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joysmercer · 2 years

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eddie-dies-in-tor au except

eric sweet knew, the day his son was born, that the world was going to end in his lifetime. one way or another, he was going to lose something so dear to him—his child, or his life itself.

when eddie (oh, how he hates the nickname, but it’s the only thing the boy will answer to) is old enough to attend daycare, eric leaves the united states. bonding with the child will do neither of them any good, he rationalizes.

his aging father always insisted robert would know what to do to prevent the prophecy from coming true. and that is what eric holds on to, for years and years and years, until

eddie shows up in england earlier than eric had planned for, his mother insisting that moving schools the same time he applies to college will not do him any favors

(eric doesn’t have the heart—or the guts—to tell her that he will never even graduate high school, let alone go to university)

and just a year after that, robert takes his leave of the anubis estate for the last time. it takes months for eric to finally accept that help he had waited for for so long will not come.

that is when he takes the boy aside and reveals his destiny.

(eddie doesn’t believe him. for a long time afterward, they don’t speak to each other. eric is, irrationally, somewhat saddened by this.)

(and then one day eddie has a vision of the pyramid being built and lightning scorching the earth and shows up outside eric’s office, demanding to be told everything.)

(that’s why you kept me away all this time, isn’t it, eddie asks afterward. his eyes are wide, pleading. but it is more imperative now than ever that eric keeps his distance, at least emotionally, so he shakes his head no.)

college decisions are made. eddie commits to the school on his list with the cheapest deposit, knowing he will never attend and not wanting to burden his mother any further.

she’s worried at this point. something’s bothering him, she says to eric over the phone, nearly in tears. he’s acting strangely, not answering my calls. he insists that it’s just normal teenager behavior.

final exams arrive soon after. eddie does not study; eric passes him secretly. if there is hope—and against his better judgement, he does have some—he will not be the reason his son’s precarious future is destroyed anyway.

the touchstone is in the museum. eric knows this the minute he receives the invite in the mail. when he sees eddie slip into a barred-off exhibit and emerge minutes later, pale as a sheet, he has his confirmation.

eric avoids the house like the plague from then on. like he had so many years ago, he justifies it by insisting his son is better off without his comfort.

he knows he’s wrong, deep-down. but acknowledging that means acknowledging everything else, and he can’t do so. he won’t.

eddie, struggling to come to terms with the future and forbidden from telling anyone else about it, walks around hell-bent on destroying whatever’s left of his short life (fighting with teachers, flirting with anything with legs, yelling at his mother when she calls to congratulate him).

it’s only when he fails to show up for grad practice that eric finally goes in search of him.

why does it even matter? eddie demands. it’s over. don’t pretend; I know that’s why you’ve left me alone all week. eric says nothing.

victor finds them at that moment and starts rambling about the pyramid and sophia and his damn ankle and eric has had enough. we know, he says, interrupting the caretaker mid-story. we know.

the rest of the students are still trying to stop it all. eric tries to force eddie help them; eddie refuses. eric grows angry, but what can he do? the boy is old enough to know not to act selfishly—he just simply chooses not to.

when the house starts to fall apart, they know that all is lost.

eric knew this moment would come. he knew it the moment the doctor placed a screaming baby boy in his arms. but knowing is not the same as living, and nothing could have prepared him for watching eddie crumple onto the grass, heart no longer beating.

my son! that’s my son! he cries as the ambulance drives him away, as he’s declared deceased, as the casket is lowered into the grass.

you were no father to him, his mother says in response.

and now it’s too late, a small voice in his head whispers. he pushes it away, heart laden with guilt.

it’s too late.

#im sorry #house of anubis #my writing #hoa: eddie dies au #brought to you by lewis fucking capaldi #although this has nothing to do with the song that inspired it anymore oops

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nothingtoseeherebyeexx · 8 months

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BAND AU BAND AU!!

(pls zoom in bc this drawing is stacked)

(took the photo ref from pics/videos of celebrities-these celebrities include matt hitt, timothee chalamet, boygenius and lewis capaldi)

close ups without colour bc i may or may not like them better:

these two are the exception bc they turned out pretty cool

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upsidedownwithsteve · 2 months

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A soulmate AU: Steve Harrington x fem!reader [5.9K]

THE TIMELINE

"Oh no, you know you know I'd be lying if I said I wasn't dying, For someone I could die for, someone I could try for Fall apart and cry for, go 'head, risk my life for."

-Someone I Could Die For by Lewis Capaldi

II. ROME, ITALY: 49 BC

The roar that came from the bowels of the Colosseum never became easier to hear.

The noise seemed to make the city shake, the streets empty, the market stalls abandoned in favour of bloodshed. The games took place in the summer, when the skies were an endless blue and there were no clouds to tamper down the climbing heat. The sun bore down on the sandy pit of the enormous Amphitheatre and the seats were filled, the doors that had already been closed still surrounded by regretful stragglers who were forced to listen to the chaos from outside of the walls.

Fourteen men had died already, three from the jaws of the lions, two from the bears and eleven from the swords of other imprisoned slaves. The cheering from the crowd made your stomach curl. The floor of the stage was covered in red, the sand streaked with spilled blood and the animals that were bullied back into their cages had their jaws tinted pink.

It wasn’t a joyous occasion, no matter how many people celebrated in the name of their emperor. The leader of Rome was sitting mere seats away from you, dressed in ruby robes that were slung like a cloak over his white toga and his laurel crown glinted with golden beads that sat tucked into the olive wreaths. He was drunk on wine and violence, and your father sat next to him in the royal box, ever eager to please as he clinked his chalice against his kings.

Being the daughter of Rome’s most beloved senator certainly had its positives. You were dressed just as finely as the royalty around you, the fabric that was made to fit your frame swept to the floor and only yesterday, the emperor’s cousin had gifted you a necklace made of the finest gold, inset with glittering emeralds, pretty enough for a princess.

The same cousin smiled at you from across the row, each seat in the royal box made from plush velvet, the high backs ornate and cushioned, unlike the stone carved benches the rest of the civilians were sitting on. You smile back, uneasy but polite, and your father nodded approvingly.

You were expected to marry, you knew that much. You were already considered too old to be unwed and you knew the rest of the court whispered about how you would now struggle to bear a child. But the man that was expected to be your husband wasn’t who you loved. He wasn’t unkind, he wasn’t cruel - not like you’d heard men could be. The girls in the kitchen would tell you stories of how their husband made demands. Shouting each night for their meals, their baths, how their shirts weren’t stitched right, how their beds would lay cold because their wives were too tired.

Some men visited the bath houses, you knew that much. Seeking out a lupa for the night, the ladies that were called she-wolves, with their painted lips and robes that showed so much skin. Some men decided that they didn’t need to listen to their wives at all, you were once told, horror etched on your face. Some men took what they thought they owned.

So no, the emperor’s cousin seemed kind enough. But you weren’t in love with him. You weren’t sure who you were in love with. A dream, perhaps. One that kept returning to you from a young, young age. A dream about a different town, one you’d never been to before. But in your sleep, it felt like home. White buildings and green gardens with tall, tall trees and pretty, ornate gazebos made of stone on the edges of shallow ponds. You were by the sea there, a blue-green ocean that seemed so calm.

Sometimes monsters came, the marble statues that guarded the city came to life and turned your dream into a nightmare. There was always fire and fury, storm clouds and too big waves and a man with skin the colour of death would try and take your hand. But even when the dream turned bad, there was always someone else.

A man, with a blurry face and a mess of almost too long hair. It hid his eyes from you and you could never make out too many details but you burned when you looked at him, you could weep when he touched you. Sometimes he led you through the burning town, his hand clasping your own as you both tried to run and run and run.

Other times, you lay in a bed with him, skin bare and your head on his chest as he murmured the sweetest poetry to you, words that made your heart race. Your dream was encased in white linen sheets, a hazy, soft light that always made it look like early morning and when the man’s lips met yours, you always woke up.

Him. You loved him.

You hadn’t been in love before, but whenever you dreamed of the stranger, you were sure that must have been what love felt like.

“Have some grapes, darling,” your thoughts were interrupted by your father as he thrust a plate of fruit and cheese under your nose.

But the fifteenth gladiator was being dragged through the gates by the armpits, a clawed hammer still sticking out from his chest and your insides turned over at the idea of eating such sweet treats as blood poured from the men in front of you. The emperor’s box was almost nauseatingly close to the fights.

You shook your head before you remembered your manners, smiling politely and murmuring, “I’m quite alright, thank you.” You blew out a breath, shaky and faint.

From your other side, one of the young girls who had been gifted to you on your sixteenth birthday waved a giant fan. A large peacock feather, a huge plume of colours that merely wafted the too warm air back and forth but you smiled your thanks at your lady in waiting, a pretty girl who’d turned into a prettier young woman. She was small and lithe, angular in the face with curls that came to her sharp jawbone and she smiled back.

Nancy, as she’d introduced herself to you a week after she’d arrived at your fathers house, from the Wheeler family of Liguria. She didn’t like the gladiator fights anymore than you did, always murmuring about the rights of the animals and how inhumane it was later in the night as she drew you your bath.

“—from Verona,” your father was saying with a mouth full of provolone. “One of their best, so they say, His Majesty simply had to have him.”

You blinked, frowning in confusion at your fathers words. You hadn’t been paying attention in the slightest and nothing you’d caught made any sense. “Sorry?” You grimaced apologetically and took a few pomegranate seeds from the plate of food in apology for your rudeness. “Who is from Verona?”

Your father rolled his eyes, a sure sign that you’d be lectured in his study later for your lack of respect. “The next gladiator, child.” He gestured to the stage where the soldiers were locking the gates to the tigers, each big cat growling with menace when the men came too close to the bars. “They say he’s unbeatable. Our Highness offered a more than generous helping of coin for his papers but Verona’s general didn’t seem to want to part with him.”

You frowned again. The crowd seemed to be aware of this man and his presence, murmuring and shifting in their seats in anticipation. “If that is the case,” you prodded. “Then how is he here? If the gladiators… owner—” the word left a terribly bitter taste in your mouth and you felt heavy with guilt when Nancy’s fan brushed your shoulder. “If his owner didn’t want to sell him?”

Your father snorted, an unattractive sound that made Nancy wince beside you. “No one tells the emperor of Rome ‘no’, dearest.” Your father shrugged. “The gladiator cannot be owned, if his owner is dead.”

Bloodshed. Always bloodshed.

A man came from the east side gates with chains around his ankles and wrists. You couldn’t quite see him for your seat, not yet, but the crowd above and around you roared, eager for the final fight to begin. The man already looked beaten and tired as soldiers stepped forward to unlock his manacles and you sat forward in your seat for the first time since you entered the Colosseum that day.

He had messy hair, dark brown and hanging just past his chin. It was already damp looking, matted and dirty from being kept god knows where as the emperor's new toy. He was shirtless, his body lean but corded with muscle. He had wide shoulders and a lithe waist, powerful thighs and skin that was tanned from the sun, a sure sign he spent too much time outside, training hard in the Italian heat.

As he moved closer to the middle of the stage, you saw the marks on his body, leftover scars and new slices in his flesh that still looked viciously red. The crowd got louder as a sword was thrown at his feet, a large, heavy looking thing with a bronze handle. Some cheered for the new warrior, hoping for some excitement, while others jeered and booed, already too attached to their darling reigning champion.

The gladiator picked up his sword and the crowd became wilder still, but he gave them no mind. He didn’t put on a show like some of the others, he didn’t flex his muscles or raise his weapon like it was already a prize. His leather loincloth was a deep wine colour, the tan leather pleats looking far from newly made and the material was already streaked with blood and dirt before his first opponent arrived.

Your heart felt heavy for him, as it did for all the others who were forced into the Colosseum - prisoners, slaves and animals alike. You watched the gladiator flex his wrist, testing the weight of his weapon just as the gates in the west cranked open.

Rome’s current champion strode out from the shadows and into the bright sun, his bare chest glinting with sweat and Hargrove held his hands aloft, grinning as the crowds went insane. He beat his chest, his long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail and when he was handed his own sword, he wasted no time in running towards the new fighter, the steel blade glinting.

You gasped, moving closer still to the edge of your seat and you couldn’t find it in you to bear much mind to the looks your father and Nancy shot you. It wasn’t like you to take such an interest in the sport, never mind be so heavily invested. You didn’t like to watch the wounded, preferring to close your eyes when the screams began, hiding cowardly behind Nancy’s fan when the blood turned the sandy stage pink and red.

But this new gladiator, he was fast.

He dove at the last second, dodging the tip of Hargrove’s blade and he rolled towards the section where you sat. Dust kicked up from the move, his sword tearing into the wreaths and sashes that hung from the Emperor’s box. You grasped the edge of the wooden frame, peering over the side and down to the stage, hoping to not see blood already.

Instead you found the gladiator looking back up at you, his sword still in his grasp and when his eyes met yours, they widened. Something like recognition hurtled through you, a feeling that sucked the breath from your lungs and you felt dizzy, like lightning itself had struck you from the sky. You thought the man perhaps felt the same, a frown on his face telling you that he felt just as confused as you did.

But before you could consider where on earth you could have possibly seen his face before, Hargrove attacked again, bringing his blade down to where the gladiator's shoulder should have been, if he hadn’t rolled once again.

You were on your feet now, the stares of your father be damned. Your eyes were wide, your heart beating far too fast, like you yourself were on the stage, being hunted for sport. Wood splintered into the space under your nails as you watched the man run, his muscles pumping, his eyes narrowed.

“Darling, are you quite alright?” Your father placed a hand on your arm, more confused than concerned.

“Yes, I just— yes.” You cleared your throat and sat down again, albeit back to the edge of your chair. You could feel the rest of the royal party staring at you. “Where did you say the man was brought from? The new gladiator?”

“Harrington?” One of the Emperor’s councilmen interjected. He pointed a pudgy finger at the brown haired gladiator, who was now swinging his sword with as much power as Hargrove. “Steven Harrington of Verona, best of his breed I heard. His general didn’t take too kindly to the King’s offering and well— you know what happens when his Highness is made to feel upset.”

The metallic clink of the swords filled the arena as everyone held their breaths. Not many had lasted this long against Hargrove before.

“Rumour has it that he didn’t take too kindly to his general being beheaded. Took six men to get him into the back of the cart, even more to make him train. He’s been refusing food all week.”

The idea of it made you feel unwell, a sickly, creeping kind of pain curling around each of your ribs and suddenly you were starving, just as much as you were sure the man would be. But still, I didn’t seem to make him move any slower, it didn’t hinder him in bringing his sword down any harder.

But strangely, every time the new gladiator was struck, every time his knees hit the raw sand, every time he got close enough for you to see him suck in a gasping breath— you felt it too.

It was a battle like you’d never seen before, more vicious than the others from that day, a showdown under the blazing heat of the high sun. No tiger seemed as powerful as Steven Harrington of Verona did. There was something animalistic in the way he moved, all power and lean muscle, a steely glint in his brown eyes that you didn’t dare look away from. He moved too quickly for Hargrove’s blade, dodging and diving as he flung up sand, blinding his opponent and slicing at his legs. Each move was a blur, the stage bleeding with fresh red, the blonde gladiator on his knees.

But Hargrove was ruthless, grappling with the newcomer until they were both wrestling in the dust cloud and the crowd went insane, people chanted and stomped their feet, the amphitheatre shaking down to its very bones. The imperial box quaked with the energy, but truly, you weren’t present enough to feel it.

Your eyes never left Steven’s fighting figure.

The swords seemed to be forgotten, the steel blades rusted with blood, both fresh and new, and they lay in the sand. Fists flew, knees pressed to chests to keep the other down and it was brutal, it was harsh, it was deadly.

You wanted to vomit. You feared you might.

You wondered what would happen if you leapt from your chair, if you let your skirts get torn and bloodied in the mess of the stage, if you threw yourself down onto the sand and begged for Hargrove to take his hands away from the new gladiator's throat.

Would you be punished? Beaten? Locked away? Killed?

You weren’t sure but somehow, all the options felt worth it. You couldn’t watch this man die before you. Not when it felt like you’d already witnessed his death before.

But Steven wrestled himself out of Hargrove’s hold, twisting and tumbling whilst he gasped, one hand clutching at his reddened neck and the other grappling for his blade. He swung it through the air, arching wide, his wounded shoulder ripping with effort it took but the sword landed where the warrior intended it to.

Silence settled over the colosseum, the air still enough for you to hear the surviving champion heave out gasping, heavy breaths. There was blood on his hands, his chest, his face.

His right eye was already bruising, red and lilac coming to the surface of his skin like fresh blooms in spring. His shoulder was a mess, his right leg causing him to buckle slightly as he rose to his feet.

The man turned, jaw slack, his sword falling limply to the ground once more, his opponent still and at his feet. His eyes found yours and time stilled, at least, to you. The crowd erupted, an explosion in its own right, the entirety of Rome cheering for their new champion.

A man you were sure you already loved.

By the time the fight had ended, you felt beaten and bruised. There were no marks on your skin, no blood seeping through your gown, but something inside of you hurt all the same. It felt like something was clawing at your heart, a memory that was banging on the front of your skull, screaming at you to remember.

When the guards dragged the gladiator from Hargrove’s limp figure, he dropped his sword to the sand and spat a mouthful of blood towards the ground at the royal pit. The Emperor merely chuckled as others around you gasped and before you could even hear your fathers protests, you were on your feet.

Steven Harrington was shackled once more, the metal chains clinking around his hands and feet. And as he was led away back into the arches, the gears of gates making an awful protesting noise, his eyes found yours once more.

A burning gaze, too intense to look away from and you could’ve sworn on the gods, on the stars above, that something inside of you tugged sharply. Like the pull of a string, tied in a bow between your ribcage, urging you forward.

Telling you to go.

So you did.

You gathered your skirts in your hands and made your way to the exit of the box, too focused to hear your fathers objections until the guards at the doorway halted you with their spears. The wooden stalks crossed themselves over your chest and you froze, the string tied to your heart pulling tighter and tighter and tighter—

The Emperor was staring at you, with cold eyes and a smile that wasn’t really a smile. He spoke to your father, not you. “Where, my dear senator, is your lovely daughter running off to?” The king turned back to you, brows raised. “Doesn’t she know that more wine will be served soon? My cousin is looking forward to her company.”

Your father stared at you, a stricken expression on his aged face because everyone in the royal box could read between the lines of the Emperor.

You cleared your throat, eyes still trained on the sharp metal points of the spears that were very much in your face. “Forgive me, father - your highness - I was merely hoping to get some fresh air.”

“The sight of all that blood makes her rather delicate,” your father agreed and the crowd of councilmen, generals and their wives tittered in their jewels. “She isn’t one for conflict.”

The Emperor stared at the side of your face, something you could feel despite bowing your head in his presence. You stared at the floor and waited, heart racing.

The royal tsked. “What a pity,” he declared but he waved a hand, each finger heavy with golden rings, and his soldiers stepped aside. “Be back in time for the parade, child, you have company to entertain.”

The Emperor’s cousin leered at you, his wine glass empty, his lips stained ruby but none of it mattered right now, not when you were taking off once more, skirts dragging across the dust and sand, your chest heaving as you tried to navigate your way through the crowd that was already dispersing.

More guards, heavily armoured and with their swords drawn, were too preoccupied with a fight that had broken out between the arches, two lower class men arguing over a coin they found on the ground. Taking your chance, you moved with your head down, your face hidden as you slipped through a door that was normally carefully watched.

The heavy wood slammed shut behind you, the sunlight swallowed whole. Burning torches lit the narrow corridor, a maze of them leading you underneath the Colosseum. The hypogeum was almost damp as you tried to navigate its many walkways, a gasp leaving your throat as you took a wrong turn and ended up face to face with the iron bars that separated you from the animals.

A huge tiger growled at you, bloodied teeth bared in a snarl, the stench of raw meat and faeces hanging in the cool air. You backed away, eyes flickering from cage to cage, each one filled with another poor creature. Lions, bears, a rhinoceros and its offspring, and beyond them, an even larger cell holding prisoners. They all stared at you, men and animals alike, but nothing was spoken.

You backed away, unable to breath, turning on your heel and walking quickly enough to spot the familiar grey robes of the healers used after the battles. You followed, your steps light, and watched him enter a small room. Between the door opening and closing, you spotted the gladiator perched on a wooden table, his head bent low and his face hidden behind his damp hair.

You weren’t sure what possessed you, but before you barged into the room too, both men staring at you from the table where the healer held a ragged cloth to the gladiator’s shoulder.

“Miss, you have no need here,” the healer announced, his voice strict and cold. He narrowed his eyes as he gestured to the door. “This is no place for—”

“My father sent me.” It was a lie, of course. A bold and bare faced one at that. But you stood a little taller and lifted your chin, the emerald necklace at your throat shining in the low light that came from the small fireplace in the corner. “The senate has questions I’ve been asked to deliver. I shall not leave without the appropriate answers.”

On the mantle, beside bottles of acids and other medicinal vials, sat a small statue of the goddess Veratis. Her marble eyes seemed to judge you and your lies and you swallowed down the bitter taste it left on your tongue. But looking at the man - this stranger from Verona - the need to speak to him, to be alone with him, was overwhelming you to the point of senselessness.

The trouble you could be in if you were to be caught in your lie… or worse, down in the hypogeum. This was no place for a woman of your standing, never mind to be alone with a gladiator, both of you unspoken for. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat.

“If we may have some time alone?” You added with more authority than you should have held. “Unless you’d prefer that my father leave the Emperor’s side to ensure his orders are fulfilled?”

The healer sighed but placed down his tools. He flashed you a smile that was all crooked teeth, more bite than kindness, but he made his way to the door. “That won’t be necessary, My Lady,” he told you and he left, closing the wooden door behind him.

The silence was a deafening thing. The crackle of the fire was still there, the distant roar of some poor, wounded animal, but whatever was held between the two of you took on a life of its own. It seemed to suck the rest of the world into it until there was nothing left but you and this man. He was staring at you still, brown eyes wide and so familiar, looking as confused as you felt as you stared right back.

It felt too easy to take a step forward, but the warrior flinched. Your next was slower, softer, more cautious. Your hand found the rag that the healer had once held, what little water it had been soaked in was cold, the material harsh. It didn’t take you long to find a new cloth in one of the drawers of the apothecary table and you took your time to warm some fresh water over the hearth.

Honestly, you didn’t know too much about medicine, only the basics that your father’s head servant had taught you as a young child. You found the small bottle of alcohol with ease, plucking it from the shelf and adding it to the warm water before soaking the new rag.

You held it up in offering to the man, still far enough from you that his dirty hair hid most of his face. His tanned chest was streaked with sweat and dust, marred with old cuts and fresher wounds from Hargrove’s weapon, but for the most part, he seemed okay.

“Can I?”

The gladiator lifted his head then, his hair falling away from his cheeks and you took in a sharp breath at the sight of his face. He was handsome, painstakingly so, but over and above all else, he was someone you were sure you knew.

The man nodded, just once, lips pressed together and as you came closer, his nostrils flared and his large hands gripped the edge of the table. His eyes raced across your features, recognition coming to the surface and before he could ask the questions that were clawing at his throat, you lifted the cloth and pressed it to the cut on his shoulder.

He hissed, teeth bared and you frowned, hushing him softly, apologies murmured just as quiet. “I’m sorry,” you told him and gods, he knew you meant it. “I need the alcohol to soak the wound.”

Your heart stuttered when he let you, shoulders tight and back ramrod straight, but his eyes were on your face the entire time you worked. “You’re not a healer,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

His voice rung through you, a deep timber that was hoarse and scratchy, no doubt from refusing to speak since his capture. You hoped he’d been drinking enough water.

You shook your head as you pulled away, dipping the bloodied cloth back into the bucket. “No, I’m not,” you confirmed.

Another swipe at his skin had him jerking in response but the blood and dirt was finally clear of the cut. It would need stitches, you were almost sure of it, but your skills started and finished at the basics.

“Then why are you here?” The gladiator’s eyes were trained on your necklace, a sure fire way to recognise nobility and you were overcome with the urge to rip it from your throat. “Why did you follow me?” He spoke like he already knew the answer.

You were hesitant about it, but you couldn’t stop your hand from lifting to his neck, fingertips brushing two beauty marks on his skin. They felt electric under your touch and you were impossibly warmer now, despite the old cell lacking the heat from the summer above.

“I feel like I know you,” you whispered. Your voice cracked with an emotion you didn’t quite know the name of. “I feel like I’ve mourned you.”

The gladiator looked back at you from behind his damp hair, the long strands matted with his and his enemies blood. He didn’t look as concerned as he should have been at your strange words. In fact, he leaned into your touch, lashes fluttering at the sensation.

“What an odd thing to say to someone who hasn’t died,” he answered quietly. But his gaze roamed over your features and something about being so close to him felt cosmic, it felt like a catastrophe waiting to happen. “I think I’ve met you before,” the gladiator whispered. He sounded reverent now, his own hand shaking as he brought it to your face.

He cupped your jaw, your chin, his rough fingertips trailing over your soft skin and when his thumb dragged across your bottom lip, you gasped and pressed closer.

“I think I meet you when I sleep,” he said and he frowned at his own words, at how confusing he must’ve sounded. “Every night, when I close my eyes. You’re in a garden and then you’re in my arms.”

Flashes of a bed came to mind, white linen sheets and too much bare skin. A man’s chest, tanned and muscled from hard labour, your hands that roamed the expanse of his back. You remembered how he kissed you in your dreams, with a longing so intense it could waken the gods.

Like he had enough love for you that he could end the world.

You could only nod. His thumb was still pushed to your bottom lip, your mouth parted as if you were waiting and his stare was so intense you felt warmer than you had in the stadium above.

Who was this stranger?

And why did it feel like something inside of you was being stitched back together by the sheer sight of him? His touch felt healing, it felt like home. Like it was only made for you to feel. Like he was made only for you.

Above, something boomed. Loud enough to be heard underneath the hypogeum, over the roars of the unsettled animals. If you had been outside, you would’ve witnessed the blue sky turning grey, shades of moody lavender and navy, storm clouds rolling across Rome from seemingly nowhere.

Thunder rumbled, threatening noise, something that made you and the man move closer to each other, like you both knew you were in danger.

That you knew something bad was coming.

“I don’t understand,” you said, eyes blurring. You weren’t sure why you were crying but Steve didn’t seem to question it. He merely swiped away the tears that slipped down your cheeks. “You’re a stranger— we’ve never— we’ve never met.”

Despite your words, the gladiator moved closer, standing from his seat on the wooden table to lean his forehead against your own. Your eyes slipped closed, nose bumping his. He smelled like metal, like blood and dirt and sweat but underneath there was something like fire there, like molten iron, like lavender fields and fresh cotton. Like a daydream, like something you weren’t sure was real.

His bottom lip touched your top one, only just, only barely. A whisper of a kiss, a small insight of something that could’ve been, of something that maybe once was.

Thunder rolled again, louder than before, as if it was right above you both. Even over the din of the crowds above, you could hear the heavy patter of rain that was now flooding the colosseum, the stage soaked. Another warning, something you’d seen before in a dream just before it turned to a nightmare.

“I was meant to find you,” Steve murmured. He had your face cradled in his hands, an overwhelmingly gentle touch despite the dried blood under his fingernails. His voice grew in urgency then, like he knew something was coming. Someone. “I was meant to come here. I can feel it. I understand now.”

“Someone once told me you’d come back,” you suddenly remembered, your voice eager, your eyes wide at the memory. “I don’t know— was it you? From before? From—”

From another life, you wanted to say.

How ridiculous those words were, how silly, how stupid. But there wasn’t any other way to explain. Logic didn’t seem to exist when everything you felt from this touch of this stranger led you to believe that somehow, someway, you’d spend a lifetime together.

Like you were supposed to spend this one with him too. And it didn’t seem long enough, decades wouldn’t make up for the time you’d lost searching for him, for this stranger who only came to you in your sleep. But he was very real now, solid flesh and bone underneath your own hands, brown eyes that seemed warmer than the Italian summer.

You didn’t want to let him go.

“In here, my King,” a voice interrupted. The door was open and the healer had returned, a cold look on his already stern face. The Emperor was behind him, ruby robes collecting dirt from the old floor. Four soldiers flanked him. “I have every reason to believe the Lady sold me lies, Your Highness.”

It happened too quick. Too fast.

The Emperor studied you, Steve’s hands still on your face as you stood too close, ready to kiss, ready to fulfil something neither of you were sure of. It felt catalytic.

“Seize him,” was all the Emperor said, one lazy flick of his wrist sending all four guards at you both.

There was too much movement in the tiny room, bottles of medicinal wares clattering to the ground and smashing at your feet. The table groaned as Steve was shoved into it, his own reactions too slow from his injuries. He grunted and reached for you too late, his hand slipping from your own, fingers barely touching, as he was shoved at from either side.

One soldier shoved the butt of his sword into Steve’s wounded soldier, the other bringing his armoured knee into his bare stomach. The gladiator doubled over, a gasp leaving his chest before he fell to his knees on the stone floor.

“Stop this!” You yelled, urging forward, trying your best to throw yourself into the mix of it all but someone’s arms - another soldier - caught your round the middle. “Unhand him! Your Highness - please - he hasn’t done any wrong, please—”

The Emperor just looked at you blankly before he picked at the jewels around your neck. He tutted, as if it were a shame, a waste. You could hear the shackles being placed back on the man, the low groan he gave as the metal was tightened around his sore wrists.

“He won,” you whispered, your voice low and choked. You were ready to beg. “Please, he won. He doesn’t deserve this—”

“I don’t like anyone else playing with my toys,” the Emperor interrupted. He said it like he was discussing what to have for lunch. “And my dear cousin doesn’t like anyone playing with his.” He motioned to the guards once more. “Take her back to her seat, where you make sure she stays. This isn’t any place for a Lady,” he told you mournfully.

You didn’t get to see what happened to the gladiator as you were escorted out of the room. But you did hear his yells when the door slammed shut, the dull thuds of impact that you were sure were on his already bruised and broken body. You hadn’t even told him your name, or that you dreamt of him too. That during your worst night terrors, he was the one that saved you.

When you reached the imperial box once more, your skirts dirtied from the sand, your face tear stricken, you felt broken. Like you’d been snapped in half, like someone had found that wound Steve had stitched up and pulled it apart again the seams. Like someone had ripped something important from you, half of your heart, perhaps.

You didn’t even notice that it had stopped raining. The skies were blue once more, the sun shining, the only evidence of the sudden storm were the drops of rain that had soaked into the pillow on your chair.

Steve was gone and the thunder was too.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington oneshot

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allwaswell16 · 8 months

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All the One Direction fics I read and enjoyed in August 2023. You can listen to my podcast to hear me talk about each of these fics as well as an overview of what was posted on ao3 including the fics on this month’s fic roundup which you can find here! Please let the writers know if you liked the fics by leaving kudos and comments! Happy reading!

Fanfictional Podcast #53 | ko-fi | fic recs

—Louis/Harry—

🌴 De amore ex tempore by @persephoneflouwers

(M, 101k, historical) the Middle Ages AU where Harry is a philosopher, whose thoughts happen five centuries too soon and Louis is a painter, whose art happens five centuries too late. & Or: the Time Travel AU where alternate versions of themselves live simultaneously in different realities and their paths collide every time, until somehow, they converge into one.

🌴 Gemma's Dad (Could Use A Guy Like Me) by @lululawrence

(NR, 82k, age difference) Louis wasn't planning on getting home and learning that Gemma's dad had gotten the house in the divorce and was dealing with things by focusing on work, the house, and his newly planted garden. It becomes obvious early on that Harry is a bit lost and Gemma is worried about him. To help both of them, Louis is more than happy to help Harry find himself again.

🌴 We Don't Need No Piece of Paper (From the City Clerk) by @2tiedships2

(M, 26k, a/b/o) In a matter of months, he would be bonded to an alpha his dad had chosen for him. Someone that Harry knew nothing about. Not even his name.

🌴 you give me feelings that i adore by @alwaysxlarrie

(T, 7k, a/b/o) 5 times Louis scents Harry's things and the 1 time Harry returns the gesture.

🌴 A Social Construct by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf

(E, 7k, established relationship) Five times Harry and Louis try to lose their virginity and one time they finally do. Part 4 of Swallow My Words

🌴 Rode Hard and Put Away Wet by @kingsofeverything

(E, 6k, Texas) Louis heard the same rumours in London, New York, and L.A., and he put them all to rest, but in Texas? Series Part 7 of Tiny Penis Fics

🌴 Trying to Find the Words (To Say For Ages) by @insightfulinsomniac

(E, 6k, uni au) As best friends and roommates, it’s really not a big deal when their on-campus housing provides Harry and Louis with an unusual, intimate bathroom arrangement.

🌴 Come All Ye by @justanothershadeofblue

(E, 6k, historical) It's the summer of 1971, and Louis just wants to get out of town for a minute or a day. When his buddy Zayn says they should head down south and check out this radical new music festival, Louis is only too happy to agree.

🌴 Every Bit of Mine by skipper / @skipperxao3

(M, 3k, dark) Harry is an enigma. Louis still loves him.

🌴 every night with us (is like a dream) by moon_rose25 / @darkinfinity

(T, 2k, famous/not famous) A look into the life of a professional football player dating a physical therapist.

🌴 Everything Is Batter With You by red_panda28 / @red-pandaaa

(T, 2k, established relationship) Harry comes across a fun baking TikTok and convinces Louis to do it

🌴 No (Birth) Control by @haztobegood

(E, 2k, a/b/o) An unfortunate situation left Harry without contraceptives a day before his heat.

🌴 in my head we can love forever by @beardyboyzx

(E, 1k, girl direction) Harry might be a bit in love with her roommate.

🌴 Nights Like These, We'll Remember by @fallingdefenceless

(T, 1k, meet cute) Louis and Harry meet at a summer music festival and sparks fly.

—Rare Pairs—

🌴 The Light Out In The Madness (Hold Tight) by @lalalaartje

(E, 46k, Niall/Louis) When Louis ends up with Niall as a roommate after a messy break up with Harry, he considers it truly life saving. They become fast friends and while Louis is sceptical about Niall's idea to start fake dating to take revenge on Harry, it can't be that bad, can it?

🌴 Ask Him by LinksLipsSinkShips / @fxckingprincesspark

(T, 2k, Niall/Lewis Capaldi) When Lewis Capaldi gets pressed for information on who he's dating, he admits it... he's been seeing Niall Horan. The only problem? He jokes so much that no one believes him.

#28th appreciation #ficrec #1dficvillage #trackinghappily #trackinghome #tracksintheam #hltracks #1dsource

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iphoenixrising · 10 months

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Masterlist 3

Tim-centric con't

Red Robin tweaks: BatDad & Boomerang | Fallen (What if Dick didn't catch Tim | Kon catches Tim

Tim Drake Week: Day 2: Sick Bird| Day 6 (Firefly fusion) | Day 7 (Injury/Healing)

Whirlybird!!!! BABE MADE ME A WHIRLYBIRD & HC

Kid!Tim: De-Aged!Tim: Not trusting the BatFam ... but the Titans | Kid!Tim works (Different ways Tim joins the Bats earlier):Tiny!Tim au on Ao3 | Kid!Tim is discovered by Robin!Jason & Window Seat & Tiny!Tim au: The Fever & Tiny!Tim and the Secret (for 500 Followers!) & Tiny!Tim and The Wrong Bus | Tiny!Tim and Tiny!Peter ask | Home for Tiny Birds (Convergence w/ NHFDB!Tim): One & Two | Jason's Death (HCs): One & Two & Three

Converging the AUs:

"Feels" by iphoenixrising , a graphic by Miss Coco Chips | Convergence

Home for Tiny Birds: NHFDB!Tim visits Tiny!Tim

Fracture!Tim meets Talon!Tim & Dr!Tim | Sated (NSFW HC)

Fracture: the Multiverse & Future!AU

Boy All the Bad Guys Want:

Pamphlets: One (based on this ) & Two

Joker Junior: One & Two

Jean Paul One & Two

Talon!AU: in which Tim is a Talon & RR without Tim & Mindfuckery & Titans on the Hunt | Gray Son must Die (in which babe wrote most of the thing) & Functionally Immortal & Brainwashed, Hurting, Dissociating, Angry, and Lost & the Assassin & the Talon | Refuge w/ Shiva & A Killer | Rebuilt & vs Fracture!Tim

Dr!Tim (DickTimJay; in which Tim is a trauma surgeon and DickJay are vigilantes)

Meta: on AO3 | Art in which I cry with joy | How it all Began (light NSFW) | Follow-Up

The Submissive & Safeword (HC) & Safewords Out & Sub-Drop | Not Safewording Ask | Annnd Consequences

London Bridge: is Falling & (Missing Scene) & Afterward w/ guest star, Tony Stark!

That whole thing at Arkham Dr!Tim and Arkham Riots: One & Two | Arkham Breakout | But, that's not all Dr!Tim and Fear

Tony Stark in Dr!Tim: The Surgeon, The Captain, and the Soldier (for 600 followers!) | SteveTonyBucky (for 700 followers!)

BatFam Prompts, Drabbles, & Thoughts

Interest (see also "DickTimJay: Destroyed")

SuperBats

Fic Recs: Funeral & Dr Oz by awkwardbluefish Calling It by reallyautomaticvoid

Damian

Headcanons: on Tim & Shiva | Characterization | as a Boyfriend and NSFW specifically w/ Jason and also with Dick

Dami and ...: Dick & Tim at the Arcade | Tim & Don't panic, but we accidentally got marries | Comfort | Robin's Redemption (for 400 followers!)

Fic Rec: DamiTim by hauntedlittledoll

DamiTim Nurse Tim! Robin!Dami WIP on Ao3 | Concept | Alph!Dami/Alph!Jon/Omega!Tim: The original ask| Tim & Dami

Night Sky

Jason

Jason Todd's mouth & Languages (HC) | Jason's Accent & its inspiration

v. the Pit and then I saw Counting Bodies like Sheep

Misc: Jason, the Outlaws, and the Joker | Crochet | RHatO #25!UA | Silence (tw warning: major character death) | Bottom Jason Todd Week: Daddy Kink, Rare pair Jay/Thomas Elli Heavy in your Arms: One & Two (Angst; Based off the song with the same title by Florence + the Machine)

Marvel

Misc

Miraculous Ladybug Play | The Way to His Heart

Check Please!Check Please WIP | WIP 2

Voltron: all because of satire-please Team Dynamics | Left Behind | Waking | You, Not the Lion

#masterlist #masterlist 3 #winter writes #we have some fics here

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ao719 · 10 months

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…Sometimes Not (Part 3)

Maybe It’s Supposed To Be This Way

This is a submission for @choicesflashfics, using prompt #3, “How long have you been standing there?”

Song inspo: Wish You The Best - Lewis Capaldi

A/N: This is an au mini series to my Always You story. Thank you @burnsoslow for prereading and helping me work out a few sections! Please excuse any errors.

Book/Pairing: TRR; Liam x OC (Reyna)

Rating: T • Warnings: None but some language.

Word count: 2500

Catch up here

With his eyes closed and head tipped back, Liam stood beneath the spray of the shower, letting the hot water relax his muscles and wash away the sweat from his early morning run. It was Saturday, and after a week full of non-stop meetings and appearances, he was looking forward to a day off.

After finishing in the shower, Liam stepped out and grabbed the towel from the hook, wrapping it around his waist as he moved to the sink. He swiped his hand down the mirror, wiping away the condensation, and met his blue-eyed reflection.

Liam barely recognized himself; he hadn’t in a long time. And he didn’t need to ask himself what — or rather who — was missing in his life to have altered him so much.

After getting dressed, Liam padded down the hall from his bedroom to the kitchen; when he rounded the corner, he smiled. “Good morning.”

Riley turned, slipping her phone into her pocket. “Morning,” she smiled. Liam kissed her cheek before moving to the coffee pot. “How was your run?”

“Good,” Liam nodded, turning to her a moment later. “Want to join me for breakfast?”

“Oh, uh … I already ate,” Riley smiled ruefully. “I’m about to head up to Somerset, so I just grabbed something small.”

Somerset was the duchy bequeathed to Riley upon their engagement; she seemed to enjoy herself there, spending a lot of her free time at the estate. “Oh, well … I don’t have anything going on this weekend,” Liam said. “Maybe I’ll join you.”

“No,” Riley said a bit too quickly, and he furrowed his brows. She chuckled and let out a breath. “I mean, I’m about to leave now, and you’ll probably be bored out of your mind. I’ve got a silly flower festival to attend most of the day that the locals are putting on, so …”

“Oh … ok,” Liam nodded.

Hearing the hint of disappointment in his tone, Riley stepped up to him. “I’ll be back tomorrow. How about we do something then?”

“Yeah,” Liam forced a smile. “Sure.”

Riley perched on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his in a lingering kiss, careful not to jostle the coffee in his hand. She drew back with a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Liam watched her walk away; when he heard the door to their quarters latch shut, he let out a breath.

Throughout their first year and a half of marriage, things with Riley hadn’t exactly progressed to where Liam initially hoped they might — hoped because it would make things so much easier. He knew of Riley’s feelings towards him because she told him, and he tried using that knowledge to make himself feel the same. He was trying to build something out of scraps because that’s what his guilt told him he needed to do. They shared moments from kisses to even being intimate, moments every normal married couple had, and they were moments where he thought perhaps there was some spark beginning to ignite, but he hadn’t quite figured out if it was because he was truly feeling something or if it was just pity and remorse.

Liam may not have loved her, but Riley had generously offered to be his wife when he seemed to be out of options. Because of that, he couldn’t get past the guilt, feeling that she deserved so much more than what he was giving. So eventually, he started making more of an effort to build their relationship into something better for her. He tried spending more time with her, just the two of them, hoping that would help them to fall into a place to elevate their marriage. The more he tried, however, the more difficult it seemed; it felt like most of the time, his attempts were met with excuses, much like that morning. Riley claimed to be busy or would express needing some time to herself to decompress after a long week. He wasn’t one to press, so he gave her whatever space she wanted. And he tried telling himself that his disappointment was because he wanted to try to build something with his wife … and not because he was lonely … and missing someone else.

Liam walked out onto the terrace of his quarters; on the table sat a tray of breakfast breads and various fruits along with two papers. He lowered himself into the chair and set his coffee down as he lifted The Cordonian Herald and grabbed the paper underneath. He unfolded The New York Times, scanning over the front page; he started reading it years ago after helping Gideon with one of their famed crossword puzzles during a trip to New York with his father. He’d had a subscription ever since, and because of the time it took to ship across the ocean, he always read the Sunday edition from the previous week every Saturday morning. Sure, he could read and do the crossword online, but he liked having the physical copy in hand, so he didn’t mind being a week behind.

As he spread some apple butter onto a morning roll, Liam casually flipped through the pages. He took a bite of his bread before swallowing it down with a sip of coffee as he flipped to another page; as he set his mug down, a photo in the paper caught his immediate attention, and he swore he felt his heart stop.

There, in the Sunday Styles section, at the center of other wedding and engagement announcements was an article detailing the coming together of two of New York’s finest families.

And above the article was a photograph of Reyna … and her fiancé.

It had been almost two years since Liam last saw or spoke to Reyna; one year and 10 months to be exact. Every day, week, month, and year that passed without her seemed to chip away at him, taking a piece of him with it. He missed her more than he knew how to even put into words. He missed her smile and laugh, their late-night phone calls and video chats, their inside jokes and playful banter.

Everything. Liam missed everything about her — about them.

Liam tried not to think about Reyna, but despite his best efforts, most of the time his attempts were futile. He’d gotten a little better about being able to shove those thoughts away quicker over time, but a piece of her always seemed to linger there. He chalked it off to not knowing anything about her anymore, about how she was, about her life. He knew nothing.

Liam had gotten updates about Reyna from Gideon from time to time after learning about her spiral when she returned to New York after Leo’s botched coronation. He’d been so worried about her during that time, he needed those updates for his own sanity, to know she was safe and taking care of herself. They stopped about a month before his wedding, however, once he knew she was doing ok. He couldn’t bring himself to ask for updates on the life she was living without him. It was too hard. He convinced himself that not knowing was for the best.

This update Liam stumbled upon by complete accident, and at that moment he wished he hadn’t. Reyna was engaged. Engaged. And he felt like he couldn’t breathe, losing the ability to read the fine print through his blurred vision. To her boss, he incredulously thought to himself as he aggressively blinked back the tears forming. He only knew who Luca Moretti was from Gideon when he told him about her job back when she first got it, that she would be working for the son of their family friend slash lawyer. He had no idea that they … they were a thing. More than a thing, it would seem.

Reyna was engaged.

Despite knowing he had absolutely no right to feel any kind of way about it, Liam swore he could physically feel the remnants of his heart shatter as he stared at the photograph above the announcement. He focused his eyes on her as he chewed the inside of his cheek, unable to stop his tears from falling.

Reyna was engaged, and she looked … happy. She moved on.

And he needed to do the same.

Wiping his cheeks, Liam blew out a breath before closing the paper and tossing it aside. He had no choice but to let Reyna go for good. They were over; there was nothing left for them. And maybe this was what he needed to truly put things into focus, to put all of himself into building the life with Riley he’d been trying and failing to.

Standing from the table, Liam walked inside and pulled his phone from his pocket. “Bastien … I need a car prepared to take me to Somerset.”

Despite Riley’s protest earlier, maybe this is what she needed from him; maybe she needed him to show up for her on his own, to fight to spend time with her. Maybe it was extra effort she wanted and needed, something he’d not realized until now.

****

A while later, Liam stood on the balcony of the master suite in the Somerset estate. When he arrived, he was surprised that Riley hadn’t yet, but he thought perhaps she went straight to the festival first.

Liam was taking in the view of the gardens below when he heard the bedroom door open; he turned toward the set of double doors leading back inside, but instead of surprising Riley, it was he who got the surprise.

Stumbling into the master suite, locked in a heated kiss with their hands all over each other was Riley … and Drake.

Liam stood stunned, unable to say a word as he watched his wife and best friend — his wife, who was supposed to be here alone, and his best friend, who had told him he would be out of town that weekend.

It was clear from watching them that this wasn’t a first-time occurrence. And suddenly, all of Riley’s excuses came flooding back as Liam’s hands fisted at his sides in mute rage. He’d been so blinded by guilt, he hadn’t even seen the obvious signs.

Drake drew back from her lips with a grin and reached for the hem of her shirt, but stopped short when something caught his attention. He lifted his gaze and his eyes widened when they locked on Liam standing in the balcony doorway.

Riley tried to kiss Drake again, but he stepped back. “Stop teasing me,” she giggled. When he didn’t react, she furrowed her brows before turning to see what he was looking at; her complexion paled when she saw her husband.

“Li, what … how long have you been standing there?” Drake asked.

Liam’s eyes narrowed. “You come in here kissing my wife, and all you can think of to say is to ask how fucking long I’ve been standing here?”

Riley shook her head. “Liam, it’s not—”

“Do not insult my intelligence by trying to lie to my fucking face after you’ve been caught,” Liam interrupted, his voice cold.

Drake swallowed thickly when Liam’s steely gaze cut back to him. “Li, I—”

“How long?”

“Listen—”

“HOW LONG?” Liam roared, his anger rising as Drake tried to deflect the inevitable conversation. Drake mumbled something under his breath as he dropped his gaze. “Speak up,” he growled as he stepped closer.

“Since … the Social Season,” Drake answered more clearly.

Noticing the way Liam’s expression twisted with fury at Drake’s response, Riley stepped toward him. “Liam, please,” she pleaded. “I know what you’re thinking, but—”

Liam recoiled away. “I’m thinking that I had hoped we could eventually build a real marriage because you made me think you actually fucking cared! And you,” he spat as he looked at Drake. “You were my fucking brother!”

In a brief moment of clarity, Liam realized that this — his anger and reaction — stemmed from the person he cared about, missed, and loved more than anything and anyone else not being in his life … and having moved on from him.

Suddenly, everything he’d been shoving down and trying to bury for the last two years erupted to the surface along with the emotions he was still reeling in from that morning and now this new layer of betrayal. He never saw any of it coming; he could never have imagined what his life would turn into.

And now Liam was left with nothing to show for what he sacrificed and gave up except heartache, disloyalty, and loss.

It all mingled, creating a storm inside.

In the next moment, one of blind rage, Liam surged forward; his fist came across Drake’s jaw with an audible crack, sending him to the floor as Riley yelped in surprise.

*******

Sitting in his study, Liam stared out the window, watching the rain fall outside. It had been four months since that day in Somerset. More had come to light and a lot had happened because of it.

Liam spoke to Drake the day after the confrontation when he came to see him at the palace, wanting to try to clear the air; he didn’t want to talk to him, but he had questions he needed answers to. He learned that Riley had manipulated everything from the very beginning, telling Drake one thing and him another, using them both.

Despite Riley being the master puppeteer, however, Drake was no mere marionette.

Liam also learned that Drake was under the impression that Riley had plans to “handle their situation.” They were plans that would have publicly humiliated Liam. While they never came to pass, which all seemed to be a part of her scheme, Drake sat idly by, with no intention of telling Liam the truth.

Liam felt deceived by both Riley and Drake, but that betrayal from Drake hurt the most.

Drake knew everything Liam had gone through over the last couple of years. He’d been there to listen to him vent, watched him break down when he felt like his world was falling apart, and he knew of the guilt he’d felt for not giving Riley what he thought she deserved.

Despite all of that, rather than having Liam’s back like he said he did and always would, Drake had spent the last two years hurling knives into it instead.

A knock on his door pulled Liam’s attention, and he cleared his throat before calling for them to enter. Rashad stepped inside a moment later. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”

Liam offered a subtle smile. “Not at all.”

“I wanted to give you this …” Rashad set down a packet of papers in front of him. “It’s done.”

“Thank you,” Liam replied as he stared down at the documents.

The divorce was finalized.

At first, Liam had been so shell-shocked, he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do or how to move forward. Riley came to see him that night after the confrontation; she cried, said she was sorry, and begged him to forgive her. He asked her to leave, and a few days later, he came to a decision, one that, for the first time, was best for him.

Liam spoke to his father, council, and advisors so they knew of his plan beforehand. By the end of the following day, he’d filed for divorce and released a public statement in order to stay ahead of it.

Liam didn’t speak to Riley throughout the proceedings, communicating only through lawyers; she’d been staying in a hotel but left to go back to New York two months ago. He hadn’t spoken to Drake since the day he came to see him, but last he heard, he was in Texas … alone.

Now, Liam was a free man, no longer tied into a marriage that never should have happened to begin with. And he found himself right back where he’d always been, with Reyna heavy on his mind and heart. The only difference was that no guilt accompanied his musings now. He’d thought about reaching out, but after all the time that had passed, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

The only thing Liam could do was hope that Reyna was happy while he loved her from afar and cherished their past … because distance and memories were all he had left.

***************************************

Perma Tags (if you’d like to be added or removed for this story, please let me know): @zaffrenotes @cocomaxley @emichelle @sweetest-marbear @indiacater @gibbles82 @the-soot-sprite @esmckenzie @dcbbw @burnsoslow @deb-1106 @bbrandy2002 @txemrn @charlotteg234 @kat-tia801 @neotericthemis @foreverethereal123 @choiceskatie @sirbeepsalot @gnatbrain @openheart12 @sincerelyella @superharriet @queenrileyrose @aestheticartsx @kingliam2019 @indiana-jr @bascmve01 @rainbowsinthestorm @emkay512 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @forallthatitsworth @walker7519 @iaminlovewithtrr @amandablink @mainstreetreader @mom2000aggie @princessleac1 @21-wishes @appleone @tessa-liam @pixelatedpassion @malblk21 @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @lovingchoices14 @nestledonthaveone @forthebrokenheartedthings @nomadics-stuff @differenttyphoonwerewolf

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phoebepheebsphibs · 23 days

Note

Are there any songs you listen to that make you think of Until I Found You?

I WAS ACTUALLY KINDA HOPING SOMEONE WAS GONNA ASK ME THIS HEHEHEHEHE

I know several songs that remind me of specific characters!

When I hear the song "The Mind Electric" by Chonny Jash, I hear it as a Draxum monologue. THE MUSIC SOUNDS JUST LIKE HIM, and the lyrics fit too! IT'S PERFECT FOR HIM.

I was listening to "My Grand Plan" from the Lightning Thief musical, and it sounds like Leo's anthem to me now lol

And everytime I sing the song "You Are My Sunshine" I think of Mikey.

(I just went on Spotify to try and find songs that sound like Donnie and Raph to me. The closest I could get for the moment is "The Pretender" by Lewis Capaldi for Raph. As for Donnie, a lot of the time when I hear instrumentals, soundtrack, or orchestral music it sounds like him.)

Oh yeah and there is one song that makes me think of the AU as a whole! Not sure why, since the song has nothing to do with what the story is about, but I love the vibe from the music and tune (especially from the piano version) and I listened to it a lot when I was working on the plot and writing it.

The song is "Until I Found You" by Stephen Sanchez.

It's where I got the name for the fic!

#rottmnt #tutant meenage neetle teetles #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt leo #rottmnt draxum #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt raph #rottmnt until i found you #until i found you au #until i found you #music #music taste #songs #musical

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bangeraang · 3 months

Text

Peter being fancasted as Lewis Capaldi is my Roman Empire, and that’s why he should be the vocalist for Marauders band au’s

I’ll die on this hill

#peter pettigrew #band au #marauders band au #the marauders #marauders fandom #james potter #sirius black #wolfstar

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sebbianas · 7 months

Note

seb will you pleeeease give the names of your typecast for the jegulus famous ex au specifically the marauders for personal reasons! also sorry if you’ve already answered this before )-: i can’t help that i’m desperate..

fancast

james - reiky

remus - matt hitt

sirius - louis seriot

peter - lewis capaldi

pandora - elle fanning

dorcas - lovie simone

barty - maxence danet fauvel

reg - timothee

evan - kit connor

lily - annalise basso

mary - sophia bryant

marlene - sophie tatcher

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finn-m-corvex · 6 months

Text

Masterpost!

Brand new and shiny masterpost! Let's see what I can do!

Ao3 Fics

Would You Like To Enter Prime Empire? - My rewrite of Prime Empire! Words: 53k Chapters: 4/16

Survivors - Jay and Lloyd bonding over survivor's guilt Words: 17k Chapters: 3/3

Blue Goes Boom - Rewrite of the later parts of S4 if Jay had actually gotten injured when the mech blew up Words: 14.1k Chapters: 2/?

Even the Earth Trembles - Cole angst involving touch starvation after DotD! Words: 6.7k Chapters: 1/2

Hugs When You're Blue - Collection of smaller things involving Jay getting hugs from the others! Written for @/sharksandjays based on his incredible artwork here! Words: 6.7k Chapters: 1/1

Tumblr Fics / Snippets

Sounding Sea - Jay angst revolving around Edgar Allan Poe's poem Annabelle Lee! Very proud of this one! Words: 1.8k

Someone You Loved - songfic with Someone You Loved by Lewis Capaldi and Jaya mixed together. Has the MondotheBombo seal of approval! Words: 2k

Shopping for Wires - Snippet from Ch3 of my rewrite! Probably won't understand unless you've read it. Written as a request for @/juniperjellyfish! Words: 1.4k

Lightning in a Cubicle - My take on what happened to Jay after the Merge in Dragons Rising (very much an AU) Words: 6k Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Aftershocks - 5+1 series involving Jay and his sensory issues! Words: 3.7k Cole | Nya | Kai | Zane | Lloyd | Jay

Falling Sleeves - Cole fluff and angst over MotO! Words: 4.3k

Headcanons

The hoodie headcanons used to be here but I'm going to redo them so soon to come!

Moodboards

Would You Like To Enter Prime Empire? - here!

Chapter 4 - First Contact Beta Jay-137 | Dee-Jay 081 | Talon - 066

Chapter 5 - Forest of Secrets The Father

Challenges

Jaya Week 2023 - Days 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 Words: 17.6k Find the full version on ao3 here!

Whumptober 2023 - Days 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 Words: 68.5k Find the whole version on ao3 here!

Memes

Office Jay memes!

WYTYAA memes! Made for @/mondothebombo

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PLEASE let me know if I'm missing something super important. I know there were a couple things here and there (esp art-wise) that I'm missing but I either don't have it or I'm going to rework it. This should be all of the fics though!

#finn...themself?#finn's writing #finn makes memes #finn' makes art #masterpost tag

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ya-boi-haru · 4 months

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Bored so I'm going to explain some of the songs I added to my Fable playlist, cause thinking of songs for playlist go brrr:

• Meant To Be Yours - (Heather's musical): Corrupted Caspian vibes

• Kiss Your Dreams Goodbye - Derivakat: Enderien vibes

• Saints - Echo's: Trying to decipher which God to believe about the war

• Viper - Derivakat: Season 2, Sculk arc coded

• Nightmare - Derivakat: Villain/Snapped Rae coded

• Daddy Issues - The Neighbourhood: 👀

• Gasoline - Halsey: Rae or Seven (theory)

• Don't make me - MALINDA: Enderien

• Freaks - Jordan Clarke: Lodestone Grove family

• Boyfriend- Dove Cameron: Enderien + Isla

• Treat You Better - Shawn Mendes: Enderien + Isla

• Achilles Come Down - Gang of Youths: Centross (Stuck in the End arc, specifically)

• As The World Caves In - Sara Cothran: Resets

• Burned - Grace VanderWaal: Rae, Icarus, Ulysses

• Someone You Loved - Lewis Capaldi: Ghae (Early S2 - Pre-Memory return)

• Dollhouse - Melanie Martinez: Morningstar family

• Just a Man - Epic Musical: Fable

• Look What You Made Me Do - Taylor Swift: Gods at war/Revenge

• God Must Hate Me - Catie Turner: How Rae sees himself vs

• Just The Way You Are - Bruno Marz: How his boyfriends see him

• She - Dodie: Enderien + Isla

• What Was I Made For - Billie Eilish: Isla

• The Hammers Coming Down - Nickleback: Resets

• Satalite - Nickleback: For the couples having their soft moments

• The Grudge - Olivia Rodrigo: Icarus + Quixis

• Killer In The Mirror - Set it off: Icarus

• Assassin - Au/Ra: Icarus & Ulysses

• Devil In Me - Halsey: Athena

• Naked - James Arthur: Wolftross or OciexCentross

• Blue - Derivakat: Athena and their cats vibes

• Would You Be So Kind - Dodie: Any of those sweet little gays trying to confess

• Memento Mori: the most important thing in the world - Will Wood: Centross (Rae, theory)

• Zydrate Anatomy - Repo! The Generic Opea: All the lil science nerds (Rae, Icarus, Ulysses, Aax)

• Banana Pancakes - Jack Johnson: For the times they tried to claim back their blissful/calm moments

• Rockabye - Clean Bandit: Isla

• Livin la Vida Loca - Ricky Martin: Souly because when I asked where c!Hayley was Connor said "she's living la Vida loca"

• Love Like You - Caleb Hyles: Centross

• I Found - Amber Run: Centross

• I'll Sleep When I'm Dead & Nightmare - Set it Off: Rae

• Safe and Sound - Taylor Swift: Isla with Icarus and Rae or Alerion & Vivian with Will

• The Quiet - Troy's Sivan: Caspian while Rae was gone (S2)

The others are vibes checks or suit 3 different things (or are obvious lol)

#did this while waiting for hair dye lol #fable smp #fable smp songs #fable smp headcanon

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1dpridefest · 10 months

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We want to extend a massive thank you to everyone who participated in the first ever edition of the 1D Pride Fest! Whether you submitted a prompt, wrote a fic, created some art, or reblogged everyone’s works, this fest would not have been the same without you, and we thank you all for helping us celebrate Pride Month together!

Links to all of the fics and artworks that were submitted as part of the fest can be found below. Don’t forget to show our authors and artists some love by leaving kudos, commenting, and reblogging their lovely contributions!

We hope you all had a happy Pride Month!

🏳️‍🌈✨🏳️‍⚧️

Artworks

🏳️‍🌈 Collaboration between @wendersfive & @broken-beak-flower-feast

🏳️‍⚧️ just get there your own way by @nouisforlife

🏳️‍🌈 Drawing by @harryshandbag

Fics

🏳️‍⚧️ Hold Me Tight (Or Don’t) by @hellolovers13

Falling in love with Louis is easy enough.

Separating Louis from the singer persona Harry has been a fan of for years, however, is not.

But she's not the only one making assumptions.

🏳️‍🌈 The Magnificent Ms. Malik: A Brand New Era Starts Here by @fifthnormani

In 2013, 1D records the Best Song Ever music video and Zayn feels different after he puts on his Veronica outfit. He doesn't know what to do with these feelings or what they mean; luckily Niall is there to help and gives Zayn a new word that opens up a world of previously unimagined possibilities.

Ten years later, in 2023, she calls Niall up again to tell him her new name.

🏳️‍⚧️ Ask Him by @fxckingprincesspark

When Lewis Capaldi gets pressed for information on who he's dating, he admits it... he's been seeing Niall Horan. The only problem? He jokes so much that no one believes him.

🏳️‍🌈 Inner Crisis by @neondiamond

Louis calls an LGBTQ+ crisis hotline after coming out as asexual to his friends and family doesn’t quite go as well as he’d hoped. Harry answers his call.

🏳️‍⚧️ you made my heart stop by @itsnothesameasitwas

Don’t you ever feel like your life has been perfectly composed until one day it wasn’t, that everything seemed more than fine but it was not, because sometimes as simple as it might sound or look, it could change your life?

OR a Heartstopper AU, but in HarryandLouis Universe.

🏳️‍🌈 somewhere in between and not at all by @greeneyesfriedrice with art by @alphalouis

He’s always known that he’s some sort of queer. There’s no doubt about it. When he was younger, he loved the feeling of his sister’s pantyhose on his legs, and loved to play dress up whenever he could. But it never went any further than that, and as he got older, he hid that part from himself. There were more homophobes than not in his school, and he couldn’t risk anything getting out.

While he was hoping that he would become more involved in the gay scene, he wasn’t expecting it to happen so immediately. He’s barely been in NYC for two days, and he’s now surrounded by all different types of men and…others? God, he isn’t even sure what to call them. He really doesn’t know much.

(or, Harry is new to NYC and discovers something about himself, and Louis is there for him. Always.)

🏳️‍⚧️ Paint A Rainbow Inside My Heart by @cyantific

A story about hiding in plain sight and the journey to revealing your truth, told in six acts.

Or, the five times Harry queer coded with actions, behaviors or clothing and the one time he was too proud to hide anymore.

A 5+1 fic.

1D Pride Fest Collection on AO3

#1d pride fest #final round-up #1d pride fest masterpost #pride fest fic and art masterpost #thank you to all the creators!#happy pride! 🏳️‍🌈

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nburkhardt · 1 year

Text

He’s drunk when he posts the video, just hits post and immediately drops his phone on his bed before dropping himself into a dreamless sleep.

TheFallenKing

I’m going under and this time, I’m afraid there’s no one to save me.

🎵 original sound - TheFallenKing

The video is black and white footage from within someone’s car in the rain. No one is in view, the only sound at first is just the rain hitting the windows before music starts flowing in and a heartbreaking voice breaks through. The video itself doesn’t change, only the voice slows and there’s a crack in a haunting way. It ends with the lyrics being sang ‘I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved’

While he’s asleep the video blows up and the sound itself blows up even more, by morning there’s at least 1000 other videos that link back to the original. There’s a total of 300.1k likes and endless comments.

It’s haunting, especially when there’s no other videos under the handle.

~~~~~~

Sooo this is a modern au, I thought of from the song ‘Someone You Loved’ by Lewis Capaldi. It’s set post-break up with no reunion planned (so far, I was thinking full angst with this lol) I have a little bit more written out but I think maybe I’ll post little bits instead of full chapters. Now that I put this on here with the picture, I kinda like this format.

Let me know what you think, if you have suggestions for songs and other things! I actually have a playlist on my Apple Music already for this that I’m willing to add more songs too! Special shout out to @i-less-than-three-you for listening to me talk/ramble a bit about this 💞

#steddie au #steddie #steve harrington #angst #steve harrington needs a hug #Steve x Eddie #modern au #steddie breakup #unfortunately #stranger things fic #if you listen to the song it screams Steve 🥲#this would also give me a chance to post smaller things at a time #nburkhardt writes

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