β¨ONE DIRECTION (Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)
π»Leave the Sunshine out
"You alright there, lad?β
Harry startled, and drew his hand away so fast it hit the coffee cup, spilling it on the tawny brown table and the dry brownies, which became soggy enough soon. The βoh shitβ from the enabler of the crime goes unheard as Harry scrambles to move his precious laptop away from the mess. It gets a little too hard to breathe, a little too stuffy, everything feels uncomfortable and too sudden and hard to comprehend and thereβs a yellow rag and someoneβs wiping the table and it goes round and round and roundβ¦
βHey! Earth to pretty boy! Are you alright?β
Harry blinks, heartbeat running a goddamned marathon and skin tingling like Velcro tape. It takes him a moment to focus but when he finally lands his gaze on the boy, well, his world kind of stops.
***
Harry should really send that email before it's past deadline but he's anxious. Louis is the cute barista that distracts him.
π»Ready for a war
Harry is a hero, Louis is a villain. Louis wants to destroy the one Harry loves.
π»She is Beauty, We are World Class
Harry grinned widely. "Okay," he said, giggling. "Take me out to somewhere nice then, Mr. Tomlinson. Iβm free tomorrow."
"I will, I promise." Louis couldnβt help reflecting Harryβs grin. "Meet me near the Royal Opera House, at four thirty?"
Harry hesitated. "What if someone sees?"
"Someone is bound to see." Louisβ smile dimmed a little, the fear that pulsed through him earlier in the evening coming back. "But society is blind to things they do not want to see, love. Letβs take advantage of it."
"As the historians say, they were friends."
"Iβd even go so far as to say they were roommates."
***
A 70's London AU where Louis loses himself, and Harry finds him before he gets lost.
π»Honey, I rose up from the dead (I do it all the time)
It became a thing.
His fate was already written. Louis William Tomlinson was deadβor, rather, supposed to be dead.
And yet.
***
Where Louis doesn't want to die and a hundred years later, Harry is still trying to kill him.
π»Sculpt my World (in the palm of your hand)
What Louis needed was to relax. A pint or two with his friends, take someone home, and let out the pent-up frustration, maybe. That would have helped him.
Not this whatever-hipster-earthy shit that Zayn takes him to on the only day of the week heβs free.
Kilβn it! Pottery and Ceramic Studio
Pasted on the glass door was a hand-written sign: Pottery classes Every Saturday from 10:00β11:30.
"Zayn." Louis refused to put his foot in that monstrosity without an explanation. "What am I doing here?"
"Relaxing?" Zayn asked questioningly.
"I thought of a spa day." Louis was getting desperate. "Massage, pampering, going to the bar, and drinking my liver off?"
Zayn just rolled his eyes. "Itβs ten in the morning, Lou; weβre not getting drunk when the sun is high."
***
Louis just wanted to spend his free day relaxing. Pottery helps.
π»Good-Old Fashioned Lover Boy
Harry's savior complex has often led him to rather questionable situations, but this might take the cake. When a miscalculated decision leads to an accidental courtship with the sweetest, most gentle alpha, Harry is torn between breaking the alpha's heart and telling the truth. Yes, Louis does seem to give unorthodox courting gifts, but he is rather endearing and Harry is just an omega, after all.
β¨ GOOD OMENS (Aziraphale/Crowley)
π»Raindrops
Time is a fickle thing; Nina and Maggie had gotten married, and Muriel had finally understood the mechanics of running a bookshop without actually selling any books. Seeing them mended his heart in a way he couldnβt explain, and by some feat, Crowley had lived again, regardless -knit friendship he had formed with the bottles in the attic, and he kept going on.
Someday, heβd be strong enough to leave. Heβd go away somewhere far, where his memory isnβt tainted by a love he wasnβt meant to feel.
But for the time being, Crowley drank.
***
Crowley and his terrible coping mechanisms. It rains a lot, and somewhere out where no one knows, an angel cried.
