was too late. The doorbell rang.

“Hi!” The alpha said again and Harry took the hand he offered and shook it firmly. “I’m Louis from Omega Services. It’s nice to meet you.””

just for me by @canonlarry

“Harry is a supermodel with a fake boyfriend. Louis is the captain and star forward of Manchester United with a fake girlfriend. They should have no problem having a completely platonic lunch between friends.

(They do.)”

just one look (and i fell so hard) by @disgruntledkittenface

“Louis takes a small step back, breaking the moment first. “Well, I should–” 

“Do you want to come up?” 

The words are out of Harry’s mouth before he’d even planned them, and he bites his lip. 

“Oh, thank god,” Louis laughs, stepping back into Harry’s space. “I wasn’t, um…” “Wasn’t ready to let go of you yet,” Harry finishes quietly, glancing up at Louis. “Yeah,” Louis nods, reaching up and twirling one of Harry’s curls in his fingers. “Yeah, exactly.”

Harry has wanted to go to the Shubert Theatre ever since he moved to New York and lucked into a rent-controlled apartment just outside of the Theatre District. When he finally gets his chance, he hopes the night can meet his sky-high expectations. But the last thing he could have expected was the man seated next to him.”

know you better. by @wabadabadaba

“It didn't help that oftentimes Niall and Zayn's other friend, Louis joined them and from all the stories Marcel has heard about Louis, he was positive they wouldn't get along. From their description, Louis was loud, annoying, and competitive. He liked to tease Niall and Zayn mercilessly and he was creative. Being a tattoo artist, Louis knew things about art that Marcel would simply never understand due to his analytical mindset. He was the complete opposite of Marcel and Marcel didn't think he would ever last in a social setting where he had to be with Louis.

or the one where Marcel and Louis fall in love.”

kiss me on the mouth and set me free by @maggieisalarrie

“Louis has his head thrown back in a laugh, his wet fringe hanging in front of his eyes, and a beautiful flush to his cheeks. From this angle, the sun hits his face just right to where the beams of light are shining in between the spaces of each individual clump of watered down eyelashes. His chest is showing through the soaked material of his white jersey and it seems that his biceps are attempting to break free from the sleeves that are clinging to his skin.

And Harry can do nothing except take it all in. He doesn’t even think he’s breathing at this point. He is literally stuck in place, admiring the true beauty of Louis Tomlinson, while being surrounded by fit footballers and generally attractive people. He doesn’t think he’s ever been in love before, but if Louis let him, he’s pretty damn sure he could change that in the matter of a few nanoseconds.”

kiss from a rose by @chloehl10

“Harry is the quiet one in the office no one ever notices. Until Louis does, that is. When notes start appearing on Harry’s desk, he ponders who is behind the kind words, oblivious to Louis’ attempts to get his attention...”

knock knock, i love you by beautlouis

““Well,” Louis says, searching for something to relieve this tension. “I think if a bloke gets kicked out of his stats exam for a knock knock joke, he deserves to hear the punchline, yeah?”

“Oh!” Harry says, beaming. “I forgot where we left off, what was it again?” He looks overjoyed to be exchanging a shit joke.

“Ah, you said knock knock, then I said who’s there, and then you said Noah,” Louis supplies helpfully. He hates that he's actually curious about the rest of the joke. “So, Noah who?”

“Oh,” says Harry, in a much different tone, dragging out the syllable. He looks bashful now. Louis cannot keep up with this boy, it's going to kill him. “Right, well.” He shuffles his feet. Fuck, what kind of knock knock joke gets a boy nervous? “Noah a good place we could get something to eat?”

[Harry and Louis get kicked out of a statistics exam for passing a knock knock joke note, and subsequently fall in love. Harry's a virgin, there's a cat, a hot cocoa date, a lot of sex, even more knock knock jokes, and everything is lovely and happy.]”

love is divine by @aliensingucci

“Being a witch doesn't help when it comes to unrequited love.”

let me outshine the moon by sarcasticfluentry

““Fuck,” echoes Liam, shaking his head at them with a small smile on his face. “Just don’t get yourselves killed.”

“You can come too, if you want,” says Niall, standing up.

“I wouldn’t be caught dead at a vampire bar,” Liam scoffs, standing up as well. “Wait. Fuck.”

...or, boarding school students Niall and Harry chance a trip to the local vampire bar.”

let’s talk about making love by istajmaal

““That’s my name, baby, I’m Louis.” The voice on the phone inhales sharply, then says, “Gonna take my cock now, princess?”

Harry lets out a high-pitched mhmm and shudders as he pulls his fingers out of his hole, groping for the vibrator. “Nice to meet you,” he says, feeling a bit dizzy with how hard his untouched cock is.

Louis is just a simple phone sex line operator, but to Harry, he's Daddy.“”

loving you is free by @littlelouishiccups

“Louis is a workaholic record label CEO who hasn't been on a date in nearly a year. Niall and Liam make an account for him on a sugar dating website as a joke. And then Louis meets Harry.”

laundry room by beautlouis 

“The third Wednesday of the new year, Louis finds himself in the laundry room, just as he was the last Wednesday and the one before that. He’s doing pretty well with his New Year’s resolution. The only problem so far is the company he finds in the laundry room. It seems that it’s just him and one other boy who’ve chosen late Wednesday nights as prime laundry-doing time. That wouldn’t be a problem except for who the other boy is.

He’s seen this boy around; it’s hard to miss the long-legged, long-haired dream that lives in Louis’ complex. He likes to wear very sheer shirts and very high boots; he is incredibly fucking gorgeous and yeah, Louis’ noticed him but he’s never spoken to him. Until tonight, apparently.

[Louis and Harry are both students living in the same apartment complex. They end up having the same laundry night and time. Louis can't stop staring at Harry and he can't figure out why Harry consistently points out Louis’ inside-out shirts, and his untied shoes, and messy hair. Enter slow burn-ish flirting, banter, awkwardness, and a lot of laundry.]”

lead me out on the moonlit floor by @scrunchyharry and @beauxbatonslouis

“In all honesty, Harry was long forgotten, cast aside by a dimpled stranger and too much champagne. He was almost glad, now, that Harry hadn’t come, because he wouldn’t have met this stranger, this tall man who could make his heart flutter with a single glance. 

Victorian!AU where Louis is a wealthy lord throwing a masquerade ball for his birthday and Harry is a toymaker who's only confident when he's wearing a mask.”

let our hearts collide by @crinkle-eyed-boo

““Liam is in a coma.” “Yeah, we can see that,” the father says, throwing his hands in the air. “God, this is the most depressing Christmas ever,” the blonde sister mutters. “His vital signs are strong,” Dr. Higgins assures them. “Brain waves are good–” “Brain waves?” the mother wails, taking Liam’s hand in hers. “Oh my God!” “How did this happen?” the father demands. “Um, he was pushed from the platform at the subway station,” Harry pipes up. The entire family turns to look at him, confused. Harry shrinks back, wishing he could have just kept his big mouth shut. “Who’s this?” the father asks, pointing at him. “Um, I’m Harry–” he starts. “He’s Liam’s fiancé!” Jade adds helpfully from where she stands by the door. Every jaw in the room drops, including Harry’s. Oh, shit. Shit shit shit. What?

When Harry, a lonely transit worker, saves the life of the handsome commuter he's been secretly pining for, an innocent mistake results in Liam Payne's family believing that Harry is engaged to their son. In the Paynes, Harry finds the big family he's always longed for...and a love he never saw coming.

A While You Were Sleeping AU”

lemon eyes by @turnyourankle

“It's not proper for omegas to mess around with alphas before finding their bondmate. But Harry doesn't give a damn what's proper and fully intends on getting as much experience as he can before even trying to find one. As far as he's concerned, the right alpha won't care, and he'll have some fun on the way.

And who better to start with than Louis Tomlinson, the alpha with the worst reputation on campus?”

like how your hands feel me up and down by ballsdeepinjesus

““How do I look?” Harry asks lowly. He turns around and gestures towards the unzipped back of his skirt for him to help. Louis stumbles forward and places a cold hand on the exposed side of Harry’s stomach, steadying him while he pulls the zipper up the rest of the way. He pushes Harry back into the dressing room and stands behind him in front of the mirror. “It’s -- you’re tight,” Louis chokes. “It’s tight, I mean. It’s. Yes.” His hand is curved around his hip now, squeezing lightly.

“Tight’s good, right?” Harry murmurs, batting his eyelashes. He almost can’t believe himself.

“Very good,” Louis grunts.

[louis works in a halloween shop and harry needs a costume]”

my pleasure (to make you mine) by @zanniscaramouche

““Think about it.” Niall raises an eyebrow at him before amiably leading the interrupting customer to the other side of the store.

And the thing is, even a day later, Harry's done nothing but think about piercing his nipples.

Harry decides to get his nipples pierced. Louis is the piercing artist with a smile that breaks every rule of the universe.”

my service, your pleasure by @hershelsue

“Harry moves in with Louis, his childhood best friend. He had always enjoyed doing things for him, never putting much thought into it. What happens when they're in the same space all the time and Harry can't keep his hands to himself? Surely, his adoration bursts at the seams and a very suspicious Louis tries his best to keep up.”

milk kinship by @jaerie

“Harry had aspired to become a wet nurse since first learning about the honored and respected tradition when he was a teenager. The first documentary he’d seen had been detailed and brutally honest and Harry had still fallen in love with the idea. It’s origins were rooted in highly regarded positions of the royal staff and were credited in playing a role in the lives of some of the most famous children in history. There were medically trained wet nurses and other milk services for mothers unable to feed their babies, but true wet nurse nannies could only be afforded by the rich and famous. The glamorous life appealed to Harry even if his understanding of his role changed to a more realistic view over time. As a starry eyed kid, that was where he wanted to be.

Or Harry is a wet nurse and isn't allowed to have an alpha. He may or may not break his vows.”

make tea, not war by @whateverdelusional and @popsongnation

“"Is he the messiest?"

"Yes."

"Does he do the washing up?"

"Never."

"Does he make his bed?"

"Never."

"Hopeless, hopeless flatmate. Would you rather be with one of these guys?"

"Nope!"

Or: Louis attempts to become a better flatmate, much to Harry's dismay.”

masterpiece by @rainbowsandlovehl

“Harry stared at his phone for five minutes, waiting for a response before giving up. He scrolled through instagram for a while but nothing caught his fancy. He sighed deeply, glancing up for a second before looking at his phone again then blinked. Wait a second... Harry’s head snapped up quickly and he did a double take because this guy surely hadn’t been there the last time Harry had checked the place. No, this person was new and beautiful and different and Harry was pretty sure he was openly gaping at him.

Harry is unwillingly dragged to an art gallery by Niall and his evening turns out better than he expected when he meets Louis. Featuring bad pickup lines and ample flirting.”

meow or never by velvetnoodle (goldfishsunglasses)

“Harry is having a terrible, no good, very bad day.

He’s holed himself up in the back of the university library, stealing an entire sofa for himself. The fact that no one has said anything to him about it just goes to show how much his feelings must be on display. That’s nothing new; Harry’s always worn his heart on his sleeve. And cried easily. Not that he’s crying yet, but he’s close. It’s been a right shit day, and Harry just wants to go back to his room and bury his face in Evie’s soft fur. Unfortunately, he no longer has that luxury.

When Harry is forced to choose between getting kicked out of student housing or giving up his cat, a moment of self-pity leads to the discovery of a third, and much more appealing, option”

my things aren’t the only thing you’ve stolen by beautyhaz

“Harry thinks he's gone insane when things begin to go missing at school and only one boy knows where they are. It turns into more than he expects.”

midnight memories by grand buzz

“Louis Tomlinson is the successful author of several children's books. Those books happen to be the favourites of Eve Styles, Harry’s six year old daughter. Never one to deny her anything, he takes her to a book signing where Louis will also be reading an excerpt from his new book

Of course, Harry doesn't expect to fall in love with the author whose books he reads every night--but that's exactly what happens.“

make him want to sin by @becomeawendybird

“The stranger’s sharp gaze landed on him immediately, the eye contact shattering through Harry’s defenses. For the first time in his life, Harry had an instantaneous reaction to someone. The man stared down at him with interest, like he wanted to take Harry apart and put him back together again, piece by piece. Harry wanted that more than anything, and he wanted it right now. It took every ounce of strength he had ever possessed to not drop down to his knees instinctively.

All from one glance.

Harry is a curatorial assistant at the London Museum of Natural History, on the day of the big annual gala he catches a glimpse of someone unexpected.”

thank you to all the authors for creating wonderful fics! you’re all so talented and valued. :)

[cricketnationrise]

haus kitchen, 1:55pm

River doesn’t look up from his laptop when he hears footsteps. There’s only a few people it could be, and anyway, he needs to finish this paper for his junior seminar at five. He’s got an instrumental playlist up on Spotify, his tea is at the perfect temperature, and Ford made cookies earlier that he’s using as a reward system.

He’s in the zone. There’s no reason why any one person in the kitchen would distract him. He’s worked under way noisier conditions.

A sigh.

He continues typing, checking his notes occasionally. One page to go to hit the requirement. He thinks there might be something familiar about the sigh, but as nothing else happens he doesn’t even look up.

Another sigh as the fridge is opened. And then - a choked off breath.

He looks up, alarmed. He doesn’t know why he knows that’s Hops, but he does. And Hops isn’t supposed to be here right now. He’s got class at two on the other side of campus. More to the point, he’s supposed to have been in class all day today.

“Hops?” he says softly, trying not to startle him.

“Oh,” Hops says, not turning around, just staring into the fridge like he wants to crawl inside, “Hey, Bully.”

Well, if he wasn’t already worried, he would be now. Hops is one of the most cheerful people he knows. Something is definitely up.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m fine,” Hops says distantly, as if on autopilot.

All the bells are going off in River’s head, his brain hoisting all the colours (if the colours are all red).

“Hops.” Hops winces. River tries again, softer, “Jon. It doesn’t seem like your doing okay. And I’d like it if you told me about it, but I understand if you aren’t up to it.”

Another sigh. But at least he turns around and River meets his eyes and oh-

Hops is crying.

River doesn’t hesitate, just shoves his chair back and strides over to him, gently pulls his hand off the fridge handle to let the door close, and oh so carefully hugs Hops as tight as he can.

“Mpffph,” comes from Hops but from the tone, he’s not disgruntled, he’s relieved. So River just hangs on and moderates his breathing, hoping Hops will match it and be able to calm down.

He hears the front door open and the vague strains of Louis’ music through his ever-present headphones before the man himself appears in the doorway.

Louis freezes in the doorway, assessing for a moment before cutting his music, dropping his backpack, headphones, and many-zippered jacket on the floor. He joins the hug in two quick strides without a word.

River’s not sure how long the three of them stand there, but eventually Hops starts to extract himself, and they gently release him.

“Thanks guys.”

“Got your back,” River and Louis say together, grinning a little at the jinx.

“Anything we can do? Or anything you want to talk about?” River asks, biting his lip a little.

“I just - my grandpa died.”

“Oh shit,” breathes Louis. Hard same River thinks, hugging Hops again. Hops is, or well, was, extremely close to his grandfather. The whole Haus had met him at family weekend last year. Grandpa Jim was a riot. Even Dex and Nursey stopped bickering when he was around.

“I just came down to get some water and maybe a snack before going back to bed,” Hops says, still sniffling.

“On it,” River says, grabbing some of Ford’s cookies, a banana, and a red gatorade (Hops’ favorite). He starts steering Hops toward the stairs, motioning for Louis to grab their Hazeapalooza blankets off their place of honor on the couch.

Together he and Louis manhandle Hops into bed, tucking their blankets around him, while leaving his arms free for the food. He eats quietly, and River can’t think of anything to fucking say. He wishes he could ease Hops’ pain, but he knows the only way out is through. That he just has to let him be sad, and let Hops know that River is there for him - whatever he needs.

Hops eventually falls asleep, and River and Louis sneak out the door and head back down to the kitchen. Louis gathers his stuff to take down to the bungalow.

He technically still has time to finish his paper and go to class. But instead, he sends his professor what he as a gesture of good faith with a note saying there’s been a death in the family and he won’t complete the assignment on time. Sorry for the late notice, I’ll get it to you as soon as possible.

He then digs through his email, looking for the recipe he knows is in there somewhere.  He is still pulling out ingredients when Louis comes back up.

“I texted the rest of the team without Hops. So they know what happened. Kinda lucky that the seniors are out of town right now, less overwhelming, probably. What are you making?”

“Grandpa Jim’s cinnamon bread.”

“We have everything? I can go on a Murder run if need be.”

“We've got everything.”

“Cool,” Louis says, washing his hands.

And the two of them make bread.

[sevlgi]

sugar pt. 2

requested: yes

group: mamamoo

pairing: solar x fem!reader

genre: fluff, angst

contents: sugar mommy!solar, sugar baby!reader.  part 1 here!

warnings: implied sex

synopsis: You’re not so sure about how much longer you want to be Yongsun’s sugar baby.

a/n: none

word count: 1.9k

Being a sugar baby was never meant to last. You didn’t ever expect a relationship like Sooyoung and Joohyun, one that transcended deals of money and sex into a real love; Yongsun was supposed to just be the woman who bought you diamonds in exchange for a couple expensive dinners together. 

But instead, you found yourself falling dangerously quickly for someone who shouldn’t have even breathed the same air as you. You found your relationship evolving, from a simple sugar mommy and the girl she spoiled into just... girlfriends.

You were lucky enough to meet someone who felt the same way as you and would never take advantage of you in any way. Yongsun let you make all the first moves and never rushed you, which would’ve been perfect if not for the fact that in everyone else’s eyes, you were still just a sugar baby.

Joohyun smiled at you when you were led inside the hotel lobby by your girlfriend. You were gaping at the chandeliers, still self-conscious about the form-fitting Chanel gown that you wore; to be honest, you didn’t look like you’d been with Yongsun for almost 5 months. “Glad you could make it, you two.”

“Thank you for the invitation, Joohyun.” Yongsun, in contrast, was perfectly relaxed in her natural environment. You’d quickly come to learn that a coat of red lipstick and a fancy dress was enough to transform her from the gentle woman you loved into Solar, CEO of her own entertainment company. “Congratulations on the debut of your new group,” she smiled, seizing two glasses of wine off a waiter.

The other woman was about to speak when Sooyoung sidled over, slipping her hand into the crook of Joohyun’s arm like it was nothing. “Wow, Y/N, your sugar mommy’s obviously treating you well,” your best friend laughed good-naturedly, gesturing at the heavy rope of diamonds around your neck. 

She didn’t mean anything adverse, but you frowned, Yongsun’s hand tightening around yours. “Sugar baby?”

“Well, yeah,” Sooyoung shrugged. “I mean, Yongsun unnie is still buying you stuff. And you’re still... together, right?”

Your girlfriend patted your arm to stop you from opening your mouth again. “Right. Uh, if you’ll excuse us, I think I saw Byulyi somewhere, and I need to talk to her.”

As you were led away, you tugged at Yongsun’s hand. “Hey. What was that about? You should’ve let me tell her that I’m not your sugar baby anymore.”

The CEO sighed, waving mindlessly at some tall man that you vaguely recognized. “Y/N-ah. You have to realize that while I still buy you things and we’re together, no one will believe that we’re anything other than sugar mommy and baby. It doesn’t matter how many times we explain... you can’t just leave a relationship like this behind in the past.”

You quieted for a second, but you couldn’t stop yourself from blurting out, “Well, maybe we should leave the entire relationship behind.”

Yongsun stared at you with startled eyes. As someone approached her, though, she had to slip the mask back on, her hand tight on yours the only indication that she did hear what you said. “Good evening, Min PD. How’re you?”

“Did you mean it?”

Your lips tightened on the rim of your glass of tea as Yongsun poured one out of her own. It was the morning after the gala; you didn’t speak in the car ride home, at least not about anything other than Joohyun’s new group, and you went straight to sleep after arriving in your apartment. It was one of the rare nights that you slept early (or at all), especially when you considered that you didn’t even go to Yongsun’s penthouse. Instead, you let yourself in in the early morning, surprised when your girlfriend was already awake. “Mean what?”

“You know damn well.” She tapped her fingernails on the glass surface of her teacup, sighing and stopping when she realized how nerve-wracking it was. “You said we should leave the entire relationship behind. You... what did you mean by that?”

“I just meant that I don’t want to be your sugar baby anymore.” You set your cup down, raking your hands through your hair quickly. “I know I started this because I needed the money, but I-- but you got me a job. I earn my own money now, and I don’t need the diamonds, or the Chanel, or anything else.”

Yongsun reached for your hands, almost pouting as she said, “But baby. I like spoiling you, don’t you get it?”

“Buying me an entire store of Hermès isn’t normal spoiling,” you protested. “Normal is... buying me nice bread! Or just some nice heels for my birthday that cost less than a thousand dollars. Yongsun-ah, I want to be your girlfriend.”

Her lips opened in a soft “o” at that. Perhaps she had never really thought about how a normal relationship worked, or maybe she just qualified Hermès scarves as a normal birthday gift. Either way, you were tired of being thought of as just a sugar baby. “I get it. But I already told you, there’s no way that you can just shed the label like that,” she frowned, snapping her fingers for emphasis. 

“Then we break up.” When Yongsun opened her mouth to protest, you held your hand up to quiet her, pleading, “Hear me out, okay? We break up as sugar mommy and baby, but we continue... whatever this is in secret. After a couple weeks, we announce that we decided to just date normally. I can still come to your functions, because I know Sooyoung, and we can even have an amicable breakup!”

The brunette considered it, perfectly drawn eyebrows furrowing slightly. “I mean. It could work?”

You beamed, sitting back in your chair. “Then it’s settled! We break up.”

Yongsun still frowned. She obviously didn’t like the idea of breaking up with you at all, though you knew she’d cave eventually if only for the idea of calling you her girlfriend instead of her sugar baby. “...Fine. But you have to let me buy the new Louis collection for you in return.”

“No.” At the growing smile on the woman’s face, your eyes widened and you reached to keep her from standing and going to her extensive closet. “Yongsun--”

With the secretive glances that you and Yongsun kept exchanging at Joohyun’s next celebratory dinner, you were surprised that no one picked up on something else going on. But then again, with your seatmate hitting on you, you were sure that no one was paying much attention.

Hyesook was cute, sure. You weren’t sure exactly why she was at the dinner; she didn’t look like a CEO, but the Rolex on her wrist screamed money. And she was probably younger than Yongsun, not unattractive at all, but you despised the way he leaned towards you. “So. You and the CEO are broken up, huh?”

“Yeah.” You sipped at the company-provided alcohol to distract yourself, though not too much in case Hyesook made a move. Thankfully, you wore a high-collared shirt with pants this time, almost looking like a CEO yourself with the flamboyant Gucci tag on the neck of the jacket. “It was amicable, we’re still close.”

“I’m sure.” She gulped at her own wine, and you sent panicked eyes at Sooyoung’s back across the table, your best friend laughing at something that the man behind her said. “You’re in the market, then? For another sugar mommy? I might not make as much as Kim Solar, but I can easily spoil you just as well. Or better.”

You winced and tugged a plate of crackers towards yourself. Your girlfriend was nowhere to be seen, nor Joohyun or anyone else you recognized. “I’m not, actually. Learned my lesson, don’t really want to rely on someone for money again.”

“I wouldn’t ask much.” Hyesook’s eyes felt invasive, even as they just remained on your face. “Dinners, maybe a couple nights. A quick fu--”

“Excuse me. What’s going on here?”

A relieved breath almost escaped you when you felt a familiar pair of hands on your shoulders. Yongsun stood tall in her heels, a smooth smile on her face concealing her brimming anger. Hyesook waved offhandedly, moving to grab your free hand. “Just getting to know each other.”

You snatched your hand away at the same time that Yongsun batted the other woman’s hand away. “From my point of view, my girlfriend isn’t enjoying it. And I won’t tolerate that at my best friend’s company dinner.”

Hyesook raised her eyebrows, smirking as she leaned back. “Girlfriend, huh? And here I thought I was flirting with a free woman,” she shook her head. “Pity.”

Yongsun scoffed, “Yeah, girlfriend. Do you have a problem with that? Because I’m sure that Yoongi won’t hesitate to fire you if I have a quick chat with him about your behavior.”

Yoongi. A producer then, you noted, standing and placing your hand on your girlfriend’s shoulder. “Come on, Yongsun. Let’s go,” you mumbled, flashing a sarcastic smile at Hyesook as you walked away. “You shouldn’t just...”

“What? Defend you?” For once, Yongsun almost looked angry, her crimson lips pinched tight and her eyes narrow, though you knew her too well to be scared at whatever she planned to do. “I promise you, Y/N, I won’t let anyone violate you.”

Before you could ask what she meant, the two of you were standing in the very center of the dinner hall, the other woman’s hands on her hips and her voice commanding. “Everyone, if you would give me your attention for a second.”

Your cheeks flushed when all the voices and conversations quieted, eyes turned upon you as Yongsun spoke. “As I’m sure you know, Y/N was once my sugar baby. I gave-- and still give-- expensive gifts, and that seems to make all of you think that she is still just that. A sugar baby.”

Joohyun’s smile almost blinded you from a couple tables away, but it served as reassurance to not melt into the floor like a puddle as your girlfriend continued on. “From now on, I would like all of you to remember that Y/N is my girlfriend. I love her, more than anything in this world, and I will not tolerate any kind of disrespect towards her or our relationship.”

A whoop sounded, probably belonging to Sooyoung, and Yongsun switched to a grin as she clasped your hand in hers. When it became apparent that she had finished, quiet applause sounded in the audience and the chatter resumed, though you saw Hyesook slink off through a door somewhere.

When you turned back to her, Yongsun’s smile was a bit embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Y/N-ah... I don’t know if that was okay for me to say.”

Instead of answering, you cupped her face in your hands and pressed your lips to hers softly. You almost bent over backwards with how strongly Yongsun reciprocated, a breathy giggle escaping you. “It was more than okay. Thank you, actually.”

“Now, should we get to telling Yoongi about his employee’s indecency?” At your obviously coming protest, Yongsun started pulling you towards the producers’ table, laughing as she did. “No excuses, Y/N. I love you~”

[teawaffles]

There's No Business Like Show Business: Chapter 1

T/N: Takes place after the Phantom of Whitechapel arc (Chapters 25-29 of the manga).

Where there is light, there is shadow. Behind Britain’s glorious prosperity, lay a dark side.

In the capital of the British Empire, one place that embodied these disparities was situated to the east of the City: a slum called the East End. [1]

Here, the buildings were densely packed due to poor urban planning. Complicated alleyways crossed one another like the mesh of a net, serving as prime hideouts for criminals. For better or for worse, its residents were full of raw vitality, and prostitution and barbarity were rife.

In the East End district of Whitechapel, situated northeast from the Tower of London, walked a lone woman—— no, a man.

He had a slender physique, and his shining golden hair added a vivid colour to the grey city streets. With a mole under his eye, and a smile overflowing with confidence, he was a charmingly exquisite beauty.

This man — James Bond — walked forward with grace, paying no heed to the dangerous atmosphere around him.

When they had visited Whitechapel during the Jack the Ripper incident, Bond had heard that William’s birthplace was somewhere nearby. With the incident resolved, in order to understand William’s character better, Bond was now exploring the slum alone.

However, contrary to his dignified steps, a vague depression bloomed deep in his heart.

——As expected, with at least ten years having come and gone, it seemed that nothing related to Will-kun was left……

Bond had carefully searched the district. He even visited the place where a book rental shop once stood; William mentioned he’d lived there with Louis, but just as Moran said, it had already gone out of business.

Dusk was beginning to fall, and he had no more leads to follow regarding William’s past. Dejected, Bond headed towards the main street to make his way back.

“……Oh?”

As he passed by a small, vacant plot, Bond saw something curious.

In the middle of the square were a few young children surrounding a single red-haired girl. Thinking that he’d stumbled onto an incident of bullying, Bond drew nearer to stop them. But as he did so, the girl in the middle spoke up with vigour.

“That’s right. Today’s New Year’s Eve.”

She said so while rubbing her hands together, as if she were in the scene of a play. “Ssh—,” she murmured, then mimed the action of picking something up with her fingertips, and raised that hand into the air.

Going along with the flow, the other children around her each began to make their own strange movements. “Bwoo— bwoo—,” one hummed as they waved their hands above their head, while another went “Honk— honk—” as they flapped both arms like wings.

Watching from the side, this could be seen as a mysterious game played within the unique worldview of a child, but Bond continued to stand there and watch the children’s movements with fascination.

These actions could only be from “The Little Match Girl”.

The girl in the middle of the plot was the matchstick seller, the main character. Then the other children were the visions she saw within the flames of the matches she lit. In other words, they were acting out one of Hans Christian Andersen’s famous fairy tales.

A performance—— In that instant, something from his past began to stir up within him.

James Bond had formerly been Irene Adler, a renowned actress who was also a member of the Warsaw Imperial Opera. However, he had stolen secret documents which would have shaken the country to its core. With his life threatened by the British government, it was then that William and the others had rescued him. After which, he became agent number seven of MI6, and joined the Moriarty brothers’ cause.

Now for all intents and purposes, the woman known as Irene Adler was dead. It then stood to reason that he had stopped his acting work as well. However, even as he pushed forward with his undercover missions, he never once forgot the passion he had for the stage.

The children’s play had piqued Bond’s curiosity, and he was watching on with a smile when they seemed to notice his gaze.

“……Mister, can we help you?”

The girl who acted as the matchstick seller directed her question to Bond. Hearing that, the other children stopped their movements and looked in his direction as well.

He was a little flustered by the unexpected attention, but maintained a mild expression as he apologised.

“Sorry. It seemed interesting, so I couldn’t help but watch. Was that ‘The Little Match Girl’?”

“Yeah, that’s right. But how did you know?”

“I was watching your actions.”

Then Bond pointed to each of the children in turn.

“You would be the main character, the little girl. Then you were the iron stove that appeared in her first vision. You were the delicious goose from her next vision. And you were her grandmother, from her last——“

Bond named each and every one of their roles correctly, and the children beamed.

“That’s amazing! Are you a detective?”

“Detective……”

That word brought to mind a certain man whom he was indebted to.

Bond chuckled. “No, I’m employed at a certain mansion. I was just passing through while on a quick errand.”

“Hmm—”

Without particularly doubting his answer, the girl continued.

“Hey, mister. What did you think of our act?”

Bond pondered over his response. Since they were children, one should probably just give some suitable praise and end it there. But his pride and love for acting which once allowed him to reach the rank of prima donna took over, and the words spilled out.

“It was a splendid performance. ……But I think it would be even better with a little more expression.”

“Ex—pres—sion?”

The girl made a puzzled face, and Bond knelt down to meet her eyes.

“For example, at the start, you wanted to show that you were ‘cold’, yes? You did well back there, but to show that you are cold, you wouldn’t just rub your palms together, ……”

He paused mid-sentence, then made his shoulders shake as he rubbed both palms together, blowing on them as if to warm them up. Somehow, it seemed as though even the colour of his face had changed — a realistic impression of being ‘cold’.

At his exquisite acting with the skill of a former actress, the children began to clap in unison.

“Wow mister, you were amazing!”

Bond took a small bow as he was bathed in applause.

“By learning how to do a few tricks like this, you can make your performances even more entertaining.”

“I get it — can you do any more?” asked one of the children. He nodded readily, then made his hands into the shape of small wings and imitated the sound of a goose honking. The quality of his voice could have easily be mistaken for that of a bird, and the children were once again astonished.

“That’s a goose!” They clapped their hands in glee, requesting other impersonations as well.

Bond humoured every one of them. Without realising it, he had gone from appreciating the children’s make-believe play, to joining in and becoming the centre of attention. But while he was delighted to entertain them, their surroundings were beginning to grow dark, and he was now thinking of hurrying them home.

Just then, the girl who had spoken up at first pointed outside the vacant plot.

“Ah, onee-chan!” she exclaimed, waving her arms vigorously.

Bond turned to look in that direction. There, stood a young woman with a look of disbelief on her face.

She came back to herself as soon as Bond turned around, then rushed over to the children. The girl ran over and hugged the young woman’s knees.

“Onee-chan, welcome back.”

“I’m back, Mae,” she said to the girl with a smile.

Then, she turned fearful eyes towards Bond. The young woman’s chestnut-coloured hair had been tied back; and although she seemed to have a dark atmosphere surrounding her, her features were clean-cut. She appeared not too far removed in age from him.

“Um…… and you would be?”

“Ah, my name is Bond. James Bond,” he introduced himself simply.

“Uh, Mr… Bond?”

But her reaction was slow. Her understanding of the situation definitely had yet to catch up, he thought. A handsome young man playing with children on a dimly-lit vacant plot — indeed, the scene before her was baffling.

Even so, she didn’t seem to be giving off any sense of suspicion or alarm. Just as Bond was beginning to think it strange, she hurriedly bowed her head.

“S—Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I—I’m her sister. My name is Maya.”

“Miss Maya, I see. Pleasure to meet you…… or rather, I’m sure you must’ve been confused to find your sister playing with a stranger. To start off, I would like to sincerely apologise for that.”

Saying that, Bond also bowed his head. He then explained the series of events to Maya, who was bemused by his friendly yet gentlemanly manner.

“——And that’s how Mae and the others invited me to join them.”

“And he’s really good at doing impressions!” boasted one child. Then, along with the other children, they started imitating the voices of the people and animals that Bond had showed them. He’d initially wanted to teach them about acting, but as they went along, the lesson had somehow morphed into a demonstration of mimicry. Well, as long as they had fun, he had no qualms about that.

Maya studied his face as she asked him a question.

“U—um…… Actually, I’d been watching your performance for some time earlier, Mr Bond…… Um, perhaps, you have worked in theatre in the past?”

“Uh……”

For a moment, Bond was lost for words, but he gave a roundabout answer to avoid revealing his true identity.

“That’s not too far from the truth. Well, you could say that I have a personal opinion when it comes to acting.”

“I—I see,” she replied automatically. Her gaze wandered restlessly before she spoke up again, in a cautious tone.

“Um…… Mr Bond. A—Actually I’m, part of a small, theatrical company, with some friends.”

“Really? So you’re an actor too, Maya.”

“Yes, and it really pains me that, you were asked to do impressions so crassly, upon our first meeting, but having seen your acting skills, um, I’d like to ask a big favour from you.”

“……A favour?”

Maya paused for a beat.

“We will soon be putting on a play at a big theatre, s-s—so we would be grateful, if you could watch our rehearsal, Mr Bond,” she said, as if she’d made up her mind.

Then she quickly bowed her head.

“Watch, your rehearsal? Me?”

Bond pointed to himself, surprised at the sudden request. Looking apologetic, Maya continued.

“We’ve been practising as much as we’ve could; but we’re a small theatre company that could close down at any moment, and we’ve never performed at such a large venue before…… With your knowledge of acting, Mr Bond, if you could appraise our performance…… and, if possible, give us some advice…”

“I see,” Bond understood.

According to the Theatres Act of 1843, ‘theatres’ in Great Britain were places where plays could be put up under the purview of the Lord Chamberlain. Moreover, in order to perform certain genres of work, the script had to be submitted for review, and approval had to be obtained.

However, owing to a loophole in the legal system, plays could avoid censorship if they incorporated music. Hence, a good number of informal theatres operated in this manner. In addition, as their audience was mostly comprised of laypeople from the working classes, many of these theatres performed the type of song-and-dance spectacle popular with such a crowd.

From the way Maya talked about her company, he gathered that they had probably been performing musical numbers at unregulated venues like these as well. Hence they had no experience staging an actual play at an officially-licensed theatre, and that was why they were asking him to evaluate their performance.

Having grasped her situation, Bond asked a question that had been niggling at him.

“Just out of curiosity, your theatre company should have a director, right? Wouldn’t they be offended if I were to come in?”

“I’m taking on the direction of the play. B—By the way, I’m also the chairperson.”

Bond was rather surprised at what she said. In truth, it didn’t occur to him that such a timid and seemingly weak-willed person would be in charge of a theatrical company, even if it was a small one.

However, although Maya had tended to keep her eyes downcast throughout, they betrayed no doubt. From that, Bond knew her request was genuine.

“Um…… I suppose it is too much to ask?” she enquired, in a fearful tone.

“——Alright.”

“Wha?”

She had not expected him to agree so easily.

“I’ll take on your request. I’m partly self-taught, but if it’s alright with you, I would love to watch you and your company perform.”

Maya immediately perked up and bowed her head, speaking loudly for the first time.

“T—Thank you so much!” she cried, jumping for joy along with the other children.

Footnotes:

[1] The City refers to the City of London, which is the historic centre of modern London (Wikipedia)

T/Ns:

The sisters’ names could equally have been Maia and May respectively, but I chose Maya as I think it reads better, and Mae to differentiate the two of them more easily.

I had to use onee-chan since Maya specifically introduces herself by name later on.

[revengerevisited]

So I’ve been kinda dancing around my original story idea for a little while, and I got this idea in my head of ‘what if I release chapter 1 and then get feedback without telling anyone what the story is about first so it’s more of a surprise?’ But honestly? I’m realizing since I already released a preview-of-a-preview for chapter 1, and it might be a little while until I finish chapter 1, plus I honestly kinda feel like I’d rather work on sketches of my character designs than write at the moment, I might as well go ahead and tell you guys. X’3

So! I watched a couple anime recently both centered around the premise of... monster girls! These being Monster Musume and Monster Girl Doctor, but then I noticed there’s also Interviews with Monster Girls, A Centaur’s Life, and the infamous Interspecies Reviewers, and I asked myself... Monster girls are pretty popular right now, yeah? But where’s all the monster boys?! And that’s how I got the idea! I re-watched some of my favorite anime based on Otome Games, Kamigami no Asobi and Uta no Prince Sama for inspiration as well, and a few ones I hadn’t seen before like Dance with Devils and Magic-kyun Renaissance for inspiration as well.

So now I’ve got my premise that I shared earlier: This is the story of Millie, a young woman down on her luck who happens to live in a world where monsters aren’t just real, but commonplace. She started working as a maid in a mansion-turned-art-school whose students are a group of very attractive monster boys. The twist is that these aren’t just any monster boys; they belong to various rare and exotic species with deadly reputations...

Note that character and place names are technically place-holders for now and may change if I come up with better ones. Now, I don’t wanna spoil anything story-wise, but I think I can introduce my setting and some of the characters that you’re gonna meet. The story is set in a modern setting, though it’s vague if it’s actually Earth or just some generic world similar to it, as I try to avoid referencing real-world places or events. This is a world where humans and monsters live together after a Great Interspecies War happened in the past, but tensions have mostly relaxed by the time the story takes place. The war could be thought of as the equivalent of our own World War One, one in which there was a truce decided after many years of stalemate fighting.

The city everything takes place in is tentatively named Dullahan, and was built directly after the war to commemorate peace between human and monster kind. It’s considered an artistic cultural center, and it’s got a lot of interesting entertainment places to go to, arcades, theaters, aquariums, etc, that the characters can have a lot of different shenanigans in. The other main setting is the Beaufort Academy of the Arts, which was actually a mansion that was converted into a small private school. This is where all the characters live, and our main character Millie works as a maid there.

Before I go into the characters, I should start with the various monster species. There are 12 species, divided into 2 groups: common monsters and exotic monsters. The common monsters are centaurs, harpies, lamias (snake people), kobolds (dog people), ogres, and merrows (mermaids). These species are all pretty standard, and will be mostly background characters and npcs. The main characters, and love interests for Millie, will be of the exotic variety: arachnes (spider people), sirens (deep-sea mermaids), mandrakes (plant people), dragons, manticores (with a liontaur body-type), and scyllas (octopus people).

So what differentiates a common monster from an exotic one? Well, while the Interspecies War was between humans and monsters in general, some monsters were already at least partially integrated into human society, and the rest followed soon after the war ended. These monsters were almost as common as humans, and either herbivorous or omnivorous, with the exception of the carnivorous lamias who prefer to eat eggs over anything else. On the other hand, the so-called ‘exotic’ species were not only much more rare, but they had a very different food preference... one which earned them the now derogatory nickname... man-eaters.

Naturally, most ‘man-eaters’ weren’t exactly welcomed into human --nor common monster-- society with open arms, not that most of them wanted to. For the most part, species as powerful and dangerous as them didn’t want to play nice with those they had once --and in some cases still do-- regard as prey, and so hid away into the furthest reaches of the world. Which of course makes them perfect material for all our leading men and Millie’s various love-interests!! Oh yes, while all of these monster boys are perfectly civilized --well, for the most part-- they still belong to species that many both human and monster alike continue to fear to this day. While they aren’t exactly fish out of water (well, except for the siren) there’s still plenty of awkward misunderstandings and interesting scenarios that can be played out.

So! Let’s have a quick run-down of the characters, keep in mind that none of these names are final and could change later on. First there’s Millie, a hardworking young woman who’s had a recent streak of bad luck. Through a misunderstanding she gets hired as a maid in a mansion-turned-art-school. She’s very sweet and tries her best to help others, but she’s not as innocent as she appears; she’ll understand your innuendos just fine, even if she doesn’t really say any herself! Next is Richard and Lara Beaufort, a husband and wife who run the school. Richard is rather laid-back, yet he’s also a master of all kinds of art, painting, sculpture, photography, dancing, singing, you name it! Lara is his arachne wife, a rather boisterous woman who owns a high-class fashion company. The secret to her clothing’s success?? Arachne silk, of course! The school was her idea, a way to help better integrate exotic species into society. Will her mission succeed? Only time can tell.

Richard and Lara have a son named Simon, our first love interest and a human-arachne hybrid who takes almost entirely after his mother in the looks-department (hybrids tend to look like one species or the other, rather than a mix of both). He’s a bit withdrawn due to dealing with bullying as a kid; most people --human and monster alike-- are afraid of his spider-like appearance, so he doesn’t get out much-- to the point his parents worry about him being a shut-in for life! He’s also a gamer boy, and has a secret soft side for gothic poetry, although he doesn’t want to join his parents’ art classes. He actually disapproves of his mother’s exotic species integration plan, as from what he’s experienced he feels it’s a waste of time.

Simon’s best friend and Millie’s second love interest is Louis, a mandrake who lives in the woods behind the manor. Louis is extremely shy and more than a bit lonely, even more so than Simon, and he doesn’t speak very often out of fear that the sound of his voice will hurt others around him. Mandrake screams can induce insanity or even kill those that hear them, hence his fear. Being part plant, Louis has mild shape-shifting abilities and is able to transform between child and young adult forms at will, although he’s actually the oldest of the group. He also isn’t a student at the art school, although he has an interest in floristry.

Now for our actual students! Forrest is a manticore, which in this world means he has a body similar to that of a centaur, but with the lower half of a lion instead of a horse, and a scorpion-like tail tipped with a deadly venomous stinger. Despite his species’s name literally meaning ‘man-eater’, Forrest is extremely friendly and cheerful, and is very sporty too. His passion is photography, and he also loves eating food-- any sort of meat dish is fine by him! He’s also a fan of fantasy tabletop roleplaying games, and will often make references comparing them to everyday life; he always plays the knight who saves the princess!

Anthony is a childhood ‘friend’ of Forrest’s, though he’s loathe to admit it. Highly intelligent and highly snobbish, Anthony fancies himself an intellectual-- and he’s not exactly wrong. Being a dragon, he likes to hoard things-- in his case, knowledge. Anthony loves to read, and is most often found in the library. His skill is in drawing and painting, and all his paintings’ invariably morose subject matter worry Millie. Still, this haughty dragon could definitely learn to loosen up a little, and be a little more kind; perhaps his stay at the academy --and his interactions with Millie-- will open his mind to appreciating the feelings of others. He does, at the very least, greatly respect Master Beaufort as a master of the arts.

The other two students are denizens of the sea, and have been friends for a very long time. Emil is a scylla, and like all scyllas he’s a little eccentric, and just can’t seem to keep his tentacles to himself! While Forrest is obsessed with eating, Emil’s true calling is cooking, and he loves making all kinds of dishes, especially anything seafood and/or foreign. Emil also is highly appreciative of women’s fashion, and absolutely adores everything to come from Madam Beaufort’s clothing brand-- so much so that he actually wears them himself! His pretty-boy looks and penchant for wearing women’s clothing actually has Millie mistake him for a girl at first, though he’s very much unafraid to show her his romantic side, or at least what he interprets as romantic... 

Keeping Emil’s pervy antics in check is our sixth and final monster boy, Oswald! As a siren, Oswald spent most of his life in the sea, and still has a lot to learn about humanity. He’s a pretty cool guy but gets a bit embarrassed about his species’s troublesome past as the cause of many shipwrecks at sea, and would prefer to not discuss it. His passion is rock music, and his main instrument is the guitar. He also loves to sing, but refrains from doing so due to the hypnotic effect it has on other species. His lack of legs, tentacles, or a snake-like tail means that like other merrows and sirens he requires a wheelchair to move around on land, and often feels frustrated that he can’t show off how adept he is at traversing water. He’s also easy to embarrass and obsessed with not allowing anything to ‘ruin’ his manly image, including allowing Millie (a girl!) to help carry him around.

So there you have it, all my monster boys! I left out a few things, as those would be major spoilers, but those are my ideas for the characters for now! I’ll try to draw and post some sketches of their designs later. Hopefully I haven’t forgotten anything, but this won’t be the last time I talk about monster boys. Any questions or comments would be very much appreciated! Nsfw questions are allowed (all the boys wear pants for a reason, after all), though I’m currently not sure if this series will be 16+ or 18+, if you catch my meaning. Lemme know how interested you are in this story, or if you’re not interested please let me know that too! 

[1d-fics]

What I’m Reading: July

[No re-reads this month]

New Reads:

1. Cheese Toasties (elsi_bee) - Harry is back to managing nights at Sandy’s Diner, his home away from home. A new customer with two kids in tow makes his nights a bit more interesting.

2. Have a Little Faith in Me (fallinglikethis) - Harry Styles remembers Louis Tomlinson fondly. They used to spend the summers bonding at Bible Camp, helping each other memorize bible verses for their weekly challenge against the boys in the other cabins, and chatting into the early hours of morning when they were supposed to be sleeping. They had been so close back then. Harry was heartbroken when Louis hadn’t been there last summer. He’d heard rumors, vague comments about how Louis had changed but he didn’t believe them. He couldn’t. Because the other boys, the ones from Louis’ home town, were saying that he’d started getting piercings and tattoos, that he’d come out as gay, and that he’d turned his back on God.

3. Holiday Greetings (and Gay Happy Meetings) (2tiedships2) - Niall’s dead care and a foot of snow conspire to force Louis into spending time with an alpha he hates... or does he?

4. Your Touch is the Only Thing I Feel (2tiedships2) - Louis refuses to settle for just any alpha despite intense touch deprivation. Fortunately Harry isn’t just any alpha.

5. Everything Suspended (louisandthealien) - Centered around the events of 9/11, Harry hears about the crash, Louis works in one of the towers.

6. You Really Got Me Now (allwaswell16) - Louis chaperones Fizzy’s school trip to Italy. Turns out Fizzy’s Italian teacher is surprisingly hot, Rome is surprisingly interesting, and Louis is surprisingly falling in love with more than just the city.

7. I Don’t Mean to Frustrate (lululawrence) - Louis is an omega pretending to be a beta, but what happens when Harry, his (pining) alpha best friend, learns his secret?

8. Forget Your Ex (rainbowskinnies) - When Harry’s boyfriend of two years leaves him for someone else, it’s fair to say he’s rather a bit upset, but his friends have a solution for him. Nick and Niall are hosting a start of term house party at their flat, having invited everyone they know from uni. Who knows, with a bit of luck Harry can find a rebound shag and finally forget his ex...

9. Raise a Glass to the Four of Us (2tiedships2) - Louis stared at his luggage. Well. Apparently not his luggage, because the clothing he was looking at currently was a: worth more than everything he currently posessed, b: not his size at all, and c: more suited for a fancy ass lawyer than a holiday in NYC with his best mates.

10. Fiction Romance - A punk Louis/uni Harry blind date AU where Harry likes older, sophisticated, mature men and can’t understand why Niall would set him up with Louis Tomlinson.

11. I’m Tripping Over Your Every Single Move (lookingfortherainbow) - Harry is the local swimming star athlete and Louis is the lifeguard that turns Harry into a fish out of water.

12. Let the Words Fall Out (pertunes) - It’s not a thing, he decides. It’s not going to be a thing, because his ears have been ringing for months and so what if some days he feels like he’s straining to hear what even Niall’s jabbering on about.

13. Can I Just Be the Same? (star_henderson) - Harry is a two hundred year old vampire with no one in the whole world and Louis is the kind hearted stranger who comes into Harry’s life bringing something that Harry had missed. Love. But Harry is forever running, can Louis be the one to change all that?

14. Another One for the Road (reminiscingintherain) - Louis’ on tour when he finds out the hard way that men can get pregnant, too.

15. This Glorious Mess (theweightofmywords) - Breakups, breakup sex, and getting back together.

16. Paper Houses (allwaswell16) - When model Louis Tomlinson admits to having a celebrity crush on a very famous actor in an article in GQ magazine, he has no idea it will lead to anything. He definitely never suspects he will fall so hard and so fast for Harry Styles. When reality begins to interfere, their relationship is put to the test.

17. Save Me, Call Me Baby (delsicle) - Louis didn’t plan for him and his husband to get pregnant at the same time. Somehow, it works out.

18. Don’t Call Me Angel (larryent) - Manhattan is a dangerous playground for the rich and entitled Alphas of New York. Those same wealthy Alphas are robbed after spending one night in the presence of a blue-eyed Omega and Officer Styles is assigned to the case.

19. Where Do We Go Now (jaerie) - Louis goes off to college ready to start a fresh life away from the oppressive alphas of his pack. The odds aren’t in his favour when his new dorm mate turns out to be an alpha. Louis hates alphas.

20. (You’re Gonna See Me in a) New Light (thepolourryexpress) - A fake relationship AU where everyone knows it’s real but Louis.

[everwitch-magiks]

dance with somebody (ch. 16)

start from ch. 1 | back to ch. 15

When Dex steps into Chowder’s bedroom, his single knock on the open door no more than a nostalgic habit, these days, as opposed to a present requirement, he’s certainly not expecting to be faced with, well. With this.

“What’re you doing?”

Chowder looks up. He’s sitting cross-legged on the floor with a myriad of different colored post-it notes spread out around him. Dex crouches down, picking up a couple of the notes (yellow and pink, respectively) to skim through their contents. Louis, helped solve Halloween cupcake disaster, 2 points. Hops, volunteered to do dishes entire week, 6 points.

Dex raises both eyebrows towards Chowder. Chowder, meanwhile, is staring down at the colorful mess surrounding him with a decidedly troubled expression. He sighs.

“I’m figuring out my dibs.”

“With a points system?” Dex prompts. He’s not sure if he’s impressed or concerned. “Looks ambitious.”

“I just don’t want anyone to think that I’m being unfair,” Chowder explains glumly. He picks up a green post-it (Jader, gave up half his vanilla scone at breakfast, 1 point) and stares at it dejectedly. “Or that I don’t care about them. Oh no, what if I pick Jader, and then Joyo inevitably assumes that I hate him? I could never do that to Joyo."

“Dude,” Dex says. He’s trying very hard not to smile. “You don’t have to make a decision yet, you know? It’s not even Christmas.”

Chowder frowns.

“It's almost Christmas.”

“I suppose,” Dex agrees carefully. “Are you sure this isn’t just some big procrastination project? Got any big finals looming, hm?”

“Finals,” Chowder scoffs. “Are finals really more important than the precious feelings of our hardworking underclassmen?”

“Oh my God. What’s all this?”

Nursey strolls into the room without knocking. He places a kiss on top of Dex’s head and then plops himself down between Dex and Chowder, his hand lingering softly at Dex’s nape.

“Chowder is having a bit of a dibs crisis,” Dex fills him in.

“Oh, man. Hard same.” Nursey frowns. “I was dead set on giving mine to Ford. Of course Ollie and Wicks had to go and snag her, first.”

“She and Tango seem pretty happy up in the attic, though,” Dex points out. "And this way, you get to be hausmates with both of them this year."

“I suppose that's true," Nursey allows. Then he shrugs. "And I guess I’ve still got Louis. He’s let me borrow his good bluetooth speakers basically this whole semester, so. Might be an option."

“What?” Chowder exclaims. “No, wait, I might pick Louis. You two couldn't maybe give me some time to figure this out, before you stake your claims?"

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works, C,” Dex tells him gently.

“That’s definitely not how it works,” Nursey agrees, his grin playful yet his tone kind. “If there’s someone you have in mind, Chow, you should just go for it. You snooze, you lose."

Chowder whips his head around, aiming his wide, pleading eyes at Dex.

“You’re not considering Louis, too, are you?”

“Honestly? I wish I was considering anyone.” Dex sighs. “I would’ve gone with Whiskey, but obviously that’s out, and I feel like the Waffles have gotten this strange aversion to doing any of those dibs type favors for me since I became captain. I think they don’t want to act like they’re sucking up for the wrong reasons, or something.”

“Maybe give them some proper incentive?” Nursey suggests merrily. “If word got out that you’re, like, completely undecided about dibs, I’m sure both the Waffles and the Scones would be falling all over themselves to please you. Might be fun to watch.”

“Nah. I’ll figure it out eventually.” Dex shrugs. “Graduation is still really far away. I’m not gonna worry about it, yet.”

“It’s not that far away,” Chowder disagrees. He sounds serious. “Guys, it’s almost Christmas. That means we're graduating in less than six months.”

Dex very nearly flinches. Six months? How is that even possible?

“That can’t be right,” Nursey says slowly. His expression has turned uncharacteristically unchill. “Fuck. Why haven’t I applied to more grad programs, yet?”

“I need to start looking at job listings more seriously,” Chowder chimes in. He's looking down at his post-its with an expression that’s unusually difficult to read. “I guess I can't put it off forever."

“Hey,” Dex says. He’s trying his best to sound reasonable, despite his own inner turmoil. Suddenly, the feeling of Nursey’s hand that’s still resting at his nape seems more important than ever. “It’s not over yet. We’ve still got a whole semester.”

“Yeah,” Nursey says quickly. “Yeah, you’re right. And even after, it’s not like you guys are ever gonna be rid of me. Got your backs, remember?”

“That's true,” Chowder agrees quietly. He’s not smiling, Dex notes with no small amount of concern. Especially considering the fact that Chowder kind of hasn't smiled at all since the start of this conversation. His whole expression looks wrong, somehow, without that familiar spark of effortless joy. “It’s all happening so fast. I wish everything could slow down, just a bit.”

“We’re just gonna have to make every moment count,” Dex says firmly. Impulsively, he reaches for Chowder’s shoulder. “We’re here for you, man. You know that, right? We're always gonna look out for each other. Always."

“Of course. Yeah, of course.” Thankfully, that seems to do the trick – Chowders lips curl into a soft grin. "Ugh. I think I'm just gonna go through my notes for that UX design final one more time. Can't be more stressful than trying to choose a single Waffle for dibs."

"Or a Scone," Nursey reminds him brightly. "There's some good freshies, too, let's not forget."

"Says you, who's got your eye on Louis, too," Chowder points out with an amused roll of his eyes. "I may be panicking, Nurse, but I'm certainly not stupid."

"Ah, and here though myself completely subtle." Nursey grins. "Weren't you gonna study?"

"Actually, yes." Chowder gets to his feet, only to immediately pause. He narrows his eyes towards Nursey. "But if you lock down Louis while I'm stuck cramming user interface design techniques, you can expect some serious payback."

"Chill, man." Nursey's grin softens. "Look, I haven't actually decided on Louis yet, but if it would make you feel better we could have some sort of dibs treaty until the end of finals week. After that, it's anyone's game. Sounds good?"

"I suppose that’s fair." Chowder nods, and Dex is relieved to see the genuine smile he offers in return. "I think I left my books downstairs, so. See you guys later."

He pads out of his room, leaving Dex and Nursey alone in the sea of post-its.

Immediately, Nursey scoots a little closer to Dex.

"Just us, huh," he remarks, his tone a clear attempt at casual even though his smile indicates otherwise. "D'you wanna get lunch, or something?"

Dex hesitates.

"I've actually got some things I need to work on," he says carefully. "Could we maybe meet up later?"

"Sure. Of course." Nursey's response comes just a little bit too quickly. "That's chill, man. Whatever you need."

Dex studies his boyfriend's expression for a moment. It's been a concern of his, ever since he started setting aside time to work on his secret project, that Nursey might eventually start to realise there's something Dex isn't telling him. Dex has been monitoring carefully for any sign of doubt or confusion on Nursey's end, and this is the first time he thinks he's seeing exactly that in the subtle frown that's replaced Nursey's relaxed smile from a moment earlier. Obviously, it's the opposite of what Dex hopes to achieve with his secrecy.

Thankfully, the solution is very simple.

"Hey," Dex says quietly. "It's for you."

Nursey looks puzzled.

"I'm doing something for you," Dex clarifies. "That's why I've been a little busy, lately. It's going to be a surprise."

"Oh," Nursey says. He sounds surprised, already. "You're… Huh. What is it?"

Dex grins softly.

"A surprise. Duh."

Nursey raises a curious eyebrow.

"Don't I get a hint?"

"You really don't understand the concept of a surprise, do you?"

"Fine. Be that way." Nursey smiles a little excitedly, and Dex relaxes a bit. "I suppose I'll see you at dinner, then? The guys all want to go to Jerrys.”

"Actually, can we do dinner just you and me?" Dex asks quickly. "There's been so much team stuff, lately, and I've honestly kind of missed us. Tonight, I want to just... Order in. Preferably from someplace that makes a mean garlic bread. And after, we should put on Netflix and get in bed so I can cuddle you while you rant about the dubious plot changes in another one of those Austen adaptations."

Nursey blinks. For some reason, he's staring at Dex with a serious look in his eyes, one that's only vaguely familiar.

"What?" Dex asks, a little self-consciously. Was it something he said? “You like those period dramas. Don’t you?”

Nursey drops his gaze. He takes Dex's hands in his and holds them gently, almost like they're something delicate, like Dex is someone precious and worthy of protection.

"You're in love with me," he says quietly. "Aren't you?"

Oh, shit.

It's true, is the thing. And honestly, Nursey can’t have been unaware of it up until this moment. Really, he must have known. Dex might never have said it in so many words, and they’ve technically only dated for a few months, but it’s not like either of them are blind to the fact that they were dancing around this thing between them for several years, before. That goodnight kiss out on the porch at the very first kegster of the fall was never the beginning.

Dex briefly considers making some sort of joke to downplay this moment, if only to stop Nursey from being completely obnoxious about it in a minute or so. Except, the heavy look in Nursey’s eyes compels him to make a different choice.

"Yeah," Dex says, almost steadily. "I am in love with you. Quite hopelessly, actually."

Nursey’s breath hitches. He squeezes Dex hands tightly, and then he’s leaning over, capturing Dex’s lips in a fiercely desperate kiss that leaves Dex completely breathless. And if Dex didn’t feel it so completely, just then, in every achingly delicate touch of Nursey’s fingers against his cheek, his throat, all the way down his chest, he might’ve been a bit anxious about the fact that, technically, Nursey didn’t actually say it back.

As it is, Dex isn’t worried. If anything, he’s amused.

“You’re welcome,” he chirps gently after they break apart. “I guess I should be thankful you didn’t just tell me to chill, or whatever.”

“Fuck you, man,” Nursey breathes out, his voice breaking in a way Dex didn’t expect at all. “Also, just, shut up, okay? You already know that I’m writing literal fucking poetry about you, about your freckles and your eyes and your hips and your smile and your stupid fucking lips, okay. I’d like to think you’ve been able to safely assume that I’m more than casually into you.”

“I’d like to think that’s the impression I’ve given you, too,” Dex says slowly. He feels a little confused. Suddenly, he’s tempted to drag Nursey across campus to the wood workshop and just show him, right now, to expose everything that he’s dreaming and hoping and wishing. “Nursey. Hey, Nurse. Look at me.”

“No, you’re right.” Nursey takes a breath. He meets Dex’s eyes with a watery smile. “I don’t know, man. It just hits differently, when you say it out loud. Feels more real. It’s like you spoke it into existence.”

“Maybe something for your next poem,” Dex teases gently. This moment feels too fragile, somehow. He racks his brain for some way to break the tension. “Did you ever read me the one about my hips?”

“Um.” Quickly, Nursey looks away, his smile suddenly more of a bashful grin. Bingo. “Did I mention that one, just now?”

“You did.” Dex grins, too, taking in Nursey’s clearly flustered expression with interest. Oh, this is gonna be good. “Tonight, okay? Read it to me, tonight.”

“I don’t… It’s not my most coherent work, probably.” Nursey clears his throat, and Dex grins a little wider. It’s not often that he manages to make Nursey this unsettled. “I mean, I’ll see if I can find it.”

“Suppose I’ll just have to inspire a new one, if you don’t,” Dex suggests slyly.

“Actually,” Nursey breathes out, already moving to climb into Dex’s lap. “That sounds-”

“Oh my God!” Chowder exclaims from the still open door. “We’ve been over this! You both have your own rooms, okay, you’ve literally got zero excuses for getting your freak on right in the middle of-”

Dex presses his lips briefly against Nursey’s before scrambling to his feet, quickly slipping past Chow into the hallway.

“Sorry, Chowder!” he calls out over his shoulder as he takes the stairs two steps at a time. “Love you, Nurse! Bye!”

“That’s a fine, isn’t it?” Pips calls from the living room as Dex practically sprints past. “Hey, wait! Major fine! Pay the fuck up!”

Dex let’s the door to the Haus fall shut behind him. As he makes the now familiar trek across campus, he doesn’t stop smiling for a single moment.

ch. 17