Louis, to his horror, attends an elitist university in which the name Zayn Malik means something, Niall Horan doesn't stop talking, there are pianos everywhere, and Harry Styles, only son of a drug-addled, clinically insane ex-rocker, has a perfect smile and empty eyes. WARNING: all rights go to velvetoscar on ao3 Cov...
- The devil returns to claim his love, but the love has been lost in his acts. - The memory is etched clear in my vision; blames and insults are thrown at him without a second thought. He listens and absorbs every word, not arguing or defending himself. I know it was not him, I know he is not at fault, but words are s...
Harry always painted his nails. He would always use that shower gel that made his body smell like vanilla, but Louis didn't know why and yet, he doesn't know if he wants to know. ----- WARNING: this is a story about domestic violence! There will be sexual abuse, abuse, mental abuse, and self harm!!! Do not read if you...
"So here's the thing," he starts. "I didn't mean what I said a few weeks ago to like, hurt your feelings or anything. If you like painting your nails, then you should do that, and not like, care if anyone else doesn't like it because their opinions shouldn't matter, you know?" Louis takes a breath, finally glancing ov...
Strawberry milk layers their upper lips, and they giggle and lick it off of each other. They taste it in each others mouths when they kiss; it's on their tongues, and filling their tummies. There are seven cartoons in the fridge, with 1 out that they keep pouring into shot glasses. They give each other a 'cheers!' and...