#pls excuse the lack of louis

[louisloulouie]

I just remembered tag games were a thing and I’m about to play catch up on all the posts I was tagged in ☠️

@gloryhalleloujah tagged me to post my top 7 songs from my On Repeat playlist and I am shocked it’s not just every track from The Show

I’m tagging @dearmrsawyer @prettyinsoulpunk @chrisevansnudes @to-dance-beneath-the-diamond-sky and @farfromlou 💖💖

[undertheniall]

The Louis cancellation. Asian leg was to start in about a week. About 15 hours ago, the promoter posted a bare bones announcement - tour cancelled across all of Asia, refunds will be issued. (There were rumors about this bouncing around twitter yesterday, which is its own problem.) No other info. in that initial announcement. NOTHING from LTHQ or Louis himself. Went about 12 hours before we heard anything. Then it was LTHQ with a post on his official website — we’re sorry, Louis really wanted to do this, and basically nothing else. Still nothing from Louis.

1) people are understandably concerned about Louis and those close to him. Sure he drinks and smokes, but he’s a professional when it comes to touring. Just like Niall. Louis broke his arm twice this past year, kept touring. Fulfilled a performance commitment three days after his mother died Not saying this is exceptional among performers, but just saying this really is unprecedented for Louis.

2) people are pissed at LTHQ. No matter what is going on with Louis, and pls let it be nothing awful, but regardless, the delay in LTHQ’s response is inexcusable. Disrespectful to fans and just pathetic. Their statement should’ve gone out at the same time as the promoter’s announcement. Even if they were ambushed by the announcement, unlikely since twitter knew, it shouldn’t have taken 12 hours to put out a short, basic PR blurb that contained zero substantive info. A high school intern could’ve written it in ten minutes. Not that we have a right to all details, esp with personal stuff, but the content was so basic there is zero excuse for the delay.

3) again, really hoping it’s nothing personal, but pics unveiling new tattoos came out a couple days ago. If and only if nothing bad happened personally between then and the cancellation announcement, it’s not ok he hasn’t posted. He will fully deserve criticism around it.

I’m so sorry. Please feel free to ignore this and not contaminate your blog! I’m going to go listen to Heaven. 🫡

Louis ranter here. Lord knows I don’t want to subject you to other Louies coming over here to argue. Please feel free to 💯 ignore me. Maybe this summary is better: unclear if Louis is ok. haven’t heard from him directly. Terrible communication by everyone involved. People are worried and pissed. Much more concise! 🥴

Please don’t block me for coming back! But I can’t not mention that Louis just tweeted. Don’t know how to paste it here. “Absolutely gutted we couldn’t make it out to the shows this month. I’ll be back! I’m sorry to anyone affected. Love you all!!” We’ll likely never know anything about what really happened. As Louis’ chest tattoo says, “it is what is.”

.

Heeey hahaha def not blocking you don't worry! I just put all your 3 messages in one so it's clearer 😊

Damn that is some mess! I understand why people are upset tbh. Especially because you didn't even get an explanation. Like I remember Shawn mendes canceling part of his tour and he posted about feeling anxious and overwhelmed and not being in a good headspace to tour and everyone understood. But with this... So strange!!!

Also the lack of announcement from him first is weird... Or at least to me but maybe it's because I experienced niall canceling his tour when covid hit and he was the one to announce it and apologise and everything. Like I know they all hire people to do these stuff for them but canceling a tour is a huge deal so I like when artists take 2 min out of their lifes to inform the fans themselves you know.

Now I really want to know what happened jsisksksksks like anyone has any guesses? 👀👀

[free-for-all-fics]

Captain Louis Renault Prompt! Pls tag me if you’re inspired by any of this and I’d love to read it! 🃏🤍🎰

You’re forced to go with your husband to Rick’s Café Américain, what he claims is a nice upscale restaurant to treat you to a romantic dinner date. You should’ve known it’s actually an expensive and chic nightclub where illicit activity such as gambling, extortion, and shady and underhanded dealings on the black market occur. It definitely possesses an air of sophistication and intrigue, you can at least say that. You should’ve known that your husband would lie to you. You wish you could say you still love him, but your marriage is lacking in more than just intimacy. Your honeymoon phase ended long before you went on your actual honeymoon. The unbridled passion and spontaneity your love once had is long gone and there’s just no spark anymore. It dimmed until it blinked out of existence and your husband hasn’t made much of an effort, if any, to reignite it. The connection you may have once had has been severed and you feel like you’re alone rather than in a partnership.

You work so hard and for such long hours that you often retire to bed early and are asleep by the time your husband comes home most nights, if he comes home at all. He’s a womanizing drunkard with a gambling addiction and often makes high risk bets and wagers to impress the beautiful ladies and wealthy gentlemen around the table, no matter how dangerous they are. He’s a real gambler who makes bets on anything. You should’ve known that that would include you sooner or later. Captain Louis Renault is playing a table stakes game with him and he can tell immediately that this young man is not only a compulsive gambler, but a degenerate one. Though your husband swears to you and anyone willing to listen that he’s not a degenerate, he’s a professional who’s just having a streak of bad luck. You’ve heard it all many, many times, and you’re sick of the excuses.

Clouds of smoke swirl around the gambling room. Captain Renault looks down at his cards while glancing at your husband out of the corner of his eye. Your husband’s lips twitch, a tiny grimace before he catches himself and tries to mimic the players around him and display an expressionless mask of impassivity. But it’s already too late. That brief slip, that little tell, is all Louis needs. While he’s an exceptionally talented and well-practiced liar, your husband isn’t. No matter how hard he tries, the man is gullible and naive, and can’t maintain a convincing poker face to save his life. Your husband’s also just a second-rate card player anyway. Despite his delusions about his ability and skill level, the reality is that he’s just not a very good player. Louis knows that he could win even without fixing the game so, in a rare instance, he decides he doesn’t need to cheat this time around because winning fairly will be much more satisfying.

He watches your husband’s eyes flit up and to the left, trying to subtly glance at you while you’re sitting alone at the bar. You’re engaged in polite conversation with Sacha, but you’re bored and miserable. You wish you were anywhere but here. He follows your husband’s eyes and, once he spots you, he takes notice of what’s happening and has an epiphany. Ah, yes. The heart is the most vulnerable spot for most men. Louis is not most men, though. Instead he can employ alternative, more inconspicuous methods to win without cheating. It will require much more work on his part, but the payoff will be all the more satisfying when he inevitably comes out on top. The game he plays with your husband is a long con, but it’ll be absolutely worth it in the end. You’ll see.

Unbeknownst to either you or your husband, the real game has just begun. Captain Renault uses people to create his own entertainment sometimes and your husband just so happens to be the perfect target. He starts some playful banter with your husband, mentioning you vaguely and asking questions about you to either distract him or get him worked up in order to subtly goad him into making a mistake, masking it as just some casual back and forth between hands. He knows your husband’s insecure and any slight towards his pride or masculinity will be his downfall. He retrieves a fresh cigarette from a small box in his uniform’s breast pocket, chain-lighting it with his old one. He takes a drag and tilts his head, blowing the smoke in your husband’s face. It’s definitely a total accident and in no way an intentional display of power or dominance. If your husband is brave enough to accuse him, the Prefect of Police, of doing it on purpose, Captain Renault has believable deniability. But your husband is a coward, so he says nothing. Even if he wants to, he can’t speak for a few moments because he’s coughing up a storm, trying to clear his throat and wave the smoke away with the hand that’s not holding his cards. The brandy only burns his throat and does nothing to soothe it as he gulps it down to steady his nerves.

Hours pass. All of the other players have folded and left the game, either going to the cashier to cash out and collect their winnings or to the bar to get a much needed drink to numb the sting of losing their money. One of the previous players was practically a whale, and Captain Renault and your husband took him for a lot of money. He was the last person to leave the table, wishing them both a goodnight. Now it’s just down to the two of them. Your husband smiles exuberantly after the man has gone, his eyes lighting up. He thinks he’s just so lucky and so skilled, that his bad streak has finally ended, totally unaware Captain Renault has been playing him this entire time. Louis offhandedly corrects your husband and tells him that he took most of it, since he’s older and much more experienced in the game. Unbeknownst to your husband, he’s not just referring to poker. As if it’s an afterthought, he pats your husband on the shoulder consolingly and tells him he didn’t do too badly either. Your husband scoffs, convinced it was him that won that money. He wants to go again, but Louis feigns wanting to put a rain check on it and scoots his chair back from the table, making as if he’s getting up to leave. Your husband stops him, just like Louis knew he would.

“What's the matter, Captain? Are you scared?”

Louis smirks as he sits back down and pulls a fresh cigarette from his pocket. He tells Leon, the dealer, “Open up a fresh pack, would you?”

More hours pass. You’re not sure exactly how many, but it’s either very late or very early, depending on how you look at it. Either way, you’ve had more than enough of Rick’s for tonight. You tell your husband in no uncertain terms that you’re going home and there’s nothing he can say or do to convince you to stay another minute. You’re calling a taxi and it’s up to him if he chooses to leave with you or not. He promises he’s almost done and will be home shortly, but the look in your eyes conveys that you don’t believe him. When he’d lie to you and neglect you like this, you’d usually be angry, disappointed, or sad. Usually it was a combination of all three. But you’re too tired to care. Not just physically due to him dragging you here on false promises and making you stay for hours and hours, but mentally and emotionally as well. Your husband doesn’t see any of it since he barely looks at you, too immersed in the game to even spare you a glance. He doesn’t even kiss you or tell you he loves you. But Louis knows a thing or two about women, and he can see every layer of your suffering that you’ve endured while married to this loser. The hurt, the exhaustion, the loneliness, all of it. He knows that you know your husband is lying, since you don’t even bother to wait up for him. You deserve better. So much better.

“So I have to win this hand to stay in, huh?”

“Uh, I guess you do.”

He wasn’t going to cheat. He really wasn’t, but seeing you so neglected and miserable has now made Louis mad at your husband and he’s changed his mind. The boy has been taking you for granted and needs to be taught a lesson. Rick would probably appreciate that he doesn’t have to resort to violence to get his point across. He gets up to get another glass of brandy, discreetly placing an ice cube under an empty glass. When the ice melts, causing the glass to conveniently fall and make a loud noise as it shatters, it distracts your husband as he looks over his shoulder. Louis gives Leon a look and the dealer knows what he wants him to do. He discreetly reshuffles the cards in the deck to be in Louis’ favor while your husband isn’t paying attention. To avoid raising suspicion, he places a nice low bet to make his opponent more comfortable and give him a false sense of security. Your husband discards one of his cards, giving it back to Leon face down. Leon deals your husband a new card. Louis discards two cards and Leon deals him two new cards. Your husband gives Louis a look that could almost be considered smug as he moves his cards around.

“That good, huh? Oh, wow. That good.”

“That good. I can't lose.”

That’s it. Louis has him. “Well, it's a shame you got nothing to bet with. What's the bet, kid?”

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Your husband takes out your meager but hard earned savings. Unbeknownst to you, he stole it out from under you, convinced you’d never notice because he’d win it all back and a little extra. “The bet, Captain Renault, is this. I’m all in,” he states confidently as he slides all of his chips into the pot. Louis sees him, sliding the equal value of chips into the pot.

Your husband puts down his cards, confident he’ll win this showdown. Too confident. “You should trust me when I tell you things. I told you I couldn't lose. Four kings!”

“That's pretty. Not as pretty as this.” Louis lays down his cards, fanning them out on the table. “Straight flush.”

“No.” Your husband’s face immediately falls as he feels a pit form in his stomach.

“Yes.” Louis nods with a smile.

“That's impossible.” He tries to grab for his - your money, but Leon stops him by grabbing his wrist.

“His pot.” Leon’s voice is stern, as if warning your husband not to start a scene here. Rick doesn’t like disturbances in his place. This isn’t always an honest place, but Rick has made an arrangement with Captain Renault. He’d turn a blind eye to the fixed games and pay Louis in bribes and, in exchange, Louis and his administration would permit his establishment to remain open. This is still unoccupied France and any violation of neutrality, including any physical altercations in public, would reflect on Captain Renault. Your husband has two options: He can either keep a cool head or get out.

“That’s my pot.” Louis cleans him out and gets up from the table to cash in his chips at the cashier window, but your husband won’t quit. He wants to keep playing, claiming he wants a chance to win back what he lost. He needs the money for two exit visas, or at least one for you. If there was only an exit visa for one of you, he’d want you to take it even if it meant he’d have to stay behind and remain in Casablanca. It all sounds very selfless, very noble, but Captain Renault knows that’s not exactly the truth behind his motives. Meanwhile, when you get back to your place, you immediately fall asleep when your head hits the pillow, blissfully unaware of what your husband has done. The ramifications of his actions will come back to bite you, but you don’t know it yet.

Your husband offers to play roulette with Louis the next night as a best two out of three, an all or nothing gamble. But he's got no collateral of monetary value, and Louis doesn’t trust him for an I.O.U., so he says he'll put up you, his wife, against the money he lost. The sexual favors of his wife as collateral on a roulette game? Is that a serious offer? Louis takes him up on it after your husband affirms it’s indeed a serious offer and he won’t back out if he loses. Even if he loses, he swears he’ll make good on his bet and hold up his end of the bargain. Captain Renault has been with many beautiful young women in his lifetime, having gone through them faster than cigarettes. While acting as Prefect of Police in Casablanca, he’s embraced the corruption and vice that comes with his police uniform, rounding up twice the number of usual suspects just to impress his superiors, taking winnings from fixed games, and exchanging exit visas for sexual favors, whether the women are married or not. You’re very attractive and he’d even go so far as to say you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen in Casablanca.

You’re clearly suffering from a severe lack of love and intimacy in your marriage. Louis, who is usually selfish and acts out of self-interest, caring only about chasing his own pleasure and personal gain, has a sudden change of heart when it comes to you. You’ve probably gotten more than enough of that self-serving behavior from your husband. When he wins again, which he knows he inevitably will, he’s going to make the time you spend together all about you. He’s going to focus only on what you want. He’s determined to be the best intimate partner you’ve ever had and provide both you and himself with mutual sexual gratification. Going beyond just physical pleasure, his motivations are intimately connected to his desire to greatly improve your mental and emotional well-being.

The next night, your husband is gambling against Captain Renault again, this time trying his luck at the roulette table. You believe he’s trying to win enough for your exit visas, unaware that he’s lost everything. Well, of course, he's losing. He’s looking tense as he glances up at Captain Renault, then down at the chips in his hand. He places his chips on eighteen. Twenty-two, black, twenty-two. A winner. Emil, the croupier, pushes a pile of chips toward Louis. Louis leans back in his chair and purses his lips and clicks his tongue at your husband as he takes a drag of his cigarette. “Oh, that’s too bad. Looks like Lady Luck isn’t treating you very well.”

You take notice of what’s happening from your vantage point at a nearby table. You get up to stand behind your husband with your hand on his shoulder as you follow the game’s proceedings, worried. You wish he’d stop, but he doesn’t. The wheel stops spinning. Twenty-two, black, twenty-two. A winner. He has only three chips left and seems bewildered. Louis glances around the rest of the men and women placing their bets with a mixture of stoicism and amusement, but his gaze is locked on you throughout the game. You deserve better than your pathetic husband, and he wants to show you real love, real pleasure. You married such a boy. In many ways you’re so much older than he is. Louis, on the other hand, wants to show you everything a real man can give you.

Emil pushes an additional pile of chips towards Captain Renault but, in a surprise twist, he reaches for the chips he had previously placed on twenty-two and moves them all to eighteen. He gets into your husband’s head and manipulates him into trying his luck on twenty-two. After all, it’s been extremely lucky so far. Just look at how much he has won from it! Your husband hesitates. He withdraws his hands from the table, as if he’s going to walk away now, but then he pauses and decides against it. He puts his last remaining chips on twenty-two. Louis and Emil make eye contact. The croupier understands what the captain wants him to do, lest he suddenly find a reason to close down Rick’s establishment.

Emil spins the wheel. You follow the proceedings, sick with nerves and dread. Nobody speaks while the wheel spins. It stops. Eighteen, red, eighteen. A winner. Naturally, Captain Renault beats him again since, unbeknownst to you, your husband, or anyone else playing roulette, it’s a fixed game. But hey, a bet’s a bet. Your husband goes white as a sheet and begins to sweat as Louis chuckles, the low sound making the other men straighten in their chairs. He gets up from the table to cash in his chips, but he’s most excited to cash you in. Your husband stands up so quickly and with so much force that his chair falls over with a loud thud. He runs over to Captain Renault, falling to his knees. "Captain Renault, please don't take her. I beg you, please don’t! I'll get the money and I’ll pay you for our exit visas, I swear I will."

Louis looks down with disinterest, patting the pathetic man on the shoulder similar to how he did before, in mock consolation. Your husband can’t make eye contact, so Louis leans down to whisper in his ear so nobody else can hear except you. He wants not only your husband to hear every word of what he has to say, but you as well. "You shouldn't have offered up that sweet little wife of yours in the first place. Usually I’d commend a man for having less scruples than I but, in this rare instance, I can’t bring myself to. Flawed human beings as we are, we all have our vices. Some of those vices are harder to control or take in moderation, and we tend to overindulge. For you, it’s gambling. For me, it’s beautiful young women such as your wife. I may be just a poor official, but I know a thing or two about women and you don’t deserve your wife, dear boy. That’s what you are - a boy. You may possess the body of a man, but your brain and your heart are still that of an immature and frightened little child who can’t look beyond his own nose to see the world around him or those he’s hurt. You still have a lot of growing up to do, but don't you dare think for one moment I will let you continue to rob this beautiful young woman of a pleasurable marriage bed or the chance to, God willing, bear her own children, if she so wishes. I don’t care so much about the money, but I’m going to do my duty to rectify your mistakes and show your wife the love and intimacy you’ve neglected to give her for years.” Once he’s done giving his little speech, he stands up straight and smooths out the wrinkles in his uniform. "Ladies, gentlemen, it's been fun, but I have a date," he announces, standing up and holding out his arm to you.

Words cannot describe the plethora of volatile emotions you’re going through. You’re so angry and disappointed in your husband that he’d practically sell you. Your husband tries to implore you to forgive him, but you explain that, while you once loved him, the years of hurt and neglect have killed that love. You loved him but you couldn't let him know it. He’s so brutal to those who love him. You, believing your husband has never loved you and will jump at the chance to betray and hurt you again, become apathetic and indifferent to his declarations to the contrary. His words and entreaties, even in this moment of desperation, feel like more empty promises and they do nothing to sway or move you. You’ve given him so many chances, far too many. You’re done waiting for him to treat you as you deserve to be treated and to see your worth.

There’s an old saying, “never gamble more than you can afford to lose”. Your husband didn’t take that advice when he should’ve. Tired of it all, you walk out of your marriage. You trade your engagement and wedding rings to Captain Renault to pay for your exit visa, but tell him that you now want to sleep with him out of spite against your now ex-husband. Your husband is dead to you. Filing for and finalizing your divorce is just a legal formality you’ll deal with later. Stepping around the sniveling man, you leave together and don’t look back. Louis picks up his coat and tosses it over your shoulders like a gentleman as you stroll out the saloon, arm in arm. He opens the passenger door of his car for you and drives you to his place. Your ex-husband tries to run after you but you just tell Louis to speed up and leave him in the dust, watching as he gets smaller and smaller until he gives up on running and collapses to his knees in the middle of the road. Louis can smell the traces of your French perfume and it takes so much self-control not to just pull over and take you in the backseat.

When you’re finally alone in his apartment, he closes the door behind him. You open your mouth to speak, but Louis places his finger on your lips. "Let’s be clear, my dear. Despite the bets that were made, you don’t belong to me. What transpired five minutes ago may have given you the impression that I’m cut from the same cloth as your ex-husband. I’ll admit that, in many ways, I’m no better than him. I’m not a virgin nor a saint, and my intentions aren’t exactly pure or lacking ulterior motives. I want more than anything to prove to you that you’re not an object to be possessed and discarded, and I want to do it the best way I know how. I want you to enjoy yourself just as much as I will, if not more, but you’re under no obligation to go through with this. I’m not going to force myself on you. I may be a corrupt official, but even I have standards. You can walk away now or you can give yourself to me. Whatever you decide, you’ve already paid the price by giving me your rings. If you choose the former, I’ll furnish you with an exit visa and you can be on the next plane to Lisbon by tomorrow. You’ll never see me again. But if you choose the latter, I’m going to enjoy myself immensely as I give you everything your former husband never could. I may find myself wanting to keep you for longer than just this one night.”

You appreciate him for giving you a choice and the opportunity to back out, but you made your decision from the moment you took his hand and walked out of Rick’s with him. You haven’t changed your mind. You not only want this, you need this. Louis is so much older than you, so much older than your ex, and he possesses a wisdom that could only have come from his decades of experience in France and Casablanca. He’s gotten around both in the streets and in the sheets. You’d even go so far as to say he’s much more handsome and has greater sex appeal than your husband. Sauntering around his apartment, you take in your surroundings before you sit on the edge of the couch and hike up your skirt and unbutton your blouse.

Through body language alone, you make it clear that you don’t want him to touch you just yet, you want him to watch. Louis just stands there as you strip ever so slowly. While you tease him, he clenches and unclenches his fists as if he wants to grab you. Patience is a virtue he doesn’t often possess. When you finally crook your index finger at him, that’s all the invite he needs. You grab his necktie and pull him in to kiss you. Maybe he can use said necktie to bind your wrists together, but that’s an idea you’ll share with him for next time because there most definitely will be a next time. Neither of you want this to be a one and done type of thing. He and you are so eager and excited that you accidentally knock objects off his coffee table as you haphazardly take the rest of your clothes off. He encourages you to lay down, kissing up your legs until he reaches your thighs. His breath is so warm that it makes you shiver with anticipation. He pauses there for a few moments, as if waiting for you to tell him to stop. But you don’t.

You’ve been so touch starved for far too long. His mustache tickles your inner thighs and you can’t help but burst into a fit of giggles. Louis laughs along with you, asking if you’re ticklish. He gets a mischievous glint in his eye, as if he’s going to use this fact against you later to make you laugh more often. And then his tongue… Oh, God, his tongue! He’s amazing in bed, the best you’ve ever had. Even though the “bed” is actually a couch since neither of you could make it to the bedroom. The rare times you were intimate with your ex, he never satisfied you. He only focused on himself and left you high and dry after he decided he was done.

Louis, on the other hand, knows how to please a woman and has incredible stamina. You never knew men did this sort of thing. Your ex never did it to you, but you’re not going to spare him another thought. Especially not while Louis is spoiling you like this. You grip his hair or his hand, needing to hold onto something to keep yourself grounded because you feel like you’re floating or seeing stars. While he feasts on you like a man starved, you crave his touch more than anything. You need him closer. So much closer. There in his apartment, Louis takes what’s owed to him by giving you everything that’s owed to you. On the couch, in his bed, against the wall, wherever you want him he’s yours. You’re in control and he’ll do anything you ask him to. He jokes that, as Prefect of Police, it’s his duty to be at your service and to protect you from anyone and anything.

It surprisingly doesn’t take very long after that night for you to fall in love again. You’d thought that you’d need more time to grieve your first marriage and to heal the wounds it left within you, but maybe you’d been grieving for years without fully realizing it because you already feel like you’re ready to date again, even before your divorce is finalized, and you don’t feel a twinge of guilt about it. Ever since the first time you’d been intimate, he’s insisted you drop the formality of calling him by his rank and instead call him by his name. He’s no longer Captain Renault to you, he’s simply Louis. Your Louis. You become his girlfriend but, unlike all the other women he’s slept with, he’s seriously in love with you. He wants to date you properly and show you just how much of a romantic he is. Over the course of your relationship he shows you everything you’ve been missing. But beyond the incredible sex, he treats you with the love and respect you’ve craved for so long. He listens to you, really listens to you and looks at you like you hung the moon and stars. You’re more than just his girlfriend or bed warmer. You’re his best friend, his partner, and closest confidante. He’s the same to you.

After Victor Laszlo successfully escapes Casablanca and boards the plane to Lisbon with his wife, Ilsa, Louis tells you and Rick that there’s a Free French garrison in Brazzaville and he may be induced to secure a passage. Louis will pay your expenses with both the money he won from your ex-husband and the ten thousand francs he owes Rick for losing the bet on whether or not Laszlo would escape. Though really, the money he won from gambling belongs to you, so think of him providing the letters of transit as just another way of him giving back to you. Together the three of you embark on a new journey, leaving behind Casablanca for good. Together you walk off into the night fog and make plans to head to a fort to end your time on the fringes of World War II. While Rick and Louis plan to join the fight, maybe you can become a war nurse.

Though you’re heading into danger and the unknown, you’re with people that you trust. It’s a triumphant moment for all of you and an uplifting end to this chapter of your lives. For Rick and Louis, this is the start of a beautiful friendship. For you and Louis, it’s the start of a beautiful romance. You’re not eager to marry again so soon and Louis knows this. You both know that you’ll marry eventually, probably after the war is over and the dust has settled, but you can still enjoy a long engagement in the meantime. The money Louis will get when he sells your engagement and wedding rings should be enough for him to buy you new ones. Louis is determined to get you rings that suit both you and him, so much so that he may just let you pick out whichever rings you want. While Louis will be your second husband, you want him to be your last. You know this is the man you want to spend the rest of your life with.

[monwillica]

Like father, like son

[peachyteabuck]

brie larson plane sex hcs

@starkhauss asked me for some help with some brie headcannons and i always oblige, so here are. i’ve been studying nonstop for like 3 days and my brain is fried so pls excuse any typos/lack of body part continuity 

it’s probably some posh european country, a place where brie has to wear some powder-blue, gold-embellished suit to nod to some renaissance painter or louis xiv or something (brie’s stylist is an incredibly intelligent woman who always make brie look like a SNACC but part of that is listening to her flaunt her art history degree)

brie’s the lead in the movie so like, she’s meant to be dressed for the center of attention while u, the lowly significant other, are in like a black cocktail dress or something. who cares honestly, you could be wearing lady gaga’s meat dress for all you know. 

bc ur attention is 1000% on brie, the fact that is insatiable, and the silicon cock currently giving her a niiiiiiice lil bulge

it’s a night event, with the private plane scheduled to leave right after (bc of course you’ll sleep on the plane her management told her) 

and holy shit, every moment, you two is kept apart is fucking torture for the both of you. you’d been kept apart since you’d arrived the day previous, only touches fleeting and kisses even shorter. 

you’d been able to carve out some time for phone sex, but it’s just not the same, not the same without your girlfriend’s touch and fingers and mouth and skin and and and and

every moment you have to see without touch feels like hours, but hours you spend blind and sad and before you can mope anymore someone in all black with a microphone who you might’ve seen before but don’t really care how pulls you into a black car and shuts the door

you’d be concerned if brie wasn’t sitting there next to you, holding a bad of something in her hands and already changed into clothes that look much more comfortable than what she was wearing before 

“let’s get you changed, baby, we’re going home”

the moments in the car are tender and sweet, mostly you curling up into her side and her resting her chin on your head. 

you sleep all the way to the airport, where everything until you’re plopped into a seat on a private plane and awoken at 20,000 feet in the air is a sad, slow blur 

but anyway. post-sleep your brain is clear enough to remember that holy shit your girlfriend was strapped earlier

your head quickly shot up to try and find her, lip between your top and bottom teeth to try and make yourself look as cute as possible. 

it takes a body moving next to you to realize that you were, in fact, sleeping in her arms 

(nobody ever said you were smart when you were horny, alright. one thing at a time)

she wakes easily, dragging you back down to her level on the small bed and pulling herself on top of you

“i missed you” she all but growls as she pulls of the sweatpants you were sleeping in

“i missed you too” is all you can get out before brie’s shoving her fingers inside of you. 

“have you been this wet the whole ride?” she asks, smirking

you whine, just wanting her to fuck you already

“since the event last night” you moan

from then on you can’t really speak, can’t really do anything besides moan and scream and claw down brie’s toned back as she entered you with her cock

“god you take this cock so well, baby, love you so much” she coos “love how big of a slut you are for me, such a pretty little whore”

it’s seconds with brie’s deft fingers on your aching clit when you cum for the first time in days, and the minute your vision comes back and the bright lights recede brie’s got you flipped over with your face pressed into the thin mattress and your ass up against her hips 

you cum again twice like that, screaming into the scratchy sheets. 

it’s after that brie nearly rips the toy off, flips you over again, and positions herself over your face

you lick at her petal-soft folds until your face is soaked with her, until her thighs nearly suffocate you. 

it’s after that brie collapses next to you, pulling you into her as you both doze off. 

“i love you” she whispers into your ear. 

“i love you too,” you whisper back

[runaway-train-works]

pls poorly timed confession with detective au

***NOTE*** Mentions of violence/crime scene

This was bad. This was really, really bad. The poor lad was shaking like a leaf. 

“Are you sure you’re ok?” Harry asks him.

Louis nods his head, but the clenched hand resting on his mouth and the other holding onto his stomach say otherwise. There’s sweat dripping down from temples. He is definitely not fine. 

Harry takes a step towards him out of earshot of the first attending officers. “Do you want to go outside for some fresh air?”

This time Louis swallows roughly and croaks out “no, I’m fine. Please. Continue.” He gestures with his hand for Harry to carry on with the investigation. Harry narrows an eye at him, wondering whether he should pull rank and tell him to leave. 

This was exactly what Harry has been afraid of when he’d heard his new partner was transferring from the fraud division. Detective Inspector Tomlinson was clearly qualified in criminal investigation and came highly recommended, but he simply wasn’t equipped for this line of work. Why he had requested a transfer into the serious crimes unit when he obviously couldn’t handle the sight of a dead body was a complete mystery to Harry. Their first two weeks together had gone relatively smoothly but that was only because there hadn’t been any serious crimes to note of. That all changed when they got the call twenty minutes ago.

Harry takes one final look at Louis’ pleading face and decides to give him the benefit of the doubt. He turns round and moves back into the middle of the room again.

“Simmonds right?” he motions with his head to one of the officers. 

“That’s me,” she replies, stepping forward. 

Harry had heard good things about her, rising star of the newest intake. “Talk me through it please constable.”

She takes her notepad out of her pocket but barely glances at it before she begins. “We received a call at 23:47 from a Mrs Aldershott from flat 7b, directly above this residence, regarding raised voices and what she believed to be a domestic disturbance earlier in the night followed by loud music for approximately one hour. Not that uncommon for the block, but she was concerned due to having believed this residence to have been empty for at least a month. By the time we arrived, eighteen minutes later after the call was placed, there was no obvious sound but the front door was ajar. We entered the premises to find the victim here. Once confirming he was deceased, we called it in.”

Harry nods and surveys the room. “Was this the position he was in when you arrived?”

She shakes her head. “No, he was on his stomach, but we turned him over to check his breathing.” He imagines it would have been a shock to turn the victim over to find his face caved in. 

Harry looks down at the victims arms. “Any signs of his hands in the flat or murder weapons?”

“Not that we can find, but we didn’t want to disturb the scene too much before forensics got here.” Great news, the number of scenes he’s had ruined by rookie cops is irritatingly high. 

Harry looks over his shoulder at Louis, who currently has his eyes closed, and coughs. Louis jumps at the sound. “Thoughts Tomlinson?”

“Well, uh… The removal of the hands and the damage to the teeth structure indicates that the perpetrators didn’t want the victim to be easily identified,” he pauses to swallow, possibly the bile rising his throat, “however the body has been left at the scene of the crime and the sloppiness of the removal of the hands indicates lack of forward planning. Either they didn’t plan to kill him here or they didn’t plan to kill him at all.” 

“They?” Harry turns to him fully. 

Louis is now as white as a sheet. “There are two sets of foot prints of fresh blood, one leading to the kitchen is that of a heavy work boot, size eleven or twelve. Those heading to the bathroom and bedroom are of a slightly smaller training shoe, size nine or ten. The victim is wearing shoes that fit neither description.”

Fuck he’s good. Shame he’s an absolute pansy when it comes to actually dealing with this stuff head on. Harry winks at him and gets a weak smile back. 

Harry reaches a hand into his pocket and retrieves a plastic glove, slipping it over his right hand and crouches down beside the victim, gingerly lifting the right arm. 

“Was removal of the hands carried out before or-“ Harry is cut off by a whimper from behind him and he turns just in time to see Louis running out the door. He places the arm back down carefully and stands back up straight again, excusing himself to the officers to head down the hallway of the flat and out the front door. He finds Louis throwing up straight onto the concrete walkway that lines the front of the block. 

“Jesus, I knew this was bad for you but come on?” Harry says, not the most sympathetic of people at times. You had to be hard in a job like this.

“I’m sorry,” Louis whines before retching again but thankfully nothing comes back up. “I can’t… uh… I can’t do this.”

Harry chuckles flatly, but starts rubbing at Louis’ back. “I got that much from the vomit mate. My question is why sign up for it if you couldn’t hack it?” 

Louis squeezes his eyes shut while still hunched over and pauses for a few seconds, while Harry’s hand continue to sooth in circles over his spine. He then slowly straightens up once he’s deemed his stomach has finished emptying itself. Harry pulls some tissues out from his pocket and hands them silently to Louis to clean his face up. 

“So?” Harry presses when Louis is done. 

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll speak to the chief about transferring back to fraud tomorrow.” He sounds resigned.

“It does matter. You’re good at this, apart from the not liking the blood bit. I just need to know where your head is at. Why did you transfer in the first place?”

“Because of you,” he says quietly. 

That was the last thing he expected Louis to say. “Me?” 

He nods solemnly. “Um, yeah. Like, I saw you at the company picnic back in June and thought you were gorgeous and then you hosted those seminars on profiling a couple of months later and you were so confident and charismatic, I thought you were just the best thing I’d ever seen. I  wanted to work in your department and get to know you a bit first so when they said there was a space I applied but then ended up getting made your partner so couldn’t even ask you out if I want to and I also realised I fucking hate blood. Like I can do first aid and that fine but that in there is something else.“ He cocks his head towards the flat like Harry might not know where they just were. 

Harry wants to laugh. “You took a job because you fancied me?”

Louis huffs and looks down as he plays with his fingers. Harry reaches out to stop them, causing Louis to look up him with wide eyes. Harry smiles, willing him to continue. Louis takes the cue. “Sort of yeah. Like I was interested in learning more and getting new experience but you were also a big part of it.” 

Harry nods as he takes the information in. He’s surprisingly elated at the turn of events. Finding a hot, intelligent, gay man who is neither put off by your job nor strangely interested in it is hard to find these days, Harry has tried. “I see. I do unfortunately have a strict rule about not dating my co-workers or partners.”

Louis’ face falls. “Yeah that’s fair.”

Harry squeezes the fingers he’s still holding onto of Louis’ hands. “Good thing your transferring back out my unit though eh?” he grins.

[hxrry-blog1]

Why can't you just open your eyes??? Are you seriously blind?? Or are you just pretending? Guess what your fave wears dead animals and hates Muslims (he raised the hammer of Israel at a concert) basically he's just like a cruel ass murderer grow up and understand that he's nasty at least The only problematic thing that Louis' done was saying the n word which was years ago and he's educated himself enough to not use it again I feel pity for y'all harries

first of all, i just wanna point out that although the things you’ve mentioned i don’t support either, calling him a murderer is so....problematic..like honey please don’t even think about saying that to someone you don’t like. Okay, moving on, the wears dead animals thing. you do know that coat was made from sheep fur/wool, which is so important for them to shed because an accumulation of this without being groomed could kill the sheep with all the weight and bacteria being trapped in there. so it wasn’t even dead animal fur idjfiosdf. pls get your facts straight. next, about the hating muslims. listen, even after reading this i personally had to consult muslim friends about how to go about answering this, you know why? because im not very involved in that issue and i want to be educated bc i lack knowledge about the issue. same goes with harry. it was definitely not a very good thing for him to raise it, but i’m pretty sure he’s just not knowledgeable which isn’t entirely his fault. i’m not excusing his behavior, but i don’t understand how that can go as far to say he hates muslims and that he’s a cruel murderer??? what in the fuck????? that is so beyond human decency. 

also, i really don’t want to make this a louis vs harry thing bc seriously why is this even a thing. they all have faults. louis never even apologized for using the n word. it wasn’t good, but i also accept that he probably wasn’t too knowledgeable on the matter. plus he was high so...shit happens. with this argument i can also say that harry never raised the israel hammer again bc he educated himself. 

bottomline is i fucking hate how it’s always a matter of louis is a better person than harry because theyre both fucking great people?? and theyve both made mistakes??? the one who should grow up is you, if you hate harry so much, stop attacking him and the people who love him. it’s a waste of your time hunty. especially a waste of mine.