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Any RPF (Real Person Fiction) I have written is in no way reflective of how I view that person’s actual, real life behavior, thoughts, or actions. All RPF was written using the real person as a reference to build a character using pre-existing guidelines of characterization. I do not believe anything I have written actually happened or will ever happen, they are COMPLETELY works of fiction. I would never reference my works to any of the real people the characters are based upon and would appreciate it if neither did anyone else.

Like I said, although the people in these stories share names, characteristics, and backstories to real, live, human beings, THEY ARE NOT THEM, nor have I ever meant to imply that I believe the events in my stories to be accurate, or possible in real life.

Twitter: @shelbyvanhorn
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I Hate You - Chapter 1

AN: Alex and I are co-writing an angry Larry Stylinson smut fic. Just another to add to the pile. Anyway, I’ve written the first chapter and will reblog and link to hers when she posts them. Enjoy! WARNING: MATURE

"Fuck off Louis!" Harry stormed through their flat, face red with anger and nostrils flaring.

"God dammit, Harry! There’s fucking paparazzi outside, will you lower your voice?" The older boy threw down his bag and rubbed his eyes.

"Fuck the paparazzi! I can’t handle this anymore! I’m going insane! Let them know that I hate your fucking guts! Let the whole FUCKING world know that I HATE LOUIS WILLIAM TOMLINSON AND HIS FUCKING GAY ASS EVERYTHING!"

Louis’s hand lashed out and smacked the back of his hand hard against Harry’s strong cheek. A loud crack sounded through the apartment and the younger boy stumbled back, cradling his face.

"How dare you, Harry! How fucking dare you blame this on me! You always make it about me! You’re not the one who has to live with the world’s horniest and most immature pop star! You are so fucking difficult to handle! Do you think I want to live with you and spend all my time cuddling you and caressing you?! No fucking way! Despite what you may think, sweetcheeks, I can’t fucking stand you either. You think you’re so great and everyone loves you, well let me tell you something; if my career didn’t rely so heavily on us making nice, I wouldn’t think twice before shouting to the world just how much I hate your selfish, narcissistic guts."

He seethed, stepping close to Harry, breathing on his face as his blue eyes glared daggers into Harry’s green ones. They stood, eyes piercing, neither willing to be the first to back down. The air buzzed with tension, pressing further and further in on them, making their skin burn and tingle as though shocked by an electric current. Their hearts pumped loudly with adrenaline and testosterone.

Neither was sure who moved first. In the next moment they were gripping each other, mouths crashed together. Louis’s hands buried themselves deeply in Harry’s famous curls while the younger grasped at his slim waist, pulling their bodies together. They breathed in the angry air from each other’s lungs grasping and biting and forcing all of their frustration into the other boy. 

Harry’s hands tugged Louis’s shirt over his head before removing his own, their bodies magnetized together again as soon as their chests were free. Their bare skin created friction in the tense air, making it explode with feeling. Their skin burned so hot, it was as if the room around them was in flames, licking at their sensitive skin. But the only thing licking were their hot, wet tongues, sucking on every available morsel of flesh they could reach. 

The taller boy gripped the back of Louis’s thighs and hoisted him around his waist, spinning them around so the boy was supported by the wall. 

"Fuck you, Harry," Louis growled in his ear as he sucked on his collarbone. A moan escaped from his throat as Harry rolled his hips into him, the friction on his hardening erection becoming too much. He grasped at the boy’s hair, mouth open and eyes closed.

"With pleasure," Harry growled back. He pulled away from the wall, arms under Louis’s thighs, and threw him onto their large couch. His thin fingers deftly undid his trousers and slid them down. 

Louis’s chest heaved up and down with exersion, but he mimicked the boy’s actions, removing the rest of his clothing and lunging toward Harry again. There bodies collided, falling and stumbling to the couch, mouths searching. Harry twisted Louis around in front of him using one hand on the boy’s strong back to balance himself.

"You and your fucking perfect everything," he growled. He sucked on his finger briefly before pressing it into the smaller boy and listening to him hiss against the pain. The overwhelming jealously and hatred that he had felt toward the boy since the day they met came bubbling up to the surface. "Everything you do is perfect. No one ever criticizes perfect fucking Tomlinson."

"I’m not the one fucking women old enough to be my mother," Louis hissed back, leaning in against Harry’s fingers with a moan. Harry’s short fingernails scraped the skin of the older boy’s back, leaving angry, red lines that throbbed with ferverent heat.

"One fucking time, Louis, so shut it." He lined himself up, bracing for the rough pain of pushing in nearly dry as he rubbed spit along the length of his cock, and pressed down hard, relishing the near sob that escaped Louis lips. The boy screwed his eyes shut at the pain and bit his lip, not saying a word, not trusting his voice. He couldn’t give Harry the satisfaction.

The younger boy hesitated, the pressure on his sensitive shaft nearly pulling him apart, it was almost too much.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck," he whispered. Louis laughed dryly.


Harry scratched along his back again, crossing his previous lines, marking Louis with his own design. He grabbed a fistful of Louis’s hair, pulled his head back, and pressed further into him. A groan burst from the smaller boy’s bruised lips, mouth agape. He squeezed his eyes shut as Harry began to pull out and push in more quickly, the slap of sweaty skin and their breathless moans and growls of anger the only noises in the flat.

"I’m. Not. A. Fucking. Virgin." Harry grunted each word with a thrust, Louis nearly wimpering beneath him. 

The taller boy shifted, hand slipping on the sweaty surface of Louis’s burning back, and hit the soft spot within the boy that made him arch and yelp.

"Fucking hell!" He gasped loudly, Harry increasing his speed and holding onto his hips with both hands, digging his fingertips into his soft flesh. Louis rested on an elbow, bracing a hand against the back of the couch, while he used the other one to stroke himself, feeling the heat roll deep withing his stomach. His skin burned and his lungs constricted, he could feel his legs tremble as Harry hit that spot, that sweet, sweet spot, over and over again. 

The younger boy’s grunts became louder and his thrusting more sporadic. Louis’s body seized up and exploded from the inside out. It felt as though he were being ripped to pieces and fused back together simultaneously. He could no longer differentiate between where he stopped and the world around him began. His walls clenched tight around Harry, making him cry out and thrust three more time, his heat spilling into the smaller boy below.

They lay together, a hot, messy, puddle of limbs, panting, until Harry gently slipped out and slid to the floor, chest heaving and shining with sweat. He breathed in deep, inhaling the scent of their deed, and sighed.

"I still hate you," he nearly whispered. Too exhausted to feel the burning hatred he had just moments before.

"Fuck off," Louis sighed on the couch.

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