Fics like peaches and soft myth

“Greta kissed me,” he said at last. It wasn’t the main issue, but it was a start. Louis’ smile was radiant. Eyes sparkling with genuine happiness. Harry’s stomach felt a little funny, wishing he could feel as happy as the cheerleader. "Oh, my god? We did it! I’m a genius ! Was it long? Slow and sensual, full of lust and passion, tongues intertwined—" he gasped. “Did she tremble in your arms?” He hugged himself. “That’s not—” “No one believes me when I say I am a good matchmaker. They are always like, ‘Oh Louis, you have the worst eye for couples and men. You always miss the real connections.’ Who missed now? Not me. Nuh-hu, I saw the potential. Your grumpy attitude did not deter me. I'm probably the greatest matchmaker on campus. Don’t you think?” Louis’ smile faltered. “Wait… why do you look as if you were about to throw up?” “She told me her roommate leaves for a few days after spring break. She invited me to her dorm room.” “Okay?” Louis said slowly. “Am I missing something? Is it about clothes? Because I can totally find something—” Harry scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s not about that.” “Then what?” “I…” Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m a virgin.”

Fics like peaches and soft myth

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