In a Little Bit of Trouble by QuickedWeen | T | 4836 Agent Louis Tomlinson is in hot water and finds help in the most unlikely of places: the sweet waitress at her local automat.
The Hardest Hue to Hold | E | 4940 "Can someone write a 1950 smut and Louis is a greaser while Harry is rich... I think you call them Socs? Please? They fuck in a car and make it super smutty and loud."
a shepherd and a sailor by goldearring | E | 12668 Liam's life has been mundane since his family fled the Blitz for a small farm, but everything changes when a foulmouthed sailor falls out of the sky.
two wheels of a different pair (but we're still rolling into something we don't know) by zouee | G | 14136 “Does it get tiring?” Louis asks, voice coming out softer than anticipated. The response doesn’t come right away. For a moment, Louis thinks Zayn might actually be asleep; pulled under quickly despite their surroundings. Then he thinks Zayn’s making a point to ignore him and he considers leaving - the rejection making his heart sting. But in the next moment Zayn remains stone-still as he replies, mouth only moving slightly. “What does?” Louis turns his head, looks at him, “Pretending you don’t care.” _ When an out of town bikie storms into a restaurant placed on the outskirts, he doesn’t expect to meet the boy with bright eyes and devilish smile. Set in the 1950’s.
Oh Lover Man, Broken Mirror, Lonely Star by sureaintmebabe | E | 14497 Louis is sitting at the corner of the bar dividing his attention between Harry and the man sitting dejectedly on a stool right in front of him. Harry isn't a novelty. Neither is the girl with him. The man at the bar, though. That's new. And Louis... Well, Louis is tired of heartache.
the dead things we carry by MediaWhore | M | 25316 September ‘49 He hasn’t seen him since that day in France, that horrible muddy day where for one terrifyingly long second, Louis really thought he was going to die. He winces with the phantom pain, the hand not holding his cane going to his stomach automatically, remembering the franticness, the tenderness, of Harry’s hands while Louis was bleeding out. This is the man who saved Louis’ life. For one second, Louis fears Harry won’t recognise him, but his eyes widen when he turns to his left and they meet Louis’. He takes a step forward, reaching for him with a shaky hand before stopping himself. “Louis,’ Harry says with a shudder and Louis doesn’t think his name has ever carried more weight. This is the only man Louis ever thought about kissing for real. “Oh,” Mrs. Padley says, clearly taken aback. “You two know each other?” There are some things people never fully come home from. Until, one day, if they’re lucky, home comes to them.
a perpetual sunrise by moonshinelouis | M | 31343 Louis Tomlinson lives the archetype of a successful man: he has a big white house, a gorgeous wife, and adorable daughters. Happiness is a superfluity, really. And his daughters' dimpled piano teacher is nothing more than a sinful distraction. 1950s AU.
The Case Of The (Definitely Not Haunted) Styles Mansion by BriaMaria | E | 40271 “So there’s a sense of humor buried beneath all that condescension, huh?” Louis said when he’d stopped laughing. “It’s not condescension, it’s intelligence. I understand you might not be able to recognize it yourself,” Marcel said, then slapped a hand over his mouth. “Oh god, I’m sorry.” Louis stepped closer, his eyes on Marcel’s face. “For being an asshat?” “For being rude,” Marcel said, from beneath his palm. Louis shifted a half-step closer until he was at the very edge of Marcel’s personal space. It felt like he was nudging at it, asking to be let in. Marcel flushed hot for no reason. “Lucky for you it takes quite a lot to actually insult me,” Louis said taking one step closer. Too close. Too close. Marcel met Louis’ eyes. Those blue eyes that reminded Marcel of poetry instead of science, lyrics instead of formulas. They were so pretty he wanted to drown in them. --- Or the Nancy Drew AU where Marcel is a man of logic, Louis is a private detective who believes in ghosts, and the Styles Mansion is definitely, absolutely, positively *not* haunted.
We're What's Right In This World by BriaMaria | E | 48809 “Why did you talk like that in Brighton? If you weren’t planning on ever telling me?” Louis asked. “Is it because you think you’re going to die?” “It’s war, Lou,” Harry said finally. The words were a knife slipped between his ribs. Everything hurt and he was bleeding. He shifted up, his palms cradling Harry’s jaw, his lips against his boy’s. Not kissing, just resting there, so Louis could feel him. “Promise you’ll come back to me.” Harry’s hands smoothed down the sides of Louis’ body. “You know I can’t do that. I’ll never lie to you.” “Promise me. We’re going to have our cottage. And our dogs. And our breakfast in the garden where nothing grows because of the wind from the sea. Promise me.” “I won’t.” Stubborn as always, his boy. “I’ll promise you, I’ll love you all my life. I’ll promise you, you’ll never leave my thoughts. I’ll promise you, you’re my forever and my always. But promising you something I can’t cheapens the things I can.” ---- Or the World War II AU where Harry goes off to fight and all Louis wants to do is be the boy who brings him home.
