It wasn’t something you planned to say. It just slipped out, rolling off your tongue like it had always belonged there. Harry was sprawled out on your couch, his head resting on your lap, eyes closed as your fingers lazily ran through his curls. The soft glow of the TV flickered against his skin, but neither of you were paying attention to the movie anymore.
“You’re all relaxed, aren’t you?” you murmured, your nails gently scratching his scalp. A small hum left his lips, followed by a contented sigh. “Feels nice.”
You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest at the way he melted under your touch. His face was soft, peaceful, and utterly at ease. Then, without thinking, it came out—soft, teasing, affectionate.
“Good boy.”
Harry’s eyes snapped open instantly, and you felt his whole body tense slightly against you. His lips parted, but he didn’t say anything right away—just blinked up at you, like he wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it.
You froze. “What?”
His brows furrowed for a split second before something else took over—a slow, lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Say that again.” Your cheeks warmed, realizing the effect those two words had on him. “What, ‘good boy’?”
His breath hitched just barely, but you caught it. “Yeah. That.”
You tilted your head slightly, studying him, testing the waters. “You like that?”
He swallowed hard, fingers twitching against your thigh before curling around it, his touch firmer than before. “Maybe.” Your smirk grew, and you leaned down, your voice dropping into a whisper just for him.
“Good boy.”
This time, you didn’t miss the way his fingers dug into your skin, or the way his breath stuttered. His eyes darkened, something flickering behind them—something deeper, more intense.
"Careful, love," he murmured, his voice lower now, rougher, thick with something unspoken. His fingers trailed up your thigh, slow and deliberate. "Keep saying that, and I might have to show you just how good I can be."
Your stomach flipped at the implication, heat curling low in your belly. You raised a brow, pretending to be unfazed, but your voice betrayed you—just a little breathier than before.
"Oh?" You dragged your nails through his curls again, tugging just slightly. "Is that a promise, Styles?"
His smirk deepened as he sat up, shifting so that his face was mere inches from yours. His eyes flickered to your lips before meeting your gaze again, a silent challenge dancing in them. "Not a promise," he murmured, voice like honey, smooth and slow. "A guarantee."
Note: It will be mentioned here that Zayn struggled with drugs and alcohol. I wanted to clarify that none of this is intended to offend, mock, or idealize anything. It's pure fiction, and my intention was never to hurt anyone. (I wanted to clarify this because, if you didn't know, he actually did struggle with these things in real life, and I thought it was important to mention!) xoxo
years ago...
They had met long before the world knew his name.
Zayn Malik had been the quiet boy who sat a few desks away from her, all dark lashes and sketchbooks, someone who spoke little but noticed everything. Kyra had been the girl who filled the silence without trying, whose laugh bounced off lockers and made teachers sigh but smile anyway.
They became best friends without announcing it.
It just… happened.
Shared lunches. Walks home. Homework done side by side, even when neither of them was actually studying. Kyra learned the way Zayn hummed absentmindedly when he was nervous, how he avoided eye contact when he cared too much, how he smiled slowly, like it surprised even him. Zayn learned that she hated being called Ky by anyone else, but from him, it sounded like something soft, something earned.
When the sparks came, they didn’t explode, they settled.
Zayn looked at Kyra like she was something precious he couldn’t quite believe was his, and Kyra loved him like she had all the time in the world.
When he told her about The X Factor, his voice shook.
“I’m thinking about auditioning,” he’d said, eyes fixed on the pavement as they walked. “I know it sounds stupid—”
Kyra stopped walking. “Zayn.”
He looked at her then.
“You have to,” she said immediately, eyes bright. “You’d regret it forever if you didn’t.”
That was Kyra.
Always forward. Always believing.
From that moment on, she was his biggest supporter. No doubts. No hesitation. When London came calling, she answered too. Quitting her job, studying in the car, living out of bags and borrowed couches, learning how to make herself smaller so his dream could be bigger. She never complained. Not once.
When One Direction happened, happiness felt unreal.
Zayn was everywhere all at once, and somehow Kyra managed to be there too. She found a remote job, learned the rhythm of airports and tour buses, built a life that fit around his. The boys became family. Harry, especially; loud, warm, endlessly alive, slid effortlessly into her world, making her laugh on days when Zayn was too tired to talk.
For a while, everything was still golden.
But gold dulls if you don’t protect it.
The cigarettes came first. Then the nights got later. The drinking stopped being social and started being necessary. Zayn didn’t change overnight, he faded, little by little, like a photograph left too long in the sun. Fame didn’t make him arrogant; it made him lost.
Kyra noticed before anyone else.
She noticed when conversations turned into monologues. When laughter became background noise. When his eyes stopped finding hers in rooms full of people. She loved him fiercely, stubbornly, but loving someone doesn’t mean you can always reach them.
One night, the apartment was too quiet.
“Zayn?” Kyra asked, hearing the bedroom door open.
Footsteps echoed, uneven, careless, before a heavy thud hit the floor.
“Zayn?!”
She rushed out of the room, her heart pounding as she reached the living room. Zayn was lying on the floor, barely conscious, the smell of marijuana and something stronger clinging to the air.
“I’m fine,” he barely murmured, slurring the words, his eyes closed and unable to get up.
Kyra swallowed her panic and did what she always did. She helped him to his feet as best she could, guiding him to the bedroom and sitting him down on the bed. Her hands were gentle as she took off his jacket, even though her chest felt tight.
“You can’t keep doing this, Zayn,” Kyra tried to say as she took off his jacket, her voice calm.
“You always say the same thing,” he mumbled, still struggling to speak.
“Well, maybe you should start listening to me,” she replied.
“Bullshit, don’t tell me what to do, mind your own business,” Zayn abruptly turned away from her and lay down on the bed, passing out completely asleep.
Kyra stood there, frozen. Something inside her fractured quietly, painfully. She didn’t cry. She just felt hollow.
Morning came too soon.
Kyra leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping a cup of coffee she barely tasted, waiting for Zayn to wake up. She couldn’t ignore it anymore. She wouldn’t.
As if summoned, he appeared, smiling, refreshed enough to pretend nothing had happened. He walked toward her, arms reaching for her waist, familiar and automatic—but she pulled back, not letting him touch her.
“What’s wrong, baby?” he asked, frowning, genuinely worried.
“I can’t, Zayn,” she whispered.
“What do you mean, love?” He tried to approach her again, only to be rejected once more. “Hey, what do you mean?”
“I’m tired, Zayn. I can’t keep waiting for you every night to come home passed out so I can help you to bed, reeking of alcohol and drugs, like it’s normal...” Kyra begins. “Damn, even thinking that this has become a habit doesn’t make sense. Passed out, Zayn... you come home passed out every night, and I’m the only one here, sleepless all night, worried about you, and on top of that, I have to put up with you treating me like garbage just because I want to help you.”
Zayn stood there in silence, processing her words. For months she had begged him to seek help, to slow down, to care. He hadn’t thought it was that serious. Somewhere along the way, he had lost control without realizing it.
“It’s not every night...” Zayn begins, somewhat annoyed. “I just need a distraction, okay? I’m with the band all the time, without a single second of peace. All I see and hear is chaos and mayhem. I just want to have some fun.”
“That’s not a distraction! You don’t talk to your family, you don’t talk to me!” Kyra pauses briefly. “You don’t see me, you don’t hear me, you’re not interested. I don’t want to sound selfish or like I’m demanding anything from you, but I gave up everything, Zayn. I did everything I could to follow your dreams, to help you, and to be there to be the first to congratulate and support you.”
“The only moments we share are these: the mornings when you’re hungover, you come to hug me, you have a coffee, you shower, and you leave. Then I just see you passed out in the living room.”
Zayn remained serious, but inside, everything hurt.
“I didn’t think you’d notice, you’ve been spending a lot of time with Harry lately,” he couldn’t help but blurt out, giving in to his jealousy.
Kyra froze, stunned, hurt beyond words.
“Yeah, I wonder why,” she commented sarcastically. “Maybe because I’m in a city where I don’t know anyone, in an apartment all day alone because my boyfriend can’t even be bothered to ask how I am.”
Silence.
“I don’t recognize you, Zayn,” she began, tears welling in her eyes. “I don’t know who you are, I don’t know when you became a complete stranger. I was always here, I’m still here, and I don’t remember when you slipped through my fingers. I’m sorry, Zayn, I’m so sorry, but I can’t keep doing this to myself. I’m drained. I really tried.”
She placed her cup down gently and walked past him.
Zayn reacted on instinct, grabbing her arm.
“What do you mean? What you doing?” His voice trembled slightly.
“I’m leaving, Zayn. We... I can’t do this anymore. You’re not the Zayn I fell in love with.”
He froze.
Kyra pulled away, not just from his grip, but from everything they had been.
Kyra started a new life.
But Zayn never forgave himself.
-
present day...
Time passed.
Not gently, not mercifully—but it passed.
Kyra moved forward the only way she knew how: by building something of her own. She never felt whole again, not completely, because some loves don’t disappear—they linger, quiet and permanent, like scars you stop noticing but never lose. Still, she studied, worked, pushed herself harder than she ever had before, until effort turned into success.
KY was born almost accidentally.
It wasn’t a clever name. It wasn’t meant to be. It was intimate, heavy with meaning. Only one person had ever called her that. Only one person had ever believed in her designs before she believed in them herself. Zayn, before fame... before everything broke, had always been the loudest voice telling her she was capable, that she was talented, that she should never settle for less.
Only Zayn called her Ky.
And now the world did too, without knowing why it mattered.
She lived in a large apartment in the United States, surrounded by clean lines, light-filled rooms, and the quiet satisfaction of having made it on her own. She was well-known, financially stable, and doing exactly what she loved. From the outside, she had everything.
From the inside, there was still a small, aching absence.
“I already told you, idiot, of course you’re invited!” Kyra said via FaceTime to the long-haired man on her screen.
“Well, I had to find out through Instagram! If it weren’t for that, I wouldn’t have known!” he said, annoyed, although he wasn’t really annoyed… maybe a little.
“Harry, please, I posted the announcement 14 minutes ago! Of course I was going to invite you all myself, but you didn’t even give me 20 minutes!” Kyra laughed.
“Anyway, you’re already starting to hate us,” he said dramatically.
“Oh, please, you’re one of the best coincidences of my life,” Kyra said sweetly.
“Oh, please! Stop it! You’re making me blush!” Niall joined the FaceTime call.
Everyone laughed, the familiar warmth filling her chest.
“Anyway, next week, the grand opening of one of my biggest stores is going to be a big deal, so please don’t be late,” Kyra pleaded.
“NEVER, MA’AM!” Louis struck a military pose.
She laughed so hard her stomach hurt, and for a moment, everything felt easy again.
“Where’s Liam?” Kyra asked when she stopped laughing, noticing his absence. The three boys exchanged glances, a silent conversation passing between them.
“Um, Liam went to meet up with… Zayn.” Louis glanced at Harry sadly before turning back to Kyra.
“Liam is really the only one he’s been talking to since he left.” Louis finished.
The name hit her like a memory she hadn’t invited back.
Zayn left the band not long after she left him.
Not immediately. In fact, the months that followed were the worst of his life. If he used to come home in the early hours before, now he didn’t come home at all. The apartment felt unbearable without her, too quiet, too empty, stripped of warmth. There was no point in going back to a place that no longer held her voice, her presence, her love.
He disappeared. Pushed people away. Lost patience with everything.
Eventually, he sought help. And help asked questions he had avoided his entire life. Questions about identity, purpose, and self-destruction. Questions that hurt to answer but hurt more to ignore.
For sure leaving One Direction wasn’t easy, wasn’t clean. But it was necessary...and through it all, Liam stayed, he'd always had a stronger friendship with him anyways.
“But don’t worry, I’ll text him right now and let him know. He wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Harry said, already typing.
Kyra blinked rapidly, forcing the memories back.
“Sure,” she said quickly. “I’ll be waiting for you guys. I love you!”
She hung up and stared at her reflection in the black screen.
“Come on,” she whispered. “Get over it.”
The week passed faster than she expected, and suddenly she was standing in the center of her newest store, dressed elegantly, surrounded by light, music, people, cameras. Her biggest opening yet. Family, friends, press, fans...everyone celebrating what she had built.
“I hope I get a discount,” a familiar voice teased behind her.
Kyra turned instantly, her eyes widening as she threw herself into Harry’s arms. “HARRY!”, he lifted her off the ground, spinning her effortlessly as they both laughed.
“We’ll get one too, right? I just saw a jacket that was fire,” Niall added, with Louis nodding enthusiastically.
Kyra hugged all of them at once, Niall, Louis, Liam, holding on a second longer than necessary.
“I can’t even tell you how much I missed you guys!”
“We missed you too! Our little bee has become a queen bee and owner of her own hive,” Niall said dramatically.
“Kyra, I…need to tell you something...” Liam started, guilt written all over his face. “I’m sorry, but maybe I—”
Kyra stopped breathing, something very much familiar was approaching.
A buzz cut. More tattoos. Broader shoulders. Melting eyes.
“Zayn?” she whispered.
“I’m sorry,” Liam murmured, before the boys gently pulled him away, leaving her alone with the one person she had never truly left behind.
“Hey, Ky,” Zayn said softly.
That damn nickname.
“Hey,” she managed.
“Congratulations,” he said. Seconds that felt like days passed, making his heart ache.
“Hey, I’m so sorry for showing up here uninvited, at such an important event for you. But that’s precisely why I had to come. Liam got the message while he was with me, and Ky—”
“Can we just…” Kyra interrupted, forcing a polite smile. “Can we just not do it here?… not now. Maybe we can talk more calmly later.”
She walked away before her walls collapsed. Didn’t cry. She smiled. She drank white wine,champagne. She talked to people as if everything was just right as it was supposed to be, of course she also avoided the boys entirely.
As the hours passed, the crowd thinned, the lights dimmed, and the music stopped completely. Until she was completely alone in her new store, well…almost alone.
“Yes, of course, I'm sorry for how I acted before… it's just that…” Kyra tried to explain, her voice low, careful, as if one wrong word could shatter whatever fragile truce existed between them in that moment. The noise of the event still hummed faintly around them, distant laughter and clinking glasses bleeding through the walls, but it all felt muted now, like the world had stepped back to give them space.
“No, no, I'm sorry. I should have realized that the middle of the event wasn't the place. I just… I really need to talk to you.”
Zayn moved closer to her then, slowly, deliberately, as if giving her time to pull away if she wanted to. He stopped just a few centimeters from her, not too close, not too far...just close enough that Kyra could feel the warmth of him, the familiarity that her body recognized before her mind could catch up. Her heart began to race despite herself.
“Go ahead,” she whispers, barely trusting her voice not to crack.
Zayn exhales, a deep, unsteady sigh that had nothing to do with exhaustion and everything to do with fear. It was the kind of breath someone takes before stepping into something terrifying, like he was finally sitting down to take the exam he’d been studying for his entire life, praying that all the effort, all the pain, would somehow be worth it.
“There's nothing I can say to make you forgive me, I can't expect you to. The day you left… that day I felt like I died. All the shit that was going on, all the anxiety, the fear, the exhaustion—the only thing that kept me going was you, Ky.”
His voice wavered, and Kyra felt it hit her straight in the chest, knocking the air out of her lungs.
“You made me happy, you always did. From the first day we met at school, I knew you were the one for me. And I'm sorry, I'm so sorry with all my heart because I lost myself. Everything I was disappeared, I was consumed, and you were there to support me through everything. I didn't see it, and I hate myself for it.”
His eyes glistened under the soft lights, and his voice trembled despite his effort to stay composed. Kyra felt her own eyes burn almost immediately, that familiar sting she’d learned to fear because once it started, it never stopped gently. She swallowed hard, her chest tight.
“Zayn…” she sighed, his name leaving her lips like a quiet ache rather than a word.
“Please,” he continues quickly, like he’s afraid she’ll stop him if he pauses. “That night I wanted to follow you, I wanted to run after you and do anything to make you stay, but I couldn't allow myself to, Ky. I couldn't allow myself to keep hurting you, to keep seeing you like this because of me. I needed to fix myself first… but just because I didn't follow you that night doesn't mean I let you go, Ky. Letting you go forever was never an option.”
Kyra’s tears finally spilled over, tracing slow paths down her cheeks as she listened. Every word felt like reopening old wounds and healing them at the same time.
“And I'm so sorry it took me that long to realize,” Zayn goes on, his voice breaking now, “but I couldn't follow you. Ky, I couldn't follow you. I couldn't go looking for you because I couldn't allow myself to keep hurting you—the person I love most, the person I've always loved, the only person who made me feel understood and supported.”
By this point, Kyra was crying openly, her shoulders trembling as she struggled to breathe through the emotion crashing over her. Zayn stepped closer, unable to resist anymore, gently cupping her cheeks in his hands like she was something precious, something fragile he was terrified of breaking again. His thumbs brushed away her tears with aching tenderness.
“I looked for help, I found it and I found myself again.”
He lifts her chin just enough for her to look at him, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes were red now, rimmed with emotion, but clear in a way she hadn’t seen in so long.
“And I know it sounds selfish like shit, but I looked for you, and I found you. I can't let myself lose you again, Ky. I won't.”
The last words came out as a whisper, raw and desperate, like a promise he was making not just to her, but to himself.
Silence falls between them for a few seconds, heavy and sacred. Kyra needed the time—to breathe, to process, to let the years of pain and longing settle into something she could finally understand. She had dreamed of this moment more times than she could count, and now it was here, real and imperfect and overwhelming.
“I couldn't keep letting myself be destroyed the way I was, Zayn,” she finally says, her voice trembling but steady enough to be honest. “I couldn't keep seeing you like that. I tried everything to help you, but I just couldn't let myself watch you destroy yourself like that.”
She exhales shakily, her forehead falling briefly against his chest before she looks back up at him.
“I just wanted my Zayn back,” she whispers.
“I love you, Ky… I loved you, I love you, and I always will… Please, I'm sorry.”
He presses his forehead to hers, their noses almost brushing, his breath uneven against her skin.
“I love you, Ky… I loved you, I love you, and I always will… Please, I'm sorry.”
“I love you, Zy,” she replies through tears, her hands gripping his jacket like she’s afraid he might disappear if she lets go. “I always have, I do now… and I think I always will.”
That was all they needed.
They had always known, felt it in the quiet moments, in the pain, in the absence, in the way no one else had ever quite fit the empty spaces inside them. Problems existed everywhere, life was never simple, but what they shared had always been stronger than fear, stronger than mistakes. And the fact that he had owned his failures, that he had healed and come back with honesty in his eyes, meant everything to her.
He was back—truly back—and she wasn’t about to push him away for anything in the world.
The kiss that followed wasn’t rushed or desperate. It was slow, gentle, and necessary. Not sexual, not dramatic, but deeply emotional, as if they were breathing life back into each other. It felt like something missing had finally returned home, like empty spaces in their hearts had been filled exactly the way they were always meant to be—by each other.
(M, 67k) harry is a recent implant in new york and a young chef opening a restaurant called yuzu. louis, a music teacher and broadway lover, has been around the block for a while. in a city that's so fast-paced, they're slow to catch on to each other.
✨ You Took My Heart By Surprise by @loveislarryislove
(T, 39k) There is reason to believe Prince Harry’s life is in danger. After a failed kidnapping attempt, Louis is assigned to guard Harry around the clock. He is the best at what he does, but he has a tendency to not get along with clients. Louis and Harry start off on the wrong foot, but it soon becomes clear that neither is at all what the other expected.
~*~*~
Queen Anne met Louis’ eyes. “While your file documents many remarkable accomplishments, it also contains a number of early terminations. Why is that?”
“It all depends on what your priorities are,” he said slowly. “If your primary concern is protection, I’m your guy. If you’re looking for someone polite…” He shrugged. “I don’t generally try to be rude, but social graces aren’t what I’m being paid for. If someone values being sucked up to over being protected, that’s their problem.”
“You seem quite well-mannered,” Anne said, frowning.
Both Nick and Louis snorted at that. “You’ve only known me for ten minutes,” Louis said. “Give it time.”
✨ Put It On Me by @stylinsoncity
(M, 15k) Harry's bachelor party doesn't go as planned.
✨ so many birthdays (that I missed) by @tofiveohfive
(NR, 11k) Louis doesn’t know nearly enough about science and the cosmos to explain how every atom in his being stands to attention; how his body immediately knows who he’s bumped into.
It’s somewhat underwhelming when the first word he hears out of Harry’s mouth after twelve months is, “Oh.”
AU inspired by Julia Michaels’ Into You
✨ No Place I'd Rather Be by @iamasphodelknox
(E, 39k) Harry's had a crush on his stepfather's friend for six years. A small crush. A tiny crush.
Honestly, if you don't look at Harry's dozens of poems about Louis Tomlinson, the crush is practically infinitesimal. They haven't even had a conversation.
But then a car wreck prompts them to finally have a conversation.
Christmas works its magic, Harry pines, Louis fonds, and they just might make it.
✨ The Places I Share With You by @iamasphodelknox
(M, 7k) Five times Louis comes home to Harry and one time he's ready to welcome Harry home.
The process of Louis and Harry finding home in each other.
Sequel/Coda/Epilogue to No Place I'd Rather Be.
Primal and Divine by WordsInBloom28
(E, 33k) Embarking on a mission to save his pack, Louis is pushed to the brink after his friend is killed in a dangerous forest. Awaiting the graces of death, Louis is saved by a peculiar healer who lives alone in the woods.
Throughout his healing process, Louis forms an unlikely bond with the healer and, with it, a life of serenity. His body grows stronger and his heart grows fonder, allowing love to take root.
In order to protect his new found peace, Louis and his companion work together to fight against the evil that threatens to take it all away.
It was always you by @defences-down
(T, 1,3k) It's their first Christmas living together, and Harry has been trying to figure out how to talk to Louis about his feelings for weeks.
He could never have expected what would happen next.
Ideal: An Advent Fic by @iamasphodelknox
(M, 40k) All Louis wanted was some god-damned time to write his novel. He didn’t expect to move his and Liam’s entire production of a Christmas variety show to a small inn in Vermont just before the holidays. He didn’t expect to save Niall’s inn. He didn’t expect Liam to fall in love. He definitely didn’t expect to fall in love himself. And he certainly didn’t expect it all to feel so much like a Christmas movie.
Oh hell. There’s a lot of things Louis didn’t expect.
A White Christmas au, complete with drama, fluff, choreographed dance numbers, and idiotic boys falling in love. Just your typical Christmas fun.
Frankincense-ational by @londonfoginacup
(T, 31k) Harry Styles works at the Hillsyde Library with his friend Zayn and best mate Niall. It’s December, which means Christmas, which should be the happiest month of the year…
Except Niall just broke up with his boyfriend, Zayn needs to let up on the rules a little, and the library is getting their fire alarm system replaced, which means that for the next few weeks there are going to be firemen patrolling the library ‘looking for fires’ while the system is down.
Harry almost hits one of them with his car right off the bat - and of course he’s the hot one.
Happy Christmas, here’s to many more.
Is that a candy cane in your pocket? by @kingsofeverything
(E, 4,8k) Louis accuses Harry of shoplifting. Harry was definitely not shoplifting.
They work it out.
Close To You by yourgorgeouscolors
(E, 5,7k) “You’re lovely,” Louis rasps out. He feels so close to Harry in a way that's different from the other intimate sex positions they’ve tried. He can see Harry, feel him all over. Feel the way he’s clenching down on his cock as he adjusts. He can feel Harry’s hot breath prickling his skin, and can feel his body everywhere. Each point of contact feels like a zap of electricity.'
Or, Harry and Louis try a new sex position.
Listen To Your Heart by @chloehl10
(E, 35k) Are you kidding me right now?
I… No? Louis frowned, feeling angry now. It wasn’t fair, he knew that, but at the same time, he couldn’t help his feelings. It felt like this had been brewing for weeks, and this was it. Give it a rest, Harry.
Why are you such a brat? Why can’t you just be happy for me for once?
You think I want to hear about you kissing James? Really, H? There’s things I just don’t need to know, okay? I’m your best mate, not your fucking relationship advisor…
***
Louis has always been comfortable being Harry’s one and only. When Harry starts to branch out, Louis has a hard time letting him go.
Harry is very lucky to have someone who listens to what he has to say, despite the fact that he’s deaf. He’s finally feeling like he’s coming into himself, but Louis seems bothered by his newfound confidence.
(do you think it's easy) being of the jealous kind by @the-larry-way
(T, 0,8k) Harry is mad and Louis isn't exactly sure why.
(or Louis comes home smelling of another omega and Harry is near heat and jealous)
Make a Dime Go One Hundred by screwstyles
(E, 18k) “Hey, Haz,” he says, encouraged in equal parts by the weed and the cocoon they seem to have created around themselves. “Do you think you could trust anyone enough to have full control over you?” he asks into the night, hoping his sentence won’t break their bubble. It doesn’t, if the way Harry’s eyes meet his is any indication.
“What do you mean?” Harry’s voice is barely above a whisper, rough from the singing they had done earlier. Louis wants to keep this memory forever.
“You know, if someone wanted to, uhm,” he coughs, “to tie you up, or blindfold you.”
-
Friends to Lovers AU: Harry volunteers to help Louis experiment with bondage. Things don’t go exactly to plan.
✨ Chestnuts Roasting... And All That by @elsi-bee
(M, 47k) Louis is apparently the only person at his new job who is single as can be. It’s not a big deal to just tell his new colleagues that he has a boyfriend, right? Until he has to make this imaginary boyfriend magically appear at the office holiday party. Cue fake relationship antics with a certain someone who is more than willing to play along.
Linger by @yourpricelessadvice
(E, 136k) Louis has a truckload of painful memories and a custody arrangement where a family could’ve been. The last thing he’s looking for is a new relationship.
Harry has accepted that he’s not made for relationships and isn’t interested in getting burnt again.
It’s a good job they’ve both got meddling friends.
Between Me & Me by prettystylinson // Break The Stigma Fest
Harry spends the day alone in the flat, trying to do the simplest things — run an errand, take his meds, make dinner. But nothing feels simple when there are three voices in the room and none of them are real.
With Louis out of town and no one to confirm or deny what he sees, hears, or fears, Harry is left to navigate the chaos on his own. One hallucination offers comfort. One echoes everything he’s afraid of. One just watches.
Louis Tomlinson was only looking for a quick summer fling. He certainly doesn't believe in love and that's also not what he's looking for.
A summer in Italy changes everything. When he meets the boy with flowers in his hair, he might just start believing in love.
-
As Harry and Louis meet again under different circumstances, their story takes a different turn.
A summer romance gone wrong. Or maybe right?
A canon-divergent omegaverse series with endgame OT5, written for @wordplayfics 2024.
One Direction was unusual as a band with two betas in with the expected omega popstars, but they achieved global stardom in spite of it, traveling the world as a five-part sensation until beta Zayn left and the rest of the band went on hiatus shortly after.
Years later, they're all living their separate lives, pursuing separate careers to varying levels of success, until a headline breaks: One Direction had a secret alpha all along.
8.1: Nest - start the fight (AO3/tumblr)
8.2: Tight - drive away (AO3/tumblr)
8.3: Carry - set it all on fire (AO3/tumblr)
8.4: Press - forget this place (AO3/tumblr)
8.5: Interference - to say goodbye (AO3/tumblr)
Epilogue: COMING SOON
“You’re so light,” Harry laughs into his mouth, and any other day Louis would take that as an insult. “Can’t believe I’ve got a Bowie in my quarters.”
The words sink to the bottom of Louis’ stomach, like Harry’s got the same infatuation with his dad as everyone else. Like Louis’ worth is determined by his paternal connection to one of the greats. It makes him feel useless the same way it always does.
or the one where Louis Bowie and Harry Jagger lose their fathers within a month of each other and, together, they realize that maybe they were always a little bit broken
healing, angst, and a lot of self-destruction ensues
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bc im obsessed w the fact that david bowie and mick jagger had a long-standing gay (b)romance and i think their sons probably would have been soulmates (at least if their sons were harry and louis)
