***AVAILABLE AS KINDLE OR PAPERBACK ON AMAZON*** good with words; in minds, on lips, on tongues, in pages. 1982 Louis is a writer living in Edinburgh, Scotland. Harry is a figure of colors, curls, and dimples and a thousand words Louis never anticipated writing, a thousand things he never anticipated feeling. highest ranking: 🥇no.1 in #larrystylinson no.1 in #larryfics

In which the biggest and most iconic pop singers are the royal family, the high society of the world. In which the king doesn't like the queen, but the other king. A Larry Stylinson fanfiction. [all characters in the first chap and the tags] mature because: language mostly. it's about Louis Tomlinson so what did you expect? There's also smut. So now you're warned completed - 17th august, 2021 HIGHEST RANKINGS: #1 in larrystylinson

"You know what I think?" Harry leaned across the table. "I think you're afraid. You don't take risks like us Gryffindors." He scoffed. "Please, you Gryffindors are all wand-waving and no spell." Harry grinned, settling back into his seat. "Not me. I always follow through." "Prove it." Harry stood up and walked around the table. He leaned over Draco, one hand no his chair and the other on the table. Their faces were a mere inch apart, so close that Draco could see flecks of brown in his emerald eyes. "I don't see any follow-through," Draco taunted. And then Harry kissed him. Harry's hands fell to his shoulders so quickly that Draco teetered on his seat. Draco reached up and grabbed Harry's shirt in an attempt to catch his balance which resulted in the two boys falling to the ground with Harry on top. Harry's cheeks were red with embarrassment as he tried to get up. All he managed to do was knee Draco in the leg. Draco put his hands on Harry's hips. "Stop. Let me." In one fluid motion, Draco flipped them around so he was kneeling above Harry. "And for future reference," Draco smirked, bringing his lips down to brush against his. "I'm always on top."

Louis, to his horror, attends an elitist university in which the name Zayn Malik means something, Niall Horan doesn't stop talking, there are pianos everywhere, and Harry Styles, only son of a drug-addled, clinically insane ex-rocker, has a perfect smile and empty eyes. WARNING: all rights go to velvetoscar on ao3 Cover made by: whatkooloser