larry oneshots

i've always known from the start that it ends with you and me

a/n: look man. i just wanted to write about some happy little homosexuals .

for emma!! i love you king u mean the world !! even if i tell u to fuck off all the time
sigh it's too LATE for all this queerness in the room everybody CLEAR OUT

Sometimes Louis can't help but kiss Harry Styles.

He can't help it; Harry is right there, in front of him, looking so perfect. Harry looks like the world, the moon, the stars, and the entire fucking galaxy. Harry looks like rainbows, rays of sunshine, and all the sappy shit Louis can't believe spews out of his mouth.

It's a strange thing, really, being so undeniably whipped for someone, to the point he lacks self-control. He wants to do nothing but snuggle up with the boy all day and watch the shitty reality tv trash Harry immerses himself in. He wants to take him on stupid dates everywhere, whether that's eating out at a restaurant or having a picnic in their backyard.

Sometimes Louis really can't believe it. He really can't believe that he managed to find someone who's so perfect for him, so in sync with one another, someone who knows every inch of his skin. Someone who supports him through thick and thin, who's gone through hell with him, and has come out of the other side with his fair share of scars, but. They're together. They're happy.

And the best part is Harry feels the exact same way.

Louis can't help but see the expression on Harry's face sometimes, the looks he gives to Louis when he thinks he can't see them. He looks ethereal, but Harry looks at Louis like he hung the sun himself, sometimes. Louis can't fathom how much this boy means to him.

He's in front of him right now, back faced towards him as he decorates some cookies. His curly hair is hastily tied up into a bun, and he's wearing fluffy socks; they're dorky and adorable, just like him. He's murmuring something under his breath, almost unintelligible – though Louis has heard the tune enough times to know it's a new song he's working on – as he occasionally sways along. The sight makes Louis go so incredibly soft, melting just that bit more every time his heel hits the wooden cabinets behind it.

They're making midnight snacks, right now. Well, Harry is; Louis is content to watch him. His eyes peer curiously over his shoulder as Harry attempts to decorate the fucking cookies he made earlier. The shapes are nice – of course they are, his husband made them – and on the occasion he does turn out to grin at him, his eyes are alight with joy. He's right in his element.

Louis sighs, and it's so sickening how in love he is. Even his sigh is lovesick. He quite literally adores Harry, and it's impossible to believe he'll ever stop. Hell, even the thought of makes the sea in his heart rumble in discontentment.

Eventually, when Louis' back starts to grow numb from sitting on the counter, he hops down and snuggles into Harry's side. Harry's incredibly warm, and Louis can see his little tongue poking out his pink lips as he works, brows furrowing in concentration. The moonlight from the window casts a shadow across his features, making him look downright angelic, as he hums, tongue darting out to wet his lips, and Harry can see it curve upwards slightly.

God. He is so kissable.

It's deathly quiet, but so comfortable. Neither of them has spoken a word since Harry's started decorating cookies, the atmosphere so peaceful it felt wrong to shatter. Not even the crickets chirped, it's like the whole world understands the fragility of the moment.

Something buzzes under Louis' skin, the urge again to kiss Harry silly. Louis never really knows how to stop himself from looking away from Harry when he's like this, completely at peace, cherishing the world. He's so majestic, so gut-wrenching. He makes Louis' lungs constrict and his soul ache. Louis' never felt something like this before him, ever.