HL FIC LIBRARY ⤠AUTHOR REC
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1ď¸âŁ Fucking Animals {E, 116k}
âJust, off the record,â she says, voice lower, eyes sharper, crook of her mouth quirking up a little, âdonât you ever miss it? A good knot? You must.â
Louis blinks and then swallows, thickly. âNo,â he exclaims, offended that sheâd even ask, âI love my husband. And anyway, how could I miss something Iâve never had?â
Louis is the frontman of an equal rights-movement, author of a book about beta-omega marriage and the struggles of being born and boxed into a personality you don't necessarily feel you fit. The notion that an omega must want to be with an alpha or else he or she's just settling for less, is bullshit.
2ď¸âŁ Where We Belong {E, 118k}
They had it all. Reasonable flat, reasonable money, (somewhat) reasonable friends and love beyond all reason.
They were perfect. Louis thought.
3ď¸âŁ Maybe One Day {E, 60k}
âIâd like to say welcome to you all, old friends and as well as new, Iâm honoured that youâve come and that weâre all embarking on this as first-timerâs together,â Liam says, raising a glass. Theyâre all sat cross-legged in a circle on the livingroom-rug that Louis and Zayn rolled out just half an hour ago, with champagne in plastic-cups and Niall plinging intermittently on a badly strung guitar. Like a proper sixties hippie commune. Like what they are now, Louis supposes, give or take fifty years. âCheers to our new family! Let it be a happy one!â
When Louis and the majority of his friends agree to live together in one big house in Manchester, the idea seems crazy, but like a great opportunity.
Louis just forgets to factor in the issue of living a bit too closely with people that he's always wanted even closer than that. Mainly Harry, that is.
4ď¸âŁ Every breath you take {E, 68k}
Thereâs noise on the other side of the door. A chair, screeching against wood floors. Then footsteps, stumbling closer. Someone comes marching in, eyes trained on Liam, and pushes him aside to turn the thing off with a swift flick of a switch.
Louisâ heart leaps into his throat.
He grips the duvet thatâs been bunched up at the foot of the bed and yanks it up around himself. Maybe itâs too much movement too fast because he goes dizzy, black dots speckling his vision.
When Harry finally turns around, Louis thinks heâs about to pass out. What the fuck. What the fuck.
âWe couldnât go anywhere else,â Louis thinks he hears Liam say, beneath the current of his own blood rushing through his ears. âLouis? Lou?â
When Liam finds Louis alone in a feral state outside his home, he can't bring him home for fear of Louis harming his own omega partner. He can't alert authorities or go to a shelter, as documented feral spells function like black spots on a persons record for the rest of their lives. In the end, he can only think of one possible safe location to bring Louis to; Harry's. But Louis and Harry haven't spoken in three years. Not since the night everything came crashing down between them.
5ď¸âŁ The window to the soul {E, 6k}
If they were the sort of couple who could do things half-way, who could accept that two months without each other meant two months of having other people throw themselves at them relentlessly while being utterly depraved of physical intimacy, and that maybe, just maybe, one might have a little slip-up with some meaningless model, perhaps itâd be easier. But then, if they were that sort of couple, that would mean being able to accept the mere thought of someone else touching Louis without wanting to rip his own guts out and Harry knows himself, at this point, soâ so, no. No, theyâre not that sort of couple; theyâre the sort that scream at each other all of last night because Harry spent two seconds chatting to the nice, polite girl at the beer-stand. Theyâre the sort that are too fucking stubborn not to have gotten over it by the morning, or by evening, or even by now, that Harryâs just come off stage and needs that warm little body to hug him back down to earth.
harry comes off stage at iheart 2017 and really needs a bit of physical affection
đ when the going gets tough {E, 2k}
He's sat in a lounge chair, in the heart of the party, just staring at his not-yet-boyfriend as he grinds on some footie player twice his size. Harry knows Louisâ only doing it to piss him off, because he keeps glancing over when he thinks Harry wonât catch it, but thatâs not the part thatâs making Harryâs blood boil. Itâs the fact that the guy behind Louis, bumping his crotch into Louisâ arse in time with the music, thinks heâs going to get it. Harry doesnât know the guy, but he knows guys. Alphas. He knows that look heâs sporting, all want, lust, almost smug. Self-satisfied. Harry digs his nails into the armrests of his chair when the guy snakes an arm around Louisâ lower belly and licks his lips like he thinks heâs about to get it. Heâs not about to get it. Heâs not.
Harry is going into unexpectedly early rut and right then, his new boyfriend Louis decides to be a dick and make him jealous.
