It's Louis' senior year, and he's dead set on doing it right. However, along with his pair of cleats, a healthy dose of sarcasm and his ridiculous best friend, he's also got a complicated family, a terrifyingly uncertain future, and a mortal enemy making his life just that much worse. Mortal enemies "with benefits" wa...
"Deku," He murmured, thumbing over the pale skin covered in a sprinkle of light faded freckles, his breath becoming visible and ghosting against the other's cheek from the freezing cold. Red irises caught toxic green ones, his heart clenching- making it harder to breathe. God, he can't breathe- "What are we, Deku?" T...
"Izuku, what do you really want? Die never accomplishing your dreams? Or live and...?" Katsuki didn't continue but the words were already said. Live and be with me.
Louis' new roommate is shy, skittish, and flinches at the slightest sounds. He's an art major who gets drunk on cherry wine, wears lacy lingerie, and shows up late at night covered in bruises that blossom across his skin like flowers. Obviously something is wrong. Louis just doesn't know what it is.
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 Cov...
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]
Leurs parents sont rivaux depuis bien avant leur naissance. Suivant les pas de leurs géniteurs, ils se haïssent eux aussi. Mais est-ce qu'ils veulent vraiment ? « - Je sais que tu es amoureuse de moi depuis notre première année. - C'est faux. C'est toi qui a toujours été amoureux de moi. » /!\ Tout élément, personna...
Quand un trajet de trente minutes s'avère être l'équivalent de toute une vie. © larmesmauves - 2015