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harbours-lighthouse-recs · 14 days ago

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oh this is absolutely adorable and heartbreaking at the same time :,)

𖦹 i want somebody to want 𖦹

pair: jason todd x gn!reader

plot: When you turn 21, the name of your soulmate appears on your forearm. Not everyone is born with a soulmate, and Jason Todd never thought he would have one.

wc: 2k

authors note: I remember reading in a fic somewhere about the Wayne Scholarship, and I forgot who/where I read it exactly, so credit to them whoever they are. Also, some characters may seem a little ooc and tbh I don't really care. I had fun writing this which is all that matters, and I hope you have fun reading it!

The place Dick had dragged Jason to wasn’t all that bad, considering it was located in Blüdhaven. Unless it was near the University area, there was always something sinister and more corrupt happening under the alcohol, vomit, and blood-stained floors of Gotham bars. Normally no amount of bribery or guilting could make him voluntarily dress up and go out drinking with his older brother, but today was not normal.

It was his twenty-first birthday.

Meaning that by 11:59 tonight, if a name didn’t appear somewhere on one of his arms, he was destined to be alone. Not everyone is born with a soulmate, and realistically, after all the shit he’s been through, Jason Todd never thought he would have one. Despite that, there was some sort of dread slowly filling his body the more he thought about it. Maybe it was that small flame of the little boy he used to be—before Robin and the Bat and the Joker—igniting at the chance of finally having one. It was the same boy who would trace his parents’ names on their wrist, asking them to tell him once more how they met, what they felt seeing the names appear on their skin. Unfortunately, that little boy would be let down yet again by the end of the night.

His plans had originally been to stay in his main apartment (the one where he stored all his books and indulged in a comfy couch), buy a 6-pack of the cheapest beer and get drunk alone. That was ruined, however, when he received multiple annoying texts from Dick, begging to go out for drinks tonight, specifying multiple times that it would be on him. Jason told himself the only reason he agreed was for the free drinks and to keep himself from checking his forearm every five goddamn seconds (a night out with Richard Grayson was known to be entertaining and unpredictable).

If it was Dicks plan to get Jason blackout drunk, he was doing a pretty good job of it. After agreeing he would be the designated driver, Dick had laid back on the drinks and only taken 3 of the five rounds of shots they had already ordered. Jason was opening up bit by bit, reminiscing on their childhood together. By his fifth shot, smiling seemed to come easier to Jason.

Currently, they were both watching the flatscreen hung behind the bar showing a news channel covering Batman and Robin putting an end to another bank robbery.

Dick pointed at the screen. “Damian learned that move from me.”

“No, I taught him that.”

“I’m the one who taught you that move when you were younger, big dummy,” Dick teased.

“Oh, I forgot.” Jason's tone lost its joking edge, and Dick looked over at him. “You know,” he continued almost somberly. “Ever since coming back, I seem to forget a lot of things.”

His eyes were glued to the screen, watching as Batman jumped out a window in pursuit of the bad guy. Robin shouted after him.

“You’ve been through hell and back, Todd. Normal people wouldn’t have been able to handle it the way you did.”

“No, you see, that's the thing.” Jason's voice was frustrated, his previous smiles gone. His brows furrowed the longer he ranted. “I’m not normal. I cycle through apartments and bunkers like crazy to help me lay low. I sleep in until 3 pm and I put a helmet on to chase down crazy guys with guns for hours at night. The public knows me as some traumatized kid who somehow survived a terrorist attack.” He pauses to take a gulp of beer, slamming the glass onto the bar, lifting his arm to wipe his mouth. Dick watched his jacket slip down his arm.

“Jason–”

“I don’t have a home, I don’t have a stable routine, I don’t even have life insurance!” Dick had somehow managed to get the former deceased and outlaw brother of his drunk and ranting about life. And the worst part? Nobody was ever going to believe him.

“Jason,” Dick puts a hand on his younger brother's shoulder, gripping him like a vice. His eyes never left his arm. “Your soulmate.”

Both of them are silent for a moment. Jason sighs, shaking his head.

“Damn, you're good at this.Yeah, it's about the soulmate thing.”

“You fucking idiot,” Dick slaps him on the back of his head. “Look at your arm!”

Dick watched as Jason stared him in the eyes, his brain clearly trying to catch up with what his brother was insinuating. When he finally looked down, it was comedic the way his eyes bulged at the fresh ink on his left arm. Dick tried his best to keep his excitement at bay, biting back his proud smile. His grumpy, tough, and borderline psychotic little brother had a soulmate. After a couple more seconds of silence, Jason cursed under his breath.

“I’m too sober for this,” Jason mumbled, chugging down the rest of his beer.

Dick laughs, waving the bartender over and handing him a card to close their tab. Jason slams the empty cup down, staring straight ahead at nothing in particular. “I have a soulmate.”

“Yeah man, congratulations!” Dick pats his brother on the back, but recoils at Jason turning abruptly and staring him dead in the eye.

“I have a soulmate.”

“I…yeah, you do bud.”

“...I have a soulmate.” He repeats, annunciating each word, as if he can’t believe it. “I need to find them,” Jason says, standing and walking towards the exit of the bar.

“Woah, Jason–” Dick hurriedly stands, apologetically yelling for the bartender and grabbing his card. Rushing outside, he sees Jason recklessly crossing the street to the parking lot. “Slow down!”

Jason stands awkwardly next to Richard Grayson's blue convertible, clambering over the door and into the passenger seat. Dick watches from across the street, shaking his head with a smile, making his way to the car. He couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed with Jasons drunken behavior.

Hopping in the driver's seat, Dick puts the keys into the ignition. “Alright loverboy, where are we going?”

“The mansion,” Jason struggles to get his seatbelt on (Dick intervenes). “The Batcave’s computer can find anyone.”

“Huh. That’s actually really smart considering you're drunk.”

“I’m not. Just shut up and drive.”

Dick laughs, hitting the gas pedal and doing as he was told.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ♡ ✩˚｡⋆𖦹｡°⋆✮

Bruce was home early, having quickly left the bank robbers tied up as Gordons responsibility. Currently, he was sitting in the library going over a case file. Damian had already gone to bed when he had gotten an alert of a vehicle coming up the manor's driveway. He checked the security cameras in the garage and was shocked to see his eldest rushing to the passenger side of the car to stop his sluggish brother from falling out. At first, Bruce had thought that he was poisoned or impaired in some way. He called for Alfred, asking him to prepare the medical rooms to tend to Jason. A few short minutes later, he heard faint voices approaching.

“I used to live here before I died, I know where I’m going.”

“Clearly not, we passed the entrance already.”

“The old man has a sensor on that door. We need to take the entrance in one of the bookshelves, they don’t notify him when someone enters.” No one but Alfred was supposed to know that.

“I doubt it’ll matter, he’s out fighting crime with—oh shit!” Bruce watched through his freakish peripheral vision as two figures hurriedly backed away from the doorway of the library. “Code Bat! Code Bat!” Dicks voice had dropped to a whisper, though not so quiet that Bruce couldn’t hear.

“B’s here?” A head with a white streak of hair popped through the doorway before quickly vanishing. “Oh no.”

“It’s only 11:45, what is he doing lounging around?”

Bruce chuckled quietly, now coming to the realization that they weren’t drugged or in danger; they were just drunk. Jason especially, which made sense. Quietly, he sent Alfred a message telling him to disregard the request. He feigned ignorance to their presence, going as far as flipping pages of the case file in his lap while they bickered, attempting to formulate a plan. Listening in to their not very secretive conversation, Bruce deduced that they had come to find Jason's soulmate on the Bat computer. It was his 21st afterall, and why else would he come drunkenly to the home he tried so hard to stay away from? Bruce found himself smiling for the boy. He had been through so much, and he deserved to have some good in his life. He only hoped that whoever they were, they took care of him in places where Bruce failed.

Sighing exaggeratedly, he stood, stretched and slowly made his way to the doorway, listening as the two brothers hushed. He allowed himself one last second of respite before wiping the smile off his face and walking out into the dark hallway. Dick stood alone, leaning against the wall and whistling. He turned his head, seeing Bruce standing, observing him.

“Oh, hey Bruce! I’ve been looking for you.” Dick pushed off the wall, going to stand next to his Father. “I thought I’d visit, wait for you to get home, but you’re here!”

“What do you need?”

“Oh nothing much,” taking Bruce's arm, he began to drag him in the opposite direction, past the library. “I just got nostalgic, and wanted to take a trip down memory lane with my Pops.”

“You smell like alcohol.”

“Like I said, I was feeling nostalgic!”

Dick rattled on, leading him down the dark halls, and Bruce noticed Jason slipping into the library. He smiled, turning his attention back to his eldest. He couldn’t find himself to be angry about his sons keeping secrets from him. If he felt anything about tonight's endeavor, it was disappointment. Bruce Wayne had taught his sons to be sneakier than they had been tonight.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ♡ ✩˚｡⋆𖦹｡°⋆✮

Jason, in his drunken haste, had almost tripped down the short flight of steps leading to the massive computer. He couldn't really blame the alcohol though—it was his fault for looking down at his arm every couple seconds, as though the black ink would fade away before he ever found out who you were. Even if it did, he had already committed the name to memory.

He knew how many letters were in your name, the number of syllables in the different parts of it. Despite this, he hadn’t yet spoken it out loud. For the last 30 minutes of his life, every breath he took held a certain weight to it, and the beating of his heart had persisted to be about 120 beats per minute.

He blamed it on the alcohol, but logically he knew the reason.

That little boy—the one he thought was dead and buried—was coming back to life, crawling his way out of the depths of Jason and settling into his gut.

His hand shook as he typed the name, every click of the keyboard ringing dully in his skull. Inhaling deeply, Jason hesitated for only a moment before clicking enter. Your name popped up surprisingly quickly, specifically registered under the “Wayne Scholarship” file.

His hand moved by its own volition and the link was clicked, a government ID popping up on the display.

Staring up at the photo of you in awe, his eyes flickered to the name and back to the photo, unbelieving that this was you. Your simple beauty was evident even through the low quality government ID.

He stared for a while, just taking in you. It was a little odd looking at the huge screen, knowing that you two were made for each other. The thought only made his heart speed up even more.

Digging into your file, he finds that you’re 20 and won’t be turning 21 for another seven months. The knowledge that he knows and you don’t makes him nauseous.

Clenching the edge of the table, he remembers that the reason he found you so quick was due to the Wayne Scholarship. You moved to Gotham for your third year of college to attend Gotham University, with most of the tuition paid for as long as you agree to stay away from any and all crime. Suddenly, he had found another reason to be thankful that Bruce was filthy rich. Your current residence was an old apartment complex in the University area, which was for the most part, free of crime. The more information he got from Bruce Wayne's files, the more his stomach fluttered.

That little boy was practically jumping up and down inside of him, chanting over and over again, “I knew it! I knew we would have a soulmate!”. As the information sunk in, he began to shake more violently, and he felt like his legs were barely holding his weight. In fear of throwing up or collapsing on the floor (or both), he fell backwards into Bruce's chair. A tear slid down Jason’s cheek, and then another, and another.

For the first time in a long time, Jason Todd sobbed.

#so so so good #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd/reader #jason todd/you #jason todd #jason todd fanfiction #[ harbour's fic recs ]

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month ago

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Give and Take 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Steve Rogers

This AU is called Watcher Anonymous and will include different series for different characters. This is our introduction to Steve and Charity

Summary: the women's shelter harbours a particularly suspicious character.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Hey, Steve,” Leanne greets him as the door blows shut behind him. The unusually windy day has him out of sorts. “Breezy out, huh?”

“Yeah,” he does his best to tidy his hair. So much for that new pomade. He straightens the lapels of his jacket his tie swept over his shoulder. “Sorry, I’m late.”

“Right on time.” She assures him.

The door opens and blows back on its hinges. Steve turns as a flurry gusts in around the figure. Charity trips through and barely saves the box in her arms from overturning. Steve is quick to steady it, his skin tingling as he touches her tweed sleeves. She smiles at him with a thanks.

“I’ve got some surprises,” she announces over his head, “it’s why I’m behind.”

She’s breathless. He is too. He stays close. Do something, Rogers. She’s right there.

“Can I help?” He asks.

She bats her eyes at him and her full cheeks get rounder, “sure can. You're such a doll.”

She hands him the box and he takes it without falter. It’s heavy but he won’t let her see that. He peeks at the hastily closed flaps, he can see something peeking in the small space between the cardboard.

“There’s more in my car,” she says. “Lea, you mind if I leave my bag with you while I get the stuff?”

“Sure thing,” the receptionist replies.

Everyone likes Charity. She’s a bright spot even when times are tough. At the shelter, almost every day is rough. Of course, they don’t have to be there but they choose to be. Those who come seeking help don’t have that choice.

Steve watches her swirl out and stares dumbly after her. Her beret is crooked, the bow of her blouse is half out over her jacket, and her pleated skirt catches the wind dangerous. Her full calves and the bottom of her thighs peek out at him with the rise in her hem.

“What’s in it, then?” Leanne asks.

Steve turns and clears his throat. He comes forward and leans the box on the corner of the desk. He squints as he pulls back a flap. He hums as he reaches in.

“Tampons,” he takes a package out.

Leanne laughs. Steve is slightly embarrassed but why should he be? Women need those things and that’s what they do here. Give women what they need.

Charity returns again. She has a whole wagon of boxes behind her. She bounces in proudly.

“Forgot I still had this thing in my car,” she beams.

“I could’ve helped,” Steve snaps out of his daze and shoves the package back in the box.

“Oh, no, all good.”

“Where’d you get all this?” Leanne wonders as she taps the box with her pen.

“Work! We did a promotional deal with a pharmacy and I was talking to the local owner. He donated all this back stock.” She explains bright, “just took a bit of convincing!”

Steve hesitates. He could be convinced to give her anything. Still, the suggestion makes him uneasy. What did she do?

“We can do some care boxes,” she declares. “I got some stuff to put it all in too.”

“Oh, right, well, everyone else is serving dinner,” Leanne clucks.

“I can help,” Steve offers.

“Sure,” Charity agrees. “Is the back room free?”

“Yeah, movie night’s in the rec room so just don’t go in there.” Leanne girds.

Charity goes to drag the wagon forward but Steve blocks her. He sets the box of tampons on top.

“Let me,” he insists.

“Oh, Steve, thanks.”

She remembers his name! His hand grazes hers as he takes the handle and she brushes by him. Her perfume, a discount brand that smells like cherry, wafts from her. He follows her through the heavy door she unlocks with the code and down the hall.

They get everything into the backroom, slightly crowded by the shelves of toilet paper and cleaner. She tuts and looks around. “Hope you don’t mind working on the floor.” She’s happy enough to get down on her knees as she takes a box from the wagon. “I got some zip-up pouches. That way they can keep using them after.”

She takes out one of the floral plastic pouches. He wonders if this was actually all given to her. He’d give her most anything but would a corporate shill really succumb to her so easy?

He starts moving the boxes off the wagon then folds it up out of the way. He kneels down with her, padding him knees on his coat. He’s too boney to be on the floor.

“Thank you for helping,” she says. “So, tampons, pads, lip balm, vaseline, lotion, body and face, soap, shampoo, toothbrush, toothpaste,” she goes down a pretty extensive list as she packs the first kit. “And I even got some chocolate truffles as a treat!”

“Wow, that’s quite a haul,” he says and takes a striped pouch.

“Oh, and there’s kids’ stuff especially for the youngins,” she says, “they get a puppy or kitten keychain too.”

“So you... what do you do for work?” He asks, even though he knows.

“I do communications. Mostly promotional events and all that.” She shifts onto her butt. Her hips look even wider as her skirt fans around her bent legs. “Boring. I’d love to work here full-time but a girls’ gotta pay the rent.”

“Right,” he nods thoughtfully as he takes a tub of lip balm.

“And you...?” She peeks up at him, “oh don’t forget, there’s little slots to tuck the small stuff.” She shows him the inside of a pouch.

“Um, if you think your work is boring, mine’s... dull. Museum. I do tours mostly.” He answers.

He likes his job but he’s used to people teasing. Well, he gets to look at art and cool relics and talk about it whenever someone happens by. He likes the renaissance ones with the fuller figures, they remind him of her.

“No way! That’s so cool. Do you have anything about Letizia Borgia? I read an article the other day.”

“Some, mostly artists but we have some papal stuff too,” his pulse evens out a bit. It’s easy to talk about his expertise.

“And the Medicis?” She wonders.

“I thought you were in communications,” he teases.

She laughs and it blooms in his cheeks like fire. “Between everything, I do find some time for hobbies. Though I might lose a bit of sleep.”

He chuckles, a little more tension slaking away. This isn’t as scary as he imagined. He’ll have something to report to the discord at least.

“Ha, yeah, tell me about it,” he grins.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #series #drabble #watchers anonymous #mcu #marvel #give and take #captain america #avengers

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florenceafternoon · 8 months ago

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━。゜✿ jily fic recommendations ✿ ゜。━

These fics are set in the wizarding world but aren’t necessarily canon complaints.

A while ago I posted about how one of my favourite part of reading canon jily is when they're a bit older and Lily is looking back in retrospect. The part where James shows her how he gets that this war that's looming over them, it's bigger, older, than they are and even though the world feels like it's ending his top priority is that they remember to enjoy the happy moments. To live in those moments.

Jily has always been a hot cup of tea on a cold and rainy day for me. I hope these fics give you a short break from life, even if it's just for a moment.

For reference, anything in italics is taken from the summaries.

These first few fics are all by @gigglesandfreckles-hp. Abi's characterisation of Lily and James as individuals are so special to me. How she writes jily is perfect - I mean the banter, the tension, the overall dynamic between them is just on point!

basic maths

Euphemia cuts Sirius off sharply. “I was simply verifying whether this is indeed the same Lily Evans whose name is written under my dining room table with a heart around it.”

or: Lily meets the parents and James tries not to hyperventilate. over and over and over again.

we suffer in silence

"It's fine, Evans," James interrupts, waving off her apology and offering a reassuring smile. "You've always been an exception to the rule." A hint of warmth spreads through Lily at his words. "You've never liked rules." He chuckles softly, his lips quirking up in a lopsided grin. "Which is why I never had a difficult time liking you."

or: James has had a bad day and Lily gives her best go at cheering him up

I've already made a whole post about how much I love this fic with my favourite quotes and everything, but god please if you read anything today let it be Abi's jily fics because they are legendary.

star light, star bright

It's seventh year, somehow, that clinches the case, claiming the grand prize in the annals of Lily Evans's misfortunes. Because, as it turns out, harbouring feelings for James Potter while also navigating the precarious terrain of friendship with him is a fate crueller than death.

or: James keeps accidentally touching Lily and she's about to lose her mind

amenable parameters

“Truth or dare, Lil?” “Dare,” she replies without hesitation, leaning back into the worn leather booth. “Obviously.” Hestia’s eyes gleam. “Go snog Potter.”

or: lily gets brave and james's patience is rewarded

here lies

James can't hold his drink, or his affections

the start of (something) new

“Oh, really?” Petunia crosses her arms. “What’s his name then?”

Lily pauses here, but only for a moment as her mind flashes back to the field at Jubilee Gardens. “James,” she says confidently. “James Potter.”

TW: this fic does depict a slightly descriptive panic attack.

Lily you are so valid for looking. For those of you who've seen the AU rec list I just posted, please know that this fic is the reason why I added all those footballer!james fics (well this fic and the euros).

common ground

Lily pauses, suddenly aware of James’s intense gaze. “What? Why are you…” Heat rushes to her cheeks, and she hates it. “Why are you looking at me like that?” “Nothing,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s just…it’s a good look on you, Evans.” “What is?” she asks, self-consciously. His grin widens. “Mischief.”

sidewalk chalk, covered in snow

She didn’t mean to get used to any of them.

or: Lily Evans is strictly anti-Marauders…until she isn't. one by one.

waiting for the light to take us in

James removes his glasses again. “Evans…” He searches for something to say and settles on, “You don’t even like flying.”

“I could like flying,” Lily says, shrugging. “I like you.”

He doesn’t take that bait in the way she wants, and her heart sinks just a bit more. Instead, he chews at his lip, considering and considering and considering some more. Lily wants to scream.

A reminder that even though it seems like others may have it harder, you deserve a break too.

Questions and Answers by lizardcookie (on ao3)

The simple question of whether or not they're dating doesn't exactly have a simple answer. Seventh Year Jily.

A Very Sick Dear by Nostalgicdragonfly (on ao3)

It's a very rare disease, but James gets it anyway and he has to endure the pain of having the favorite flower of the person he loves growing in his chest. He's been hiding his struggles. Lily loves roses yet James is the one getting cut by their thorns. But when a new healer arrives and things get out of hand, a lot would depend on whether or not James accepts his only treatment.

or James has hanahaki disease

Thank You For The Music by @thelighthousestale

Lily Evans is homesick during her first year of Hogwarts. Then she hears a familiar tune.

Erasmus Lovegoods’s Guide to Brewing Love Potions also by @ /thelighthousetale

At the start of every school year, the Ministry of Magic distributed leaflets to all students taking potions classes regarding the regulations and legality of highly controlled potions.

Lily Evans thought the Ministry would probably have more success in decreasing illegal potions brewing on the castle grounds if they didn’t give such detailed instructions about the potions in its published propaganda literature.

Of course, every year's most popular leaflet was the one warning about the dangers of brewing love potions.

Or how an accidental explosion in NEWT-level potions finally forced Lily and James to confront their feelings.

falling into place by @charmingwillow

Lily overhears something that maybe she shouldn't have.. things sort of happen from there.

Limbo by Random-Musings (on ff.net)

Lily's sour Hogsmeade weekend takes an unexpected turn.

The next few fics are all from it's about the Gazing collection by @firefeufuego. I recommend this collection to my friend who doesn’t read jily and the first fic alone had her texting me "I get why you love them so much and I also get why you want James Potter"

(get on out of your seat) all eyes on me

As James stops to catch his breath, he also catches Lily’s eye, already fixed on him in the blatant, unblinking way he hasn’t seen since she used to verbally eviscerate him for minutes on end. It hits with the same mortifying heat as it always did then, when he used to stand there watching her yell at him and imagine her mouth doing everything else. He’s ridiculously grateful for whoever throws the ball straight towards his face for saving him from the fate of just standing there, watching her watch him with his dry mouth open for the rest of eternity.

In a movement of pure reflex, he grabs the ball out of the air and starts back towards the end of the pitch before Orie comes out of nowhere and takes his legs out from under him. Winded and disoriented, James sighs at the universe’s rather unsubtle visual metaphor. Is it even worth getting up again when he just keeps falling and falling and falling for her?

(soft spoken in the dead of night) all eyes on you

Lily has watched him do this multiple times before and it’s just tea and it’s just James and there should be nothing special about this particular moment, except that the sight of him, the fact of him, is suddenly earth-shattering.

Something like nostalgia fills her in a flood, only it’s the future she’s longing for, a future she can see with absolute clarity. The features James inherited from his parents are so faithfully recreated on him that it’s easy to imagine him at their age, with a shock of white, still unfairly thick hair framing a face lined by a lifetime of laughter, making her a cup of tea exactly the way she likes it and smiling as she teases him.

Don't be fooled by the summery, this is pure self indulgent smut. I complain a lot about pretentious people but the Austen and Keats reference had me swooning. The myth of Eros and Psyche is probably one of my favorites so…

in the morning when i wake or the morning after

With trembling hands, James brings the smaller piece of parchment closer to his face and starts to read.

To the love of my life,

You idiot. Get back here.I’ll be in your room.

Lily.

Surface Pressure by @eastwindmlk

Lily dealing with the weight of her own expectations in 7th year

no, i could never give you peace by @kay-elle-cee

James blinks. “Are you breaking up with me, Evans?” he jokes softly, resting his hand on hers. It’s a joke, but her body tenses and it immediately puts him on edge. The silence that follows is excruciating.

“I’m not doing anything.” Her nails begin to tap on the mug again—a nervous habit that James spots immediately. “I just think we should have a conversation.”

Trust Kels to serve Order!jily angst and pair it with one of my favourite songs of all time

bury it and rise above by @startanewdream

"James? Do you believe in magic?"

Or Lily is a Witch. James is a Muggle. It's not easier.

When It's You by idreamofjily (on ao3)

James is naturally affectionate and Lily really isn't. But maybe she can make an exception, if the way her stomach drops every time James touches her is any indication.

desiderium by @missgryffin

Sometimes all it takes is champagne and a slow dance, and then there's no going back.

The Vow also by @ /missgryffin

When he was thirteen-going-on-fourteen, James Potter did something truly, unbelievably stupid. Now that he’s seventeen-going-on-eighteen, he has to deal with the consequences.

Accidental Magic also by @ /missgryffin

What else is there to do after confessing feelings in the middle of the night than spend a lazy Saturday in bed?

Are You Experienced? by @annabtg

James Potter decides to ask Lily Evans to a Muggle live music show. This noble mission, however, requires a series of steps he is entirely clueless about: from procuring the tickets to finding the correct outfit, and most importantly, to spending an evening with Lily Evans without making an absolute fool of himself.

Also including the gorgeous cover art by @constancezin

by the lake by @possessingtheproperspirit

james finds lily by the lake.

not in need of a knight by @thejilyship

“If they start something, I’m going to finish it.” James said, crossing his arms over his chest. “And if it ends with you in the hospital wing?” “What do you care?” “Do you really think I’d bother to argue with you so much if I didn’t care?” Lily said, breathing sharply through her teeth.

#lily evans #james potter #jily #lames #jple #jily fic rec list

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blouisparadise · 8 months ago

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Today we have the second part to our long fic rec list! These fics are all 100k words or more. If you missed the first part to this rec list, you can check it out here. If you enjoy our rec lists, please be sure to like and reblog this post to help spread the word.

1) The Rose of Whitechapel | Mature | 100,181 words

Jack the Ripper AU - Detective Constable Harry Styles and his partner, DC Liam Payne, lead the case on the Whitechapel murders. Louis Tomlinson, the Rose of Whitechapel, is harbouring secrets of his own, along with a dark and sordid past. When their paths cross, truths are revealed, and perhaps hearts are mended… A darkness is brewing, and it’s finally come to collect on the promise it was made.

2) The Maddest Obsession | Explicit | 100,974 words

One fears the dark. One rules it. Harry Styles, the dangerous mob enforcer, finds himself entangled with Louis, the strong-willed mafia-princess. As they navigate the treacherous underworld of New York, their forbidden love sparks a deadly game of loyalty, betrayal, and passion. Will their devotion to each other overcome the chaos surrounding them, or will their love be their downfall?

3) Shadow Dances | Mature | 101,591 words

Louis Tomlinson has a begrudging gift, he’s able to communicate with the spirits of the dead. Often against his will, and almost always at the most inconvenient of times. He and his partner, Zayn Malik, work for a covert division of the New Haven Federal Bureau of Investigations. They aid in all kinds of cases, though their talents lie in the obscure and unsolvable. It’s when a strange new case falls onto their desks that they’re left questioning the extent of their abilities, and whether they were ever truly alone. Harry Styles was brought into the FBI for not only his skills, but his ability to mitigate the influx of spirits surrounding the elusive and obnoxiously infuriating sharp-tongued medium he’d been assigned to. Louis gets under his skin, he’s impulsive and a risk to the team according to Harry. They do however have to find a way to set aside their sordid history, and their reluctant attraction, to track down the murderer plaguing their coastal city.

4) Billow And Breeze (Islands And Seas) | Explicit | 102,506 words

It was bright; that was the first thing Louis could recall. With a groan, he winced at the throbbing behind the sockets of his eyes and rubbed his temples in an effort to soothe the pain. Maybe he really did hit his head when he took his tumble. The omega squinted as he looked at the surrounding rolling hills and fog hanging over the countryside. As strange as it was, the world felt different, though it looked practically the same. Disoriented and confused, Louis padded through the moss and listened for his husband. “Liam?” he croaked shakily. Nothing but a symphony of woodland creatures met his ears. His footsteps were muted by mossy green grass beneath his feet and soil fragrant as he neared the crest of the hill. At the top, he froze, lips parted in horror and eyes widening at the expanse of empty farmland—not a soul in sight. It had only been less than ten minutes prior that he could see Inverness from the crest, but now there was nothing. “Impossible,” he whispered to himself, shaking his head in disbelief—his mind not quite able to make sense of it.

5) Praise the Mutilated World | Explicit | 106,668 words

An enemies to lovers dystopian au where Harry is an elite alpha and Louis is a rebel omega with too much to fight for. Every move made is monitored, and a fertile omega’s purpose in life is one thing: to give children to their alpha.

6) My Kind Of Love | General Audiences | 108,178 words

Harry marries Louis for one year. Louis has no choice other than marry Harry fucking styles. There is a reason behind Harry’s sudden marriage with Louis and Louis has no idea about that. Maybe Harry married Louis for revenge.

7) Only You And Me | Not Rated | 109,836 words

Note: This is the sequel to this fic.

Louis goes on with his life after Harry, he hopes Harry comes back to him but is also on the search for something new. Will Harry reach out to Louis, or will Louis get over him and find something better?

8) You’ve Got A Higher Power, You’re Once In Any Lifetime | Explicit | 113,444 words

Giving up and letting them think they’re right were never valid options in Louis Tomlinson’s mind. In a society full of prejudices, finding a family and being accepted, also seemed like an unrealistic utopia. Louis sets out to do what no other of his kind ever has before and in doing so, he finds love, friendship and more about himself than he thought he would.

9) Like Water Over Fire (Like Water On Fire) | Mature | 119,264 words

Prince Harry has 46 men and 13 weeks to find the husband of his dreams, Louis has a limited amount to time to live out a royal fantasy. They might just be exactly what the other needs.

10) Tainted Saints And Velvet Vices | Mature | 126,057 words

A self-fulfilling Hogwarts AU in which Louis is new to seventh year and Harry is the resident devil-may-care Slytherin set to make his entire experience a living misery. Due to less than favourable circumstances they’re forced to forge an unwilling, tentative relationship for their own survival. Repressed emotions, decidedly unromantic ballroom dancing, Triwizard Tournament tasks, creative jinxes and twilight flying above the Forbidden Forest ensue.

11) Chandeliers And Fake Smiles | Mature | 145,010 words

On the brink of winning their first Grammy; up-and-coming rock band One Direction find themselves in the midst of the biggest scandal of their career - right before tickets for their world tour go on sale. in order to save their reputation, Louis Tomlinson must find it in his heart to forgive pop singer and heartthrob Harry Styles after his first impression rubbed him entirely the wrong way. after all, they cannot sell a relationship if it looks like they hate each other.

12) Buy Me Purple Flowers First | Teen & Up | 157,728 words

Louis Tomlinson is a 24-year-old rock star who tends to be rebellious and known as a “brat” in the extended media. The Omega has yet to find a mate and has no interests in being in a committed relationship. Harry Styles is a 22-year-old Alpha Bodyguard known for his past of protecting some of the most important politicians and musicians of their time. He has settled on a temporary job as a favour of a friend to look after the famous Louis Tomlinson to finish the leg of his European tour.

13) How Many Times Will It Take (To Get This Right) | Explicit | 157,805 words

Harry was watching her go, unable to meet Louis’ eyes again now that they were alone, and that’s how he saw him when the young boy leaned around Jay to peer at his mum and Harry. Harry’s jaw went slack, his mouth falling open in disbelief when two green orbs identical to his own found him and stared unwaveringly calm into Harry’s sunglasses-covered face. His small features were undeniably close to Louis’. Their noses, their lips, even their brow line was the same, but the pup’s eyes were an eerily familiar shade of emerald, and much rounder than Louis’. His hair fell in dark ringlets around his small face, which was also much too round to really say the child looked like Louis, despite the similar features. Harry sputtered when his alpha roared in his chest that Harry should follow the kid–should protect his pup. But there was no fucking way.

14) Charmed | Mature | 163944 words

Louis had always felt he was different, but he had never understood why. At least until one particular event devasted hum, turning his life upside down forever and bringing to the surface a past he didn’t know, a present he thought he knew, and a series of unexpected events that will trigger the beginning of a future he’s not sure he wants to live.

15) Sewn Into You | Explicit | 167,486 words

Harry Styles thinks soulmates are a fairytale, or in other words-a lie. He has no interest in entertaining anything that has anything to do with the very name that had been etched along his collarbone since his eighteenth birthday. Louis Tomlinson won’t be answering to another alpha for the rest of his life if he can help it. Fuck happy endings, his soul mate can choke on it. Problem is, Harry needs a personal assistant to save his family’s business, Louis needs the cash to officially move off of his childhood best-friend’s couch. They can manage. Surely, nothing will go wrong.

16) Don’t Let It (Me) Break | Explicit | 168,297 words

The one where Harry is oblivious, Louis is broken, Zayn and Liam are in love, Gemma and Lottie are lovely, and Niall is just waiting for everyone to get their shit together.

17) Non-Disclosure | Mature | 170,219 words

Being a world class Director, producing some of the best rated Romance movies to date, Louis was easily a sucker for the ‘Happy Ever After’. Except, in a world where he pretends and imagines true love. He was stuck inbetween what he thought was the love of his life and everything trying to stop them. “I did a lot of thinking when I was gone and every scenario I came up with ended with you. I’m fucking scared and I have no idea what will happen from now but I’d risk it all, if you could promise me a lifetime”

18) You Smell Like | Explicit | 185,369 words

The one where Louis is the Alpha’s mate and everyone is aware of it except for Louis and Harry. Go figure!

19) Three Days in February | Explicit | 187,642 words

How close is too close? Harry and Louis are about to find out after a drunken night leaves Louis cursed. With only a week before tour starts, the race is on to fix things before they lose Louis forever. Oh, and Harry has to keep his long-time crush on Louis a secret while the lad can literally hear his thoughts. Easy, right?

20) Collision | Not Rated | 226,294 words

Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.

21) Truth Behind Golden Eyes | Explicit | 228,727 words

Louis is a royal servant born with magic in a kingdom where his sole existence is outlawed with a war he has no idea he has a part in upon him. Harry is the prince on whom the burden of mending a broken kingdom falls upon and he might be willing to risk it all for a simple servant if only he admitted it to himself.

22) Join Me In The Afterlife | Explicit | 262,289 words

Louis is a simple guy - all he wants from his summer break is to spend some quality time with his mother, get to know her new husband, and learn to play the guitar. Nothing out of the ordinary, that is for sure. However, life has a funny way of working and when Louis finds a strange boy sitting on his bed one sunny day, his summer break takes a turn for the better (or worse) when he discovers a ghost has stolen his heart from the get-go.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

#bottom louis #top harry #larry #fic recs #blp fic recs #blp #long fics

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harbours-lighthouse-recs · 15 days ago

Text

i woke up from a post-church nap and any ounce of exhaustion left my body the second i saw you posted. i’m going insane—this is insane. you had me sitting bolt upright at the end like NO BUT HE DOES KNOW US! HE DOES! ugh, and the grit and grime of gotham that you so perfectly capture? and how heavy grief is and how it trails after us in even the tiniest of things? amazing. just absolutely amazing. you’re amazing.

never let me go.

PART THREE ➺ series masterlist

[jason todd x reader]

summary — you’ve returned to gotham after a few years away, having left as soon as you could to escape the constant reminders of your deceased best friend, jason todd. you expected to be haunted by the ghost of him the minute you stepped foot in the city, but certainly not like this — the city you call home has much more in store than you could have imagined. warnings — childhood best friends to lovers, mentions of death + mourning, angst, brief mentions of suicidal tendencies, injuries a/n; thank you guys sooo much for the love its crazy... <3 unrelated, but lol reader is always walking places. i wonder what her daily step count is

Your coffee has gone cold.

You stare at it, the rim of the cup resting against your lips, but you don’t take a sip. You wonder how long you’ve had it there since the bitterness has probably settled by now, thick and stale at the bottom. Despite this, you don’t move to get a new one.

You’ve been sitting at your desk for nearly an hour without standing, trying to focus on the pile of papers in front of you. The numbers are blurring together — funding projections, outreach plans, security assessments for the shelters you spent all last evening researching.

Nothing is sticking, but you’re not surprised. Or particularly stressed about it.

When your phone buzzes from beside you, you start as it pulls you from your daze, seeing that it’s Dick, replying to your previous message from this morning.

You: hey, are you coming today?

Dick Grayson: shoot, i’m so sorry.

Dick Grayson: had some titans business come up :(

You: :((

You: it’s fine, duty calls

Dick Grayson: i’m really sorry

Dick Grayson: i’ll be in town next week and we can catch up, alright?

You: okay :)

Dick Grayson: i really am sorry :(

You hesitate for a few seconds longer than necessary, rereading the message a few times before responding.

You: no worries!! it’s totally fine, i understand

You don’t, really. Not today.

Jason’s birthday is always a weird day. The first couple years you had spent them going over to Wayne Manor and crying in his bedroom all evening after visiting his grave with Dick and Alfred. Bruce never came, but you didn’t expect anything else and you certainly weren’t going to ask him now. Even Alfred is too busy to go with you this year.

You stare at the texts, your eyes running over the messages even though they won’t change.

It’s not like you expected Dick to come with you.

Well. Maybe that’s not true. Maybe part of you did. Maybe some naive, hopeful part of you always does.

Every year, it feels like fewer and fewer people make the trip, and it’s been even worse since you went off to college. Alfred says he visits him, and you have no reason to doubt his word. But Dick — who used to be the one dragging you to the cemetery when you were crying too hard to crawl out of bed — hasn’t gone since… you’re not even sure when.

There was some kind of trauma bond created between you and Dick when Jason died, but it feels like it’s becoming less of a shared trauma and more of a personal issue these days. And maybe that’s fair. Maybe they’ve just… moved on. Maybe they’ve grieved the way they needed to and can finally breathe again without every inhale feeling like a betrayal.

Of course you don’t want Dick to be suffering along with you, but it stings all the same that you feel more alone than ever.

Your phone screen dims, fading back to black and you stare at your reflection in it for a moment, feeling stupid about the deep frown etched between your brows before shoving it down on the desk between some papers.

The office hums quietly around you — phones are ringing in the distance, the faint murmur of conversations about people’s weekends outside your office door. Ordinarily, you’d tune in to the chatter, evesdropping on your coworker Julie’s complaints about her latest blind date and laughing to yourself. Today, however, It’s all background noise and you feel out of focus, unable to hone in on… anything, really.

It sucks, you decide. Grieving someone, despite all the years gone by, really sucks.

You sigh, leaning back in your chair and closing your eyes for a second (for someone who never uses the big light at home, you sure do have an obscene number of LED lights in your office).

Maybe you’re just being dramatic. Maybe you just need to eat something that isn’t a vending machine granola bar before you start spiralling into some existential crisis about the inevitability of being forgotten.

You grab a pen and force yourself to look at your paperwork again. Ten more minutes go by before you realise you’ve been reading the same paragraph over and over again.

Jason would have been —

No, you squeeze your eyes shut. Don’t do that.

You press your fingers against the bridge of your nose, trying to breathe in and out in an attempt to not spiral. A hopeless endeavour, since you end up (albeit, lightly) dropping your head against your pile of papers over and over again.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re thanking whoever invented frosted windows when suddenly, there’s a sharp knock at your door.

Snapping back to reality, you inhale deeply and run your fingers through your hair to tame it. “Come in.”

The door swings open and Dr Leslie Thompkins steps inside, slipping off her sunglasses. She looks the same as always — incredibly well-dressed and sharp eyed, tired but unshaken. Killer voluminous blowout. You smooth your hair down some more for good measure.

She shuts the door behind her and eyes you like she knows exactly where your head is at. Probably not the best day for you to be having a meeting with a doctor when the last thing you want is someone poking around in your brain, but the reality is that she’s a busy woman and you only have about 10 minutes, so you’ll take what you can get and be happy about it.

“Hey, Leslie,” you say, almost robotically and to make up for the less than enthusiastic greeting, you offer her a smile. From her expression, it probably looks more like a grimace and you give up, gesturing for her to sit with a sigh.

It’s easy for you to forget that she’s known you since you were a child, since your primary interactions were when you’d drag Jason into her clinic to get him patched up and occasionally you’d be sitting in her chair with a few cuts and scrapes. You’re a completely different person now, but Leslie sometimes still looks at you like you’re about to ask her to stitch up your knee with wide, teary eyes.

“I’m not crying, Jason,” you protest, holding back a sniffle and shoving away the tissue he’s holding out to you. You wince as Leslie tightens the stitches on your knee, the sharp pull of thread making you clench your teeth. “Jesus, I think you’re enjoying this.”

Leslie doesn’t glance up from her work. “If you sat still and stopped squirming, it wouldn’t hurt half as much.”

“I am sitting still,” you argue, gripping the edge of the table and staring at the ceiling, the fluorescent light buzzing faintly overhead. It’s way too bright. Too sterile. You blink rapidly, willing yourself not to cry.

Jason, sitting next to you with his arms crossed, doesn’t look nearly as amused as he usually does when you make an idiot of yourself. He’s watching you carefully, and that feels worse than the teasing, you decide.

You try not to flinch away from Leslie’s hand, but the sting of the needle is making it difficult. “How many more?”

“Two,” she says, voice clipped. “How did you say you got this again? You tripped?”

“Yeah, she tripped,” Jason chimes in before you can speak. His grip tightens on your hand when you flinch again, but he snorts at the memory. “Tripped right off a fire escape.”

Leslie pauses in her movements momentarily, sighing before she goes back like she’s not actually surprised. “Of course you did.”

You let out a little noise when she goes back to stabbing you (stabbing you, stitching you — semantics) and Jason doesn’t hesitate to go right back to teasing you.

“You’re lucky it’s just the stitches,” he muses, smirking when you rip your glassy-eyed stare away from the ceiling to glare at him instead. “Falling like that? You could’ve broken something. Or landed on your face — now that would have been hard to fix.”

“Shut up,” you scoff, scowling at his grinning face and forgetting your pain for a minute. “This doesn’t even make our list of top ten stupidest injuries. None of mine do, actually. They’re all you, dumbass.”

Leslie tuts, but doesn’t reprimand you for your language this time. “The fact you have a top ten list at all…” she mutters, trailing off and pulling at another stitch.

Jason drums his fingers against your thigh and doesn’t give you a chance to wince when he’s speaking again. “Y’know,” he says casually. “I once got stitches without any anaesthetic after patrol, like, a few months ago.”

You roll your eyes, pain being swapped out for something closer to irritation. “Good for you.”

“Didn’t even flinch.”

“Wow.”

Leslie deadpans, “He passed out afterwards.”

This startles a laugh out of you and Jason — after briefly glaring at Leslie — smiles at you. “Not the point, but whatever.”

The distraction works and you realise that your jaw is unclenched and you’re exhaling through pursed lips as Leslie ties off the last stitch.

Jason tilts his head at you. “You alright?”

You hum in answer. “I mean, they won’t be calling me the big, brave Robin anytime soon, but…”

Leslie sighs, but there’s a soft smile tugging at her lips as she cuts the thread. “You did great. And Jason, you can stop being a pain since I’m sure you’ll both be back here for something stupid you’ll undoubtedly have done soon.”

“I resent that,” he says, pointing at her.

You hop off, carefully since you’re not too proud to admit your knee still hurts and since Jason practically lifts you off the table.

Leslie whips off her gloves and turns back to you. “Keep it clean, don’t pick at it, and if it starts looking worse, come back here immediately.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you mumble, saluting her.

She rolls her eyes, already packing up her supplies. “And for the love of God, try and stay on the ground where you belong.”

Jason elbows you lightly. “You hear that? No more fire escapes for you.”

“Keep talking and I’ll be shoving you off a damn fire escape.”

“Sure thing, Bambi.”

You blink at him. “What?”

“You know,” he gestures vaguely with his hands. “Like the baby deer. All wobbly and uncoordinated, falling on your ass.”

“Oh my God,” you groan, turning to Leslie, exasperated. “You’re a doctor. Can I get him checked for brain damage?”

Leslie sighs, rubbing her temples. “Get out of my clinic, the both of you.”

Jason throws an arm around your shoulders, allowing you to lean on him as he guides you towards the exit. “Come on, tough girl. Let’s get you home. And we’re using the door this time.”

“Deal,” you say, scrunching your nose up at the wound on your knee as you limp a little. At least you don’t feel like crying anymore.

It’s definitely all in your head, but you feel like the scar on your knee aches a little as Leslie drops into the chair across from you. “Busy day?”

Nodding, you gesture to your mess of a desk. She doesn’t have to know it’s been practically untouched for the last few hours. “Trying to make it one.”

Leslie glances at the scattered paperwork and at the same time that she looks at one particular pile, your eye also catches it. A prominent makeup stain on the very top page. And you’d bet anything you’ve got a mark on your forehead. Or, at the very least, your foundation has visibly rubbed off a little. An especially horrible day to have forgotten setting spray.

“Right,” she says, moving past the obvious lie and propping an elbow on your desk. “So. What’s this I hear about you wanting to poke around children’s shelters?”

You straighten up, glad for the distraction. “Okay, first of all, please don’t say it like that. And second… yeah, I really want to see them for myself. Starting off with Park Row and moving onto the ones in the Bowery. Figure out what they actually need, instead of what looks good on paper.”

She hums, considering. “Smart.”

“I was hoping you could help? You’re at those places more often than anyone I know.”

“That’s true,” she says, nodding with a sigh. “A lot of those places are surviving purely on duct tape and good intentions.”

“That’s what I figured.” You frown, tapping your pen against the desk. “If I’m going to push for better funding, I need to know where it’ll be going. Those kids deserve so much more and… I don’t know. I don’t want them ending up like—”

Leslie watches you carefully when you’re silent for a moment, then asks, “Like Jason?”

Your grip on the pen tightens. You should have known she’d bring him up eventually, but this one’s kind of on you. Her forward way of talking is usually refreshing, but right now it makes you feel like a specimen on a petri dish.

“It’s about all of us,” you say, shifting in your seat. Leslie doesn't look convinced, steadily holding your gaze and you find yourself squirming. “Well, okay. It’s obviously a little bit about him. And me. And all those other kids we grew up with.”

She softens, leaning forward. A little smile tugs at her lips. “You turned out pretty okay.”

“That feels debatable,” you huff out a quiet laugh, shaking your head and dropping your face in your hands. Leslie always did have a way of pulling out your deepest, darkest secrets with just one look (well, whatever deep, dark secrets a 14 year old could possibly have at that age). You exhale. “It’s Jason’s birthday today.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah. So you could say I’m feeling a little extra philanthropic today.”

“Understandable,” she says, nodding sagely. “Well, listen. I’ll take you with me next time I go — no board meetings, no bullshit. Just the real thing. It’ll be better that way.”

You blink, feeling hopeful for the first time today and it’s like the grey clouds of a depressing afternoon are slowly parting over you to reveal a sunbeam. A very, very small sunbeam, but it’s a ray of light nonetheless. You’re not in a position to take that for granted.

Slowly, you nod, feeling a little rejuvenated — your head feels clearer and the mind fog leaves you to make room for ideas and plans. “Thanks, Leslie. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course.” She shrugs, standing to leave. But before she reaches the door, she pauses and glances at you one last time. Her voice is softer now, adopting the same tone she used back when you cried for the first time in her clinic. “Don’t spend all day burying yourself in work. We can start on all that tomorrow, okay?”

Leslie doesn’t wait for a response, just gives you a once over before stepping out and leaving you in the quiet of your office.

You should probably listen to her — she understands, after all. She was there. She saw what Gotham did to kids like you. What it did to Jason.

The quiet of the graveyard settles deep into your bones, thick and heavy like the summer air. The city is distant from here, muffled by the gates and towering trees that line the edge of the cemetery. Even the occasional breeze doesn’t do anything to lift the heat. It just shifts it around, carrying the scent of damp earth, sunbaked grass and the hundreds of bouquets of flowers left by loved ones all over.

Your t-shirt sticks uncomfortably to your skin as you make your way down the narrow dirt path, weaving through rows of headstones. The ground is uneven beneath your sneakers, cracked in places from the heat, and there are patches of grass growing wild and tickling your bare ankles from where the caretaker hasn’t gotten to it yet.

You’re glad you went home and changed out of your stuffy work clothes, because it’s humid. Annoyingly so. It’s the kind of weather that makes everything feel sluggish and heavy, like the air itself is pressing down on you.

Jason’s grave isn’t hard to find. You could make your way to it with your eyes closed, even with the slight changes every now and then that the cemetery goes through over time. New graves appearing, old ones sinking into the earth. Jason’s appears to be favouring the latter.

The grass grows tall enough to brush against the bottom of the lettering on the headstone which is now dull and grimy, the engraved letters filled with tiny specks of dirt.

No more flowers. No candles. No sign that anyone has visited in a while.

You exhale sharply, stepping closer to kick a stray twig away from the base of the grave. You lower yourself down with a quiet sigh, sitting cross-legged on the warm dirt and setting down the plastic bag next to you and digging into it, pulling out a box of cupcakes.

The packaging crinkles as you pop the lid open, revealing garishly bright red velvet cupcakes, the startlingly white frosting already starting to sweat all over the box in the heat.

You take one out, the cream cheese sticking all over your fingers.

Breaking into the convenience store wasn’t originally part of the plan.

Jason huffs as he wrestles with the back window, fingers smudging against the glass. “This is so stupid.”

“You’re the one who said you wanted cake,” you remind him, arms crossed as you continue to keep lookout.

“I meant, like, eventually!” He grits his teeth, giving the frame one final shove. The window finally slides open and Jason smirks, triumphant. “This was your idea, so don’t chicken out now.”

“I’m not chickening out,” you hiss, swirling around when you hear a noise in the alley a few feet away. It’s just a cat, but suddenly you’re thinking breaking into the convenience store for some birthday cake isn’t the grand gesture you thought it was. Jason has already boosted himself through the window and lands gracefully, not making a noise.

You aren’t as elegant about it.

Jason sticks his head back out, grinning. “Come on.”

He grabs your hands and pulls you inside, overestimating his strength and your agility as you tumble in, landing hard against his chest.

“Oof— Jesus, warn a person next time,” you mutter, elbowing him as you straighten up.

“There’s no time for manners. We’re breaking and entering,” he reminds you and you roll your eyes at him, but get to work nonetheless.

Stepping carefully over a crate of produce, you make a beeline to the back of the store. The place is dark and quiet, the faint buzz of an old refrigerator humming in the background and your heavy breathing being the only noises. You really need to work on your fitness.

You can barely make out the aisles since it’s — you check your watch — 11:58pm and you don’t have the luxury of daylight right now, but you know exactly where you’re heading.

The snack section.

You grab the first cupcake package you see, which is luckily red velvet. It’s a cheap gas station brand, probably terrible, but it’s the principle of the thing. Jason’s birthday deserves something — even if that something is mostly artificial flavouring and Red Dye 40.

You leave a five dollar bill on the counter and toss the box of cupcakes to Jason who raises a brow. “That was quick.”

“I’m not here to sightsee.” You check your watch again and gasp when you see that it’s midnight. “Happy birthday, Jaybird,” you say, grinning widely. “Eat your cake.”

“Don’t rush me.”

You sigh, grabbing one of the cupcakes from the now open box in his hand and sticking a candle in it. A single, tiny candle you swiped from one of your kitchen drawers before sneaking out. You pull out a lighter that you also stole from your kitchen and you flick it, the little flames coming to life and casting dancing shadows against the shelves.

He blinks at it. Then at you.

“Seriously?”

You nod. “Make a wish, birthday boy.”

Jason stares at the flickering light, his expression unreadable. Then, with a dramatic sigh, he leans forward and blows it out.

You clap, lightly bouncing on your feet. “Yay! You’re officially older.”

“Lucky me,” he says, scrunching his nose up at you, but there’s something softer in his eyes now and you know he’s just pretending not to enjoy this.

Hiding his smile, he takes a huge bite of the cupcake. And then immediately grimaces.

You wince. “Oh God. Is it bad?”

Jason gags. “So fucking bad.”

You let out a snort of laughter before you can help it, covering your mouth to suppress the giggles. “That’s what we get for committing a crime over shitty convenience store cupcakes.”

He shoves the rest of the cake in his mouth, struggling to chew. Dispose of the evidence, you suppose. “Not a crime,” he mumbles through a mouth full of cupcake, the words coming out all muffled.

“Aren’t you a little too old to be talking with your mouth full?”

Jason swipes some of the cream cheese from the second cupcake on your cheek and you gasp, reaching out to grab him, a move he anticipates as he darts away. You chase him around the small store for as long as you can before the tiny aisles restrict you and eventually the two of you bump into a tower of toilet paper, causing it to topple over you.

You both wince, tensing as the rolls fall around you and waiting for a loud noise to occur and draw attention to the two of you. When it doesn’t come, you slowly look at each other, both covered in crumbs and frosting and dissolve into a fit of laughter.

“Happy birthday, Jay,” you mumble.

You peel the wrapper off the cupcake before setting it down before the grave. You don’t want some poor pigeon or fox to choke on the wrapper and after a second, you’re probably thinking leaving the cupcake itself isn’t such a good idea either. But you digress.

The frosting is all over your fingers now and it’s melting, leaving you no choice but to lick it off. Your face is scrunched up in disgust at the aftertaste of the warm, chemical-tasting icing.

“You know,” you start again, voice dry as you look at the grey stone before you. “You picked a really shitty time of year to be born.”

There’s no quippy answer. Of course there isn’t.

You eye the way the frosting has already started to drip down onto the grass, seeping into the dry dirt. “These look worse than usual,” you mutter. “The lady at the store was judging me hard when I bought them. Which is fair. I’d judge me too. You’re lucky you’re dead, so you don’t have to actually eat them anymore.”

There’s a grasshopper somewhere near you, filling the silence that greets you. A bird flutters somewhere in the trees, rustling the leaves and letting you know that you’re not totally alone.

You shift, pulling your knees up to your chest, arms wrapped tightly around your legs. “If you were here, you’d think I was being so stupid right now… talking to nothing. You’d probably want me to move on, or—“

You stop, closing your eyes and shaking your head. “Not move on, but… just be normal,” you sigh, pressing your hand against your forehead, trying to find the words. “I used to think I was being normal. Healthy. That I didn’t need to move on with my life, but I do.”

The words hang there, heavier than the heat, heavier than the weight on your chest.

If Jason were here, he’d have told you years ago to get a grip and stop being miserable over someone that’s never coming back.

But he wasn’t here, so you’ve never really known how to do that.

You press your fingers against your eyes and exhale shakily, trying to pull yourself together. “I’m going to try, I think. To live like a normal person,” you explain, voice steadier now. A wobbly smile lifts the corner of your lips. “This is where you tell me about how I’ve never been normal a day in my life.”

Silence.

Your chest tightens and you decide that you’ve had enough self-pitying for today. You push yourself up, dusting the dirt off the back of your shorts and grabbing the plastic bag of cupcakes.

“Bye, Jaybird,” you whisper before walking away.

You’re so tired.

The decision to not take a cab home is starting to weigh on you now, your hair sticking to the nape of your neck and your fingers sweating around the plastic handle of the bag that still contains the cupcakes. You don’t even know why you’re still holding them.

Gotham’s summer heat isn’t like anywhere else you’ve been. It’s trapped — held hostage between by the numerous stores built so close together they’re practically on top of each other, caught between the potholes in the streets and the smog filled sky. It lingers even when the last remnants of sunlight are bleeding out in streaks of muted orange and red, only slightly cooling down when it’s dark.

It’s still light out, just barely, which is unfortunate for you.

You consider ducking into a nearby coffee shop for a second like you would do on walks home from campus back in New York during summer. But then you pass by the laundromat and you catch sight of a tired worker fanning himself with a magazine, and you’re reminded of how useless the air conditioning is in this part of the city. Even the refrigerators in the bodegas don’t run cool enough to make a difference.

It wouldn’t be worth a stop since the air inside the buildings is just as stifling as it is outside. You just want to get home and stick on your own AC (that actually works) and rot in bed for the rest of the evening. As a treat.

You’ll get back to real life in the morning, you tell yourself. Your brain is hurting from the heat and from coming to too many life-altering realisations today and only sleep can fix you now.

Sighing, you roll your shoulders as you take a turn down a quieter street, your apartment only a couple blocks from now. The buildings lean together here, casting long shadows across the pavement that you choose to walk in as a respite from the heat.

There aren’t many people around here, just a rowdy group of teenage boys. You feel a lot older than you actually are as you watch them running around and chasing each other without breaking a sweat. They rush past you, probably on their way to the pizza place you just passed a block over where kids are always hanging around. One of them carelessly clips your shoulder, only briefly acknowledging it as he yells an apology over his shoulder.

Before you can react, your grip on the plastic bag is slipping and the cupcakes hit the pavement with a dull splat.

You freeze, staring at the mess on the sidewalk.

The bag itself catches on the breeze, which of course decides to grace you now, and drags forward an inch before settling in a pathetic crumple.

The cake itself is now smeared across the concrete, the glaringly red colour staining the dirty grey pavement in sickly streaks.

Something in you snaps.

You sink down on the curb, tucking your knees up to rest your head on them as you hold yourself together with your arms. The burn behind your eyes is impossible to blink away, having built up over the day and before you can stop yourself, the first tear spills over.

You tell yourself to get a fucking grip already, but your breath just stutters and there’s a lump in your throat that you can’t swallow.

It’s stupid. They’re the cheapest cupcakes on the shelf and they taste like shit and you were going to throw them out anyway, so you don’t know why you’re even crying. It’s probably symbolism or something else that makes sense in your frazzled mind. These disgusting cupcakes apparently represent your grief for your best friend.

A sound crawls out of your throat, something between a bitter laugh and a choked sob.

You bury your face into your arms and silently cry, trying to rid yourself of any thoughts. You attempt to focus solely on the brick wall pressing into your skin through your t-shirt, cooled down by the shadow it stands in, the distant sound of traffic and the scratch of rough pavement beneath your shoes. It doesn’t work, and instead you cry harder, trying to breathe.

You’re still curled in on yourself, sobbing like a child and so you don’t hear the footsteps until they’re right in front of you.

“Hey.”

The voice cuts through the noise of your loud sniffling. It’s rough and low, but there’s something off about it — metallic, like it’s coming through a filter.

At first, you think your sinuses are just blocked up from the crying and you hesitate to move, embarrassed to be caught having a breakdown in the middle of the street.

There’s a pause and then the voice — a male, you’re presuming from the deep tone — speaks up again, this time firmer and even through the voice modulator that he’s obviously using, his impatience is apparent.

“Lady. Hey. Are you hurt?”

You sigh, a little irritated by his tone, and wipe your face with your hands before lifting your head to see… the Red Hood. Yet again.

The distorted voice did give you some sort of an indication it’d be a vigilante when you looked up. Or some sort of wannabe villain, actually. You don’t have time to think about your worsening survival instincts (and potentially the mild, yet unintentional suicidal tendencies you seem to be displaying) since he speaks into the silence again.

“Did someone—?”

His modulated voice cuts off when you look up at him, his entire body visibly stiffening when your face comes into view.

It doesn’t really strike you as odd that there’s tension in the way he’s holding himself, like he’s immediately entered into fight or flight mode and can’t decide what the fight includes.

You suppose the sight of a woman crying vulnerably in the middle of the street is a little intimidating to the average man, but weren’t these vigilante types supposed to be used to this? Oh well, you think. With the sheer number of them, it isn’t surprising that not all of them can have perfect people skills.

He certainly isn’t the typical hero type you’ve encountered, the usual domino mask swapped out for the deep red helmet that conceals any distinguishable features, contrasting sharply with his dark tactical gear, highlighted even with the dying sunlight and lack of streetlights here.

The pistols at his sides would be unnerving if it weren’t for the fact that his hands are twitching at his sides. It’s almost like he’s trying not to reach for them — as though it’s a reflex, but he isn’t quite sure what to do here.

After a minute of staring, you sniff again and the noise seems to stir him from whatever stupor he appeared to be in.

He clears his throat, quietly, but the modulator picks it up and there’s a crackling sound in the air. “Did someone do something to you?” His voice is steadier, more controlled and almost on autopilot as though he’s reading from some type of script.

Slowly, you shake your head. “I’m fine,” you mutter, voice thick.

“You don’t look fine,” he says, matter-of-fact and irritation flares hot in your chest all of a sudden. He steps back when you move to get up.

You stand, scowling at him now, and you wipe your face of any remaining tears. “Wow. Thanks.”

“You—“ He cuts himself off with a barely audible sigh and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he sounds almost… frustrated? Your scowl deepens. It’s not like you asked him to approach you. You’re about to tell him as much (along with some choice words about how entitled vigilantes are these days), when he takes another deep breath. “You’re crying. What happened?”

“Jesus, you’re persistent,” you huff, wiping at your shorts and picking your tote bag off the ground. You motion to the synthetically red mess next to you. “No one hurt me. Kid just ran past me and made me drop my bag.”

He’s quiet. And then he looks down and just stares.

You can’t see his eyes in the mask of his, the white eyepiece clearly for his own use only. But they’re presumably stuck on the cupcakes smushed into the concrete. His posture stiffens and his head tilts down just a fraction too long.

It would be all you need if he was an environmentally conscious guy wielding guns on the same day you drop cupcakes that would probably kill the pigeons that will undoubtedly be picking at them later.

“Anyway,” you say, the exhaustion seeping into your bones like a drug. “Thanks for… the concern, or whatever. I’ll be going home now.”

As you step past him, his voice stops you in your tracks.

“You shouldn’t be sitting around in this part of town.”

You pause. Then, turning slowly, you narrow your eyes. “Excuse me?”

He sighs and you notice his helmet tilts up ever so slightly, like he’s already regretting speaking to you, but he doesn’t back down. “You were an easy target, sitting there like that. Someone else could’ve come along.”

“I grew up here,” you scoff, hands finding your hips stubbornly. “I can handle myself.”

“Then you should know better.”

The sharpness in his voice takes you by surprise and you fight the urge to stare at him incredulously. Who the hell does this guy think he is?

“I— I wasn’t just sitting around,” you dither, pointlessly. There’s no need to defend yourself, but something about the way he’s speaking to you is bringing out an urge to argue with him. You never do that with strangers, not anymore. You like to think you’ve matured somewhat. Quietly, you let out a disbelieving laugh at the whole situation. “Look. You don’t... you don't know me, so just… lay off.”

Red Hood just stands there, his expressionless mask giving nothing away, but his gloved hands flex beside him for a second. Finally, he relaxes and takes a step back.

Silently, he turns his back on you and begins to walk away and it isn’t until he’s nearly out of sight that you notice him rolling his shoulders like he’s trying to ease the tension there.

You tilt your head up to the sky, closing your eyes and breathing deeply before looking back down at the ruined cupcakes one last time with a rueful glare.

“… Asshole.”

tag list is now closed!

@sakur4ii @theendofthematerialgworl @daughterofthemoons-stuff @staraniseed @harbours-lighthouse @eli-com @flanhog @catsaresillyasheck @wafflez-009 @straight-n-arrow @ydkmsstuff @alikkatz @wadehowl3tt @doperthanabitch @herondale-lightworm @nwjsns @atadoddinnit @d1nne @venuslovey @likesherriesinthespring @smiithys @skullyz1 @krowjet @rockyeatrock @awful-and-sarcastic-official @banana-lol @rues-lovely-memoir @iwanttostrangleyou @tinasdcstuff @tanchosanks @0sunnyside01 @actuallybarb

#i’ll be thinking about this for the rest of the day #mark my words #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd/reader #jason todd/you #jason todd #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood/reader #red hood/you #red hood #red hood fanfiction #[ harbour's fic recs ]

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marvelous-llama · 1 year ago

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NCT recs

<<original book

most of the mentioned works is 18+ NSFW, MINORS DNI

pls don´t hesitate to hmu, if any of mentioned links doesn´t work or you have suggestions for more fics... thank you so much for all the love and comments

one shots

birthday treat by @mrkis

Mark x fem!reader(wc - 1.9k) established relationship - fluff, smut giving birthday boy mark his birthday treat

3, 2, 1 by @justalildumpling

Mark x gn!reader (wc - 2.3k) friends to lovers, mutual pining - fluff at this point of your pathetically unrequited crush on your popular friend, it didn’t faze you when you found out that he wasn’t going to be at the same NYE party as you. but when he suddenly turned up to come find you, did you start wondering that maybe you weren’t the only one with harboured feelings.

Across the Room by @taexoxosgf

Mark x fem!reader (wc - 6.4k) idol!Mark, idol!reader - fluff(ish), smut You were just so beautiful. The type of beauty that seemed unattainable. The type of visual Mark would never approach because he concluded that there are already a million people at your feet.

the best man by @mrkis

Mark x fem!reader (wc - 6.5k) strangers to lovers? - fluff, smut, crack meeting the one for you at your best friend's wedding wasn't exactly how you imagined this day turning out, neither was fucking him in the bathroom of the venue.

no clue by @haetrack

Mark x fem!reader (wc - 11.6k) strangers to lovers, university AU - fluff, angst, smut mark realizes how long it’s been since he’s gotten laid, immediately heading to a party. he’s quick to find you, rushing into a room without really thinking about it. except now, he can’t stop thinking about you. how bad is it really if he ends up falling in love with his one night stand?

mad at you by @sincerelyneo

Mark x fem!reader (wc - 4.3k) established relationship, idol!Mark - angst, smut, fluff, hurt/comfort Mark learns that you’ve made a ‘selfish’ decision that’s bound to put a strain on your relationship. Next thing you know, you're knee-deep in an argument that somehow ends with you sprawled out beneath him; because, let’s be honest, he’s never really been any good at staying mad at you.

Golden Hour by @onyourhyuck

Mark x fem!reader (wc - 8k) enemies to lovers, biker!Mark, waiter!reader - angst, smut, fluff You’re a waiter and Mark Lee the local biker and infamous bad boy loves the eggs your diner makes, but now he wants a taste of you.

gelato by @hazyhae

Mark x fem!reader (wc - 14.4k) friends > strangers > lovers - angst, fluff, smut a high slip up cost you mark lee years ago, and you’ve spent years burying your memories of him ever since. the universe has other plans for you when your old friend starts a new career, smoking his way back into your life.

elevator pitch by @luvhaos

Mark x fem!reader (wc - 9.1k) university AU, frat boy!Mark - fluff, angst you hardly talk to any of the members of nu kappa tau until you go to one party and now, all of a sudden, they’re all so eager to chat with you and tell you all about their “brother,” mark lee. (alternatively: four times mark’s friends tell you about him and one time you ask them about him).

fever pitch by @nctsworld

Mark x fem!reader (wc - 8.4k) strangers to lovers, baseball player!Mark - fluff, smut, crack your world is shaken up (literally) when you meet the handsome man guilty of the accidental baseball smack to your head. after a comforting meet-cute and realization that he’s the city’s ace pitcher, you two go on a date. and by the end of the night, mark thinks he’s falling for you faster than any pitch he’s thrown before.

series

sweet cream, cold brew & salted caramel by @lucyandthepen

Mark x fem!reader (wc - 26.4k + 20.3k) stragers > friends > lovers, university AU, barista!Mark - angst, fluff, smut, crack something about mark lee keeps you up at night, and you’re pretty sure that it isn’t the lingering smell of espresso on his shirt.

#nct #nct 127 #nct u #nct dream #nct x reader #nct smut #nct recs #nct 127 recs #nct dream recs #mark #nct mark #mark lee #mark x reader #nct mark x reader #mark lee x reader #mark lee smut #mark smut

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gulliblelemon · 9 months ago

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Young Royals Fic Recommendations 3

My reading has slowed down a lot recently as I've been doing more writing. But I've definitely got enough for another (probably too long) rec list! Previous lists are here and here.

As ever, I've tried to include Tumblr usernames. Let me know if I've missed any.

(I also have my own fic list here). And also a Part 4.

Ivy by @unfortunate17 32k words. Complete. Rating E. Wilhelm is a Navy Officer and Simon is a pirate. As usual, they are desperately in love. (Honourable mention to Little Light by the same author).

'Tis the Damn Season by littlebluefish 31k words. Complete. Rating M. Canon divergence from end of Season 1. Simon and Wilhelm are friends. They find their way back to each other.

should've said no (and you might still have me) by @bigalockwood 53k words. Complete. Rating T. When aspiring songwriter Simon Eriksson catches his boyfriend cheating on him, just writing angry break-up songs won’t cut it. And what better way to get back at his ex than to date the guy he’d been eying? This is a story about how Simon seeks revenge… and Wille becomes collateral damage along the way.

A Most Distracting Pair Of Studs by c_violet @peakotp 1k words. Complete. Rating G. Wilhelm discovers a distracting new Simon fact.

esa boquita roja by @grapehyasynth 2k words. Complete. Rating T. He wants to taste Simon’s lip gloss, and then he wants to taste Simon.

always on the tip of my tongue by @royalwilmon 68k. WIP. Rating E. Friends. A decade ago, they could have been more, but that's not what happened. They remained friends. Best friends. Benefits. Because having a best friend who knows you inside and out can have its perks.

Share Your Address by itsme_hi_imtheproblem @iwouldnevergetintofanfic 69k words. Complete. Rating E. Simon and Wille become unlikely roommates. Both of them are surprised when instead they quickly become friends. Just friends. Despite what other people soon start insinuating. Because roommates and romance don't mix, right? (honourable mention to My Bad and Is It Over Now? by the same author).

Coffee Is The Best Midnight Oil by online_campfire_tales 4k words. Complete. Rating G. Simon is an insomniac that spends restless nights on his balcony. Wilhelm is his fellow-insomniac neighbour that feels terrible for making Simon spill his drink. Can I make it any more obvious?

Favours by RubyIntyale @earlgrey-lateatnight 3k words. Complete. Rating E. Wille and Simon are roommates and best friends. Simon has slipped on some ice and broken his wrist. He’s struggling with everyday tasks, but the thing that’s really getting him down is that he can’t get himself off. Wille, kind and considerate friend that he is (and harbouring a secret infatuation), offers to help him out.

Sore Loser by @piebingo 7k words. Complete. Rating T. How Simon (badly) handles seeing Wilhelm fall in love with someone else on a reality TV dating show.

You're The Cutest Jailbird I Ever Did See by @pagegirlintraining and the-amber-fox 7k words. Complete. Rating T. If you asked Simon and Wille, neither of them could tell you exactly how they ended up inside a cell at the Bjärstad police department for getting in a fight with August and his friends. The thing is, neither of them is mad that they ended up there together.

all for the cause by Elin98 @ishotforthestars 10k words. Complete. Rating T. The one where Wille and Simon end up co-hosting Musikhjälpen 2026, raising money for charity and accidentally falling in love in the process. All for the good cause.

at sunrise / al amanecer by emerybemery 1k words. Complete. Rating G. Simon is in love with Wilhelm, but the Prince could never know that. Simon sleeps in the Prince’s bed nearly every night, but he always leaves, at sunrise.

forever i'm yours by @goldenwilmon 22k words. Complete. Rating E. Simon takes a chance when he sees Wilhelm from afar at a party on a January night, sparking an instant connection between them. They spend a year falling in love.

Faroe Gone by @groenendaelfic 36k words. WIP. Rating E. The Queen is dying; parliament is about to name August Horn of Årnäs her successor; and Simon Eriksson is rushing across the ocean armed with nothing but a ten-year-old piece of paper searching for the boy he fell in love with when he was sixteen, or rather the man who is Sweden's rightful next King.

Coffee Dates by sofia_with_an_f 23k words. Complete. Rating T. AU Royal Simon/Commoner Wilhelm. College roommates.

#yr fic rec #yr fanfic #young royals #wilmon #gulliblelemon #lemon recommends

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harbours-lighthouse-recs · 21 days ago

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જ⁀➴ february's list of amazing works by wonderful people, Star Wars edition!

Obi-Wan Kenobi:

i. "Comfort" @hellotherekenobi ii. "Alive, But Just Barely" @hellotherekenobi iii. Through the Depths of the Shadows @damnitdoctor

Din Djarin:

i. "Touch" (Part 1 of Tigaanur Series) @magicrowiswritingstuff ii. "Embrace" (Part 2 of Tigaanur Series) @magicrowiswritingstuff iii. "Whisper" (Part 3 of Tigaanur Series) @magicrowiswritingstuff

Cal Kestis:

i. "Reunions and Resolved Misunderstandings" @hxney-lemcn ii. "Our Empire" @goosewriting iii. "The Way To A Droid's Heart" @kindasleepywriter

#obi-wan kenobi x reader #din djarin x reader #cal kestis x reader #obi-wan kenobi #din djarin #cal kestis #star wars x various #star wars x reader #star wars #[ harbour's fic recs ]

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meetinginsamarra · 4 months ago

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Fanfics I Really Liked in September 2024

So. Since I keep a list of what I´ve read anyway (there´s always a list), I will rec all the fics I´ve wholly enjoyed on a monthly basis. Old and new, canon or AU, big or small authors, long or short but nearly always Johnlock (-ish).

Clean Start by standbygo @blogstandbygo

UniLock - John meets an odd man at the laundrette who deduces people from what's in the dryer.

Delightful different first meeting.

These Hours That Define Us by predictably_unpredictable

Sherlock has just been discharged from hospital, not knowing what to expect or what he'll be coming home to. He's convinced himself that he should never see John again for John's well being, believing himself to be a hindrance to him. But when John shows up unexpectedly to 221B in the middle of the day hoping for a place to stay, things take a different turn, forcing them both to confront their past and their future.

Awesome S3 fix-it!

The night visitor by Snoozydog

John Watson, former army surgeon, employed by the secretive and indefinable government official Mycroft Holmes, accidentally saves the life of his employer's younger brother and ends up being hired as his private physician. John is immediately fascinated by his new patient but not only is Sherlock engaged to be married to someone else, but he is also a man surrounded by many dark secrets. Under the looming threat of Mycroft’s watchful eyes, as well as Sherlock’s imminent wedding there is also something else that lurks in the shadows, something that threats the budding relationship that has started to develop between the doctor and his enigmatic patient.

^^ Says it all, go read!

The winding road of secrets and lies by Snoozydog

John Watson takes on a mission to infiltrate the household of Mycroft Holmes by order of his new employer, Sebastian Moran, to access information their boss is wishing to get his hands on. To be able to get to Mycroft John will have to befriend his younger brother Sherlock and try to establish a bond with him. But what starts out as a seemingly simple job proves to be much more complicated for John as the Holmes household harbours many dark and unexpected secrets, especially about the very complicated relationship between the two brothers. Under pressure from his boss to follow through with his assignment, Mycroft suspiciously watching his every move and, to complicate matters even more, John beginning to develop feelings for Sherlock, he is beginning to regret ever taking this job. Can he complete his initial plan to steal information from Mycroft and what will happen when Sherlock finds out the truth?

^^ Says it all, go read!

The Printer Is Jammed by startrekto221b (snowandfire)

John is a disgruntled customer who just wants his money back for a shoddy printer Harry ordered for him off of a catalogue. Sherlock is a bored customer service rep working the summer he has off from Oxford. They are both about to get more than they bargained for.

Fandom classic AU different first meeting. Grumpy John and snarky Sherlock and hilarious shenanigans aróund the printer. Lots of fun.

The Printer Is Still Jammed by startrekto221b (snowandfire)

Life after happily ever after still has its pitfalls. Glimpses into the lives of Sherlock and John after they said ‘I do’.

Part 2 of the printer fun.

#my fanfic recs #fic rec list #fanfics I really liked in September 2024 #sherlock

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wolfpants · 1 year ago

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my year in fic

It's 5am and I can't sleep, so what better way to keep me sane than this lovely roundup post @sorrybutblog tagged me in! Tagging @citrusses @getawayfox @oknowkiss @sweet-s0rr0w @tackytigerfic @skeptiquewrites @mallstars @sitp-recs @moonflower-rose @danpuff-ao3 @writcraft @wrapped-up and anyone else who sees this and wants to play too!

Sorted newest to oldest ✍🏻

Thickets | Drarry | E | 17.3k

When Draco returns to the UK after two decades of building his career as an internationally-renowned artist to look after his ailing, estranged father, he crosses paths with his former flame, Harry Potter, in the most unexpected way.

Waiting for the Moon to Rise | Drarry | E | 8.9k

When Harry and Draco move into Grimmauld Place straight out of Hogwarts, the last person they expect to find taking up residence is Bill ‘divorced, dishevelled, and dangerous’ Weasley. But what if their new, furry little problem is the help they need to finally bring them closer? Stranger things have happened, Draco supposes.

Terrible People | Drarry | E | 52.8k

What happens when Harry and Draco end up on the same Muggle gay cruise? They certainly didn't plan for it to happen (but their friends might have). They're stuck with each other for a week, they might as well make the most of it, right?

A Saviour's Guide to Manners and Decorum | Drarry | E | 13.1k

Honorary Minister Harry Potter (yes, he's fully aware his job title is meaningless, and he quite likes it that way) is a disaster at public events. After seven years of dealing with his boorish behaviour, cringey table manners, and clumsy dancing, the Ministry's press team take matters into their own hands and hire Wixen Britain's leading Etiquette and Deportment Expert, Draco Malfoy, to take on the challenge of cleaning up Harry's image before the Ministry's 300th Anniversary Celebration Gala.

Everybody Hates a Tourist | Drarry | E | 51.5k

On a stag do in sunny Brighton with the Gryffindor lads, the last person Harry expects to run into is Draco Malfoy. After a glimpse of Malfoy’s Muggle life in Britain’s gay capital, Harry’s curiosity gets the better of him and he finds himself returning to the seaside again and again, drawn to the city, drawn to this new version of Malfoy that Harry barely recognises from school.

Precious Metal | Ronarry, Dron, Drarry | M | 28k

Precious metal awaits in an abandoned, cursed cottage on the Isle of Jura. Ron’s illegal hunting ring is on it, but disaster strikes when he runs into a jumpy and suspicious Draco Malfoy, camped out where the treasure is hidden. What happens when they accidentally unleash a bond curse when both of them harbour feelings for the same man?

Trillium | Dronarry | E | 13.4k

Harry and Draco are shagging. Ron’s got a hunch, and the only way to find out is to volunteer his services alongside Harry’s in the Big Malfoy Manor Cleanup of 2010. What could possibly go wrong?

Kinkuary '23 | Various pairings | M - E

A collection of 28 short fics spanning different pairings and inspired by the Kinkuary 2023 prompts! A mix of M and E ratings. Expect rare pairs, Drarry, crossgen, group sex, dirtyhotwrong... you name it!

#I've probably written too much this year #my brain is sore and tired #oh well!#writing #drarry #hp fic #drarry fic #draco/harry #harry/draco

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harbours-lighthouse-recs · 13 days ago

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edward cullen wasn't my awakening but boy howdy did he walk so dick grayson could SPRINT (to my heart).

i'm sorry, i'll leave.

dc vs vampires!dick grayson x reader

sort of a part two to this drabble, but can be read as a standalone!

warnings — mentions of death, blood, injuries, manipulation? i guess. unedited! a/n; i couldn't help myself writing this, it's kinda longer than i thought it would be. and now it's taken over my brain for good. drabble series anyone...?

dc vs vampires!DICK GRAYSON who comes to you when he’s in need.

you fear every day that he’s going to come and visit you at night and when he does, your apprehension isn’t for the reasons one would think. you’re part of the resistance against vampires for goodness’ sake, so when their leader is so obsessed with you, it’s hard to maintain the image of hatred towards his kind when he has the face of your caring, loving ex-boyfriend.

it’s gotten worse since the last time he visited you — there’s no point in moving to a different shelter or safe house, because he’ll find you either way. at least if you don’t run, there’ll be less casualties along the way from his wrath. you expect the deaths at this point.

what you don’t expect, is dick coming to see you in the early hours of the morning when the sun has yet to rise and everyone else is fast asleep as usual.

there’s a sudden weight against the rusted door, followed by a weak, but insistent knock. your heart seizes. you know it’s him before you even stand, but something feels off — he never usually has enough manners to knock.

when you tug the door open, trying not to wince when it squeaks, your breath catches.

dick grayson, self-proclaimed ruler of the night and all things undead, stands before you, swaying on his feet. his normally pristine suit is torn, dark with blood — you assume it’s not his own at first. but then he lifts his head and you see it. his eyes are dimmer than usual, instead of the vibrant red that you’re now accustomed to seeing. his skin, usually ice-pale, is almost… grey.

he’s hurt. badly.

and yet, he still smiles at you.

“hey, sweetheart,” he whispers into the charged silence. his voice is rougher, weaker than usual, lacking the smirking lilt and arrogance that only comes with the power he possesses.

dick coughs, sounding almost winded. a wave of pain and exhaustion seems to hit him as he stumbles forward. you don’t back away fast enough because he collapses against you, cold and heavy.

his body is unnervingly still, no heartbeat or warmth, and yet his breath shudders against your neck and it takes you an embarrassingly long time to speak. your hands hover at his sides, unsure if you should push him off or — god help you — hold him up.

“what the hell happened to you?” you grit out, well aware of the lack of distance between you.

he’s trembling. you can’t tell if it’s due to exhaustion, hunger or blood loss. and then he speaks.

“someone got a little ambitious,” he mumbles, lips moving against the neckline of your shirt.

you furrow your brows, unsure what to make of this. “you mean, someone tried to kill you? what, your loyal band of followers did nothing?”

a weak chuckle escapes him and you finally give in, holding him up as much as you physically can by his arms. he lets up slightly when you make a noise of effort, leaning more on the wall beside the two of you instead.

“key word there is ‘tried’,” he says drily. “he was dead before my guards got into the room, but i wasn’t… careful enough.”

you feel a sudden wetness at your collarbone and when you look down, your shirt is now stained a startling red. it’s not the first time this has happened, and your mind goes back to the countless times dick would get hurt during patrol and you’d have to patch him up. back then, you would use antiseptic wipes and band-aids from the kids section to make him laugh. you’d kiss his wounds after you patched him up.

now, you simply scowl at him. “you need to go,” you snap, wiping his blood off your skin like it burns. “find one of your followers to feed from. that’s what you need, isn’t it? to feed?”

dick looks up at you through long lashes, the darkness of the bunker making his eyes look nearly black. but you know better. his fangs are retracted, but know exactly what he needs. you know what he’s going to ask you.

“no.” you say it before he can, and then you shove him off of you.

he stumbles, one hand catching himself with the wall and the other at his ribs where the blood is sluggishly seeping from.

his gaze snaps back to you and there’s something desperate there, vulnerable. “i don’t want them…” he whispers, voice barely audible. “i need you, sweetheart. please…”

his face, while deathly pale, is still devastatingly beautiful as he begs you. it’s so unfair that you want to cry. he’s just as gorgeous as he was when he was yours, making it so much harder to refuse him.

you still try, stubbornly balling your hands into fists. “you could go and feed from twenty people if you wanted to.”

“i can’t,” he says, frustration bleeding into his tone. “you know i can’t. they won’t be enough.”

your chest tightens painfully.

“you’re lying.”

“i’m not,” he insists, stepping forward and wincing with each step so that there’s barely an inch between you. “you know i’m not… don’t you.”

it isn’t really a question, but you still find yourself shaking your head, bile rising in your throat at the impossible situation. he’s not human, but you know how this works. he doesn’t function the same as an injured human, he won’t starve in the typical sense, but he doesn’t have long left in this state. your eyes prick with tears. “i don’t want to let you do this to me.”

“i won’t take too much,” he swears, voice dropping even lower as he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours like you’re still lovers and he’s promising you something sweet and innocent. “just enough.”

you should just let him starve. you should break the wooden leg of your bed frame off and strike him in the heart.

but you never were strong when it came to dick and instead you take a slow, unsteady breath. then, against every ounce of self-preservation left in your body, you tilt your head to the side.

his breath hitches.

“don’t make me regret this,” you whisper, but you know you will anyway.

dick doesn’t answer.

his hand rises, trembling slightly as he cups your jaw, fingers brushing against your throat. his touch is cold, light as a feather as though he’s afraid you’re going to change your mind. he leans in, eyes hooded and breath uneven. his lips ghost over your pulse and for a moment you wonder why he’s not just doing it. you realise when you look at his slightly pained expression, that he’s trying to exercise restraint.

dick swallows, closing his eyes and then—

a sharp, searing pain as his fangs sink in.

a gasp tears from your lips as heat blooms under your skin, spreading through your veins like a wildfire. your fingers tighten in his torn uniform, gripping him like your life depends on it (and it kind of does).

dick begins to drink deeply from your throat and before you know it, the pain is dulling into something else. something closer to pleasure.

a choked sound escapes you and your vision swims, body swaying as your mind fills with a fog and is emptied of anything else but the thought of the vampire feeding on you like a man starved. and for one horrifying moment, you understand.

you finally understand why people willingly give themselves to vampires.

it’s like a drug, the high is something you want to chase forever, despite the initial sting. you never want to come down from the euphoria.

and dick…

dick groans against your skin, a deep sound being wrenched from him like he’s the one floating with you. it’s close to obscene and his grip on your waist tightens as he holds you impossibly close, face buried in the crook of your neck.

with every little noise you make, dick presses his lips deeper into your skin, his fangs driving in just a little further as his hunger curls into something other than necessity — something darker, more desperate. greedy.

his hands fist carelessly in your hair as he tilts your head further, giving himself more access as he drinks like he’s intoxicated. like he never wants to stop. but then you whimper. it’s the faintest, breathy little noise, but it makes something in him snap awake.

his grip on your hair loosens and his fangs retract from your skin with a slow and deliberate care. he licks over the punctures, his tongue soothing the wounds like an apology.

you’re too high out of your mind on the sensation to wonder if he really is sorry, and you can’t give it much further thought because you’re sagging against him, knees weak and breathing shallow.

you lift your head as much as you can while you’re flush against his chest and you see that his eyes are brighter now. they’re glowing red again, but his pupils are still blown.

his lips part slightly as he takes in your fluttered lashes and dazed expression, and there’s a sliver of crimson lingering there. his breath — unnecessary, but still present — shakes as it fans your skin.

dick licks his lips slowly, savouring the lingering taste before pressing his mouth against your jaw, soft and lazy and indulgent.

“you taste so sweet,” he murmurs, voice thick with something dark and satisfied. “so much better than i could have imagined.”

his nose brushes your pulse point where his fangs had just been. you whimper again, the area still tender. you feel dick smiling against your skin.

“you did so good for me, sweetheart,” he continues, voice soothing and praising as you cling to him in a post blood loss haze. you find yourself nodding at his words, like you need to hear them. “stayed so still… let me take what i needed. i told you, didn’t i? i’ll never do anything you don’t want…”

a shaky exhale escapes you as dick traces his fingers up your spine to start stroking your hair. something in the back of your mind wants to protest at his words, to tell him that this was a one time thing. that you’ll never give into his wish to turn you fully.

the words don’t come and dick chuckles lowly, sensing your helplessness, the way your body slumps against his — weak, pliant.

“so good for me,” he murmurs, repeating his words like a mantra as he presses another kiss to your temple, lingering there. “just for me…”

you’ll regret it in the morning, you think. when you wake up and he’s not there and you catch sight of yourself in the mirror, at the two little marks on your neck… you’ll regret it then.

for now, you allow yourself to breathe him in, imagining dick as still yours as he holds you close. just the two of you.

a/n cont.; i would personally allow him whatever he wanted, but that's just me. like i'm following him home. i need to be institutionalised probably

#i also recently fell in love with astarion from baldur's gate iii and then you drop this absolute masterpiece??#stop it ni - you're feeding my love for vampiric lovers #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson/reader #dick grayson/you #dick grayson #dick grayson fanfiction #[ harbour's fic recs ]

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