Work Text:
1 month later
Louis sits in his chair in the coffee house, the sun streaming through the window and warming his skin. It’s the same as all those other Tuesdays, except now, he doesn’t need to wait until five to eleven for the object of his affection to sweep through the door and light up his world. Tuesday’s are still by far and away his favourite day of the week, but the list of reasons has gotten a whole lot longer. Instead of waking up to Snuffy and a lonely breakfast with tea for one, he gets to welcome the new day with the man of his dreams wrapped in his arms.
This morning Harry had stirred Louis from his slumber with one of his earth-shattering blow jobs and then spooned him, fucking into him slowly, still open and loose from the night before as he whispered sweet adorations and toe-curling filth into his ear. A long, languid soak in the tub, with accompanying massages in the hot, steamy bathroom followed, only brought to an end by Snuffy’s insistent meowing and scratching at the door, his patience for breakfast having dissipated along with their bath bubbles.
They’d sat in Louis’ garden, enjoying the sunshine and crisp air as Snuffy played happily with the butterflies that flitted around the lavender and rosemary bushes. They ate their croissants and drank their tea, chatting about the day ahead and not for the first time, Louis was overwhelmed by how lucky he truly felt that fate had decided to bring them together.
Louis glances over when he hears Harry chatting with Mildred as he ties the cords of his apron in a neat bow across his waist. Louis blinks and an image flashes behind his eyelids from last night; Harry laying on the bed, writhing with pleasure, as Louis sucked a string of bruises just below his belly button while he’d stroked Harry’s cock in his hand. Louis wonders whether Harry can still feel them. Did he have to tie his apron more loosely because of them? Does he feel them when he laughs and clenches his stomach muscles? Does he get a jolt of pleasure because of them? Can he feel the ghost of Louis’ lips still on him?
His wandering mind is recalled as a notification goes off on his phone. Eleven o’clock on the dot, like always. A hint of something like sadness prods at the edges of his mind as he realizes this will be the last time he does this. He has mixed feelings about the WordPlay challenge ending and about finally wrapping up his little series. It’s been quite the rollercoaster; his life now a world away from where it was when he embarked on writing Henry and Lewis’ love story.
Louis taps on the notification and opens the post on his phone. Eminent . And. Uhm… okay? The first thing that jumps into his head is Eminent Domain. Which. No? He opens a new Google tab on his laptop and punches it in, just to be sure.
noun: eminent domain
The right of a government or its agent to expropriate private property for public use, with payment of compensation.
Okay, so that’s about the least sexy or romantic thing ever, and it’s not like he can introduce a government land grab into the series at this stage. Next!
adjective: eminent
1.(of a person) famous and respected within a particular sphere.
2.(of a positive quality) present to a notable degree.
Granted, that’s an improvement, but nothing is really jumping out at him. He sits back in his chair and stares out of the window, running the possibilities over in his mind as the sounds of the coffee shop provide a white-noise background for his thoughts.
He’s already done the whole Scrabble thing to get around the difficulty in dealing with Zebra as one of the prompts so it’s not like he can cheat and use a word game again. If only he’d written Lewis as a writer of non-fiction like himself, an analyst, or a scientist, or a historian, someone that could’ve been the eminent authority on something. Wait. Did he specify? One of the challenges with writing the series over a long period of time means that he can’t always remember the details of what he’s put on paper if it isn’t critical to the plot. He brings up another google doc tab and opens up the first installment, scanning the pages for where he first talked about Lewis’ writing. He doesn’t remember delving into it too deeply but then he sees it. Lewis is writing a ‘novel’. Well, that blows.
“Tea, babe?” Harry’s voice pulls him away from his screen and he looks up but he must still have a scowl on his face. “Oh dear. What’s the prompt?” Louis sighs taking the cup from Harry’s outstretched hand and setting it on the table, spinning his phone around for Harry to see.
“Eminent?” Harry chuckles fondly at Louis’ current predicament, one hand resting on his cocked hip as the other strokes his chin in contemplation. “Sheesh, that sounds tough. Any ideas?”
Louis takes his glasses off and pushes the heels of his palms into his eyes, groaning and scrubbing his hands down his face. “No? How about you?”
“Nope,” Harry says with a shake of his head and a shrug of his shoulders. “But I wouldn’t want to influence you anyway. You write. I draw. That’s the deal remember?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Louis says with a sigh and Harry ducks down and plants a kiss on the top of Louis’ head.
“You’ll be fine. You’ll nail it. You always do,” Harry says encouragingly as he backs away, off to deal with a group of elderly ladies who are settling themselves at a table nearby.
Harry’s right, of course. He’ll come up with something and Harry will create a beautiful artwork to Louis’ thin specifications. They’ve been working together over the last few weeks and it’s been brilliant. His readers are lapping it up too, gushing with compliments for them both which Harry simply adores. Louis never shares the full story with him, though. He just describes the scene, what they’re wearing, and any other details that are critical to the artwork, and Harry goes to work. Every piece he creates is so unique and Louis is always blown away by his talented boyfriend.
Yeah. Boyfriend . Louis had been patiently waiting for the perfect moment to ask him, he’d even thought about sneakily including it in one of his fics and then that had been shot to hell when Harry had beaten him to the punch. No flare. No production. No overthinking it. They were just standing at the deli counter and the woman had asked which ham Harry wanted from the various options on display. Without skipping a beat he’d casually said, “ Oh, the parma please, it’s my boyfriend’s favourite .” Just like that. Like it was the easiest and most natural thing ever to announce it to the world, and to Louis, in their local Tesco’s.
Louis had stood, mouth gaping open, staring at Harry as the woman had packaged up the meat and handed it over. Harry had leant over to drop the ham in their trolley and simply kissed Louis on the cheek with an easy “ Come on, boyfriend, ” and that had been that.
This last month with Harry has been… well, to be honest, perfect seems too bland a word to use to describe the way things have developed between them. Louis has never been happier and every day takes him to higher heights than he could ever have imagined. Sometimes he thinks his face will be permanently stuck in a goofy, fond smile, but so be it, and if the universe wants to complain, it really has no one to blame but itself.
Henry and Lewis’ relationship has developed too, following a similar path in terms of intensity and intimacy to Harry and Louis’ own burgeoning love. It’s an odd thing, to write them in parallel, real-life and fiction weaving in and out, and seemingly racing to the next phase.
Louis has been winding up the various threads of his fic series and building to a climax over the last two weeks. Lewis’ novel is nearly finished, the first draft having been sent off to his publisher in the last installment. In the final, Louis is going to have the publisher return the draft with a contract for two more novels, thus paving the way for Lewis to stay with Henry at the B&B indefinitely. It’s a simple end, but a happy one and he knows his readers are going to love the resolution; no drama, no angst, just fluff and love.
He had cheated a little and started writing this week’s fic on Sunday, keen to get ahead a bit now that so much of his week is consumed by Harry. They don’t live with each, not officially, not yet, but they’ve rarely spent an evening alone since that first night together. They’d each jumped in with both feet and Louis hasn’t regretted it for a single moment.
So he has the start of the fic written, and he definitely knows how it’s going to end, now he’s just got to work out the middle and what the hell to do with this week’s prompt.
He opens the Tumblr post and checks some of the tags and responses on his dash, seeing what others are saying and if he can glean any ideas, but everyone seems to be having the same problem. He puts it out of his mind, for now, and thinks about the story and scenes he wants to write and what sort of vibe he wants it to have; the prompt can wait until later.
He scrolls down to the end of his google doc for this week’s installment again, unable to quash the smile that spreads across his face when he reads and re-reads the last paragraph. It’s corny, he knows that, but he also knows how much Harry is going to like it; he may be writing this fic for all his readers, but there’s really only one reader that counts when it comes to this part.
Harry had maintained that while he was thrilled to collaborate with Louis, he still wanted to be a reader as well. Each Monday evening, Harry comes over to Louis’ house after work and they cook up a storm while they wait for eight o’clock to tick around and the fic to be revealed. Harry goes off into their bedroom and shuts himself away to read it in peace. Yeah, their bedroom; some of Harry’s things have made their way over bit by bit, and some of Louis’ things have done the same at Harry’s house. It’s nice, and natural, and doesn’t need to be a big deal. Harry’s lease is up in a couple of months and Harry will just move in with him. They’ve discussed it, it’s mutual. Yet another thing in their lives slotting into place like it was always meant to be.
Louis takes a sip of his tea and sets the cup down, pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and cracks his knuckles. “Right. Time to get to work.”
~~~~
Harry has his large sketch pad open on the coffee table, kneeling on a cushion at the end as he leans over the blank page, elbows on either side and pencil at the ready, looking at Louis expectantly. Louis is having a hard time concentrating, images from their first night together when Louis was in that exact position rampaging through his head. It was for a far less innocent reason and it makes Louis’ stomach do a little flip-flop. Louis had truly believed that their lovemaking couldn’t improve on that first night, but he was mistaken, very mistaken. Sex god barely even scratches the surface of what Harry is capable of, although Harry insists it’s Louis that deserves that title in their relationship. Harry maintains that it’s Louis’ ability to articulate his sexual fantasies on the page that gives Harry the green light to try all these things, things he would never be brave enough to put into action of his own volition. The scenes from his fics have definitely been a good starting point but they certainly haven't limited themselves to that and Louis couldn’t be more thrilled. Harry is a fucking machine, quite literally, and his stamina and creativity is something Louis wishes he could bottle and sell.
“Louis.”
“Hmmm…?”
Harry smirks and sits back on his heels. “You wandered off for a bit there, you okay?”
Louis flushes at being caught daydreaming and sits forward, giving Harry his full attention. “Yeah. Sorry. Just remembering something.”
“I bet you were,” Harry says with a cheeky smile and a pronounced wink. Asshole.
“Enough of that you bloody menace. We have work to do,” Louis scolds, trying to regain his composure.
“Alright, but you just let me know if you want me to bend you over. Anywhere... anytime, babe.” Harry waggles his eyebrows suggestively and Louis should kick him, but he doesn’t, they have more important things to do tonight.
“So, I’m thinking I’d like a scene outside, in the garden,” Louis starts. “Henry and Lewis on a picnic blanket, facing away, so we’re looking at their backs. Henry maybe with his arm around Lewis, Tigger in the foreground.”
“Okay, what sort of scale are we talking?”
“Oh! I’ve got a stock image I found on google,” Louis says and grabs his phone, pulling up the picture and handing his phone over to Harry.
Harry looks over the image and nods. “Yeah, this is good. I can definitely work with that. Send it to me,” Harry says as he hands the phone back. Louis AirDrops it to him and flicks through his images, locating the picture of the picnic blanket he’d found and sending that over as well.
“I’d like Henry to be wearing that cream cable knit jumper of yours and your pink earmuffs too. For Lewis he can just have darker clothes and a grey beanie, whatever will work with the rest of the artwork, it isn’t important,” Louis says the image clear in his head. “I’d like the earmuffs and Tigger to be the focus. Maybe have Tigger staring straight at the… god, I keep wanting to say camera, but that’s not right. You know what I mean anyway.”
Harry hums in acknowledgment as he sketches away, just little scrawls on the side of the page, the pencil scratching on the thick paper. He’ll end up doing the final artwork as a digital drawing but he maintains he likes the more tactile process of sketching to get the idea drafted and Louis loves watching him work at it this way so it’s a win-win. “Do you want a picnic basket? Maybe with a bottle of wine, a baguette?”
“Yeah. Yeah, that’s good. I think lots of vibrant green In the background too. Watercolour would be nice from a style perspective.” Louis takes a sip of his tea, leaning forward to watch as Harry starts to draw, a few lines to frame and centre the characters, a few more off to the side for the picnic basket and a circular blob in the foreground for Tigger to get the depth. Louis loves to watch Harry’s process. It’s not unlike his own, really, the way the story outline comes together first, followed by more detail as the scenes develop, focal points and filler text adding more layers as he goes. “I’m thinking curry for dinner.”
“Mmmm… yes, please. Can we get it from that vegan place?” Harry asks without looking up from his work. He gets so focused when he draws, concentration on his face as he brings Louis’ ideas to life.
“Yeah, sure babe.” Louis opens the UberEats app on his phone and scrolls through, placing their order and settling back into the couch, pulling his Mac into his lap and bringing up his google doc. Eminent . It’s still a mystery to him how he’s going to incorporate it.
Louis relaxes back and looks up at the ceiling. “Em… in… ent,” he says, trying to push it out into the universe hoping to get something back, but nothing comes. “Goddamnit.” He can’t clear his head. Snuffy stirs beside him, stretching out and poking him in the thigh with his little paws. He reaches over and scratches his belly earning a low, rumbling purr.
“Still stuck?”
“Yup. Stupid word.”
Harry looks up, sympathetically. “It’ll come, babe,”
“I know. It’s just frustrating,” Louis sighs and looks back at the blinking cursor, watching it pulse on the screen, and then it hits him. “Wait!” Louis reopens the first installment, scanning the paragraphs to find what he’s looking for. “Yes!” Louis shouts, pumping his fist in the air. “Gotcha, you bastard.”
Harry smiles knowingly and squeezes Louis ankle. “Knew you could do it.”
“It’s a bit thin, but it’ll work,” Louis says, fingers flying over the keys. It’s not the best idea he’s ever had, but it meets the brief, and this week is all about the ending anyway. Lewis is writing a novel, and he thought that had precluded him being the eminent anything, but just because he’s writing a fictional novel now , doesn’t mean he isn’t the preeminent authority on something. He decides to make Lewis the preeminent authority on some sort of plant or animal only found in the Cotswolds, which will also add to why he so easily agrees to stay with Henry at the B&B indefinitely. He Googles around for a bit and finds exactly what he’s looking for; the Large Blue Butterfly, extinct in Great Britain for twenty years, being reintroduced into the Rough Bank reserve on the Slad Valley, which is part of the Cotswolds Commons and Beechwood last National Nature Reserve. Perfect.
He starts to consider how he’s going to weave this into the story. “Babe,” Louis says and Harry looks up. “Can you include a blue butterfly somewhere?”
“Sure, what it’s for?”
Louis narrows his eyes and smirks. “Spoilers.”
Harry rolls his eyes and goes back to his drawing.
~~~~
Louis is struggling. The story isn’t shaping up the way he’d hoped. The beginning is great and he’s gone over it a million times, adjusting a word here and a phrase there. The ending is lovely and carries the exact emotion he was hoping for; not too sappy, just the right balance of resolution and open-endedness so the reader is led to the pathway of their happy-ever-after without being shoved along. The middle though… that’s another situation altogether. He just… doesn’t have anything to say. There are no critical events, no plot twists, nothing left to be wrapped up. Just a blank page staring back at him.
Oh well, Louis sighs internally, when in doubt, get the cocks out.
He spends a while framing up a fairly light sex scene and working on the tie-ins to join it all together. He’ll write the scene itself tomorrow night, sticking to his Smuturday routine, even though he now spends it at Harry’s flat. Louis works away on his smut as Harry works on his art pieces for his course. It’s comfortable and easy and Louis usually makes it to the end of the scene before he can’t take it any more and launches himself at Harry, so riled up from the writing and desperate to feel Harry’s hands on his skin that he can’t hold back for another moment.
Harry grabs a pillow and lifts head, wedging it underneath and fanning his hair out before settling himself back down. He’s got his long legs stretched out and draped across Louis’ lap as they lay in bed, Harry at right angles to Louis’ body. It’s a familiar arrangement, Louis sitting up in bed and Harry positioning himself somewhere so he can touch him and see him while he mucks about on his phone, but placed so he can’t see Louis’ laptop screen. Harry doesn’t want to know what Louis is writing any more than Louis wants him to see, so it works well. They’d eaten their dinner and cleaned up before deciding to have an early night. Such party animals, Louis had joked; in bed at nine-thirty on a Friday night but there’s honestly nowhere else he’d rather be. Louis loves it. It’s gloriously domestic and usually very relaxing, except tonight Harry is being distracting.
He giggles at something and Louis looks at him over the top of his glasses; he’s all kinds of lovely laid out in his boxer briefs, chest bare, damp hair haloed on the pillow, face illuminated by the light from the screen. Harry chuckles again, stomach muscles clenching, abs on full display as he brings his arm up, bending it at the elbow and slotting it under his head. The action is slow and deliberate and has the effect of both exposing his armpit and elongating his torso, the lamplight making his skin all the more inviting. Louis knows he’s doing it on purpose, is the thing. In last week’s fic Louis had included a scene where Lewis had confessed his obsession with Henry’s armpits and Harry has been making a none too subtle point of showing his off at every opportunity.
Harry sighs and pushes his elbow down towards the bed, sneaking a quick glance at Louis to make sure he’s got his attention. He does, of fucking course he does. Louis is a puppet on a string when it comes to Harry and he damn well knows it.
“What’re you doing, you pest?”
“Nuffin’...” Harry says childishly, pretending to focus on his phone as he shifts his hips, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“Oh, alright. I’ll just keep working then.”
“Louuuuu…” he whines, thumping his phone down on the covers and turning his head to face Louis. “I’m bored… and horny… entertain me .” He gyrates his hips for added effect and nearly jostles Louis’ Mac off his lap. Louis steadies it and looks down at Harry with the most serious frown he can muster, instantly rewarded with the most adorable pout he’s ever seen on a grown man.
“You’re horny,” Louis says flatly. Harry nods eagerly, his pout morphing into an excited smile. Louis closes the lid of his laptop and sets it on the bedside table, taking off his glasses and placing them on top. He clasps his hands across his stomach and lets his eyes rake over Harry’s body, noticing that he’s already half-hard, but he schools his expression, deciding to make Harry work for it. “And what, pray tell, would you like me to do about that?”
Harry huffs out a breath and bucks his hips into the air as he punches out the words. “Anything, something, nrrgghhh…”
“I dunno… I’m pretty tired, babe.”
“Liar,” Harry says seductively as he runs his free hand across his chest, down to his belly button and up his side, fingers brushing at his underarm hair never breaking their gaze.
Louis fakes a dramatic yawn, patting his open mouth with his hand before returning it clasp in his other. “Reckon we should have an early night. Soooo sleepy.”
“Liar,” Harry says again, lower this time as he stretches both hands over his head and draws his knees up, letting them fall open. One of his knees nudges at Louis’ steepled hands.
Louis lets his hands rest on Harry’s knee briefly before running them outwards, one up to Harry’s stomach, the other down to his ankle; neither ending up where Harry wants them. He tilts his head toward the ceiling and groans in frustration, bucking his hips again and arching his back, gripping onto the edge of the bed, outstretched hands still over his head. His nipples are puffy and taut from the arousal that must be thrumming through his veins. Louis lets his hands wander up and down his leg, the hairs standing to attention as he watches Harry’s cock twitch in his grey boxer briefs. He doesn’t often take control like this, always happy to be manhandled a bit and let Harry take the lead, but tonight he’s feeling a little different and he senses Harry is on the same page.
Louis trails his hand up between Harry’s pecs and back down to his belly button, carefully avoiding his protruding, dark pink nipples. Harry starts to rotate his hips, craving friction, but Louis isn’t ready to give it to him just yet. He scratches at his happy trail and lets his fingertips dip under the elastic earning a low moan. “Look at you, all stretched out and begging for it. What’s got you all riled up tonight?”
Louis traces the outline of Harry’s cock with a featherlight touch and Harry’s breath stutters in his chest. “G-Glasses...”
He hooks his hand under Harry’s knee and pulls it toward himself, spreading him out further and running his hand down the inside of his leg. “Yeah? You like me in glasses?” He pinches the soft skin and Harry flinches.
Harry releases his grip on the mattress and goes to bring his hands down but Louis gives him a sharp slap on the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. “Oh, fuck.”
“Don’t let go,” Louis says sternly. “Keep your hands where they are.”
“Nrrgghhhh…” Harry whines as he grabs onto the mattress once more.
“What else do you like me in?” Louis asks as he walks his fingers to underneath Harry’s balls, pressing ever so gently, just the hint of intent, while the other hand travels back up to his chest, drawing figure-eights around his nipples.
“Fuck… uhm… everything. Those grey sweatpants that you wore earlier.” Louis rolls one of his nipples as a reward. “The uhm… the black jeans, with the rips in the knees.” Louis cups his balls and squeezes lightly. “Shit… the white tank top with the gaping arms.” Louis leans forward and tucks Harry’s knee under his arm, reaching down to get a better angle and sliding his fingers up inside his briefs. “God… the black jeggings, fuck your arse is obscene in those things.” Harry writhes, twisting his hips, trying to get Louis to touch him properly.
“Yeah? You’ve got quite the catalogue going, babe.” Louis slips his fingers around Harry’s length, stroking it softly; it’s hot and hard, pulsing at his touch. He lets his other hand glide over to Harry’s rib cage, the skin goose pimpling at his touch in anticipation.
“Love everything you wear,” Harry says, breaths punching out raggedly as he shifts his pelvis. Louis withdraws his hand from Harry’s pants and taps his thigh, Harry lifting up easily so Louis can drag them down under his arse, cock springing free. It’s leaking already, angry and red, bouncing with every pump of blood from his beating heart.
“What’s your favourite, then? If you had to pick one outfit?” Louis’ grips Harry cock in his hand, the other hovering over Harry’s armpit.
Harry cranes his neck and looks up at him, a smirk playing on his lips, pupils blown wide, and a flush on his cheeks. “Your birthday suit.”
Louis smiles. “Good answer.”
He finally gives Harry what he wants and runs his fingers through the hair of Harry’s underarm, it’s soft and warm, and Harry moans. “ Yes… ” Louis starts to stroke him properly now, both hands moving in time, Harry balls are tight against his body, he’s not going to last long, the build-up too much. He scratches and tickles the hair, running up and down from his biceps to his flank, swirling around in the thatch of hair. Harry is going out of his mind and the noises that are spilling from his mouth are some of the most erotic he’s ever heard him make.
Louis tries to take his time, though neither of them is far away from the edge. Louis ruts against Harry’s thigh to get some relief as he continues to play with Harry’s pit, fascinated at the effect it’s having on him.
“Yeah, baby? You like this?”
“Mmmmm… tickles, feels good.”
Louis speeds up his strokes as he grinds harder into Harry’s leg. He’s ridiculously close, just from this and it should probably be embarrassing, but with his gorgeous boyfriend laid out like this, writhing and moaning in his lap, he really can’t be held responsible.
“You look so beautiful, baby,” Louis pants, twisting his wrist on every upstroke.
“Lou… fuck, gonna come.”
“Let go, I’ve got you,” Louis says, and he means it, in every possible way.
Harry’s entire body stiffens, arms straining, knee pressing into Louis’ chest giving his cock the extra friction he so desperately needs. They careen over the edge together. Harry spurting up his torso and Louis coming inside his briefs.
Their breathing is laboured as Louis strokes Harry through the aftershocks of his orgasm. Harry brings his arms down to his sides and Louis releases his cock, wiping his hand on Harry’s briefs. They’re both a mess and in need of a shower but that can wait.
“So… armpits? That’s new.”
Harry opens his eyes and looks up at him accusingly. “You’re the one that put the idea in my head! I haven’t been able to think about anything else since I read it.”
Louis giggles and leans back onto the headboard. “Hmmm… might have to give it a try myself.”
~~~~
Louis sets his wine glass down on the coffee table and cranes his neck up to meet Harry’s kiss. “Alright. I’m gonna go and get ready to read my story,” Harry says as he pulls away and steps around the couch.
“I beg your pardon? Your story?” Louis asks, mock-offended, slapping a hand to his chest.
“Yes. My story,” Harry replies petulantly and Louis frowns. “It’s mine, all mine.”
“Pretty sure it’s our story, babe,”
“Hmmm… alright then, our story.”
Harry wanders off with a wave, laptop under his arm and glass of wine in hand. Louis is nervous, but not for the reasons he usually is. He’s keen to see what his readers think, of course, but there’s really only one reader he’s interested in tonight.
The clock ticks over and he refreshes the screen a few times and then... it’s live. A wave of adrenaline shoots through his body as he realises it’s out there now; no going back. He drains the last of his wine and clicks to refresh the screen, the hits jumping up before his eyes. It’s even bigger than normal, his readers obviously excited to see where he’s taken the story.
Harry’s artwork is beautiful, as always, the colouring is simply perfect and the whole scene is exactly what he’d imagined in his head. He’s so talented and Louis grows prouder every day.
He refreshes the screen again and sees that the first few comments and kudos have started to come in. Lots of screaming and keyboard smashes, emojis galore. It won’t be long now. His nerves are gone, he knows this is right, he’s known practically from the moment he saw him, the chime of the bell above the door of the coffee shop all those weeks ago heralding the start of his future, a future with Harry.
“Lou! Oh my god!” Louis hears Harry shout with glee from the bedroom and he smiles to himself, the heavy thud of Harry’s footsteps sounding out along the hallway as Louis scrolls down to the end of his fic, reading over the dedication one last time. Maybe it’s too soon, maybe he should’ve waited longer to say those three little words, but when fate steps in, Louis isn’t about to deny it.
“This series is dedicated to my real-life Henry.
You were my muse from the start, but I never imagined life would imitate art like it has.
You see me, all of me, and I thank the universe every single day that it brought us together.
I can’t wait for our future together, filled with lazy mornings, tea for two, Scrabble, and fluffy pink ear-muffs.
You make me happier than I ever dreamed.
I love you, babe, forever and always.”