Larry Stylinson One-Shots

Angst: Refers to a genre of stories with prevalent physical or, mainly, emotional torment of characters. Smut: A writting style that is sexually explicit. Erotic fiction. Fluff: A fanfiction in which the story has no plot. Only humourous or romantic nonsense.

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21. #20

Title: Oh What A Feeling by Broken Bravery on Tumblr

Summary(kinda): Hope this is okay. It ended up more like a fill for one of the memes, but regardless, it’s kinda cutesie?

It’s Louis more than it is Harry, but nonetheless, both start getting crap for it. It starts a month into their tour, their new found relationship strong and passionate, closer than ever before.

The kisses are good, snogging is good, sex is good, everything is good.

Pet names mean more to them, love bites a stronger reassurance, hand holding a sparking touch. Kisses turn from friendly drunken pecks to long, languid movements that neither bother to stop, nor explain to the other boys who look at them ludicrously.

But one morning when Louis wakes up and his shirt is nowhere to be found (actually, he threw it off in their haste to get to the bedroom and will find it later on top of a cabinet) he just grabs Harry’s jumper and slides it over him. It’s loose, bigger than it should be, hanging down far below his waist. In fact, he almost looks like a girl in the movies on the morning after, where the sleeves fall past her hands and it slumps off one shoulder. Louis doesn’t like the comparison, but he couldn’t care less, because it smells like Hazza and oddly it feels like Hazza. It is Hazza, so he keeps it on.

And when Harry finds him and stops dead in his tracks, adoration, arousal and something else rather possessive lifting in his stomach, he can barely choke out the explanation as to why (“You…you just…need to…wear my clothes. More often. Do that.”) before Louis pounces on him, straddling his waist on the couch and pressing firm kisses to his pink lips.

After that, it sort of becomes a thing, not that they’ll admit it. At first it’s at home, as soon as they get behind closed doors. Louis will strip down for a shower that Harry usually joins him for, tossing his shirt god knows where. And when they’re done, tired and overwhelmed and heading to the living room for a cuppa and a cuddle, Louis will slip on whatever Harry was wearing, usually just a jumper over his boxers, or sometimes a white t-shirt that is far too baggy on him. It doesn’t fit him right, it’s not meant for him, and that’s why this is perfect, so perfect, because it’s Harry’s. He feels warm, swaddled in the heat and soft scent of his boyfriend.

Harry does it too, occasionally. If Louis is wearing something a little less skin tight, a little less clingy, he’ll slip it on. The first time it happens is a morning where he wakes up with Lou in his arms, gorgeous face bright in the warm sunlight. He leaves Louis to sleep, clambers out of bed and heads to the kitchen to make breakfast. But he passes Louis’ discarded jumper on the floor, the white one that he has a nearly identical copy of, and smiles. Once he has it on, the feeling is instant; warmth, love, protection. He keeps that jumper on all day, even when Louis looks like he might die from sexual frustration while the boys are over for pizza and beer.

It becomes regular, to the point where they barely wear their own shirts anymore. Occasionally Louis will pull on a pair of Harry’s sweatpants, one time his jeans that are far too baggy on him, but Harry just can’t fit into Louis’. But with tops, they’re always switching, finding new ones to pull on (and pull off), new ones to cuddle up in, warm and soft.

It’s comfort when they need it; when the other is out getting groceries, or with some friends. Louis often stays home and finds himself curling up in one of Harry’s even baggier sweaters, balling his fist in the sleeve and smelling it, smiling at the familiar cologne. It’s adoration when they need it too; a silent reminder of their care, their love, when they’re with the guys and can’t say anything. They will tell them eventually, for sure. Just not now. And it’s definitely a turn on when they need it; the sight of Louis in just Harry’s long blue blazer is enough to send the younger boy’s head spinning. Louis on the other hand, thinks that maybe peeling his tight clothes off Harry might be his new favorite thing in the world.

And before they know it, their carefulness weakens and they’re doing it in public. Louis is wearing Harry’s jumper to an interview, Harry’s wearing Louis’ t-shirt out to the gym. Though they’ve never spoken about it out loud, they both know what it does to the other. Louis likes watching the videos fans take of Harry at the gym, wearing shorts and Lou’s shirt, punching a bag rhythmically, muscles under his skin rippling. And Harry, Harry feels like the most amazing guy in the world when he sees pictures on twitter of Louis out shopping wearing his jumper because there’s just something about knowing that his secret boyfriend has something of his on while he’s out in the world, belonging to Harry, that makes his knees a little weak.

It’s like they have a claim on each other, and they can’t help but be more handsy in interviews because they need to remind the other, and the world, that no, he’s mine, don’t touch.

They realize it’s crazy, realize they’re weirdly possessive, realize that the fans realize. Unsurprisingly, suddenly theories are on twitter, tumblr, everywhere. Pictures proving the borrowed clothing, gifs of them touching each other much like they own each other. Soon there’s full blown blogs dedicated to their clothes borrowing, run by fangirls who freak out, convinced they’re in a relationship. Some are ridiculous, just nonsensical blabbering and pictures (the title of that one was Gayhood Of The Travelling Jumpers) but others, more sensible, are incredibly (and somewhat scarily) accurate. They seem to just know how much they love the feeling, that loved, protected, claimed feeling they get wearing each other’s clothes, smelling each other’s cologne, having each other on them at all times. Those blogs (titled Miss Me, Need Me, Love Me) kind of freak them out because even they hadn’t realized how much the feeling effected them.

And then, of course, the guys notice. Liam first, who idly comments on the fact that “Louis, isn’t that Harry’s jumper? And his jeans?” while they just blush, glancing to each other to share an embarrassed smirk. Then Zayn, who sends them weird looks as he scans their clothing choices (Louis in Harry’s sweater and Harry in both Louis’ top and shorts) as they sheepishly avoid his glance, bright eyes meeting each other for just a minute. And lastly, it’s Niall that cracks it. He’s commented here and there, teasing them (“Nice shirt Lou, looks a bit big one you.” “Ah, Harry, going for the skin tight, camp look are we?”) but not once has he really ever thought much about it. Until one day, seeing Harry and Louis holding hands, fingers intertwined and thumbs stroking each other, does it hit him.

“OH MY GOD YOU’RE IN A RELATIONSHIP!” He shouts, and Louis blushes, knowing they can’t lie, whereas Harry smirks a little. Liam and Zayn snap their heads up, shocked, but Harry and Louis don’t deny anything, in fact, don’t say anything at all. Then they look at each other, green eyes meeting blue, and just stare, losing their self control and smiling, caring, loving. That answers the question enough. And then Liam beams, proud of them, Zayn grins and wiggles his eyebrows, while Niall bombards them with more half shouted questions that they don’t answer. Don’t need to, really.

And with the support of their friends, best friends, they feel more okay. Feel more open, more accepted. So then this whole thing (dubbed ‘the claim of the boyfriends’ by Niall) gets even worse. Soon they barely ever, ever wear their own clothes anymore. Harry’s showing up to interviews in Louis’ jumper, Louis’ doing concerts in Harry’s blazer despite the protests of their stylists. Harry’s Love Is Equal shirt becomes Louis’ favorite, going out to the shops with it hanging around him like a security blanket, and Harry is constantly wearing the famous Tomlinson maroon jumper.

And then, finally, a lot later than they would have suspected, management catches on. They don’t know why it takes so long, and they don’t know why management is so, so mad at them. They call them in for a Skype meeting, announcing that they need to stop immediately because the rumors are ridiculous and their bromance moments are up to one a minute. Harry shrugs and tells them too damn bad, and Louis cuddles into his side, feeling protected. But soon the people speaking to them explain that they’re under contract and if they don’t do this, stop this, Simon will be called and they could get in a shit load of trouble. Harry says okay at the same time as Louis.

Simon does call, and their resolve weakens under his strong tone. He does make some good points though, and they reluctantly agree to keep the clothes sharing to a minimum. At the end of the call, he wished them good luck with their relationship and they sputter, asking how he knew. He just chuckles and hangs up. They suppose it makes sense.

After that, they keep it in check. Harry wears his own clothes again, feeling weird with so much room. Louis goes back to his stripes and feels really weird about how tight they are, not baggy and protecting. He feels unsafe, vulnerable somehow. Harry notices and keeps his hands on him more, a silent comfort, and Louis leans into the touch, a reminder of his returning feelings.

But at home, or in their hotels, or wherever they’re out of sight, they find themselves itching to put on each other’s clothes, be warm and loved and owned. So they do. Zayn teases them and Liam raises an eyebrow, but they still scramble to change as soon as the tour bus starts moving, switching tops with giggles and small kisses. Soon they’re seated on the couch, Louis on Harry’s lap, curling up to feel more cared for. Harry smiles and kisses his cheek.

“Why do you like wearing each other’s clothes?” Niall asks out of nowhere, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“I feel safe.” Louis answers earnestly. “And loved. And protected. Special.”

Harry smiles at him, beams actually, making Louis blush and pick at the sleeve of the borrowed jumper self consciously.

“I like it because I feel cared for. Mostly I think it’s the fact that I can smell him on his clothes. Makes me feel special too.” Harry answers honestly.

Louis looks up and their eyes lock. It’s the first time it’s been said out loud, admitted, shared with each other and even the others. And it’s oh so perfect, and within seconds their mouths have crushed together, breathless kisses being pressed between them, fervent tongues pushing forwards, hands roaming under switched tops, caressing sensitive skin. Soon they’re falling back on the couch, Harry pressed on top of Louis as the other lads stare openly.

It’s when Louis bites back a moan, the jumper sliding off one shoulder in an incredibly alluring way, that Harry finally lets it out.

“He’s mine.” He says huskily, before latching on to the newly exposed and sucking a firm love bite there, nibbling the skin.

Louis arches, flustered, but nevertheless, looks to Niall and smirks.

“He’s mine.”

~

The You And I music video is....interesting.

I really liked that Larry moment awe

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