Louis is a principal dancer with The Royal Ballet. When his rival, moody dance prodigy, Harry, joins the company, old wounds are reopened and old passions reignited. During the company's production of Swan Lake the secret that doomed their love is finally revealed, but will it be too late? [COMPLETED]

Louis moves into a flat while he’s at university, his next-door neighbour, Harry, who he’s never seen is rather loud at night. Louis confronts him about said noise and the two start to chat through the rather thin wall between their bedrooms. Will they ever meet, and if they do… what could ensue for the both of them?

THIS IS NOT MY WORK ‼️ all credits go to Isthatyoularry on AO3📢📢 (I only do that for easier accessibility) SUMMARY : How come falling in love with the person he hated most was so easy? Who the hell did this guy think he was? How could he stand there on the pavement, gorgeous and beautiful, and make Harry fall back into a swirl of desire, when fifteen minutes ago he made his skin prickle with hurt? God, he hated him. He wanted to bash his face into bits. The problem was that more than that, he wanted to kiss him. Between the two options, he would instantaneously choose the second. A mortal enemies with benefits story with a touch of football, lust, and family drama. The Unbelievers Story from Harry's point of view. (Read and vote <3)

~You know how to ball, I know Aristotle~ "I guess when I'm with you for some time you tend to make me forget how fucked up the world is." In which Louis has an amazing friend group and a very big crush on Harry and asks him out every day. And every day, Harry rejects. Or: A larry boarding school fic based on jily and the marauders. FOR WATTPAD AND ITS GUIDELINES: Louis and Harry are 17 for most of this story but they both turn 18 towards the end and that's when the little bit of sexual action starts. There is no kissing or touching whatsoever underage.

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