larry oneshots

baby, i get mystified by how this city screams your name

a/n: a short, soothing tooth-rotting fluff oneshot so i can atone for my sins

happy birthday, shade!! eat lots of cake and i hope u don't get cavities from the fluff and ur bday sweets, cos it'd be really bad if i had to perform a mildly dubious tooth filling on u at home 😟

Louis loves vanilla.

Louis loves vanilla because Harry is vanilla. He wears vanilla cologne, lights vanilla candles, and uses vanilla body wash. He bakes vanilla cupcakes and eats vanilla ice cream. He leaves behind a trail of vanilla, he loves vanilla. He is vanilla.

Louis can't help but breathe all of it in.

He doesn't know when the smell, taste, and overall presence of vanilla became home to him, became a scent and flavour of nostalgia and comfort. It soothes him, relaxes his firing nerves and calms his nervous tendencies. When he smells vanilla, he knows he's home, within seconds of an armful of Harry and his warm hugs. When he tastes vanilla, he knows Harry's close by, watching him, trying to figure out if he likes his new cake recipe. He's encompassed by Harry's presence.

It's the scent that wraps around him now, cozy and warm. The scent hits him as he opens the door, along with the faint tinkling of Frank Sinatra in the background, presumably from the record player.

It's almost enough to wash away the remnants of the day.

The day had been rough; one of the songs he had wanted to put on the album didn't turn out as he'd hoped, everything was too messy, too loud. He had an argument with one of the crew members, and Simon pissed him off once again. It'd been a shitty day, and he was ready to go home and take a nap hours before he was allowed.

He misses Harry.

He misses him, he hasn't seen him all day. It sounds pathetic, really, just how whipped Louis already was for the boy, (his boy, his mind uselessly supplies) how much he's willing to do at the snap of Harry's finger, how much love that flows out of him that Louis can't hope to describe. He can't tell you when Harry had become his lifeline, his rock, his everything. He can't hope to describe it at all.

Though, none of it matters when he steps into the house. His house. Their home.

"Lou? Is that you?"

A faint voice echoes through the walls, as Louis watches Harry peek his head through one of the doors into the main corridor. It's disgustingly domestic, and Louis can't help but melt inside from how cute Harry looks. His hair is tied up in a bun, strands of hair falling messily down his face, wearing an apron Louis got him for Christmas, and there's a bit of flower on his face.

Louis is so whipped. He's so in love.

"Lou!" Harry's eyes literally light up at the sight of him, and Louis feels his heart grow fonder. He'll never get over the sight of Harry, excited and eager to see him. To enjoy his company, to relish in his presence. He doesn't know what he did to deserve him.

"Mhm," Louis hums, and it's like the day's events crashing onto him once more. It always shocks him just how easily Louis can let down his defences around Harry. How he goes from guarding everything to soft and pliant from just a few seconds in Harry's arms.

Harry clicks his tongue, eyes narrowing, before a gentle, yet concerned, smile appears on his face, "Hard day?"

Louis lets out a noncommittal grunt, which seems to confirm Harry's suspicions regardless. Fuck him for knowing Louis so well. Fuck him for making Louis fall this deep for him. Fuck Harry for making it impossible for Louis to ever even imagine thinking about someone else.