Author: carissima
Pairing: Liam/Harry, Louis/Nick, Zayn/Perrie, Niall/Bressie
Word Count: 30K+
Tags: AU, heist!AU
Summary: They all turn to look at Liam. Being the focus of everyone’s attention is a lot, Liam realises as he swallows thickly. He’d be stupid to do it. He doesn’t need to. He’s got money in the bank and he owns his own relatively successful business. If he gets caught, all of that disappears.
He catches Niall’s eager look. Zayn’s warm stare. Harry’s focused gaze. He feels Louis’ hand in his, heavy and interwoven.
"I’m in," he finds himself saying hoarsely.
or the worst heist fic ever conjured up based on one direction’s fail!thieves perfume ad
I've been really really stuck writing lately, so here's a snippet from a Tomlinshaw verse I've been writing for like 2 months now. Here's to hoping people like it and it somehow spurs me to be able to write again.
half poison, half god (a gift for floppyhairedidiots)
Nick Grimshaw/Louis Tomlinson ~2k
TW: Alcohol use, drug mentions, hand jobs, no editing as of yet
"Can I buy you a drink?" A voice over his right shoulder asks.
Nick swivels on his barstool to see what he swears must be a fallen angel standing next to him. The man is decked out in a dark blue suit, black shoes, golden brown hair slicked back, and has a watch sitting on his wrist that could serve as the the down-payment on a pretty substantial house. His skin is tan and -Nick swears- glows under the dim lights of the bar. His smile is wide and inviting, full of sharp predatory-looking teeth. He's probably a good eight inches shorter than Nick, but he oozes confidence from every pore.
"Depends," Nick says with a smile, "what're we drinking?"
The man breaks into a high, barking laugh.
"Anything your little heart desires," he replies, and Nick finds himself blushing slightly despite the condescending tone.
"Anything?"
"Anything."
"Well then," he says, turning to the bartender. "I'll take the most expensive bottle of champagne you have."
The bartender looks at the man, who just nods, with the same sharp-toothed grin. The bartender ducks behind the bar and emerges a moment later with a bottle of Krug -its label yellowed and peeling- sitting in a bucket of ice. He produces two champagne flutes from beneath the bar. The man takes the bottle and pops the cork without effort or ceremony, and carefully fills the glasses to the rim. He holds one out to Nick, who takes it with a nod.
"What are we celebrating?" the man asks, lifting his own glass.
"Life," Nick replies cooly. "Life, and beautiful strangers."
The man smiles again, and Nick is reminded of a documentary he once saw on BBC4 of a lion stalking a gazelle, teeth barred right before it pounced. It takes all his effort not to shrink back into himself.
"Cheers," he says clinking his glass against Nick's, and taking a careful sip. Nick takes a long drink, the bubbles fizzing against his teeth and tickling his throat on the way down. He sets his flute carefully on the bar.
"So..." Nick trails off, realizing he never got the strangers name.
"Louis," he supplies. "I'm Louis."
"Nick."
"Hello Nicholas."
"Actually just Nick."
"I think I'm going to call you Nicholas."
Nick hates when people call him Nicholas, even his own mother, but he finds himself stuttering "yeah sure that's fine."
Louis just smiles, all sharp teeth, and Nick is a gazelle, trapped in the Lion’s gaze unable to flee.
"So what do you do, Louis?"
"I'm an international drug lord."
"Haha very funny. Wanna dance?"
“Of course,” he says, holding out his hand to Nick like a woman in a Jane Austen novel, waiting to be waltzed about.
Nick takes it, and pulls him out onto the dancefloor, weaving their way through the crush of people, Champagne flutes held high above the milieu. When they reach the center of the dancefloor, Nick tugs Louis close to him, and slips his hand from their grasp and onto the small of Louis’ back. He’s beginning to feel the buzz of the champagne, and presses Louis so close to himself that he thinks they may just melt into each other.
They grind up against each other, free hands digging nails into backs and shoulders, blooming hard ons rubbing against thigh and stomach. They do this for two songs full of heavy bass and tinny auto-tuned vocals before Louis pulls Nick’s face down to his and kisses him, hot and heavy and open mouthed. Nick groans, and tries to press himself closer to Louis, his cock rubbing against the “V” below his stomach.
Louis detaches their lips and whispers in Nick’s ear, “Lets get out of here.”
“Yes,” Nick practically begs. He doesn’t think he’s ever been harder in his entire life.
“Where do you want to go, Nicholas?”
“Anywhere. Let’s just go. Now.”
Louis laughs, then drags his teeth along Nick’s throat and nips at the place shoulder meets neck. He steps back and frees himself from Nick’s grasp, begins to snake his way through the crowd and back to the bar, leaving Nick to stand there frozen for a moment before following behind.
He finds Louis by the bar, grasping the bottle of champagne from earlier in one hand and typing rapidly on his phone with the other. He looks up as Nick approaches and smiles, all predator, and gestures to his empty champagne flute sitting on the bar. Nick drains what’s left of his and sets it beside Louis’.
“C’mon,” Louis grunts, and turns on his heels.
Nick follows him out the door and directly into a black town car, where Louis pats the seat beside him and extends to him the bottle of champagne. He sits and takes the bottle, tipping it to his lips as someone outside shuts the car door with a heavy slam. He lowers the bottle as the car pulls away from the curb, and suddenly Louis is all over him. He’s straddling Nick, knees bracing his thighs and small hands pressed against his chest, crashing their lips together once again.
Louis lips are small but soft, his tongue deft, and he tastes of champagne and faint mint. They kiss deep and hot, tongues working together, Louis dragging Nick’s lower lip through his teeth. Louis pulls away for a moment, and grabs the bottle back from Nick, urges Nick to tip his head back with his other hand. Nick obliges.
“Open,” Louis commands, and when Nick does, Louis tips the bottle over Nick’s mouth, pouring in a steady stream of champagne until Nick’s mouth is overflowing. He chokes slightly on the liquid and it fizzes and spills out of his mouth as Louis lets out a heavy groan. He licks the champagne from Nick's neck and chin as he swallows, warm tongue and lips replacing the cool liquid. He takes a swig himself and the kisses Nick, the champagne flowing between their mouths and leaking out onto their necks, faces, clothes.
Nick works a hand between the two of them and undoes Louis’ trousers, reaching in to wrap his fingers around his cock, which is hard and warm and Nick can fit almost perfectly in his hand. He works his hand up and down the shaft, spilled champagne easing the tug slightly. Louis comes a minute later with a whimper into Nick’s mouth, spilling himself over Nick’s fist. Louis sinks his teeth into Nick’s bottom lip and winds his free hand between them, undoing Nick’s trousers and taking his cock in a small hand in one swift motion. Nick rocks up into Louis’ hand and comes quickly, come splattering against the golden skin of Louis stomach and spilling onto his pants.
“Fuck,” he whispers as Louis slumps on top of him, breath heavy in his ear.
“Fuck,” comes the whispered agreement moments later.
Louis sits there, motionless and heavy, slumping into Nick, until the car comes to a stop a few minutes later. He gingerly untangles himself from Nick and rolls over to his original seat to do up his trousers and adjust his shirt before opening the car door and slithering out. Nick follows suit, quickly buttoning up and following Louis out of the car. He is instantly greeted by a towering white facade of tall roman columns, tall windows and slick stone steps, all centered around a wide doorway that Louis is currently leaning against. Nick walks up to the base of the steps and looks up at the house -which must be at least four stories. Nick -the son of a Grocery tycoon- is used to wealth, but nothing quite like this.
“So?” Louis calls to Nick, drawing his attention back from the rows of windows decorating the front of the building to the well dressed man in the now open doorway. “Are you gonna come in or what? I mean, you’re welcome to sleep out here on the steps, but I think my bed is much more comfortable.”
Nick jogs up the steps, coming to a rest in the doorway.
“Do you always invite strangers into your house? Maybe I’m here to kill you.”
“We’re hardly strangers now that you’ve touched my penis. Besides, if you had wanted to kill me, you would’ve already done it.” Nick laughs heartily at this, while Louis remains completely serious.
“Okay then,” Nick coos when he stops laughing. “Why don’t you show me this bedroom you’ve been bragging about?”
When Nick wakes up the next morning he’s alone in an unfamiliar bed. It’s not a new feeling, persay, but it’s not one that he ever particularly enjoys. He rolls over with a groan and feels something crinkle beneath his head. He sits up, and on the pillow beside him is a sheet of lined paper with something scribbled on it in messy blue ink. One of his contacts fell out during the previous night’s activities, and he thinks the other one is probably stuck to the back of his eyeball, but he squints hard in a desperate attempt to read the note.
Nicholas,
I’m so sorry to leave you like this, but I was called away to an emergency business meeting that could not wait for the morning. Turns out one of my employees has been stealing money from me, and it has to be dealt with. It’s not going to be pretty. Anyways, help yourself to whatever is in the kitchen, and there’s twenty quid on the table in the front hall for a cab ride home.
Last night was fun, hope to see you again some time.
xx Louis
Nick crumples the paper in his fist and tosses it towards the rubbish bin by the door.
“Last night was fun,” he mumbles to himself, rolling out of bed and searching for his clothes. “Hope to see you again some time. Bullshit.”
He tugs on his tight jeans and struggles with the buttons on his shirt, grabs his phone from the floor where it landed. Dead. Great. Once in the kitchen, he helps himself to the last chocolate chip muffin in the bread basket, and tugs on his shoes. He’s still munching on the muffin as he grabs the twenty from the front table and makes his way out the door and into the street, hailing a black cab as it comes screeching by.
In his rush to leave, he forgets his wallet, thrown carelessly onto Louis’ dresser.
Later that night, a burly man in an immaculate black suit rings Nick’s doorbell. He’s been searching all over for his wallet, sure he tossed it somewhere when he walked back into his house that morning. When he opens the door after the bell has rung for the fourth time, his eyes are wild and his hair is in disarray.
“Nicholas Grimshaw?” the man asks. He looks a bit like a puppy dog in a fireman’s body -broad shoulders and dopey eyes- all stuffed into a well pressed suit.
“Uh yeah, that’s me,” he replies, running a hand through his drooping quiff. “Is every’fin alright?”
“Yes sir. You left your wallet at Mr. Tomlinson’s house this morning, and he figured you might want it back,” he says, drawing Nick’s black leather wallet out of an inside pocket of his jacket. He holds it out to Nick with a thick hand, and Nick snatches it up immediately.
“Thank god,” Nick breaths. “I spent my ‘ole day looking for it. Practically flipped the couch over.” He laughs, short and breathy, puppy/fireman doesn’t even crack a smile. “Who’re you? Just by the way.”
“Liam. I’m Mr. Tomlinson’s bodyguard.”
“What does he need a bodyguard for? Is he that important? Is he like a politician or summat? Should I know who he is?”
“No no,” Liam reassures him. “No reason you should know him. He just likes to ensure his personal safety.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Well Mr. Grimshaw, have a lovely night,” Liam says. And with that, he bounds up the steps leading to Nick’s flat about out of sight.
Nick stands in his doorway, flips through his wallet to make sure no one’s taken anything. Everything is in its place, nothing missing. There is, however, a small note tucked in with his bills. There’s a phone number written at the top, and underneath it says call me, with two sloppy X’s scrawled after it.
Author: daisysusan
Pairing: Liam/Harry, Louis/Nick
Word Count: 20k+
Tags: rockstar!AU
Summary: Harry Styles, frontman of an indie rock band, had definitely not spared a thought for popstar Liam Payne since they were briefly on the X Factor together except perhaps for a bit of scorn. Definitely absolutely not. Not until the moment his band played right before Liam at a festival, anyway.
