i know this already exist but that flip in made me nauseous

say you won't let go

WARNINGS: language. fluff. quick mention of vomit. subtle mention of death. (lmao)  

AUTHOR’S NOTE: you ever hear a song and a little light goes off in your head? Well, that’s what happened when I heard this song on the radio. And here is what I came up with. It’s super sappy and long because I hate myself, tbh.  

Enjoy! 


He was dragged to the club. He hadn’t been in years and he was already starting to feel annoyed at the sight of all the younger people acting like it was their last night on earth. 

Sebastian’s friends nudged him over to he a VIP booth and while he walked around moving bodies he managed to bump into you. Your drink spilled over top of the glass and you laughed. Sebastian’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth but nothing came out. 

Even in the dark he was able to take in your beauty. You lit him up. You made him feel real again. Suddenly, the world didn’t exist. 

“If you’re going to say sorry; it’s okay.” You laughed. 

Your smile managed to knock a breath out of him and he blinked. “Yeah-Yeah I… Sorry.” 

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Here’s another collab, this time with @nerdlycharming! We both had similar requests for sick Leo and Nico aboard the Argo II, so we killed two birds with one stone.

“Valdez, I’m going to murder you.”

Normally such a threat didn’t bother him, he’d heard it many times before, but this time it frightened him as it was issued from the son of Hades.

“He won’t really.” Hazel promised.

Leo had fallen ill the day before and was laying in sick bay feeling well, sick. Now the son of Hades was getting ushered in with the support of his sister looking worse than usual which must mean he was sick now too.

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20 Fics to Read Before the New Year

take my hand (and my heart and soul) by bananasandboots 45k 

Harry feels nauseous when he opens his mouth. “Hey. Um, hi. It’s me,” he mumbles before realizing with a jolt that Louis might not have his number anymore. “It’s Harry… Styles,” he tacks on, screwing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose. This was a terrible idea.
There’s silence on the other end for a long time. Harry understands. He shouldn’t have called. He tries not to let the static swallow him whole.
“I – yeah. Hi,” Louis finally answers, slowly, awkwardly. “I um. Sorry. I heard about your accident. You’re alright?”


Or, the one where Harry hasn’t spoken to his best friend in sixteen months and can’t remember why.

Bring Your Body Baby (I Could Bring You Fame) by theboyfriendstagram 84k

Eighteen year old Harry Styles just graduated high school and landed a summer job as a waterboy for his favorite football team. His job description is simple: be ready to hand water and towels to players if needed. That didn’t seem to include Louis Tomlinson though, a twenty-three year old, recently transferred Paris Saint-German player, who seems to like making Harry’s job much more difficult than it has to be.

OR  

A self-indulgent AU that takes place over the summer of 2015. 18 year old Harry hates pining after people he can’t have, and 23 year old footballer Louis loves flirting with people even though it never means anything.

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THE FLIP SIDE - OCT 1986

What if the Potters had found themselves on the flip side of the prophecy, and Neville had been The Chosen One? They might have had their chance at happily ever after.

FFN    AO3

Chapter Three: Slicing Jinxes and Peter Pan

Lily is sprawled under a cozy blanket on the sofa, reveling in the quiet afternoon she’s been afforded. She ought to be doing a hundred things, really, but moments like these are rare; she’s determined to appreciate this one. Two children—two and a half, she supposes—have ironically and unfortunately robbed her of the ability to nap on demand, so she’s opted for a novel, an old favorite, so she won’t be upset when she is inevitably interrupted.

She’s with Bilbo, her favorite reluctant thief, in a cavernous storeroom squashing doubtful, desperate dwarves into barrels when the front door bursts open, slamming against the wall, startling her back to reality. A cold draft gusts through the open doorway, bringing with it several crunchy, fallen leaves and her boisterous six-year-old.

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