#abhib

[femslashy]

when you see this share a snippet of your WIP

[IT’S POSSIBLE THAT I’VE POSTED THIS PARTICULAR PART BEFORE BUT WHATEVER I CAN’T REMEMBER AND TUMBLR HATES SEARCHING SO HERE]

Louis plucks the extra apple from the cup holder and regards it closely. It’s mostly unblemished, red and shiny and firm with the exception of a bruise towards the base. He frowns, because he really wants to eat this apple, but doesn’t want to risk biting into the ruined part. He presses his nail into the skin and it splits, dribbling juice and letting some of the mushy brown inside show through.

“Something wrong?” Harry asks. “You don’t like apples?”

“I like apples,” Louis says, “but this one’s bruised.” It’s disappointing, is what it is. He’d really been looking forward to this apple.

“Just cut it out,” Harry says, like it’s obvious, and maybe it should have been.

“Oh. Right.” Louis sets the apple on his lap and pops open the glove compartment to fish out the pocketknife he’s got stowed away. He removes it.

[+]

“Bollocks,” he mutters, and feels the exact moment Harry’s eyes slide over. The car jerks slightly, meaning Harry’s probably noticed the blood, and Louis really fucking hopes he’s not going to panic.

Harry, not Louis. Louis is allowed to panic right now, probably. Anyone would if they were staring down at their own bone, visible in between the cut. Is it still just a cut if you can see bone? Louis honestly doesn’t know, and he wishes his mum were here. Not for the normal reason, not because he misses her, but because as a nurse she’s unfazed to things like this. And Louis would be able to hand this over to her, let her take over and be the adult that Louis’ sick of pretending he is.

“Right,” Harry says crisply. Louis can’t tell if he’s looking ahead to avoid the sight of Louis’ injury or because he’s driving. It might be both, really, but Louis is sort of afraid to ask. The answer might not be reassuring, and Louis so desperately needs some reassurance now.

[+]

When Louis opens his eyes again, Harry’s putting the car in park in front of a service station. He glances down at his lap where his hand is wrapped in Harry’s shirt. His blood has soaked the fabric, and now isn’t the time to try and remember how to get blood out of fabric, but that doesn’t mean Louis isn’t going to try.

Well, okay, maybe later. When his hand is less sore and his head is less headache-y and he’s got all his blood inside his body. That’s when he’ll worry about cleaning Harry’s shirt.

“Where y’going?” he slurs, still not fully out of his fog, and Harry looks proper concerned now. Louis watches as Harry undoes his seatbelt, and it hits him then that Harry isn’t wearing a shirt. He’s shirtless while driving, and it isn’t funny, but Louis laughs anyway. Even more so when he realises Harry’s planning to go inside without his bloody shirt on. Which is actually a bloody shirt, thanks to Louis. None of this is funny, and it still doesn’t matter.

What does matter - possibly, probably - is the sign on the door reminding customers No shirt, No shoes, No service. Louis might not be sure why they stopped, but he’s not going to let Harry get kicked out of some shitty shop because Louis had to go and cut himself. He could tell Harry to get a shirt from one of their cases in the trunk - or he could let Harry decide this, because Louis may be older but he should probably lay off the big brother-ing behaviour. No matter how much help he might think Harry needs.

As if what he does next is any better. Something that Louis only realises after he’s pulled his own shirt up and over his head and tossed it at Harry who’s looking down at it like he’s got no idea what Louis’ on about.

“You’re not wearing a shirt,” Louis says, and maybe he can pretend it’s a valid explanation and Harry will just wear it and go do what he needs to do and Louis can close his eyes and not think about the persistent painful throbbing of his finger.

“I’m asking for directions,” Harry says, like they don’t have a map, “to a hospital,” he clarifies, and oh. Yeah, that makes sense, Louis thinks. Cuts this deep need stitches. It’s just logic.

“Put the shirt on first.” Louis sits back and watches as Harry rolls his eyes and pretends like he’s not going to listen. It’s not like Louis could do anything to stop him, really. He’s too tired, and woozy, and in pain and it’s only getting worse the longer they go on like this.

[femslashy]

your word is missing (or miss I'm not picky lol)

hey amanda thank u for letting me bully u into sending me this lmao U ALSO GET ALL OF THE SENTENCES 

[from my 70s fic WIP where louis takes a solo road trip across the usa that mimics one he took with harry four years earlier]

He runs back into his room, and notices all the things he missed while dealing with the aftermath of the earthquake. Like the fact that the wardrobe is missing half of it’s usual contents.

~*~

He misses Harry the most out of the two, if he’s honest.

~*~

And doesn’t miss the way Harry’s face falls just the tiniest bit at the news.

~*~

Louis misses his bus.

He misses it more often than he pretends to, really, and for a variety of reasons. Most of them have to do with the fact that so much of his and Harry’s history is soaked into the floorboards. That he can’t think of it without being hit with some memory from that trip. Good, bad, everything in between. That bus represents hope, and youth, and potential, and everything Louis doesn’t fucking have anymore.

But mostly, he misses the fuel efficiency.

God, does he miss it. Even more so as he stops for the third time, as he watches the bloody car suck up more of his savings. He really did pick the worst time for this, he thinks, smack dab in the middle of a fucking fuel crisis that’s got cars queued up and more and more stations putting out signs informing drivers that there’s just… no petrol. Which has him stopping more often than he normally would, since there’s a chance that when his gauge hits empty there won’t be a gas station nearby, and he’ll be stranded. So he stops where he can and he fills his tank and he watches his money dwindle and he tries not to think about that fact that he hasn’t even reaching his first stop.

So he thinks about other things. Like how much he misses his old bus.

He also misses the storage space. The boot of his fire bird is a pathetic, minuscule thing; he definitely can’t purchase anything new on the way - not that he was planning to. Still, the option would have been nice. But this is the choice Louis made when he sold his bus and bought this car. Fuck knows Harry had enough to say about it. Louis scowls and flicks his hair out of his face. Harry always had a lot to say about everything towards the end. Until he didn’t anymore.

Looking back, that should have meant something to Louis.

~*~

Not for the normal reason, not because he misses her, but because as a nurse she’s unfazed to things like this.

~*~

Harry laughs as the paper barely misses landing in his cup of coffee, and Louis realises then that he never wants to go another day without hearing that laugh.

~*~

“Shut up, no we aren’t.” Except they might be, because they’re on a residential street, coming to a stop in front of the house he’s only seen in pictures but that’s bloody hard to miss. “Christ,” Louis says, “I think you’re right.”

~*~

There’s a ghost of a smile that anyone who didn’t know Harry like he did might miss.

SEND ME A WORD AND I’LL POST A SENTENCE FROM MY WIP

[femslashy]

hello again my old friend

[femslashy]

last line challenge

thank u for the tag @kingsofeverything !!

i’m picking my 70s larry WIP (aka abhib( back up as a nano but not really challenge so that’s where this is from (it was also the last thing i wrote right as my brain decided to forcequit last night so ignore the clunkiness lmao)

Louis’ only about an hour away from the city when the smell starts. It smells, then there’s smoke, then a loud bang! and his car lurches forward a few feet before giving up and going completely dead silent.

“Oh fuck.”

tagging @amandaisnotwriting @homosociallyyours @alienfuckeronmain @newleafover and anyone else who hasn’t been tagged and wants to do it ✌️

[femslashy]

Fanfic WIP guessing game: "cold"

ty for the ask !!

soz if u weren’t expecting 1. larry fic and 2. every instance the word pops up but here ya go lmao

[from my 70s fic WIP where louis takes a solo road trip across the usa that mimics one he took with harry four years earlier]

Until he realises that the sheets have long gone cold.

~

Louis’ blood goes cold.

~

He feels sick, and his legs aren’t working, and at some point his teeth started chattering, only he isn’t cold. 

~

He picks absently at what’s left of his burger and chips, disappointed to find they’ve gone cold. He eats them anyway, cold potatoes be damned, because he needs the energy and he doesn’t know when he’ll be able to eat again. Especially if he sticks to his original plan and leaves tonight. Harry did say he has money, though, except Louis doesn’t want to take advantage of that. It’s enough of a blow to his ego to have Harry pay for any part of this trip, no need to make him buy Louis a second dinner because he couldn’t finish the first. (Especially when the reason it’s cold is because Louis was too busy admiring Harry.)

~

If only it wasn’t so fucking cold. 

~

He keeps his mind off the cold and his aching feet by singing. 

~

The water burns, but it also feels good on his sore muscles, amazing for his tired weary and cold bones

[these are not in order (or are theyyyy)]

SEND ME A WORD AND I’LL POST A SENTENCE FROM MY WIP  

[femslashy]

Fanfic WIP guessing game - car 😜

dndjfds hey stranger whomst i definitely don’t know lmao i cut this down bc it’s a road trip so the word shows up a lot and also bc some of it was ~spoilers 

[from my 70s fic WIP where louis takes a solo road trip across the usa that mimics one he took with harry four years earlier] 

The sound of plastic hitting asphalt isn’t loud enough to be heard over the engine noise from his car, but he can imagine what it sounds like. It sounds like finality, it sounds like destruction, and it sounds like the loss of one of the only connections he still had to Harry, even if it no longer worked. It still held his voice, still held a part of him, and Louis ignores every warning he’s ever gotten, every safety lecture that’s ever been thrown his way as he decides to go back for the bloody thing. 

Spite and desperation have gotten him this far, he might as well test their limits. 

~

The route feels familiar, almost too familiar, and he can’t help feeling like Harry is in the car with him.

~

“Bollocks,” he mutters, and feels the exact moment Harry’s eyes slide over. The car jerks slightly, meaning Harry’s probably noticed the blood, and Louis really fucking hopes he’s not going to panic.

~

The last time he was here, Harry had made him stop the car so they could take pictures with that sign. They’d traded off until another car stopped and Harry convinced them to take a picture of the two of them side by side. Arms slung around each other like they were simply best mates instead of… whatever they are. Whatever this is. 

~

He’d heard stories (and seen some evidence after the fact) of people just straight up leaving their cars behind in the middle of the bloody road and just walking to the farm on foot instead. Those people were on a mission, he’d observed. Come hell or high water, they were going to make it to the festival. 

As someone who had taken a fucking boat across the Atlantic ocean to be here, Louis could honestly relate.

SEND ME A WORD AND I’LL POST A SENTENCE FROM MY WIP

[femslashy]

six sentence smonday lol

@bringmetheharry tagged me to post six sentences from a wip (thank u !!) and this is from abhib bc i am very much Not Valid and keep working on that instead of other more abroad-ish fics 👀👀👀

If Harry had wanted Louis in New York, then he would have said something. But [roommate] swore up and down that Harry left no such message. And so Louis had taken the lack of message as a message in itself. Had filled in the negative space with this mad idea that the call meant something. That the action alone was Louis’ call to, well… Action.

Now he’s not so sure.

who hasn’t been tagged? uhhh i tag @emperorstyles @1diamondinthesun @cosyblack @allwaswell16 @lululawrence and @bringmetheharry bc i want more big bang pls 😂

[femslashy]

six sentence smonday: the third installment nobody asked for

this is the tag that never eeeends

same fic (abhib) same tagger ( @bringmetheharry ) 😂😂😂

Louis doesn’t know what’s more jarring: the way the floor won’t stop shaking, or the fact that Harry’s not next to him. At first he thinks he’s just gotten up to figure out what’s happening - as if it isn’t obvious - and the idea of Harry ever leaving Louis behind in an emergency is the most terrifying thing he can think of. Until he realises that the sheets have long gone cold. The pillow is placed neatly at the top of the bed, completely absence of a dent or even a spot of drool. The duvet has been smoothed and straightened, and Louis thinks he might be sick.

And not just because the bloody floor won’t stop shaking.

i’m tapping out bc i’m sleeeppyy but you can count this as a tag back if u like ahahaha