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stylinsoncity.bsky.social
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@stylinsoncity.bsky.social
750 followers 57 following 150 posts
i write as stylinsoncity on ao3 💕 | she/her | no minors pls
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stylinsoncity.bsky.social
Posted this snippet on tumblr from the next thrill chp!
Harry pushes his wet boots off at the door and hears Louis’ shoes hit the floor a moment later. He doesn’t actually watch him step inside. Or rather, he can’t. In the kitchen, Harry gets a can of cat food from the cupboard above the microwave. He goes about cracking it open, emptying it into Collette’s dish. And for a little while, he pets her as she eats while pretending he isn’t aware at all times of Louis’ breathing, his heart beating, his scent. He’s also aware of his own heart racing, his panic mounting. When Louis steps into the kitchen after several minutes of silence, Harry forces himself to stand and takes a step in the opposite direction, shoving his hands into the pocket of his sweatshirt. “Do you want a drink or something?” Harry asks, his voice a flurry, hardly intelligible. “Harry,” Louis says. Harry looks at him. He notes the diminishing distance between them. But he’s in the corner of the kitchen already. There’s nowhere left for him to retreat to. “I’m not afraid of you,” Louis says. “Alright?” Harry releases a heavy sigh and as he does so, his eyes slip closed. “I think you should be,” he says. “Maybe you should try being a bit more menacing, then,” Louis suggests. “I think you’re the one who’s afraid.” Harry scoffs, but he still can’t even meet Louis’ gaze. He looks down at his damp socks instead. A moment later, he sees Louis’ socked feet enter his field of vision, the toes slightly damp from rainwater soaking through his trainers. He feels him closer than he’s been in days. And then he can’t help but look at him, at his mouth, at least. Close enough to kiss. “You’re right,” he says quietly. “I am.” “This probably sounds like a joke,” Louis says, “but I’m not going to hurt you.” Harry presses the heels of his palms into his eyelids until it hurts. He’s sick of crying. He doesn’t know what else to do but cry. He wants to rewind to two weeks ago when this all felt simpler. Still impossible, still doomed, but simpler. Back when he felt guaranteed to Louis’ touch for however long it lasted. That’s all he wants now. Then, Louis touches Harry’s wrists. He closes his fingers loosely around them. He gently pulls Harry’s hands away from his face. A shiver runs through Harry’s body when Louis presses a kiss to one palm, then the other. The only way this makes sense is if Harry is dreaming. He doesn’t have a ton of good dreams anymore. He should probably make the most of this one.
January 11, 2025 at 4:50 AM
stylinsoncity.bsky.social
how many times can i write soup in one snippet? this is from the thrill of it all.
Harry pauses at the doorway to the lunchroom with a Tupperware bowl held in his hands. Over by the microwave, Louis and Kate pause too. A half-second later, Kate returns to her story about a recent trip to London. Louis’ gaze lingers. With a shallow exhale, Harry steps into the lunchroom. “Sorry,” he says, gesturing with the Tupperware bowl. “I just need the microwave.” “Whoops, sorry,” says Kate and noticeably sets her hand on Louis’ forearm as if to guide him out of the way, as if he needs guiding. Harry doesn’t think he’s ever had the urge to hiss until now. He feels his gums ache as he quickly puts his back to them. He shoves the bowl into the microwave a bit roughly, jostling some soup that he’ll have to wipe up later, and sets the timer. He sets it high because the microwave sucks and takes a while to get going, also so he has more time to eavesdrop. He crosses his arms tightly over his chest as he waits, his mouth set in a firm unhappy line that neither of his colleagues can see. He can hear the quick uptake of Kate’s heart when Louis speaks and almost feels sorry for her. It doesn’t mean she’s in love with him, Harry knows that. But she’s moved by him, which almost seems just as bad. Harry wants to feel sorry for her because doing so sets him apart. Doing so establishes a line of demarcation between her infatuation and his own. Harry is moved by Louis, too, but in a literal sense, they’ve moved each other. Harry’s infatuation is reciprocated. Kate’s isn’t. Except he’s not entirely sure that’s true anymore. And at least Kate isn’t the kind of person to vacillate ad nauseum between boldness and timidity. Kate is always bold and unapologetic with her attention. Whether Harry wants to admit it or not, she’s the one to envy right now, not him. To his relief, one of Kate’s team members arrives to fetch her for their next meeting and after telling Louis she’ll catch up with him later, she’s gone. Louis isn’t, though. “Is that homemade soup?” he asks, sliding into the space beside Harry. For a second, Harry just looks at Louis in an inexplicable stupor. “Uh, I don’t know. It’s Jim’s,” he says, numbly. “I’m heating it up for him.” “Jim can’t heat up his own soup?” Louis asks with a scowl. “It’s my fault. I offered the first time and now he keeps asking,” Harry says. “It’s honestly fine.” The microwave beeps. Harry carefully removes the container and turns to face Louis. “Good chat with Kate?” he asks. “You tell me,” Louis says. “You were listening to most of it.” Harry’s mouth drops open. “I was not,” he says, aghast. “You absolutely were,” Louis says, plainly. “What’s for lunch, then? If not soup?” You, Harry thinks. Or pretends not to think. And nearly spills more soup. He isn’t thirsty. He fed before leaving so he shouldn’t be. But he’s also been feeding more often than usual. When he confirmed his next delivery last night, he even considered increasing his subscription level. But he’s not sure he can afford to and he’s not so desperate yet. “I don’t know,” Harry says. “Soup actually sounds good.” “There’s a new Mediterranean place down the street some clients seem to like,” Louis says, randomly. “Want to go?” Harry forgets to blink. “After you give Jim his soup,” Louis adds in the silence. “Obviously.” “Would that not be weird…? If someone saw us?” “As far as anyone knows, we work together and we’re just getting lunch,” Louis says. When Harry still doesn’t reply right away, Louis’ smile visibly shrinks. “It’s lunch, Styles. But if you’re busy…or you don’t want to, it’s fine.” “No, I want to, really,” Harry says. He’s more surprised that Louis wants to. “I’ll just drop off the soup. And meet you at the lift.”
November 27, 2024 at 1:40 AM
stylinsoncity.bsky.social
It’s also known as a Japanese pumpkin!
November 20, 2024 at 3:29 AM
stylinsoncity.bsky.social
😍
November 10, 2024 at 8:31 PM