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This is a collection of drabbles and fuckfest friday fics I've posted to tumblr, all in one spot for your reading pleasure.
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How can Harry not tell him? Louis loves his drugs and his fame and his fucking well earned ego - his genius. But Louis also loves Harry, sets him up on a mantle in the stars and makes everyone see him, covet him, and never have him. So, Harry plays the doll game, bats his eyelashes and flashes his porcelain skin, lets the tidal wave of adoration nearly drown him, and then he comes home. To this. Because there is no safer place in the world for Harry Styles than in the arms of Louis Tomlinson.
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“My close friends usually call me H,” Harry mumbles suddenly after Louis wraps up his story.
That’s unexpected. “Are you telling me I’m your close friend now?” Louis quips, squinting his eyes at Harry.
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Where Louis finally meets his neighbour. After a few conversations, he begins to realise he is too weak to resist the charms of the new mother and his six month old daughter.
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Louis doesn't kill innocent people. He kills the unwanted criminals, outcasts, and poor beggars who won't be missed. After more than two hundred years of vampiric life, he doesn't feel guilt or regret anymore. But then he meets his next victim: a young, green-eyed stripper named Harry.
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Louis is so lost in his eyes and his words he feels if a step above heaven exists, it has to be Harry.
(Loosely inspired by Harry’s dress from the director’s cut of Lights Up).

