cried my damn eyes out
4 stories
Aerial by peanutboyfriend
peanutboyfriend
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✼ In Malibu, California in 1965, a surfer and world-famous aerialist undergoes a chain of comedic and not-so-comedic mishaps that force him to re-evaluate who he is. ✼ Most impressive rankings // #2 in Conflict and #62 in Comedy! ✼ Voted #1 in the 2019 VA Awards for both Alternate Universe and Fan Favorite! ✼ Please read with discretion.
young and beautiful || larry s. by larryslips
larryslips
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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
Grey Street // H.S. by saswee4
saswee4
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Elle Grey doesn't need anyone. She only needs herself, a paintbrush, and if she gets desperate enough, there are the few people she actually tolerates that she can talk to. She knows that there's more out there in the world - in fact, she spends most of her time either daydreaming or painting about it. She knows that the South Dakotan town she's grown up in is only suffocating her. That's why she finds Harry so intriguing. He's different and he brings out something in her that she wasn't sure was still there. Suddenly she's second-guessing everything she has known her entire life - maybe she does need someone.
One Word | H.S. by sunflowersnstuff
sunflowersnstuff
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    Parts 63
We're all mad here, it's Wonderland. ~ Harry latches onto my passionate on-beat arms as he keeps me from moving forward. "Are you fuckin' mad?" He grits through his teeth. "I'm in Wonderland, Pretty Boy," I throw my free arm in the air, motioning to the surrounding world. "Of course, I've gone a little mad." He flips me around as the level of infuriation rises throughout his clenched jaw, trying to remain composed. "Don't try and be something you're not, Presley." I rip away from his hold, furrowing my brows from the curt statement, the honest revelation that should've just stayed within his mind. "We'll never be the heroes, and you know that," he says, colder than the Arctic's towering waves. "We'll never win." We'll never find Purple. Purple, the color of the Star-Crossed Lovers.
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