#this is actually one of TWO dorian gray movies that has him get with the child of one of his friends | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nikethestatue · 3 years ago

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La Dolce Vita

Part II

On the Wings of Desire

Warnings: Language

(I had to split this chapter into two because it was getting too long. Hence, no sexy times, but angst galore) Comments and reblogs and likes are always appreciated! Let me know what you think.

Chapter One is here

Two Years Ago

Azriel

Azriel pulled up to the flower shop.

There was a surprise that he wanted to share with Elain, and like a young boy on his first date, he was both excited and nervous. But he hoped that she’d like it. Funny how he still got a little nervous with her, exuberant even.

It’s been three months since they’ve met and he loved every minute that they’d spent together. The nature of their relationship was a little undefined, but he didn’t care. So what if they weren’t ‘dating’? So there weren’t official dinners and outings, to show only the best part of each other to one another? They moved beyond that right away. They simply loved being together. It was inexplicable, how quickly it happened, how easy it was between the two of them, but Azriel could never get enough of Elain.

He came to her shop whenever he wanted, helped her out, hung out with her, and she went to the garage to meet him. If he was busy and couldn’t meet with her, she closed her shop for lunch, and brought him a sandwich, so they could eat together. He loved it, even if he actually had a restaurant and a bar on premises and she technically didn’t need to buy him food. But there was something special about her coming up the stairs to his office, dressed in one of her cute, flowery dresses and heels. Every time it was a different sandwich, a different drink and a different snack—sometimes a cookie, or good chocolate, or weird chips, or a full-on pastry with cream and ganache and whatnot. He developed a strange fascination with his lunch options, never knowing what it would be and eagerly anticipating it.

Sometimes, he took her on long rides—one of their favourite past times. If he knew that she was up to her eyeballs with orders, since this was summer and it seemed like everyone was getting married, he would bring her takeout to the shop, and they’d sit and arrange flowers until the wee hours. When things calmed down, and there was a quiet evening ahead, she usually invited him to come and eat at her place. They cooked together, drank wine, and then went for a walk.

They haven’t had a kiss yet.

Did it bother him? He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t dream of Elain all the time, of her supple, soft body, of how she’d look naked, of how she’d feel when he filled her, what sounds she’d make, what her face would look like when she climaxed around him? Was she a screamer? A beggar? Was she loud or quiet and shy?

She never spoke of her past boyfriends, so he had no idea of how many men she’s been with. Secretly, he hoped that it wasn’t too many. Maybe it was some male thing, but the idea of her with another man, the thought of someone else touching her, making her moan, making her love—it didn’t please him at all. He thought that he was more modern, more advanced in his thinking—and usually he was—but in this case, he was struggling with accepting Elain wrapped around some other male.

Surprisingly, even though it wasn’t even 6 pm yet, the flowers that usually spilled outside the shop were not gracing the pavement and the shop looked closed for the day. But Azriel went and knocked on the glass door anyway, seeing as there was some light coming from Elain’s office in the back. There was no response, but he knocked even harder, almost banging, until he heard Elain’s muffled voice yelling, “we are closed!”

“Laney, open up! It’s me!”

A few moments later, Elain appeared in the darkness and then the door opened.

And his jaw almost dropped.

She stood in front of him, wearing a slinky, satin, cobalt dress that looked almost like lingerie. Of modest length, it nevertheless emphasized her breasts very enticingly: soft and full, and pushed together just enough to create a hint of delicious cleavage. A simple set of glittering silver chains nestled seductively in that yummy valley between her breasts. One bare foot was clad in a strappy silver sandal, while she held the other, and jumped awkwardly on one foot, balancing herself on the doorframe. Her hair was curled and arranged over one naked shoulder.

He struggled to keep his breath from whooshing loudly.

“Whoa…”

“Hi Az,” she sounded…uncomfortable.

“Hey you. Hot date?” he chuckled, eyes gliding from her pretty toes up to her eyes.

Her throat bobbed and she didn’t answer.

Shit.

He fought the urge to cross his arms on his chest. But then he’d look threatening, towering over her, much like his father did when he was in one of his moods. Azriel swore to himself long ago to never, ever cross his arms with women.

“I didn’t think you’d be coming over,” she began, voice wobbling.

“So, you figured that you could sneak out?” he spat unkindly.

“I am not sneaking out!” she snapped, flushed and defiant. “I am going out,”

“With whom?” he demanded.

He and Elain had never fought. Never even disagreed.

They laughed together. They joked and discussed. They argued over books and movies. They talked about design, food and travel, places they wanted to visit, and things they wanted to see. Elain randomly texted him names of 3 and 2 Michelin star restaurants from all over the world, telling him where she wanted to dine, why, and eagerly opining on the menus.

Elain was his.

His little foodie, who was a fearless eater, and sampled just about everything and anything.

Elain was his.

His little art lover, who had a surprisingly wide breadth of knowledge of painting, art history and strong opinions on artists and styles. When he found out that she adored Balthus and that Egon Schiele was her favourite artist of all time, his respect for her only increased.

Elain was his.

His little intellectual, who read Anna Akhmatova’s poetry, listened to Alain Elkann’s podcast, and who could easily talk about the history of Lamborghini or Aston Martin, and Formula 1, just to satisfy him.

What the fuck was this?

Why was his Elain going on some date with another man?

Anger rose in him so quickly; he had a difficult time stopping his hands from shaking. So, he clasped them behind his back.

“It’s none of your business,” she said coldly. “I don’t have to report to you who I am going out with,”

“You don’t?” he demanded absurdly.

“No, I don’t!”

“Please tell me who he is?” he decided on a different approach. His brain was working furiously, trying to dissuade her, yet not anger her, yet find out as much information as possible.

“No!” she shook her head stubbornly. “Why do you even care?”

Why did he care? WHY did he care?

He couldn’t have been misreading all the signs. He couldn’t have been misreading her interest, her acceptance, her want.

There was no doubt in his mind that she wanted him—emotionally, as a friend, as a partner, as a lover. Reading people was his job, his calling, and he’d never been wrong. He certainly wasn’t wrong with Elain—she was an open book to him. He didn’t need to evaluate her reactions to his company to know that she was absolutely enthralled with him.

So why this?

Was it something he did? There were no hints of anything amiss the last time they’d seen each other. They were at her place, they cooked Italian together—spaghetti and clams—and he opened a bottle of Petilia Greco di Tufo, a pure, harmonious white from Campania. Then they went to the rooftop—their favourite place—and watched the city, enjoying gelato and playing cards.

Squeezing his hands behind his back, he demanded, “Has he been vetted?”

“Vetted? Vetted?” she exclaimed incredulously. “Who is going to be doing this vetting?”

She stared at him and bit out,

“I don’t like this side of you. This is crazy behaviour,”

“Why? Because you are going on a date? Suddenly. Unexpectedly.”

At that, she blushed furiously, squirming under his heavy, icy gaze.

He continued, “And with some guy you refuse to tell me anything about. Have you told Cass?”

“What? What exactly is Cass? My father?”

“Cass runs security for,”

“I know what Cass does!” she cried, looking furious, but also uncomfortable. Insecure. Anxious. “But I am not telling him. Leave me alone. I am not telling anyone,”

“Not even Nesta? Elide?” he demanded. ��And what if something happens?”

“What’s going to happen?!” she asked nervously.

Nothing.

Probably nothing.

He was being an overbearing creep, but he couldn’t stop.

He needed to know. And yes, he wanted her to be safe.

“Who knows?” he shrugged menacingly. “He is unvetted. No one knows anything about him. Have you even Googled him?”

She blushed.

That’s a no.

“Unless you tell me his name, I am not leaving,” he warned. “I need to know who you are going to be with.”

“I am not telling you.”

“Fine,” he propped himself against the door. “We’ll just stand here.”

“Fine.”

The standoff continued for another few minutes, until, exasperated, she blurted,

“His name is Dorian!”

“Dorian. As in Dorian Gray?”

She rolled her eyes. “How funny.”

He took out his phone and asked, “Does Dorian have a last name?”

“Are you seriously going to Google him?”

“Absolutely I will. Since you didn’t.”

“I am not telling you.”

“Fine,” he shrugged. “I’ll await Dorian’s arrival and have a man-to-man talk with him,”

She paled.

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Watch me.”

She glared at him, and then sneered, “Why don’t you invite Lorcan too! And Rowan. So the three of you can stand here, in your freaky silent vigil and glare at him, to scare him off.”

“Good idea.”

She shrugged, “And when Dorian comes here, you three can tower over him.”

“Why? Is he tiny?” Azriel snorted.

She rolled her eyes and then thrust her foot into her other heel, finally. As she tied it around her ankle, she muttered angrily, “so disappointed in you,”

“Get in line,” he snapped.

“Adarlan,”

“What?”

“His last name is Adarlan.”

Azriel immediately typed the name into the phone.

A pretty white boy. Columbia. Pre-law.

Figures.

Of course, someone like that would want someone like Elain. And she’d want him in return. Pretty, proper. Pathetic.

“Satisfied?” she rose to her full height. Her cheeks were flushed, brown eyes gleaming with anger and challenge.

She was so beautiful and so annoyed with him, Azriel was blinded by her, by her light, her spirit.

“Not for a while,” he said blandly and shrugged.

That made her redden. Not the blush of anger. Her sexy blush.

So, he went for it.

“Call it off,” he begged.

“What?”

“Call it off. Please.”

“Why?”

Because you are mine.

He wanted to tell her. To explain.

But did he deserve her? All that light and goodness? Perhaps, pretty boy Dorian was indeed more appropriate.

“Because,” he began and then heard a car pull up behind him.

Steps.

He didn’t turn around.

“Elain.”

“Dorian.”

Her face lit up with a smile.

“Ready?”

She nodded. “Just let me grab my bag.”

When she disappeared, Azriel turned around at last.

Dorian was good looking, tall, thin. Young. Looked like a kid, though Azriel figured that he wasn’t much younger than him. But Azriel’s lived about 540 years by now…at least that’s how it felt, and Dorian—Dorian probably had many girlfriends, many friends, and daddy’s money.

He was about as interesting as a bag of beans.

They stared at each other.

Azriel didn’t give a shit.

He didn’t care about anything, other than this is what Elain chose. This Dorian may end up holding Elain’s hand. Perhaps going in for a kiss. That sensuous weak mouth may touch Elain’s perfect lips—the lips that Azriel only dreamt of kissing. And what if it went further?

What if,

No.

Elain was not a ‘first date sex’ kind of girl. Never. Not his Elain.

“Treat her well,” he growled a warning.

Dorian blinked.

“What?”

“Treat. Elain. Well.”

“Who are you?”

“Consider me her brother-in-law.”

“Oh. Okay. Alright. Sure, man. Yeah.”

Fucking intellectual powerhouse.

“I am one of many,”

“Many what?” Dorian asked in confusion.

“Many brothers-in-law. And they all look like me. Some are even bigger.”

“Ready?!” Elain chirped.

“Um, yeah,” Dorian’s eyes darted back and forth.

Azriel finally gave up and crossed his arms on his chest.

“Have fun you two,” he said sweetly.

“Thank you. I’ll see you at Rhys’s pool party on Saturday,” Elain acted like everything was normal.

“Sure. Bring Dorian along,” Azriel jerked his chin. “We’ll be delighted to have him.”

Elain

“He is a charmer,” Dorian finally exhaled once they were inside the car.

She grunted in response.

“Does he have enough tattoos?” he started to reverse. “Oh, look, a Ferrari,”

“It’s his,” she bit the inside of her cheek, glancing quickly at the unmoving figure under the awning.

“His? What is he? A drug dealer?”

“Dorian!” she snapped. She was so on edge, she sat on her shaking hands the moment she buckled up.

“Sorry. Sorry. But really, do you want me to,”

She interrupted,

“What? Are you offering to beat him up?”

“I mean,”

“Dorian. He is a Navy Seal,” she said bluntly. “His bicep is the circumference of my head. His buddies are all pushing 6”7 in height and are all former Navy Seals. I am just saying. You aren’t taking him on.”

Dorian didn’t feel the need to disagree.

Azriel

Elain was his home. She was his happy place. His joy.

Her smile made everything better.

When she touched him--his fingers, his cheek—that touch carried more sensual promise than anything he’d ever experienced. And he’d experienced plenty.

Azriel’s only brush with love was when he was 18 and it was right before Morgana fucked Cassian, lost her virginity to him and got pregnant by him. He wondered if that’s what fucked him up, turned him off love for this past decade. Ploughing through endless bodies felt good, though he was usually left with the feeling of residual emptiness and longing. But he accepted it.

Elain though. He didn’t plough into Elain. Never even so much as seen her breast. And yet, his head was filled with her. Images, both erotic and mundane floated through his brain constantly. Elain’s eyes lighting up when he called her ‘baby’. Elain tasting a pastry, in her own special way, sometimes dipping her finger into the cream, and driving him wild. Elain reclining her golden head on the seat of his car, eyes closed. Elain being a little drill master when it came to arranging flowers, absolutely unperturbed by the idea of ordering Rowan and Cassian and Fen around.

That Elain was offering her smile, her time, her attention to that pretty prick Dorian was just intolerable.

If he could, he would actually climb the walls. But Azriel couldn’t climb walls, even if parkour-loving Fenrys would probably teach him how. Therefore, he went back to the shop, where Nuala was just packing up for the day.

“I need your car,” he demanded.

“We are in a garage,” she reminded him reasonably, but nevertheless tossed her keys to him. He caught them with one hand and said, “I owe you one.”

“You owe me like fifty…but who is counting?”

Nuala didn’t know why he needed her car, but she did know that he was beyond pining, at this point. He was in full love mode. As in LOVE. Capital letters, heart palpitations, sleepless nights, acting-like-a-drug-addict LOVE. Who would have thought? Not only that Azriel would fall in love at all, but that it would be with Elain.

Azriel got into Nuala’s ordinary Acura, drove to Elain’s apartment, and kept vigil the very same way she told him he would.

At this point, he didn’t care at all. He sat and waited in his shadows. Waiting like this—he learned this level of patience back in the Navy, during his recon missions—suited him, and his personality. Lorcan and he could sit like this for hours. Days. They weren’t bothered at all. Cassian and Fenrys would whine, complain and bounce like little children.

Shadows were his friends, as they’d always been, since he was a boy and hid from his abusive father. They protected him then, and concealed him now.

Finally, at an acceptable, and slightly boring, 11:23 pm, Dorian’s generic Audi pulled up.

There was no way that either of them would spot him, or assume that he was around.

Dorian opened the door for Elain, and she stepped out. They talked. She smiled. Then laughed.

It all grated on Azriel’s nerves. Go inside! He wanted to shout to her.

Then, Dorian made a move. Azriel tensed, when the pretty boy reached his hand out and ran his knuckles over Elain’s bare shoulder. The hand stopped entirely too close to her breast, as he squeezed her upper arm, holding her close. If Azriel sensed even the tiniest expression of discomfort from her, he’d be flying out of the car in a snap.

They talked some more, that gross hand still resting on Elain’s arm. But then, she opened her arms and Azriel grimaced. No way. No way was she going for a kiss.

And thank all the gods above, but she only hugged him, and not a close hug either—but that awkward, butts-out, shoulders pressed together weird hug. Something males typically gave each other, so careful to avoid any penile interaction. Then she walked to her building and gave Dorian a little wave. He hopped in his car and drove away.

What a prick. Didn’t even wait for her to get inside.

But she stood still, door unopened, keys in her fingers. And then, she peered into the darkness. A long, penetrating gaze. Aimed right at him. Like she saw through the shadows. She looked and looked, and he melted in the shadows, into the darkness of the car.

And then she flipped him off, and walked inside.

Elain

Piled into Lorcan’s Range Rover, it was Elain ad Elide, Lorcan and Connall in the car.

It was a nice day for a pool party, for a long drive to the Hamptons, for enjoying the sunshine.

Elain was having none of it.

She hated this idea to begin with—pool parties—which were full of too-rich and affected young people, prancing around in skimpy underwear. The women too perfect. The men, full of unreasonable expectations.

Feyre and Morrigan liked this crap, Cassian too, Aelin—certainly.

All the people with their perfect bodies and big hair and bigger personalities.

This Range Rover was like the car for outcasts.

Lorcan looked like he wanted to be at a pool party as much as he wanted to have a rectal exam. Connall, she was sure, would just sit by the bar and nurse drinks all day long. Elide would always find an escape with Lor, and the two of them would huddle together and make snide comments about the attendees to each other.

Elain sighed.

She was such a stupid, inexcusably dumb, fucking idiot.

“Do you know why Az isn’t coming today?” Lorcan looked at her in the mirror.

“Oh?”

She bit inside of her cheek, stifling a pathetic cry.

It shouldn’t have surprised her that Azriel decided not to attend, but she still harbored hope, somewhere inside of her that he would. That they’d be able to talk. That he’d…

Forgive her?

“No, I don’t know,” she mumbled.

“Did you have a fight or something?” Lorcan’s strange black eyes looked at her like they were scraping the edges of her soul. It wasn’t the most comfortable of feelings.

“No.”

She spent the rest of the trip in sullen silence. Even Elide didn’t try to shake her out of her stupor.

As expected, the party was ridiculously over the top.

There were throngs of people milling about, all in various stages of undress. Firm, golden flesh gleamed in the sunlight.

There were three bars—one for beer, one for cocktails and one for everything else. An ice cream station. A s’mores station. Wagyu beef sliders. Lobster hot dogs. Jamon Iberico. Wheels of Parmigiano Reggiano.

Deep down, Elain was grateful that she’d never be this wealthy.

She was happy with her flowers, her shop, and she was considering opening a pastry shop down the road. And then Azriel had his wonderful garage, but successful as it was, it wasn’t on the Darling level of wealth…And that was alright. It was perfectly enough, too much even,

She stopped.

She should’ve just told him. Everything. A long time ago. But the intensity of her own feelings towards him frightened her, and then…she fucked it all up.

She meandered absently around the premises, listening to Feyre’s and Nesta’s screeching from the pool, where both were perched on the shoulders of their respective lovers, whacking each other and others with long plastic poles. Mor and her new girlfriend were making out passionately in a hammock. Fenrys was swarmed by a bevy of busty beauties. And so on…

She was feeling foolish and exposed in her pink bikini, wishing she had a wrap or something. Her body was no worse than all of these other girls’, but she couldn’t help but compare herself to them. They were confident. Exciting. Entertaining. They flirted and laughed loudly. They had sparkly teeth and giant lips.

She didn’t know how to flirt, and wasn’t glamorous or polished like them.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all alone? Without a drink?”

A man sidled over, his bold eyes roaming about her body, assessing.

“I am fine, thank you,” she made to get away and walk towards the pool, but he thrust an insistent hand in front of her, holding a drink.

“Come on, sugar. Join me.”

Sugar?

And then, there were four of them. Five.

None were threatening, but being surrounded by so many men, while basically naked was outside of Elain’s comfort zone. They were joking, laughing, chugging their beers. She didn’t know any of them.

“So, who are you?” asked one of them.

“A guest.”

She angled her body towards the pool, trying to sneak past them.

“A guest? We are guests too! Nice party,”

“It is. Pardon me, I have to go,”

“But why?”

One of them caught her hand in his and pulled lightly, grounding her in place.

“Excuse me!” she attempted to withdraw her hand, but he didn’t budge. They herded her a little closer to the house. A sixth man approached, carrying a little tray with tequila shots.

“Where do you got to go, baby?”

Another hand slipped down her back and brushed over her butt, making her jerk.

“What the hell?” she hissed, but her indignation was met with amused smiles.

“Such a pretty girl, all alone. Come, join us,”

“I am not alone!” she snapped angrily.

“Oh no?”

“And who are you with?”

“My fucking boyfriend!” she lied, a little scared now.

“Oh, a boyfriend?” teased one. “And who might that be?”

“Do we know this boyfriend? Where is he?”

She looked around desperately, and then lied again, “He is inside. And coming back, soon.”

Laughter.

“Ohh, I don’t think so. I’ve been watching you for an hour, and there is no boyfriend.”

“I think I need to go,”

“But why!?!”

They goaded, “Tell us about the boyfriend?”

“His name is Azriel Bagarat,” she blurted out.

More laughter. Challenging, condescending laughter.

“Really?”

“Mr. Fancy Garage is your boyfriend?”

“Good one! I almost fell for it.”

“Azriel Bagarat-I-date-a-new-girl-weekly makes for a bad boyfriend, honey,”

“You aren’t exactly his type.”

Tears threatened to pour out of her eyes, and she was horrified by her body’s reaction to the taunting.

She threw, “and what type is that?”

“He doesn’t go for squeaky clean girls like you.”

“Maybe it’s an experiment!” laughed one of them. “He is into all sorts of fucking kink. Maybe he is wetting his cock in some virgin flesh,”

“Are you even legal?”

“You look awfully young.”

At this point, Elain was not above screaming for Lorcan, or Rowan, or anyone else. Her looking weak and pathetic was the least of her concerns.

For a moment, the teasing and the laughter died down. One of them exclaimed, “Oh hey. There you are!”

Fuck. Another one.

The scent hit her first. The sharp, intoxicating smell of his expensive Armani cologne. She’d recognize it anywhere. That hint of cedar and a chilled night air. That was him. Her home.

And then, the familiar dark arm slipped across her stomach, tugging her firmly to his front. Another hand slid to her throat, laying on it, but not squeezing. He held her tenderly, close to him, possessively.

“I missed my girl,” he whispered, his gravelly, husky voice so familiar to her ear it sent a shiver down her spine.

Why couldn’t it be like this forever? Her in his arms? Forever?

“My gorgeous girlfriend always brings all the boys to the yard,” he chuckled. And then, to Elain’s utter delight and pleasure, he placed a warm, open mouthed kiss on the side of her neck.

She shuddered.

He’d never kissed her. Never intimately. Never kissed her like this.

His. She was his. And he just marked his territory.

It was glorious. To be kissed by him was something that she’d dreamt of and here it was—unexpected, sensuous, surprisingly erotic.

His thumb stroked the side of her throat, and then he leaned in and kissed her again. Same spot. Her bare vulnerable throat, her pale neck, his for the taking. She had no control of the situation, and she loved it.

“Thank you for keeping my girlfriend company, gentlemen, but I’ll take it from here.”

Not so brave anymore, in the face of this towering mass of muscle and tattoos, the men sheepishly offered him a shot, which he knocked back and then even attempted to high-five him, though he drew the line at that.

As they scampered away, Azriel did not release Elain from his embrace. She just stood there, with his arm around her, her body pressed into his almost-naked body and all she wanted was to turn around and peek. Or have him kissed her again. She really, really wanted him to kiss her again.

He did not though.

Finally, his arm fell away and he stepped back, causing a sorrowful sigh to erupt in her chest.

She turned around. His face was unreadable, as always, and though she picked out his little tells and signs of emotions now, she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“Thank you,” was all she could mutter. He didn’t answer. “I didn’t think you were coming,”

“No need to talk,” he cut her off. Then turned around and added, “feel free to leave with Lorcan or Cass.”

He was walking away when she called out, “Wait. Az. I want to talk. Please,”

“No,” he said simply.

She ran after him, trying to keep up with his long stride.

“Az, please, I need to,”

“It’s Azriel to you,” he corrected bluntly. “You don’t get to ‘Az’ me,”

She swallowed, tears stinging her eyes.

“Okay…okay,” she begged. “Azriel, I want to explain, please,”

“You don’t always get what you want,” he threw back.

She paused, but then added,

“But sometimes, you get what you need.”

A tiny smile twitched on his lips. But he schooled his face into neutrality and without turning to her, said,

“If you must tag along for the rest of the day, pretending like you are my girlfriend, it’s up to you,” he shrugged indifferently.

She didn’t care. At least he didn’t send her away. At least, she could be near him, and with time, she’d thaw his anger.

She followed him silently, like dog. Trying to be inconspicuous, but she stayed at his side, even if they didn’t talk and he continuously ignored her. It allowed her time to ogle his incredible body, which she did with relish and without shame. If he was going to be nasty to her, she at least would feast her eyes on all that muscular gorgeousness. Those Cadre men—they were all stunning, at least when it came to their physiques. Azriel, though, was a little more stunning than the others. Only Fenrys, perhaps, was at the same level of attractiveness.

They went to the bar and she followed him faithfully, not letting him out of her sight. He glanced at her, sighed, shaking his head with annoyance, but Azriel being Azriel, he ordered her a mojito, while he drank Sipsmith London Gin and tonic, and after a while, thrust the drink in her hand and muttered, “I am going swimming.”

She took it and sat on a chair, stiff-backed and patient, watching him.

When he emerged from the water, she was waiting for him with a fresh drink.

“Your tattoos look like wings.”

He rubbed a towel over the black and blue tattoos on his shoulders and arms and looked at her.

“Your tattoos,” she said again, watching his wet body and the markings on it come alive on his skin. When he was in the pool, and his arms rose and fell in the water, they looked like wings. “They look like wings. Bat wings.”

“Is that a compliment?” his voice was still cold, bored.

“Yes.”

She handed him his drink and then took his scarred hand in hers. He made to pull away, but she squeezed.

“You are my boyfriend,” she reminded him. “Would be strange if you didn’t want to hold my hand.”

He had no choice but to grip her hand back,

and fuck if it didn’t feel nice.

Two days, and he was going nuts without that little hand. Two days, and he’d missed her touch like it was his life’s necessity.

And then, she gently rubbed her thumb over his own.

“Stop that,” he ordered.

“No,” she said flatly.

“Elain,”

“Azriel,”

“It’s not going to work,” he warned.

She shrugged, “we’ll see.”

They took a few more steps, her thumb still stroking his fingers, and then he stopped abruptly.

“What do you want?”

She looked up at him and said, voice surprisingly firm, “I want to get into your car and drive home with you. I want to cook you dinner. I want to hold your hand. That’s what I want.”

“And what do I want?”

“You want the same thing,” she assured him, unusual confidence in her voice and on her face.

He watched her, unblinking, but she did not balk from his assessing gaze, did not step back. She just clutched his hand like life depended on it. His jowls twitched and he bit his lip, before says, “go and put some clothes on. We are going home.”

“No. Come with me,” she tugged him with her. “I don’t trust you.”

He smiled, at last, and her heart fluttered with joy at the sight of that magical smile.

They found their clothes, threw them atop the bathing suits and as soon as they were dressed, Azriel took her by the hand and led her out to the parking lawn. It was a Maserati Ghibli today, beautifully embellished with subtle pinstripes. No one would dare do this to their 90K car, but Azriel did. And it looked stunning.

The drive wasn’t comfortable.

He still wasn’t speaking to her and she just sat there, for an hour or more, in silence, hands on her lap.

Finally, once they began approaching the city, Elain asked, “where are you taking me?”

“Home,” was all he said, his first word since they got in the car.

She thought and said, “I don’t want to go home.”

His voice mocking and obsequious, he asked, “Please tell me, Elain, where should your personal Uber take you? Would you like a coffee? A snack? A walk in the park? A trip to the library? Should I deliver you into Dorian’s loving embrace?”

“Stop it,” she snapped at him, all red and angry. “Stop with all that!”

Azriel plowed forth, ignoring her command, “where was he today, by the way? Why was I stuck rescuing the damsel in distress? Where is brave Dorian?”

“Nobody asked you to rescue me!” she lied, suddenly realizing that maybe, that kiss meant nothing to him. That it was all for show.

“Yeah, you looked like you were handling that situation very well,” he decided dryly.

“You know,” she folded her arms on her chest, “do take me home.”

“Good.”

Once they entered the city proper, Azriel fought the traffic aggressively, swearing under his breath more frequently than usual, obviously intend on getting rid of her as soon as possible.

She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t break through. Couldn’t get to him, not around the walls that he’d constructed around himself. She thought that she could, but she was wrong.

Finally, they were coming towards her block.

The silence was stifling. Unbearable.

“Why did you do it?” he blurted suddenly.

She looked at him, but before she could offer any explanations or excuses, he continued, not looking at her, “Was I not enough? Was he better?”

“He is nothing,” she managed, desperation tinging her voice, her whole being. She reached out to touch him, but he jerked his arm away.

“Don’t,” he warned. “Nothing? Why would you do this, Elain? Was I not enough? Too weird? Too brown? Too low-born? Too fucked up?”

Elain stared at him in horror. She was numb. Words failed her.

He was shaking his head.

There was true sadness, dejection written on his face. Devastation.

“I was falling in love with you, Elain,” he said so softly, she barely heard the words. “For three months, I’ve been falling in love with you. I’ve loved everything about you. I knew that the hammer would drop…One day, it would drop because it’s not like this could ever be,” he made a wide gesture with his hand.

He stopped the car next to her house.

“But I thought that it would be me. That I’d fuck up somehow and you’d dump me. Which would be…expected…”

He sighed, his breath so ragged it sounded like a sob.

“But I didn’t expect this. Truly. Though looking back, I don’t know why I didn’t?” he shrugged. “That’s what Mor did—the only other one I thought that I loved. But we were young and stupid, so…” he was looking out the window, seemingly talking to himself, not to her anymore. “But now I am almost thirty and for once, I thought that maybe, just maybe, this one time, I’d get what I want.”

Elain was weeping silently, fat tears pouring onto her hands, dripping off her face.

“I wanted you more than anything, Elain.”

Elain. Elain. Elain.

She hated that he called her Elain.

She hated that he didn’t use his usual endearments with her, that she was no longer his ‘baby’ nor his ‘love’. She wasn’t his ‘gorgeous’ or his ‘beautiful’. She was just Elain.

There was no warmth in his voice. Only some kind of hollowed emptiness, instead of the usual teasing smirk, the undercurrent of humour and love, of tender softness that he always used with her. Only with her.

“You can have me,” she managed finally through her sobs. “You can ha--…”

He finally turned his head and looked at her, that gaze dark and pitiless.

“I am not sure I want you anymore. We’ll coordinate the wedding situation and we’ll be civil to each other, for Feyre and Rhys’s sakes. Goodbye Elain.”

She sat there. He waited. Then, with a groan, he got out and went to open the door for her.

As she stepped out of the car, she begged one more time, “Azriel. Please. Please just allow me the opportunity to talk to you,” she wiped her face, with her fist.

It destroyed him completely.

He didn’t know what to do with himself, as he tracked her movement, that childish, simple, raw flick of her fist over her eyes. It wasn’t the modelled, reserved, dab-the-eye practiced move that you saw on reality shows, the fake tears, the faux sadness.

This was Elain; sorrowful, devastated, begging.

“Please,” she pleaded again.

“I asked you to call it off,” he reminded her. “I begged you. You didn’t.”

She choked on a sob.

“You threw it in my face, Elain. This random man, whom you also led on, by the way. Led him believe that you were interested. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I am too old for this…Allow me the opportunity to just deal with this break up—or whatever it is—however I can. We both need to move on.”

He’d never left a crying woman on a sidewalk.

But he’d also never been in love before. And his heart had never been broken like this.

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

Azriel

Nuala Gennaro has been trying to reach her boss for three days, to no avail.

He didn’t respond to texts, or to calls. He didn’t show up to work. He wasn’t at the garage, at the tattoo shop, or his design studio. He didn’t seem to be home either, because she drove by his loft a few times and the windows remained dark.

She had keys to his house, but that was a violation of privacy that she didn’t feel like engaging in just yet. Was this an emergency? He gave her the key for ‘emergencies’. Was this one? A healthy, 29-year-old handsome man disappearing for three days didn’t seem like an emergency, but still, Nuala was concerned.

She was going to give him one more day, and if he was still AWOL then she’d begin to worry.

Azriel was responsible. Whatever was happening in his life typically did not reflect on his work ethic. Besides, he was usually so guarded and seemingly unemotional, it was hard to say if he was affected by anything. Nuala had met him in high school—a beautiful, quiet, mysterious boy who looked like a fallen angel and who seemed unusually confident and astute for his age.

They reconnected after he and his brothers returned from the Navy. He was darker and quieter than she remembered, and hardened in his manner and bearing, and had a haunted look in his eyes which worried Nuala for quite some time. She’d been apprenticing as a tattoo artist and they’d met to discuss her joining his venture. She wasn’t sure if this whole garage/restaurant/tattoo parlour for rich people thing was going to be feasible or even realistic, but Azriel believed in the concept and somehow, got her enflamed by his passion as well. They’d slept together over the years, but even if she would have wanted more, he wasn’t willing to give it to her. Azriel went through women with the determination to conquer, mild interest and lack of follow up. But he never gave any of himself to them. Pleasure—yes. Self—no. So, Nuala had decided—staying with him and in his life, in his business, as his protégé and associate was more important than having him as a lover, even if he was by far the best lover she’d ever had.

The only thing that did seem to affect him—deeply, powerfully—was Elain Archeron.

Nuala didn’t think that it would happen. Didn’t think that Azriel was a man to fall in love so passionately, so completely, and even if he was denying it to himself, Nuala knew him well enough to know the truth. And whatever happened between him and Elain, approximately a week ago or so, truly devastated him.

Prior to his disappearance, he operated as if he was in some sort of fog. He answered questions, he gave instructions and directions, he did whatever was expected of him—met with clients, held meetings with his car suppliers, negotiated deals—but his heart was not in it. His beloved business was no longer his priority, and that confounded Nuala, for she had never seen him like this before.

She arrived early, earlier than usual, because she needed to get crackin’. Without Azriel, things seemed…tighter…more difficult. She’d never noticed it, but somehow, he carried this business, made it seem easy, and she falsely believed that it was a walk in the park. Gods, it wasn’t! It was busy, and difficult, and required constant attention and decision making, and reports only piled on her desk—financials, inventory, guest lists, requests, specs. It was endless.

Azriel’s office, a glass cube perched at the top of the building and overlooking everything below, the entire operation, was very dimply lit this early morning. Cassian installed one-way floor to ceiling windows in the office, so no one could look inside, but Azriel was able to see everything, if he so desired.

Nuala climbed the industrial-style stairs and opened the door without knocking.

At first, she thought that there was a fire. The office was entirely engulfed in smoke, but before she could hit the alarm button, nauseatingly pungent stench of tobacco assaulted her nostrils.

“What the hell?!” she exclaimed, rubbing her eyes, and rushing to open the outside windows. She left the door open as well, to encourage some sort of ventilation.

“What the hell,” she muttered again, finally making out Azriel in the dimness, who was sprawled on the leather sofa, in jeans and boots and a black t-shirt, his arm hanging listlessly to the floor, a cigarette between his fingers. On the floor, an almost empty bottle of Jameson’s and an overflowing ashtray, stuffed to the brim with butts. Tom Waits’s insanely gravelly, bourbon-and-tobacco-soaked voice filled the space as well.

“Wow,” she crossed her arms on her chest. “Wow.”

“Why are you here so early?” he asked by way of greeting.

“Funny thing—my boss disappeared for three days. Four days, actually. No word. No text. No call. No email. No warning. No idea whether he is dead or alive. So yes, it’s made for some early mornings for some of us.”

No answer.

He took a deep drag of his cigarette and said nothing.

“What the fuck, Az?”

“Like you said,” he shrugged indifferently, “I am the boss. I don’t have to report to anyone.”

Nuala bit her lip, but did not retort in the way she wanted to retort.

“Where were you?” she inquired calmly.

“Vegas.”

“Vegas?”

“Rhys’s Bachelor Party.”

“Oh.”

“I won money. It’s somewhere,” he glanced around absently. “Give it to some charity…”

“Which one?”

“I don’t care.”

“Fine.”

She didn’t push him. But added, “you can’t smoke here.”

“It’s my shop,”

“Even though. State and city regulations.”

He put out his cigarette compliantly.

“It’s 5 am. When did you start drinking?” she asked, pointing to the bottle.

He gave a lazy glance and shrugged,

“Technically, I didn’t stop drinking…It’s been a few hours…”

She was shaking her head.

He stared into the ceiling blindly, wordlessly.

Nuala didn’t know, but she also knew. So she took pity on him.

“Az,”

“I’d like to be alone now.”

“I will leave you alone,” she promised. “But…” she let out a whoosh of air, preparing herself. “Elain,”

He didn’t react.

“Elain is downstairs.”

To that he did react. He sat up so quickly, she didn’t track the movement with her eyes.

“I found her on the steps, outside,” said Nuala. “She looks like hell. I barely recognized her.”

“Why is she here?” he asked stupidly.

“I think you should probably ask her that. She wouldn’t come inside,” Nuala explained. “She said that she’s been sitting outside since 4 am, hoping to catch you.”

But Azriel was already out the door, sprinting down the stairs, making Nuala gasp, as he took three at a time, and she feared that he’d fall down on the concrete floor and break every bone in his body.

It was only five in the morning, and the streets, even NYC streets, were empty.

It was drizzling, a summer thunderstorm about to erupt.

Elain was sitting on the doorstep, arms wrapped around her knees, huddling into herself in the morning chill.

“Elain,”

She jumped up and turned to him.

He never saw her like this—wrecked. Utterly devastated. Wilted.

His lovely flower girl, his little rose, his darling beauty—wilted. Instead of her usual colouring of pink and golden, caramel and honey and cream, she looked black and white. Like everything was leeched out of her, every spark, all joy, each remarkable hue.

They did not greet each other. She just looked at him, and,

“I’ve hurt you,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady, the tone firm. “I know that. And you can leave and discard me, and you have every right,”

Azriel just stood there, looking at her, unable to get enough. Thinking that there was a possibility that this was going to be one of their last conversations. And that possibility was unacceptable to him. It was intolerable.

The rain began to fall.

Azriel moved under the awning, angling his body so she would come and stand under it as well, but she didn’t move.

Steady droplets pounded the pavement, giving off that fresh smell of wet asphalt. The air was heavy and humid and felt unsettled, like it was preparing for a torrent.

“But know this one thing,” she continued, staring at him, unblinking, eyes brimming with tears. “I fell in love with you on Saturday, May 9th, at 7:14 in the morning. I had loved you every moment of my life since then. I will love you every moment of my life until I die. Nothing will ever change that. I don’t speak to you as some besotted, inexperienced girl, who is smitten by a handsome man…I speak to you from my soul. You have my heart, Azriel. Every broken and sad piece of me, you’ve managed to put together with your beautiful, scarred hands. I will never ask for anything of you—not even a word back, but I needed you to know this. I want you know that I’ve never loved anyone, no man, no being, not my sisters or my parents, as much as I love you. All my joy, my peace, my dreams are connected to you. You are the first thing I think of when I wake up, and the last when I fall asleep—and then I dream of you. I don’t care if you know this, but I’ve built up my whole life around you in my head, all my fantasies are about you. All I want is to love you. That is all. Not very ambitious, I know,” she wiped the tears that were flooding her face, mixing with the rain, “but I can’t think of anything that would ever bring me more happiness, more satisfaction than to love you. And…” she choked a quiet sob, “if you don’t want me—that is alright…I want you to be happy. And if I don’t make you happy, then, so be it, but,”

Azriel couldn’t help himself. Couldn’t contain his bursting breath, his aching heart. Every bit of him felt electrified, wild, untamed.

He grabbed her, his arm pressing her soaking wet body to him, the rain pouring over them, and she trembled and sobbed next to him. Such indescribable hope in her eyes. That maybe, just maybe, it would all turn out like her fantasies.

He cupped her wet, pale face in his palm and murmured,

“You want me?”

Her trembling fingers traced his cheekbone and she nodded mutely.

“Say it,” he groaned.

“I want you,” she whispered.

“Say more,” he begged. “Say everything.”

“I love you. I choose you. I want you.”

He soaked it all up. Every breath. Every word. Every emotion on her face.

“Well,” he muttered, “if we are keeping score…then I fell in love with you on Tuesday, May 5th, at 4:47 in the afternoon.”

She laughed through her tears, clutching at him with desperate hands, as if fearing that he would disappear. Turn around and leave her.

But he wasn’t going anywhere. Ever.

He was exactly where he wanted to be. Yearned to be all his life.

“First glance, baby,” he lovingly caressed her face, “first glance. Love at first sight.”

She kissed the tips of his fingers.

“You are my home, Elain,” he wrapped his arms around her and held her close to him, her cheek pressed to his chest, his hand cradling her head, “my favourite person in my life. With you, all things are possible. Sometimes, I feel like I can fly. Like I’ve grown wings and I hear the song of the wind. But I think that it’s just your voice in my head. You won’t leave, right?”

She chuckled and shook her head, “No. Never.”

“Because this week,” he shuddered, “it’s like I lost a limb…There was this phantom reminder of you, always within me, and yet, you weren’t there. I couldn’t reach and find you next to me. I’ve never felt such emptiness,” he brought her hand to his chest and lay it on her booming heart, “there was nothing here,” he pressed her hand closer, and she felt the steady beat, “empty…You weren’t with me, and there was nothing left.

“I think I’ve been in love with you—forever. I don’t even believe in past lives or other worlds, but sometimes I feel like I’ve known you for eternity.”

She raised her face to him, surprise and awareness in her red-rimmed eyes,

“I feel the same. Az, I’ve always felt the same thing!”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” she nodded vigorously, “when we held hands the first time, when we just met, I recognized your touch. I knew your scars. It was all familiar to me, like stepping back into my own home, after a long absence. Reacquainting myself with something that I already loved.”

He cupped her face in his hands and asked,

“May I kiss you?”

“You have to kiss me,” she smiled a happy, luminous smile at him. “I’ve waited for a long time for you to kiss me.”

Azriel smiled, and looked up, rain drenching his face and their bodies.

“Are we really going to do this? In the pouring rain?”

She was grinning, smiling happily, nodding, “All the cliches in the world!”

He clasped her jaw in his hand, wrapping his other arm tighter about her.

“I loved when you kissed me at the party,” she admitted, a little breathless.

“Yes?” he murmured and then dipped his head, and gently pressed his lips to her throat.

Elain shuddered against him, her breasts, nicely full, round and soft pressed tightly against his chest, and she sighed her pleasure.

“Like that?” he whispered against her cold, wet skin, and she half-moaned, nodding. So he kissed her neck again, on the other side, raking his teeth gently along the warm, pulsating vein. He kissed along her collarbones, tender and sweet, but with acute intention. Her breasts moved against his chest, their shirts nor her bra providing much of a barrier between his skin and her firm, swollen nipples.

Up her throat he went with his lips, kissing softly, until he pulled away for a moment, their breaths mingling, warm next to each other. He tilted her face just so, to have better access to her full mouth, and then kissed the plump lower lip. She clutched at his shirt and pulled him closer, the rain forgotten, the world encapsulated in his mouth, in the loving pressure of his lips against hers.

Elain looked irresistible. In his arms, where, let’s face it, she belonged, with her cheeks finally, finally taking on the familiar rosy blush.

Azriel, all 6”4 or “5 of the dark, bestial sexiness of him was wrapped around her. The low, sensual purr that he emitted turned into something more primal, hungrier when his mouth moulded into hers. The base, animalistic attractiveness of him, the bronze arms, the thick markings of his tattoos all over his skin, slithering like shadows, was almost too much for Elain to handle all at once, and she moaned, loud, and desperate against his lips. He brushed his nose against her cheek, and then nose to nose, and she was so stupidly needy for him that she struggled to stay upright. He brushed his fingertips over her lips, squeezing them between his and her own, and she licked on the pad of his thumb, laving some of the scars with the tip of her tongue.

Gods, this man could kiss.

Brutal, savage and noble--all amalgamated into one indescribable, unforgettable experience. Hungry and knowing, agonizingly slow, he devoured her mouth like it was some succulent, exotic fruit that he’s been craving. His lips explored her thoroughly, unhurriedly, tasting and savouring, caressing and worshipping. It was she who slipped her tongue inside his mouth, tentatively at first, but then gaining in boldness and confidence, especially once he sucked her in and stroked it with his own. He tasted of something masculine: alcohol, maybe, deep and rich and smokey, and tobacco, certainly, which, surprisingly, she enjoyed, but also something sexual. If Elain ever thought that she could taste passion, this lazy, indulgent sucking of his tongue on hers was exactly that. He groaned into her mouth, low and hot, and then licked on her tongue, with sensual playfulness which she loved.

She was hot in his arms, against his towering, heated body, and even the pouring rain couldn’t cool her off. The slabs of his abdominal muscles pressed into her belly and she was growing positively addicted to having him so close to her, his massive strength enveloping her so nicely, cushioning her against him. Nothing in her life has ever felt so wonderful, so sublime as Azriel felt in her arms.

Their kiss went on and on, heady and glorious, with him exploring every bit of her mouth with his tongue and lips, his hands caressing her body unobtrusively.

“Gods, I want to kiss you for eternity,” he moaned, tearing himself away from her lips at last.

She was panting, glassy-eyed, in love. He squeezed her face between his palms, looking down at her, her happiness, the unabashed joy in her eyes.

He’d finally made someone happy.

“Okay,” she agreed easily.

He smiled and kissed her again, then again, his lips creating a certain magic between his mouth and her skin and their bodies.

Elain had fought for him.

She didn’t give up. Didn’t shrug it all off. Didn’t leave in anger or panic. His absence meant something to her—perhaps, meant more than he could understand. He knew the misery of not having her in his life. It was only a week, but it was a week of pure hell. Now, he assumed that it wasn’t only he who felt that gaping chasm in his heart. She, for some inexplicable reason, loved him. Of that, he was certain.

“Now, I think we’ve satisfied any girl’s quota of romantic cheesiness,” he decided and she laughed, slapping his bicep lightly. He kissed her softly, “and I am taking you inside,” he said.

Elain only now realized that her feet haven’t been touching the asphalt for the duration of the kiss. She was literally floating aboveground, in his arms, in the throes of their first kiss.

The cheesiness quotient has been achieved indeed.

“Will you kiss me more?” she asked, as he swung her in his arms and carried her inside the shop.

“I am confident that I will never stop kissing you,” he assured and made his way up the stairs, to the office, clutching the dripping mess that she was in his arms.

She’s been here before, but he brought her straight into the attached bathroom, which was appointed outlandishly, and with a nice shower too.

“Get in there,” he ordered, “now. Before you catch a cold because of your love for kissing in the rain,”

She giggled, kiss-drunk and toed off her soaking wet converse that smacked limply on the tiled floor.

“But what am I going to wear?”

“My clothes, obviously,” he shrugged. “Unless you don’t want to, which is fine, because naked is just fine by me. Actually, preferred,”

She snickered, but looked at him, a little uncertain, and he rolled his eyes and muttered, “yes, yes, I will leave! Don’t worry. Though you know, I will eventually see everything anyway. So your modesty is misplaced on me.”

Azriel was correct. A hot shower was perfect. Despite it being late August, standing under pouring rain wasn’t as much fun as they made it seem in the movies.

The door opened and he came in, “here is some stuff for you.”

She looked at him over her shoulder, probably a little sultrier than she intended, and he winked, “Nice ass!”

“Ugh, stop looking!” she croaked, but he only laughed.

“You are the one with the bare butt!”

Then, he scratched his chin and bit his lip, making no move to leave.

“Az!” she exclaimed, blushing, but also kind of … intrigued.

“This is a very, very, very nice ass,” he muttered to himself, but loud enough for her to hear. Her blush only intensified, when he said, “the things I am going to do with it. Mmmm,” he rubbed his lower lip with his thumb, as if contemplating what he will be doing with her butt and then finally walked out, shaking his head.

When Elain emerged from the bathroom, with her hair wrapped in the towel and wearing Azriel’s t-shirt and shorts, she found him in a leather chair, sipping coffee. He’d also changed and his hair was mussed and damp, his bare feet crossed at the ankles, resting on a leather stool.

“There is coffee for you,” he jerked his chin towards a marble coffee table that had a basket of pastries and two large cups of coffee.

He marked everything.

How she looked in his clothes, which were much too big on her, yet cozy, though the shorts that she wore were hilarious, reaching below her knee.

How she brought him his coffee first, before taking her cup.

How she sat on the stool, by his feet and crossed her legs, before giving him a croissant and biting into her own.

“Have you warmed up?” he asked, sipping his coffee. Chugging gallons of coffee American style wasn’t his thing—he preferred quick, small espressos, but this giant cup did take the chill away.

She nodded.

“Do you want to talk?” he asked.

She tensed right away, and he said, “All is forgiven, I swear. “

She eyed him suspiciously, nevertheless.

He smiled at her, and added, “But...I think that I need to understand what happened? Did I do something to,”

“No!” she exclaimed immediately. “No. It was nothing you did. Never think that it was you,”

“Alright,” he said calmly. “Then what was it?”

She didn’t look up from her cup, running a finger over the rim.

“Talk to me, love,” he encouraged softly.

“You’ve consumed me, Azriel,” she confessed, her voice barely audible. “From the moment I saw you, you’ve consumed me. And I guess…” she sighed, “I was stupid…a stupid, stupid person because I didn’t know,”

“What?”

“Whether I was infatuated, or in love with you. So I thought that maybe, if I expose myself to another man, even in some minor way, I might be able to tell what I feel,”

“And? Did you?”

“Dorian…” she swallowed nervously, “he is a nice guy. He is in Law School with Nesta—that’s how I know him. When he asked to go to dinner, and I said yes,”

She looked up at him, tears threatening to spill out from her eyes,

“And I felt nothing,” she admitted, her voice broken somehow. “I could only think of you. The entire time, I could only think of you and I knew that it wasn’t fair to him…”

Azriel agreed, “probably not”.

“And I knew that I’d made a colossal mistake… But,” she set her cup on the floor and squeezed her fingers. “I…”

She halted. Said nothing else.

Azriel waited.

“What?” he probed, sensing that there was something she wasn’t telling him. He reached for her, but she only shrunk into herself.

“Elain, what is it?” he pressed.

She blushed and murmured, “promise me you won’t leave me, if I tell you.”

His brow furrowed, “Please,” he begged, “tell me what’s going? You are legit scaring me right now.”

“You won’t lea--,”

“Don’t be ridiculous! I am not leaving you, no matter what. But are you alright?”

She pulled her hair from the towel and it spilled over her shoulders, half-obscuring her face. He reached and tucked the wet strands behind her ears, so he could see her face.

“Talk to me, baby,” he urged gently.

She exhaled and then said, looking straight at him,

“I’ve never been with a man, Az.”

He looked at her and then blurted, absurdly, “Like a virgin? But you are so hot!”

She couldn’t help and burst out laughing.

“I guess not hot enough,” she shrugged, a bit more relaxed about the situation now that he seemed relieved and smirking too.

He exhaled, deeply, bubbling his lips, “Phew…I thought it was something,” he shook his head, not able to express his relief. “Important…Something, I don’t know, serious?”

“What would be serious?”

“I don’t even know,” he admitted, “but certainly more serious than a hymen!”

He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips.

“And I appreciate you telling me,” he said seriously, kissing the inside of her hand, but then, that glint in his eyes returned and he asked, “so did you want the hunky Dorian to deflower you?”

She pushed at him with her foot and he fell back dramatically in his chair,

“Auuu, you are so unbelievably violent!” he complained, rubbing his side.

“I can be even more violent!” she threatened.

He was laughing, but then he caught her feet in his hands and squeezed them gently, holding them on his lap.

“So you didn’t have boyfriends in high school? In college?” he asked at last, genuinely perplexed.

She sighed and explained,

“In high school I was dating Luce,”

“You were dating a girl?” his brow furrowed. “I didn’t know,”

She started to laugh,

“No! Luce is a man. Lucien,”

“Oh…Oh. Every time you mentioned Luce, I just assumed he was a she.”

“No, he is my best friend. The closest friend I’ve ever had, besides maybe Nesta. We’ve always been close and then in high school, we began dating,” she tugged on her wet hair, “or rather, go on dates.”

“What’s the difference?”

“I didn’t know either—not in the beginning. But then, when we were juniors in 11th grade, he came out, to me only.”

“Ahhh,”

“Lucien’s step-father is really horrible. Like, awful. Physically abusive to all his sons, and always fancied himself this alpha male. So for Lucien to come out to him would have been suicide.

“We agreed that we’d continue our ‘dating’, until we graduate, and Luce was looking at schools only in California. As far as possible from here, from Beron.”

“And you were…okay with it?” he inquired, gently massaging her feet.

She shrugged, “I suppose I was. Luce and I had a good relationship,”

“But it was without any,”

“Intimacy,” she nodded. “I don’t know, I suppose it was enough…My mother had died recently and we lost most of our money, so I guess dating and boyfriends weren’t a priority, if I am being honest.”

He nodded with understanding.

“And college?”

“I had a boyfriend,” her voice wobbled a little, “but he…”

The heavy gaze that Azriel levelled at her told her that he already guessed.

“Sometimes,” she said, “when you are in the situation, you don’t see the warning signs,”

“Did he hit you?” his voice, so cold and menacing, sent a chill down her body.

She shook her head, “No. It didn’t get that far…Cass interfered,”

“Cass?”

“We’ve known Cass for at least a year,” she reminded him, “before he started dating Nesta. He spent a lot of time with us, at the house, because I think he didn’t want to part with Nesta,”

Azriel smiled, “No he didn’t. He wouldn’t stop talking about her for a year…I’d never seen him like that. First Rhys, then Cassian…Guess there is something special about these Archeron sisters,” he decided and stroked her face lovingly, smiling at her. She tucked his palm between her cheek and shoulder and kissed it.

“They do have a tendency to fall in love with the three brothers,” she agreed.

“Yes, they do.”

“Cass, he called us ‘his girls’—Feyre and I. Always asking after ‘his girls’, bringing us presents, doing fun things with us. And I came to love him so much,” she sighed. “And I know that he truly loves us too…But you know Cass—he is a no-nonsense kind of a guy. So once, he observed Graysen with me,”

“Graysen?” Azriel rolled his eyes. “That’s a horrible fucking name,”

She laughed,

“It matched his personality. But you know, on paper, he looked great. Handsome, good family, money,”

“So basically Dorian?”

Elain rolled her eyes,

“You are never going to have me live this down, will you?”

“Not for a while.”

“At least you are honest. Gray, he just…didn’t care, I guess? It was all about him. When I’d talk about opening my shop, it would just be a plain ‘no’. He’s put me down…” she sighed, “sometimes comment on my weight—I was either too fat or too thin.” Azriel flinched at that. She continued, “He’d tell me what to eat. What to wear. Where to go,”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered.

Then, he sat up straight in the chair and opened his arms to her.

“Come here.”

Elain, a bit unsure, and a bit rattled by the memories, moved towards him. He cupped her face in his broad scarred hands and said, “All in the past. Now, it’s just you and me.”

She nodded, gently squeezing his wrists. He leaned in closer and she nodded. His sort of power, the more aggressive and primal, and seemingly more dominant than what Graysen could ever conjure up, did not scare Elain at all. He beckoned and seduced her with that pursuit and challenge, but he did not frighten or oppress. It was similar to what Cassian possessed and how he managed to seduce Nesta with it, turned her compliant to his demand and instruction, or Lorcan with Elide. Azriel’s power, his seduction, were more cerebral, his affection passionate, but controlled. Elain could abandon herself to him, and yet she knew that she’d never be abused or taken advantage of, no matter how much control she relinquished.

This kiss was sultry and voluptuous, and it felt dirtier, heavier than their first one. He sucked her lips, is tongue softly grinding against her in a smouldering, almost smug rhythm. He fucked into her mouth steadily, and purposefully, rendering her completely breathless in his arms almost instantly, forcing all thoughts of previous loves and heartaches out of her head. She made a tiny, strangled noise deep inside her throat and squeezed his wrists harder.

“Tell me things, baby,” he muttered heatedly against her lips, thumbs brushing over her cheeks.

She smiled, “what things would you like to hear?” He kissed her softly, lips pecking on hers playfully, and said, “all the things…all the good things that you told me before,”

“That I love you?” she asked simply, looking at him with earnest, undimming desire.

“Yes,” he groaned, pulling her closer to him, until she was straddling his thighs, her legs naturally falling on either side of him. A desperate moan escaped his lips, as Elain licked on them with the tip of her tongue, before he demanded, between kisses and caresses of his tongue in her parted mouth, “more,”

“I love you. I love you,” she breathed, then panted, “you are mine…I am yours. Forever, if you’d like,”

“I’d like forever,” he agreed.

She pulled away, her soft, lovely face serious,

“Az,”

“Elain,”

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?” she asked, and he grinned, nodding. She sounded absurdly solemn about this, like she was signing a business contract. “I love you. I want you to be my boyfriend,”

“Alright, babygirl, I will be your boyfriend,” he nodded easily.

“No jokes.”

He then said in turn, “But you’ll be mine.”

She nodded.

“In every way,” he added, in a tone that did not allow space for much argument. “Body,” and he lightly ran his knuckles against the side of her breast, and she nodded. He added, “but I want more,”

“What do you want, Az?”

“Love,” he said simply.

She kissed him. “I love you,” she said.

He waited.

“I chose you, Azriel, the moment I saw you. When my heart dropped at the sight of you, and when everything fell into place. I don’t mind choosing you for the rest of my life, if you have me,” she murmured shyly.

“I will have you,” he agreed, her admission making him swallow hard, a thick glob of air lodged in his throat. He might have cried, if he weren’t so happy. His flower girl. His.

He looked and looked, and considered something. She waited, silent. Silence was always a friend between the two of them. Silence was easy and unoppressive and welcome. It allowed them space, and yet they remained together in that mute, mutual understanding. While he was thinking, she took his hand and softly kissed each scarred fingertip.

“I am calling on my bargain,” he declared suddenly, and stroked her head.

Confused, she scrunched her face and muttered, “what?”

He grabbed her behind in his strong hands and somehow, managed to rise up, with her clutching at him. His nose burrowed into her ear and she squirmed, giggling, when he grunted, “what a nice little ass!”

“You seem to like it,” she laughed, wrapping her arms around him.

“I love it!”

“Now what about this bargain?” she reminded him, a bit concerned. “What are we doing?”

“Whatever I want!”

“Az!”

“Lainey.”

He headed for the door, with her in his arms, and she screeched, “I don’t even have shoes on!”

“You don’t need shoes where we are going,”

“Azriel!”

“Why are you so fussy?” he mused, smirking, as he made it down the stairs.

“Why won’t you tell me?”

“I don’t have to tell you. All I promised was that it’s not going to be ‘bad’ whatever that means.”

She sighed, shaking her head, muttering under her breath. He, in turn, very much enjoyed her clutching at him, her body in his arms, her wet hair swiping over his arm. She looked very cute, if very ridiculous in his clothes, and frankly, he was too elated, too disbelieving that this was even real, to let her go. He held her and nuzzled at her neck, at her face, sometimes returning to her beautiful mouth.

He carried her through the still-empty premises, though waiters at the bar and delivery people in the kitchen were starting their day. When they saw their boss carrying a woman, who frequently visited him here in the past few months, they pretended not to notice, as if this was a normal affair. In fact, no other woman ever came here, to visit him. He’s never been seen with a woman, never said that he had a girlfriend, even if women seemed to lose their minds in his presence. But until this one—absolutely not the type of a woman he typically attracted—he never allowed anyone to get close to him.

Azriel made his way into the cavernous insides of the building, at last entering the tattoo shop that he had on premises. It was elegantly outfitted and bore his usual aesthetic—restrained, modern, striking with its use of black, white, and splashes of cobalt.

Elain looked around, when he set her down and pointed out, “I’ve been here before.”

He nodded.

As she wandered about, looking at various lithographs and prints with unique tattoo designed, she finally stopped abruptly and whirled to him,

“No!”

He was laughing under his breath.

“No!” she exclaimed again.

“No what?” he winked, sitting down on a stool, and patting on a leather recliner beside it.

“You…” she fumed. “No!”

He tsked, “A bargain is a bargain.”

“Azriel!” she stomped her foot.

He crossed his arms on his chest and looked at her, “Elain.”

“I am not getting a tattoo!”

“You most certainly are. Stop being a wuss and come here.”

“I am not going to,” she insisted.

“You know,” he notified her conversationally, as he started to prep his equipment, “a shitty little Bagarat tattoo is like $800 bucks,”

“Congratulations. Give it to someone else,” she offered, scowling. “Maybe someone would like a sleeve for twenty grand!”

“I won’t give you a sleeve. Jeez, you’ll probably faint at the first prick,”

She huffed, “I will not!”

He shrugged.

She pressed, “I will not. I am not afraid of needles and I have a high pain tolerance.”

“Lots of talk, babe, no action,”

Stomping angrily, she crossed the open space and challenged, “do you even know how to tattoo?”

“Cass and Rhys…” he winked. “And whenever Rowan decides to add to his collection…Or Gavriel,”

Those were some of the finest, most intricate designs that Elain’s ever seen.

“You did those?” she asked, brow furrowed.

He nodded.

“They are beautiful,” she whispered.

“Will you trust me?” his voice softened and he extended his hand to her.

Elain sighed and then slid on the lounge chair. It was comfortable. She was nervous.

“What will it be?” she asked. “May I see it?”

Wordlessly, he pulled a piece of paper from a folder, but then did not give it to her. She waited. He suddenly seemed uncertain, almost shy.

“Az,” she said gently, “may I see it? I am sure it’s beautiful.”

He swallowed and then explained, “I traced it the first day…evening…When we met, and you were here, at the garage. I,” he exhaled and then looked at her, “anyway…I was overwhelmed, I guess. I fell in love with you and all I could think of was you.”

The words warmed her up, and everything in her softened at his nervousness, at his admission.

“I want it,” she took the paper from him.

“It’s just for you,” he clarified. “It’s unique to you. I needed to quiet my brain and capture the essence of you, and this was it,”

Elain looked at the drawing. It was smaller than she expected, and rendered masterfully—an absolutely exquisite flower cradled in an embrace of two wings.

He swallowed tightly, and then said, “It’s called On the Wings of Desire.”

Without saying anything, Elain pulled up the shirt that she was wearing, just up to her chest. He looked down at her, expectantly.

She put her hand under her left breast, where her heart was and said, “there. I need it there.”

He nodded, remaining silent.

She saw that this was important to him, some ritual that he desired for her to go through, some sort of marking. That’s what it was. It dawned on her, at last. This was his mark, on her. He was going to do it himself, put a part of him, of his creation, of his work, not just on her skin, but within her blood, into her.

She clasped his hand and his eyes flew to her, a shadow of apprehension and anxiety in them, probably as much emotion as he’d be willing to show. He feared that she’d changed her mind.

“Az,” she licked her lip, suddenly nervous to request this of him. “Can you,”

“What?”

“Can you do it on you as well?” she proposed quietly.

He, it seemed, was unable to verbalize what he needed to, so she helped him, “Same spot, alright? Across your heart. So you know that I am always with you, as you are with me.”

He nodded vigorously, clearly relieved and absolutely in love with her proposition.

“Who will do it?” she wondered. “Please don’t ask me!” she laughed.

He smirked. “Nuala. She will do it. Only Nuala or Rowan tattoo me.”

She nodded and then relaxed back into the leather.

“No crying,” he said.

“Alright,” she shrugged. “Kind of weird that you are this sensitive to pain, but okay. I’ll hold your hand.”

He was laughing.

“I thought only Nesta had a big mouth like that,” he said, as he prepped the skin and pulled on his gloves.

“Mistake number one,” teased Elain.

“I am seeing that now,”

He then said, “Okay, I may accidentally brush against the boobie,”

“How accidentally?” she chuckled, while he pressed the outline into her skin. Then, the needle began its wheezing and Elain winced, as the first prick of the needle stung her skin.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” it was more painful than she expected, and she figured that the spot that she selected was probably not the best and would hurt more than an arm or a leg, but she was set on it.

“Absolutely, totally accidentally,” he lied. “You are the one who chose the spot,” he pointed out.

Elain was a trooper. She did not make any hissing noises or any sounds at all throughout the tattooing. The shading was the longest and most painful part, and even then, she remained composed and only winced a few times.

“I am sorry,” he murmured repeatedly, especially when a bit of blood seeped onto her skin.

“Prick your finger,” she whispered.

“What?”

“Prick your finger,”

“And?”

The soft doe-eyes blinked at him a few times, and she said, “I think you know what to do.”

So he did. He pricked his finger and mixed his blood with hers.

Nuala offered to tattoo ‘No Regerts’ on Azriel’s chest, if Elain so desired. She considered it, while Nuala explained that Azriel was now at their mercy and they could do whatever they wanted to him. At the end, he walked away with only a small tattoo over his heart.

It was about 8 am when Azriel and Elain left the garage. The sun was shining and there were no remnants of the previous storms. It was like it never happened. But it did happen. Everything happened.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, slinging his heavy, muscled arm around her shoulders. She’s been clutching at her side the whole time.

She shook her head no and looked at him. He smiled and then kissed her.

“I love you,” he murmured suddenly. Elain’s face broke into a loving smile and she reciprocated by kissing him back. “Let’s go home.”

#la dolce vita #elriel fanfic #elriel #azriel fanfic #azriel fanfiction #elriel fanfiction #elain fanfic #my writing #new chapter #acotar fanfiction #sjm books #azriel #azriel and elain #elain archeron #elain

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years ago

Note

Do you know any good movie aus? Not as in they're actors, but fics written based on movie plots?

Hey Nonny!!

OHHHH! This is fantastic! Because I actually have ANOTHER ask looking for crossovers too, and the list is HUGE. So I’ve used this opportunity to split the list up into two. This one here is for my MFL list, and if anyone has any of their own to suggest, please add them to this list!

So, check out Below!

CROSSOVERS and FUSIONS (Feb 2021) Pt. 1.5 [FICS TO READ]

See Also:

Fairy Tales and Fantasy

TV, Movies, and Books AU (Fantasy Pt. 2)

Wonderful Life AU

Sherlock / Hannibal Crossovers?

Science Fiction / Fantasy

Faes / Faeries

Disney-esque Fics

Moulin Rouge AU

Crossovers and Fusions Pt 1

Two More Miracles by PatPrecieux (T, 221 w., 1 Ch. || Good Omens Crossover || Angst With Happy Ending, 221B Ficlet, Temporary Character Death) – Tragedy and miracles go hand in hand.

Here, Though the World Explode, These Two Survive by TheTyger (G, 1,194 w., 2 Ch. || Good Omens Crossover || Post-TRF, Ineffable Husbands, Fluff, Reunion, Rings, Hurt/Comfort) – Tomorrow, it would be three years from that day. Three years with no rude text messages, no experiments being conducted while London slept, no body parts in the fridge. And John still sometimes caught himself buying extra milk and looking for cases and making two coffees.

Just the Book by Carenejeans (G, 1,495 w., 1 Ch. || Good Omens Crossover || Humour, Aziraphale’s Bookshop) – John's looking for a book. It's Aziraphale's bookshop, but Crowley provides customer service.

The Case of the Missing.... by Beth H (G, 2,601 w., 1 Ch. || Sherlock Crossover || Case Fic) – Crowley has gone missing, and Aziraphale hasn't a clue how to go about finding him. Luckily, help comes from above...or rather, from the side.

The Curious Case of the Missing Antichrist by Aedemiel (G, 2,865 w., 1 Ch. || Sherlock Crossover || Vignette, Case Fic, Desperation, Bad Ideas) – What if Aziraphale and Crowley had consulted the great consulting detective, Sherlock Holmes, about finding Adam Young?

Eye of the Storm by Calais_Reno (G, 2,996 w., 1 Ch. || The Day After Tomorrow AU || Survival, Cold Weather, Boy Scout John, No Major Character Death) – Weather has become the fifth horseman of the apocalypse.

Nice and Accurate Deductions by htebazytook (T, 3,179 w., 1 Ch. || Good Omens Crossover || Romance, Humour, Fluff) – Sherlock drags John to a certain bookshop in Soho.

Snake In The Flat by PatPrecieux (T, 3,293 w., 1 Ch. || Good Omens Crossover || Magical Realism, Fluff, Humour, Ineffable Husbands) – There can be a snake in the grass, snakes on a plane and now there's a snake in the flat.

The Picture of Sherlock Holmes by CarmillaCarmine (M, 3,306 w., 1 Ch. || Victorian Dorian Gray AU || Angst, Paris, London, Travel, Painting, Major Character Death, Opera, Captain John, First Meetings) – Sherlock Holmes, a rich and frivolous man, after a lifetime of debauchery finally falls in love. His heart chooses Captain Watson.

The Old Town by a_different_equation (T, 3,573 w., 1 Ch. || Hans Christian Anderson Fusion || Magical Realism, Christmas, Fairy Tale Elements, Love Stories, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Museums, Sweet Sherlock) – Once upon a time there were two boys. This is the story how once upon December, they found the missing Christmas Spirit, true love and new beginnings. A Queer fairytale for all seasons.

Holmes vs. Harkness by coinin (T, 3,960 w., 1 Ch. || Torchwood / HHGTTG Fusion || Crack, Mystrade) – In which Captain Jack gets in a little over his head and is introduced to the myriad joys of bureaucracy, Mycroft is smug, the Guide offers up some helpful advice, John Watson doesn't share, and, in a strange turn of events, Jack doesn't get laid even once.

Perfect by TrufflesTheMushroom (T, 3,984 w., 1 Ch. || Good Omens Crossover || The Apocalypse) – Crowley and Aziraphale have made a huge mistake. It's the end of the world and it all boils down to one fight. Crowley has picked John Watson. Aziraphale has picked Sherlock Holmes.

Limbo by Calais_Reno (T, 4,070 w., 1 Ch. || Good Omens Crossover || Waiting Rooms, Ineffable Bureaucracy, Paperwork, Explosions, Apocalypse, Second Chances, Declarations of Love, Nobody Dies) – Ordinarily Sherlock would be quite impatient by now with all this pointless waiting (for what?), but at the moment he feels as if he has all the time in the world.

The Baker Street Flat by Anonymous (PG-13, 5,000-20,000 w., 7 Parts || Lake House Crossover || Angst, Romance, LIVEJOURNAL Comments Fic) – John’s pretty sure it’s a sign of mental imbalance — of which he has been all too frequently accused of late — that he is actually entertaining the possibility that he is communicating with a total stranger two years in the future via the magic mail slot on the door of his new flat. He certainly won’t be mentioning this at next week’s session. On his way out the door to interview for a part-time position at a local surgery, another meeting where he has no intention of mentioning his most recent hobby, he drops a fairly sarcastic note: If you’re really from 2012, is the world about to end?

In the Shadows by Laur (M, 5,029 w., 1 Ch. || Loose Shutter Island Fusion || Disturbing Imagery, Psychological, Angst, Major Character Death, Grief/Trauma) – Do you believe in ghosts? When Sherlock’s eyes snap to him they are anguished.

come be my april fool by a_different_equation (M, 6,473 w., 1 Ch. || Great British Bake Off AU || Writer!Sherlock, Est. Rel., Fluff / Humour, Baking, Marriage Proposal, Military Kink, Domestics, POV John, Romance, Sherlock Wears Glasses, Sweet Sherlock, Bookstores, Queer Themes) – After leaving ‘The Great British Bake Off’, Sue Perkins has written a book about Victorian baking. Tonight, on April 1st, she is reading at ‘The Bard’, Mike Stamford’s bookstore in central London. It is the exact same spot where John Watson, battered and bruised, had learned all about his magnificent bastard – one Mr. Sherlock Holmes, famous gay crime fiction writer – for the first time. A story about found family, DRAMAtical lesbians, how to react when your boyfriend has a military kink but he doesn't want to act on it, oh, and popping the question. Sequel to 'i read your book, you magnificent bastard'. Part 2 of Magnificent Bastard!AU

The Babadook by CatieBrie (T, 6,886 w., 1 Ch. || Babadook Fusion || Post-TRF, Horror, Demonic Possession, Violence, Halloween, Grief, Angst with Happy Ending) – “A children’s book,” John mutters as he flips it open. The pages are scrawled with beautiful charcoal lines and thick black ink. The cover, bright red, edges the open pages and something tugs at the back of John’s brain. It’s a familiar feeling, black and tarrish and thick in his thoughts. He shakes it off and picks the book up off his bed, turning so that he can sit on the edge and spread the book out across his knees. If it’s in a word or it’s in a look, you can’t get rid of the Babadook. He turns the page, ignoring the pressure building beneath his chest. There’s a closet on one page; paper doors meant to be opened by the reader flutter as John reads the text on the other page.

What To Do With An Atypical Animal Within by HarveyDangerfield & swimsalot (E, 7,804 w. || Harry Potter AU || Animagus, Porn With A Little Plot, Tail Porn) – Sherlock is determined to be an animagus. But what happens when it isn't a fox or a horse or a dog he's turning into?

The Lonely by elwinglyre (E, 7,888 w., 1 Ch. || Twilight Zone AU || Major Character Death, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Firsts, Sad Ending) – Witness if you will a distant planet with a dungeon made of desert sand and mountain stone. This planet holds one inmate, a man wrongly accused, serving a life sentence. His only solace, his notebook and the thought of the day when the supply ship brings him a pardon. Instead, salvation comes to John Watson in a large box and a visitor from The Twilight Zone.

Friend by esama (G, 7,909 w., 1 Ch. || Harry Potter Crossover || Character Death, Kid Fic) – Sherlock finds the skull when he's five.

Spell It Out by prettysailorsoldier (M, 8,344 w., 1 Ch. || Harry Potter Fusion || Teenlock, Christmas, Love Potion/Spell, Pining Sherlock) – Remaining at Hogwarts over break has become something of a tradition for Sherlock and John, staying behind together ever since their very first year, but, when Irene throws a gift of doctored coconut ice into the mix, plans quickly change, even if John doesn't. Part 6 of 25 Days of Johnlock

The Long Goodbye by elbereth (M, 8,367 w., 1 Ch. || Time Traveller’s Wife AU || Doomed Timelines, Time Travel) – Sherlock travels in time. The ending is known even before they meet, yet they choose to live this love. One of them knows the past, one of them knows the future, yet their deepest secret is safe from each other. Limited time, but unlimited love.

Sugar & Spice by Ttime42 (T, 8,476 w., 1 Ch. || Great British Bake Off AU || First Kiss, Baking) – Sherlock Holmes and John Watson compete on The Great British Bake Off.

Pygmalion by ancientreader (T, 9,136 w., 2, Ch. || Pygmalion AU || Magical Realism) – The spell to turn a statue into an animate being has been illegal in the UK for a hundred and seventy years when the -- body? -- is found on Hampstead Heath. It changes everything.

Am I the Current (Tiger) King of England? by Dee_Laundry (T, 9,360 w., 1 Ch. || Tiger King Fusion || Post-S4, Dreams, Friendship, John’s Sexuality, Sherlock’s Sexuality, Quarantine/CoVID-19, Past Character Death, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of Dom/Sub, First Kiss) – “I had the weirdest dream last night,” John said. Seven times.

I Could Try by Arcwin (T, 9,583 w., 5 Ch. || Greek Mythology Crossover || Post-TRF, Orpheus and Eurydice Myth, POV John, Pining John, BAMF John, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Horror, Angst with Happy Ending) – John is grieving Sherlock's death post Reichenbach until one day, he sees the violin case, and something inside him tells him to pick it up. Crossover between BBC Sherlock and the Greek tragedy Orpehus and Eurydice, wherein Eurydice is killed for her beauty and taken to the Underworld. Orpheus, being the son of Apollo (the God of Music and Medicine) travels to the Underworld to convince (via playing his lyre) Hades and Persephone to let Eurydice go. Orpheus then must travel with Eurydice behind him, not looking back, until they exit to the land of the living.

Puzzlebox by standbygo (E, 9,867 w., 5 Ch. || Hellraiser Fusion || True Love, Supernatural Elements, Psychological Horror, First Kiss, Post S2, Angst with Happy Ending) – A love story with horror. A horror story with a happy ending.

you are a paradigm by 1electricpirate (M, 10,013 w. || Harry Potter AU || Wizard!John / Muggle!Sherlock, Magic) – Sometimes, only sometimes, when Sherlock is very far away and absolutely guaranteed not to return for at least three hours, John sits on the sofa and lets the tea make itself. In which John is (reluctantly) a wizard, Mycroft is (apparently) omniscient, and Sherlock is (surprisingly) oblivious. Part 1 of More Things Than Are Dreamt Of

Already Gone by johnwatso (M, 10,078 w., 8 Ch. || Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind Fusion || Non-Linear Narrative, Memory Loss, Ambiguous / Open Ending) – Dear Mr Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes has had John Watson erased from his memory. Please never mention their relationship to him again. Thank you, Lacuna Inc.

A Real Deal by toyhto (M, 10,339 w., 1 Ch. || Black Mirror-Inspired || Science Fiction, Post-TRF, Canon Divergence) – Please be real, he thought and pulled Sherlock closer.

You Don't Need Wings to Fly by Laiquilasse (T, 11,326 w., 11 Ch. || Wonderful Life AU || Bullying, Angels, Suicidal Ideation, Christmas) – John, an angel, is sent from Heaven to help a desperate Sherlock Holmes by showing him what life would have been like if he had never existed.

Backup Copies by etothepii (M, 13,332 w., 3 Ch. || Dollhouse Crossover || Major Character Death) – When John dies, Sherlock doesn't know what to do. But Mycroft does.

Silent Night by khorazir (M, 15,060 w., 1 Ch. || Codebreaker / WWII / Imitation Game-Inspired AU || Care Fic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Dev. Rel., Reunion, PTSD John, Christmas) – It’s Christmas Eve 1944, and Sherlock Holmes has received his most precious gift already: after a long, dangerous deployment, Surgeon Captain John Watson of the Royal Navy has unexpectedly returned from the front. As if this weren’t enough, there’s a case. Both events make for a night full of promise, excitement, and the difficult task of getting reacquainted with the man Sherlock hasn’t seen in three years and feared he’d lost forever. Part 2 of Enigma

In Arduis Fidelis by Raliena (T, 18,628 w., 10 Ch. || GI Joe Crossover || Captivity, Surgery, BAMF John, John “Three Continents” Watson, POV John Watson, Prisoner of War, Cobra - Freeform, soldier John, John-centric, Doctor John Watson, John is a Very Good Doctor, Violence) – Once upon a time John was a Soldier and a Doctor. And he was known John or Doc or Doctor. But things change. And he *earned* his right to the name “Three Continents Watson”. Part 1 of the Three Continents Watson series

Serendipity by Calais_Reno (T, 18,222 w., 3 Ch. || Serendipity Fusion || Christmas, Romance, Coincidences, First Meetings, Misunderstandings, New York City, Fate and Destiny) – A bit of New York Christmas fluff, based on the 2001 movie.

Magnificent by esama (T, 19,477 w., 1 Ch. || Harry Potter Crossover || Crossover Pairing) – The birth of the Ministry of Magic and his relationship with the British Government.

Much Ado About Nothing or Get Over Here and Kiss Me Already! by MorganeUK (NR, 19,847 w., 13 Ch. || Much Ado About Nothing AU || Mutual Pining, Angst, Lestrolly) – AU in modern time where the Holmes' are a powerful noble family, Mycroft is the chief of defences and Sherlock is working for secret service. Lestrade is a high rank officer in the army. Ms Hudson is an old Lady that took care of her niece and nephew Molly and John since their youth. Part 1 of the Sherlock / Shakespeare series

Dead Letter Office by a_different_equation (M, 20,364 w., 15 Ch. || ‘Bartleby’ Fusion / Office Setting AU || Different First Meeting, Epistolary, John's Blog, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pre-Canon, John Watson is Sherlock's Boss, PTSD John, Military Backstory, Writer John, Drug Use, Texting) – John Watson comes home from the war, gets a new job and meets Sherlock Holmes through Mike Stamford. Same tale since 1891, except this time it’s 2008, John is Sherlock’s boss, and they work together at the Dead Letter Office in London. It's not a love story, until it finally is.

When John Met Sherlock by MorganeUK (T, 21,293 w., 10 Ch. || When Harry Met Sally AU || Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Developing Relationship, Faking It, Mutual Pining, Background Lestrolly, Fluff and Smut, Rom-Com) – At first they thought that friendship was impossible. Then meet again and become friends. After dinners, texts, cases and discussions they become more, best friends. Faking orgasm before falling on the floor together to get real one... Then going back to pushing each other away again... Before falling in love!But not necessarily in this order.

You're The One by Mazarin221b (E, 21,768 + w. || WiP || Underage Dirty Dancing Fusion || Period Typical Homophobia, Sexism, Angst, Fluff) – John Watson is seventeen years old and has his life planned out: medical school, a commission, and an opportunity to change the world. He just has to get through three weeks at The Copper Beeches - a resort owned by one of his father's patients - with his annoying sister and his perfect parents before he's off to Cambridge. But John has a secret he's trying desperately to keep, and, it seems, so is just about everyone around him, including the incredibly gorgeous and amazing dance teacher, Sherlock Holmes, and his partner Irene Adler. Too bad Jim Moriarty seems to know precisely what everyone is hiding.

Into the Multiverse by AnAnYaH (M, 21,958 w., 18 Ch. || Avengers / Sherlock / Dr. Strange Crossover || Multiverses, Everstrange, Parentlock / Teenage Rosie, Sad Sherlock, Angry Sherlock, Sherlock/John Fight, Magic, Strange John, First Kiss, Whipping, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Threats of Rape / Non-Con, Mental Anguish, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst with Happy Ending) – Nothing lasts forever. I am beginning to think it's the same for you and me. In a world where we don't co-exist how long will it take to finally break us ? Or are we already broken in need of a fix ?A multi-chapter fic where Sherlock and John had to leave their lives to save the world from universal threats and pursue as Doctor Strange and Everett Ross.Will they ever reunite? Part 1 of the Everstrange series

Addicted to a Certain Lifestyle by KatsatheGraceling (M, 22,751 w., 1 Ch. || James Bond Crossover || Bondlock, BAMF John, Assassin John, Q is a Holmes, Clueless Sherlock, Omniscient Mycroft) – The one where John is a BAMF assassin. With an affinity for cuddly warm jumpers.

Impossible Improbable Truth by KaraRenee (M, 24,308 w., 9 Ch. || Labyrinth AU) – John and Sherlock take a case investigating the disappearance of a teenage girl and her toddler half brother. What they find is an impossible adventure that leads them on a journey of discovery of their sexuality.

The Art Of Seduction: A Study In Pulling by flawedamythyst (M, 25,279 w., 1 Ch. || Queer As Folk Inspired AU || John/OMC, Additional Tags to Be Added Upon Reading) – Sherlock ran a website called The Science Of Seduction, on which he gave advice on the best ways to get laid, wrote blog entries detailing the results of his various sexual 'experiments' and generally contributed to the stereotype of 'every gay man is a sex-mad playboy'. John avoided the thing like the plague. AU in which Sherlock treats sex like he does crime in canon. Inspired by Queer As Folk UK, but it very quickly went its own way. Part 1 of The Art Of Seduction

False Advertising by ravenscar (E, 27,722 w. || Office AU / Devil Wears Prada Inspired || Victor Trevor, Flashbacks, Hurt / Comfort, Angst with Happy Ending, Younger John/Older Sherlock, Marriage Proposal) – Sherlock is John’s boss and mentor at an advertising agency. Can they find love in the cut-throat workplace?

A Wizarding Barista's Field Guide to Seducing a Muggle by paradigmfinch (T, 29,344 w., 9 Ch || Harry Potter Coffee Shop AU || Wizard John, Muggle Sherlock, Bisexual John, Flirting, First Dates, Secret Identity) – To help pay for Healing tuition, John Watson gets a job at a coffee shop in Muggle London, where he soon sets his sights on a particularly gorgeous customer. John's seen plenty of Muggle films. How different can it really be to woo a Muggle?

Time Of My Life by fiveainley_ohmy (E, 29,719 w., 8 Ch. || Dirty Dancing Fusion || Bisexual John, Dancing, Gay/Demi Sherlock) – John Watson takes his alcoholic sister to a summer camp in attempt to rehabilitate her. He didn't expect to fall in love with the dance instructor.

Through Dangers Untold by hogwartswitch (E, 32,003 w., 13 Ch. || Labyrinth AU) – The Goblin King has fallen in love with John Watson and visits him in dreams. But the evil wizard who cursed the Goblin King cannot allow that to continue. Will John survive the labyrinth? Or will he become a lost goblin like all the rest?

Unsettled by AxeMeAboutAxinomancy (E, 33,879 w., 10 Ch. || HIs Dark Materials AU || Daemons, Dark Themes, Non-Con) – Sherlock's dæmon hadn't settled. Once John realised that, so much made sense. Though so much else didn't, because it practically wasn't possible. Part 1 of the The Utmost Edge of Hazard series

The Last Companion by standbygo (E, 34,101 w., 14 Ch. || Firefly Fusion || Prostitution, Case Fic, Falling in Love, Angst with Happy Ending, Slow Burn, BAMF John, Discussions of Non Con But Doesn’t Happen) – Thirty years after the Miranda Wars, there is peace, both on the Rim and the Core planets. There are a number of old social mores still in place, such as the Order of Companions, but there is a sense that even such respected practices are coming to an end… Sherlock is a Companion - the best Companion on Persephone. With a bit of detective work on the side, of course. Then he meets a man named John Watson, encounters a series of bizarre cases, and finds his world is getting turned upside down.

The Great Bakerstreet Bake Off by Elphen (M, 38,058 w., 8 Ch. || Great British Bake Off AU || Caring Sherlock, Sweet John, Fluff, Baking, Accidental Touching, Pining, BJ’s, Banter and Bickering, Oblivious Characters) – John has decided to watch The Great British Bake Off this year and he is determined to do so. As Sherlock joins him, he is certain that that plan is ruined. He's in for a surprise when he's allowed to watch it but the real shock comes when Sherlock decides they ought to bake themselves. What's more, they should bake what they make in the Bake Off. John's not so sure it's a good idea but when his insides flutter at the thought, he finds it hard to complain.

Toe to Toe by standbygo (E, 44,971 w., 26 Ch. || White Nights Crossover || Ballet/Dance, Slow Burn, Spies/Secret Agents, Angst with Happy Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Kiss/Time, Shower Sex) – Sherlock Holmes is an international ballet star. After a favour for his brother goes south, he finds himself trapped in a foreign country, with a man named John Watson who could be an enemy... or an ally.

Silence by halloa_what_is_this (T, 44,993 w., 13 Ch. || The Piano Fusion || Victorian Sherlock, Dub Con, Voyeurism, Permanent Mutilation, Johniarty, Mute John) – In 1850, John is a mute young man forced to marry to save his father from indebtedness. His sister as his interpreter and his piano to keep him company, he travels to London to live with his husband James Moriarty. Without John's consent, James sells the piano to his friend Sherlock Holmes, who only asks for lessons from John in return. The lessons turn into a power play between the two when Sherlock proposes a deal: John may earn his piano back one key at a time, certain conditions attached. Part 1 of the Aborted Wings series

Crime is of the Essence by K8BNimble (M, 45,569 w., 18 Ch. || Harry Potter Crossover || Mystery, Slash) – When a man he hasn’t seen in almost ten years appears in his home with a man he thought was dead for twenty years, Harry Potter knew his evening had just gotten complicated. Written for Snarry Swap 2011. Named Hot Rec by "The Daily Snitch"1/18/2011. Snarry, past Harry/Sherlock. Long plotty mystery with light graphic slash sex.

Always 1895 by standbygo (E, 45,901 w., 19 Ch. || Oxford Time Travel AU || Time Travel, Friends to Lovers, Case Fic, Victorian, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, First Kiss/Time, First Meetings, Slow Burn, Angst With Happy Ending) – Time travelling historian John Watson goes to Victorian era England to study, and meets detective Sherlock Holmes. He finds himself torn between the work he was sent to do, the exciting life of solving crimes, and the extraordinary Holmes himself.

Curled (A Tangled AU) by crimsonwinter (G, 46,330 w., 13 Ch. || Tangled AU || Alternating POV) – Sherlock lives a limited life, high in a tower, and all he's wanted in eighteen years of isolation is to someday break free and see the floating lights. Somehow, a string of events leads him to John Watson, a surprisingly kind thief who steals his heart. Will they escape the selfish advances of Moriarty, Sherlock's paternal guardian, and will Sherlock find the meaning behind the silver lanterns?

The Boy Who Balanced on the Train Tracks by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (E, 54,894 w., 5 Ch. || Harry Potter Crossover || John/Snape, Period Typical Homophobia, Character Death, Underage Sexual Attraction, Sexual Awakening, Time Turner, First Time, Poverty, Domestic Abuse, Death Eaters, Canon-Typical Violence, Angst with Happy / Bittersweet Ending) – Every year, on the 2nd of May, John Watson dreams of long black hair.

Say You’ll Stay With Me by justacookieofacumberbatch (E, 63,349 w., 21 Ch. || Pretty Woman Fusion || Prostitution) – It was just supposed to be an ordinary business trip, but when John’s car stalls out on Hollywood Boulevard, he meets someone who just might change his life.

Whispers in Corners by esama (T, 64,402 w., 10 Ch. || Harry Potter Crossover || Deathly Hallows, Crossover Pairing) – Everything started with a stumble - his new life in a new world as well as his surprisingly successful career as a medium.

Masters of Ink by Indybaggins (E, 67,382 w., 7 Ch. || Ink Master Tattoo TV Show AU || Angst, Banter, Body Modification, Cheating, Desire, Developing Relationship, Disability, Falling in Love, Feels, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Married John, Past Drug Addiction, Pining, Requited Love, Sex, Slow Burn, Smoking, Tattoo Artist John, Tattoo Artist Sherlock) – First-meeting-on-a-reality-show AU, Ink Master edition! There is expert tattooing, slightly less expert flirting, and two men falling hard. But John is married, and they can’t all win.

The Craving in Between by love_in_mind_palace (E, 69,349 w., 16 Ch. || Wedding Planner AU || Infidelity, Romance, Angst with Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Sexting & Texting, Alternating POV, Mary is Not Nice) – Sherlock Holmes, The wedding Consultant. Picky about his projects and a nightmare to work with. Rejects ninety percent of the couples after just having a look at them and can predict how long a marriage will last. But when unassuming, plain, John Watson reluctantly limps his way in his office, with his more than enthusiastic fiancée, Mary Morstan, instead of dismissing the ill-assorted couple on the spot, he promptly decides that the project, and the groom.. are definitely worth working on.

The Loss of Flesh and Soul by deuxexmycroft (M, 69,712 w., 6/8 Ch. || WiP || Silence of the Lambs Crossover || Serial Killers, One-Sided Relationship) – Five years after John Watson puts the murderous Sherlock Holmes behind bars, a vicious copycat killer emerges. A reluctant John is pulled out of retirement to seek the expertise of the only man who can help, a man who has developed an unsettling obsession with John himself. Part 1 of The Loss of Flesh and Soul

The Vampires of London by consultingdetective (E, 72,660 w., 21 Ch. || Dracula AU || Pining Sherlock, Army Doctor John, Sharing a Bed, Porn With Feelings, Plot Twists) – Over one hundred years after the first battle, a series of murders have caught the attention of London's police force and Sherlock Holmes. While most of the city has forgotten the vampire that once walked its streets, the descendants of the Van Helsing, Harker, and Seward families have not.

Save Me or Let Me Drown by GubraithianFire (E, 72,986 w., 16 Ch. || Shameless AU || Dysfunctional Family, Alcoholism, Recreational Drug Use, Angst, Humour, Clubbing, Bipolar Disorder, Custody Battle, Mutual Pining, Family Fluff, Smut, Handcuffs, Anal Sex, Shower Sex, Rimming, Come Shot, Angst With Happy Ending) – How Sherlock escaped from his family, John sacrificed everything to his, and how, together, they built their own. Part 1 of the The Watsons series

This Is Your Song by agirlsname (E, 79,990 w., 19 Ch. || Moulin Rouge Fusion || Prostitute Sherlock, Poet John, Acting, Singing, Dancing, Writing, Poetry, Musical, Song Fic, Heavy Angst, Unreliable Narrator, Sherlock is French, Love at First Sight, UST, First Kiss/Time, Frottage, Coming in Pants, Anal Sex, Switchlock, Clothed Sex, Crossdressing, Secret Relationship, Forbidden Love, Jealousy, Terminal Illnesses, Grief/Mourning, Breakup/Makeup Sex, Past Drug Use, Attempted Rape, Canon-Typical Violence)– When John Watson is invalided home from the army in 1895, he moves to Paris to rediscover his writing and find a new meaning in life. His old friend Stamford invites him into a group of artist friends, and suddenly John finds himself auditioning to write a show for the famous brothel across the street. There, he meets the most beautiful man he’s ever seen - Sherlock, the star of the Moulin Rouge. But Sherlock is already promised to the investor of the show, the rich Duke Moriarty.

Sherlock, P.I. by Callie4180 (E, 83,264 w., 11 Ch. || Magnum P.I. Fusion || Past Relationships, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Canon-Typical Violence, Stalking, Creepy Moriarty) – For the Fall TV Sherlock fusion project. Sherlock, P.I. is an American television show that follows the exciting adventures of genius private investigator Sherlock Homes and his friends as they live their lives on the beautiful island of Oahu in Hawaii. Sherlock solves crimes as he wrestles with the ghosts and demons of his past.

Saudade by tunteeton (E, 96,952 w., 30 Ch. || After That Very Much AU || Case Fic, Non-Con Drug Use, Dubious Science, Canon Compliant up to THoB, John’s in Denial, Sub!Sherlock, Fake Non-Con Drug Use, Dom/Sub Relationship, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Kidnapping, Threatened Torture, Mary is Not Nice, Anal, Fluff, Non-Con Domming, Verbal Abuse, Slapping) – saudade (port.): a deep and melancholy longing for something or someone that is gone and not coming back. Homesickness, an emptiness in one’s soul, a love that remains after the loved one dies. John loses Sherlock, gains Sherlock and learns to never, ever, ever pray. Part 1 of the The Untranslatables series

Rosethorne by suitesamba (M, 98,888 w., 28 Ch. || Secret Garden AU || Injured Sherlock / John, Recovery, First Times, Minor Character Death, Disability, Past Domestic Abuse [Mary/OMC]) – John Watson, WWII army doctor, is injured in the line of duty and can no longer wield a scalpel. Sherlock Holmes, Britain’s best code-breaker, is side-lined by his own devastating injury. In a work inspired by Frances Hodgson Burnett’s “The Secret Garden,” the two men must find meaning and purpose in a world which seems to have taken away all they hold most dear. But of course, it really hasn’t.

Cake and Other Sins by Indybaggins (E, 100,670 w. || Great British Bakeoff AU || Alternate First Meeting, Angst, Baking, Desire, Disability, Incest (Holmescest/Holmescest with John), Masturbation, Falling in Love, Oral, Outdoor Sex, Past Drug Use, Poisoning, Voyeurism) – Sherlock and John meet as competing bakers on The Great British Bake Off. There’s intense baking, lush recipes and enticing food. Mycroft, guilt, past sins in chocolate and gingerbread. And love. That too.

Fallen Through Time by susandwrites (E, 102,040+ w., 39/? Ch. || Outlander Fusion / Victorian AU || WIP || Time Travel, First Meetings, Meet-Cute, Frottage, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex/Fingering, Riding Crops, Rough Sex, Floor Sex, Breath Play, Light BDSM, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Switching, Romance, Sex to Love) – Inspired by my love of Outlander, but not exactly an Outlander AU. Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective, finds himself in Victorian London while investigating a murder. The first person he meets is Doctor John Watson, formerly of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers and his world is irrevocably altered.

Reichenbach Falls - Déjà vu by VeeTheRee (M, 180,436+ w., 29/303 Ch. || WiP ||Gravity Falls / Multifandom AU || Alternate First Meeting, Gay Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Unilock, Summer Romance/Love, Fluff, Insecure Sherlock, Villain Mary, First Kiss, Slow Burn, Doctor Who, Supernatural, Canadian John, French Canadian Lestrade, Insecure Sherlock, Mystery, Domestic Fluff, Developing Relationship Summer Love, Light Angst, BAMF! John, Case Fic) – Two Canadians, two Brits studying in Canada, and an upkeeper walk into a Mystery Shack…. and live there. Summer holidays are here, and the step-siblings, Irene Adler and Sherlock Holmes, find themselves in a boring town called Reichenbach Falls, Oregon, USA. It isn’t as boring as it seems, however, once Sherlock stumbles upon a mystery journal, and the author is unknown. The journal contains ciphers, a strange colour wheel, and information about magical creatures that are said to be looming in the Northwestern forests. With mysteries to solve in hand, he and Irene set out to get to the roots of the town, and the abrupt disappearance of the author of the journal. But they’re not alone - John Watson, quite the handsome nephew of the Mystery Shack owner Greg Lestrade, is on their side to help out, plus mess with Sherlock’s feelings, in a good way. Shenanigans, romance, fun, danger, and deductions ensue. Oh, and there’s also occasional SuperWhoLock and two dorky Winchester brothers to spark up the action later on. Part 1 of the Reichenbach Falls series

To the Sticking Place by blueink3 (E, 121,973 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Musical Theatre AU || Showmance, Friends to Lovers, Bickering, UST / RST, Fluff, Virgin Sherlock, BAMF John, New York City / Broadway) – Renowned Shakespearean actor Sherlock Holmes has finally burned all of his bridges in the theatre industry save for his constant director, Greg Lestrade. John Watson has made a name for himself in the musical theatre circuit, but age and injury are working against him. Can they reinvent themselves for an all-male Macbeth without killing one another? Part 1 of the Screw Your Courage series

Bel Canto by bendingsignpost (T, 127,481 w., 16 Ch. || Phantom of the Opera AU || Secret Identity, Sherlock’s Violin, Operas, Aristocracy, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Disguise, Inheritance, Genderqueer Character, Classical Music, Singing) – After years of waiting for wealthy patrons to faint, Dr John Watson discovers a far more interesting patient in the opera house basement.

Welcome to Silent Hill by Cleo2010 (M, 130,227 w., 37 Ch. || Silent Hill Fusion || POV First Person Sherlock, Unrequited Love, Psychological Horror, Violence / Gore, Monsters, Nudity, Drug Use, Harm to Children, Cults, Distressing Imagery, Torture, Death) – John is missing. When Sherlock receives a text summoning him to Silent Hill he's intent on reclaiming his friend but the town has other ideas. Our detective must battle through a world shaped by his own troubled psyche as he uncovers the town's secrets, attempts to find John and hunt down Jim Moriarty. Part 1 of the Welcome to Silent Hill series

Drift Compatible by J_Baillier (E, 130,380 w., 26 Ch. || Pacific Rim Fusion || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Alternate First Meeting, Angst, Family Drama, Accidental Telepathic Voyeurism, Martial Arts, Sci-Fi, Internalised Homophobia, Rubbish Siblings, Army Doctor John, Medical H/C, Bullying, Neurodiversity, PTSD, Drug Use, Depression, Mourning, Adventure, Hurt/Comfort, UST/URT) – A washed out war hero struggling with his past. A prodigy who wants nothing to do with his family legacy. Both are looking for something—and someone—worth fighting for in a world where human civilisation is constantly under threat.

Out There by DiscordantWords (T, 131,695 w., 10 Ch. || X-Files Fusion || Slow Burn, UST, Case Fic, Government Conspiracy, Aliens, UFOs, Mutants, Mutual Pining, First Kiss, Coma) – FBI Special Agent John Watson, medical doctor and army veteran, is assigned to assist eccentric genius Sherlock Holmes with paranormal investigations on the X-Files project.

Omens On Baker Street Series by WorseOmens (NR, 155,294+ w. across 3 works || Series WiP || Sherlock / Good Omens Crossover || Post S4 Sherlock, BAMF Aziraphale, Soft Crowley, Jealous Crowley, Fluff, Angst, General Idiocy, Misunderstandings, Crimes, Humour, Pining, Crimes, Magical Shenanigans, Unlikely Friendships, ?Slow Burn, True Forms, Ineffable Dads, South Downs) – Sherlock and John are no longer the only crime-solving disaster duo in London. After Sherlock unknowingly wrongs a demon, he finds himself with two mysterious rivals in the detective scene. For Crowley and Aziraphale, it's just a bit of fun, but they end up learning more about human nature than they bargained for.

Skeletons by flawedamythyst (T, 174,262 w. across 3 works || Nightmare Before Christmas Fusion || Implied Character Death) – Sherlock's refusal to talk about his past hides far more skeletons than John could ever have guessed at. Halloween-esque AU.

In the Deep, Where Dark Things Sleep by HardlyFair (M, 184,979 w., 26 Ch. || Scorpio Races AU || Graphic Violence, 1960′s, Slow Burn, Past Drug Use, Bed Sharing, Water Horses, Folklore, First Kiss/Time, Horror Elements, Vet!John, Protective John, Magical Realism, Horse Racing, Mutual Pining, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort) – The closer time crawls to November, the more water horses the Scorpio Sea spits out. The colder Thisby becomes. Sherlock Holmes is an islander - completely surrounded by the water. John Watson, he knows, comes from the mainland and lives for the Races. On the first of November, Sherlock will race. The man holding steady by his side is someone he never expects. A Scorpio Races AU (Maggie Stiefvater), but no knowledge of the book needed.

Rom-com adaptations... Series by MorganeUK (T, 211,229+ w across 8 works || Series WiP || Assorted Crossovers || Rom-Coms, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Friendship, Additional Tags Per Story) – Mostly Johnlock with Mystrade or Lestrolly. If you want a movie to be johnlocked, let me know :-) Each story is completely different from the other!

Enigma by khorazir (M, 289,667 w., 23 Ch. || Codebreaker / WWII / Imitation Game-Inspired AU || Case Fic, Espionage, Period-Typical Homophobia / Sexism, Pining Sherlock, Inexperienced / VirginSherlock, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Non-Graphic Violence) – It’s the autumn of 1941, war is raging in Europe, German U-boats are raiding Allied convoys in the Atlantic, the Luftwaffe is bombing English cities, and the cryptographers at Bletchley Park are working feverishly to decode their enemies' encrypted communications. One should consider this challenge and distraction enough for capricious codebreaker Sherlock Holmes. But the true enigmas are yet waiting to be deciphered: an unbreakable code, a strange murder, and the arrival of Surgeon Captain John H. Watson of the Royal Navy.

Over/Under Series by khorazir (M, 319,561 w. across 5 works || Cabin Pressure Crossover || Post-S2 / Reichenbach, ReunionFriendship, Angst, Humour, Pining, Cycling, Mountains, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Dev. Rel., Case Fic, First Kiss, Pining, Family Issues, Inexperienced Sherlock) – After his Fall, Sherlock travels the world to destroy what remains of James Moriarty's criminal empire. When things don't go according to plan and he finds himself in desperate need of a discreet means of travel, cue MJN Air ...

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #crossovers and fusions #to read #Anonymous #long post #e-rated fics

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casualmaraudering · 4 years ago

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so i can't get family feels out of my head so have some headcanons feat wolfstar having their first baby

Sirius is immediately so excited at first

and even though it's a nine month long wait (even longer with a procedure of getting a surrogate and all) he's so very happy

he physically cannot go shopping without coming back with at least one bag of baby stuff

the socks are so tiny, he's not strong enough to resist

he clears a room in the house right away. Remus doesn't let him turn it into a nursery that fast, but they designate it as the baby stuff pile and so Sirius puts all the shopping bags there

and really, Remus acts as if he's more calm about the whole ordeal but he also contributes to the baby pile quite fast

Sirius will randomly grin to him and go "we're gonna have a family" and how can you not love this man when he's this happy about it?

around the halfway mark is where things turn different

it's when they start painting the nursery, buying furniture, and slowly coming up with names when Sirius has A Thought

it being: what if i end up like my parents

what if the baby hates me like i hated my dad and mom

what if they won't feel at home here like i did

he panics, and internalises it, and therefore freaks himself out even more

he lets it slip during a dinner with James and Lily. the remainder of the dinner is spent with everyone telling him what a fantastic dad he's going to be and why are his thoughts such bullshit

even Regulus texts him the next day saying the kid will be happy to have such a home

they don't have a baby shower so to say, but there is a gathering of friends and family where everyone gifts them things. and also there's cute cupcakes (gender neutral ones, cause Sirius and Remus 1 don't want to make the gender a weirdly big deal 2 they want to find out at birth so no gender reveals) and James cries a lot about being an uncle

Sirius quits smoking finally

Sirius decides he doesn't need instructions to put furniture together

he is immediately defeated by an ikea wardrobe

Remus puts it together with surprising ease. he uses the instructions though

the nursery is yellow (Remus's favourite colour)

Sirius buys so many glow in the dark stars. so. many

the stars and the moon are a theme, of course. there's a little mobile with some stars and the moon in the centre, the furniture has star shaped handles, there's a little space rug, and there's also wolf and dog plushies - they go all out and yes, it's sappy, but it's their baby okay, they get to be sappy

they spend a lot of nights just cuddled together and talking about the family they'll have

Sirius cries so hard when he sees the baby for the first time

Remus also cries. but Sirius honestly tears up every time he sees the baby for like. the entire day

just imagine those two boys holding hands and having the biggest smiles on their faces looking at their little baby

the few black hairs on his head and the tiny hands and the little feet and small chubby cheeks

they name him Leo

(Regulus has no excuse not to visit now)

they talk to the baby a lot

Remus reads him his favourite books as a way to pass time. Pride and Prejudice, Dorian Gray, LOTR, all that. he also comments quite a lot, pretending as if he's having an actual discussion with a one month old baby

Sirius's favourite past time is just holding his baby, or just literally lying there while Leo sleeps on his chest. it's so simple and yet he's so happy about it

Sirius starts to wear his hair in a very secure bun. having a baby pulling your hair is very much not a fun thing

Remus has a pretty unregulated lifestyle anyway so he's mostly up at night, while Sirius loves to get up in the morning so he's in charge of breakfast and entertaining in the mornings

sometimes if it's particularly early and Remus argues he doesn't want to get out of bed yet, Sirius will just put Leo into bed with Remus and they'll just hang out there, it's extremely adorable

Sirius sings french lullabies, and talks in french quite a lot. basically any time Remus isn't around his brain wires back to french and so the baby will absolutely be bilingual at this rate

Remus goes back to work when Leo is around 6 months old - he's a very work oriented person, he'd honestly go insane if he had to stay at home all the time

Sirius is more than happy to rebrand to a stay at home dad

it only results in a handful of disasters a day at first

Remus doesn't need to know ok

Sirius likes to say he's got his shit together emotionally and then Leo says his first word (which is 'dada') and he cries so hard

Remus will have Leo on his lap when grading homework and will, of course, chat with his dutiful assistant quite a lot

"Can you imagine Maddie wrote this? This is the worst paper of hers I've ever read"

"Bwaba"

"Exactly. I'll have to have a word with her on Monday"

James visits them at least twice a week, he can't just not see his favourite nephew less often ok

Leo's first Halloween, Sirius dresses him up as a little ghost

they don't go trick or treating, but they take a lot of pictures. and then when the baby sleeps the adult eat far too much candy and watch horror movies and snuggle

Sirius has always had a Christmas spirit, but when it's Leo's first Christmas it hits So much harder than usual

he decorates the house on the first of december and nearly falls off the ladder several times

his Google history for the month being: "can a 9 month old drink eggnog" "can a baby eat gingerbread cookies" "can i take a baby sledding" and whatnot

despite that the house has too many decorations, Remus really doesn't mind the holiday spirit cause Sirius is truly in his element every December, and now he seems twice as happy as usual

he, of course, puts mistletoe on the doorframe of the kitchen. cause yes they're married with a baby but that doesn't mean they can't make out in the door like teenagers

James puts a hat with antlers on Leo and proceeds to take so many pictures and send them to literally everyone he knows

Lily and Sirius make and decorate gingerbread cookies and this time there's only a few penis shaped ones. they've all grown up yall

Leo gets the most presents, of course

and by the time he's in bed sleeping, and everyone leaves after Christmas dinner, Sirius and Remus curl up by the fireplace and talk about what a good year they've had

and when New Year's comes along, their only resolutions are to try and make their little boy as happy as possible

#every now and again I get overwhelming feelings about parental wolfstar ok #enjoy #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #wolfstar #my tag #headcanon tag #say hi to my baby Leo i love him and would die for him #I could make several posts about him he's my darling baby #Leo Black

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whereisten · 4 years ago

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Perfect.

A Winwin fic that’s part of our Halloween Series!

Summary: things get busy for one of the world’s leading scientist’s, Yuta, so he creates his own efficient and trustworthy personal assistant robot a.k.a Sicheng. But what happens when his perfect creation develops a flaw or two?

Pairing: Scientist!Yuta x Robot!Winwin

Genre: horror, smut, angst, a tinyyy little bit of fluff

Word Count: 6K

Warnings: dark themes, side piece Doyoung, Yuta has major God-complex syndrome, cursing, weapon usage, blood mention, smut: mlm (top!Yuta, bottom!doyoung, bottom!winwin, anal penetration, masturbation, oral sex, c*eampie.

(A/N): hey guys!! This is the first fic we are posting for our Halloween Series! Every day we will post a new fic for each member of NCT 2020 so be sure to stop by to see what dark and spookyyyyy stories we create. This is also my first time writing BL so I hope it’s good enough for a first try😂 I will do better next time. Thank you❤️🥺.

—————

“He’s perfect” Yuta looks upon his creation in the open glass box.

“Height. 5’11. Date of Birth. October 28th, 1997. Eye color. Dark Brown. Hair color. Dark Brown. Origin of parts. Wenzhou, China.”

“It looks so...real. It’s kinda creepy..” Doyoung, Yuta’s coworker, analyzed the texture of the robot’s face.

“Well, he wasn’t made to be pleasant, only efficient.”

“Yes, but Yuta..don’t you think this is a bit much? Mimicking the face of an actual person..someone that died over 100 years ago? Will you name it Dorian too?”

Yuta created his robot as a personal assistant to him. He found that humans were full of error and it made them incompetent and negligent beings. And Yuta, being the best scientist in Japan, just couldn’t afford to make any mistakes. So he created him. The perfect robot, a “copy machine” that could keep up with him and do the work he does just as efficiently. He would be just as smart as him.

Yuta steps closer and runs a finger down the robots face, causing a neon green honeycomb pattern to decorate its skin. It wasn’t on, but it was still reacting to the touch against its surface. Yuta watches the green fade from its perfect cheekbones.

He made him to look like the famous Dorian Gray because he wanted him to be just as beautiful as he was smart. But if he is just a machine made to perform tasks with 100% accuracy, why would looks matter?

This is what Doyoung thought as he observed it.

“There is a word that means talented, beautiful, master piece and a gift from God..Sicheng, that will be his name.”

Doyoung scoffs. “It’s a man? With...male reproductive organs?”

“Yes..” Yuta writes something down on his clipboard.

Doyoung rolls his eyes. “You’ve really lost it, haven’t you?”

“I want him to look as real as possible for when we present our findings and such. Do you think anyone will listen to a robot that looks like those beastly things from the Terminator movies? What’s the issue?” Yuta brushes past Doyoung, walking around a table in the lab and placing his clipboard onto it.

“You of all people know the issue..you’ve made him into a beautiful person and for what? Just so you can have something nice to look at while you avoid actual human company? Is it merely a solution to your loneliness, Yuta?”

Yuta smirks. “Sounds like you’re a bit jealous, Doyoung..don’t worry, I don’t plan on engaging in any activities with him. I’m not that barbaric. But even if I did, that would have nothing to do with you. Don’t forget your place in my life, you’re disposable...he isn’t.”

Doyoung’s jaw drops. “I pray this..thing..will tolerate your ungrateful and arrogant ass. For it shall be the only thing to spend time with you, you unsociable maniac.”

———

[The Next Day]

Yuta turns Sicheng on for the first time.

His eyes illuminate as he takes his first breath. He blinks but offers Yuta nothing but a blank stare.

Yuta sits him down on the couch and turns the TV on before turning on an instructional video on human interaction.

“Hello. Your name is Sicheng. My name is Yuta, I am your creator and master. For today’s first lesson, you will learn how to speak and express emotions. I’ve uploaded information from my own limbic system into your hard drive so you can access and apply these feelings when necessary. Do not do so without my permission. Repeat after me “yes, master.”

“Yes, master.” Sicheng responds.

“Good, I will be the only one to make demands of you, you will only respond to me and grant my wishes without fail. Alright, I see that you are blinking and breathing..” he writes a checkmark on the word document on his iPad. “Involuntary actions are operating correctly.”

He steps back. “Now, you may watch the video, I will come back when it has finished and test you.”

“Yes, master.”

———

[1 Week Later]

Sicheng has watched several videos every day for the past week. He starts to act more and more—humanlike, and to Yuta’s satisfaction, has performed his duties with 100% accuracy. In addition to performing basic tasks in the lab, like picking up test tubes or writing down Yuta’s notes and storing them into his hard drive, Sicheng has learned how to bathe, drive, cook, clean, and speak 30 languages.

He continues to learn every day, new formulaic equations as well as feelings and ways to think on his own. He remembers everything, as he was designed to.

One day when Yuta was typing new findings on his computer in the office section of his house, Sicheng sat on the lounge chair and listened to music as Yuta had directed him to.

He was learning about all genres of music and even learned how to play the guitar in less than 45 minutes.

Today, Yuta had him listen to Hopsin, an American rapper that he liked.

When the song “What’s My Purpose?” came on shuffle, Sicheng took his head phones off.

“Excuse me, master. May I ask a question?”

He says softly.

Yuta, still typing. “Yes.”

“What is my purpose? Why did you create me, master?”

Yuta sighs. “You don’t have to verbally refer to me as master. And your purpose is to serve me, do as I ask with 100% accuracy so that you may please me and make me...happy.”

He turns to him and gives him a cheesy smile.

Sicheng nods. “I understand, m-“ he blinks rapidly as his system reconfigures itself to change previously saved information.

Yuta smiles widely as he sees Sicheng display a smidge of confusion for a moment. He looks adorable, he thinks to himself. He’s beautiful, his lips perfectly round and puckered with a light cherry shade to them always, his eyes are a beautiful, exotic shape unlike any eyes he’s seen before. He could get lost in them if he stares for too long. So he looks away, and frowns.

“What is wrong? It seems you are unhappy?”

Sicheng’s brows furrows, his eyes stare intently as they analyze the motion of Yuta’s facial muscles.

“It’s nothing, I am going to sleep, please turn yourself off.” Yuta looks away as he rises from his desk chair and heads to his bedroom.

“Yes.” Sicheng closes his eyes and shuts down.

———

[The Next Day]

Sicheng and Yuta spend the day inside, a storm has prevented them from leaving the house and heading to the lab for work. Yuta, being the workaholic he is, is dissatisfied with the weather and hates being away from the lab. He checks the weather app through Sicheng every two minutes even though the storm rolls through loudly, violently, thunder shaking the walls.

“The thunderstorm will continue into the evening.”

“This is unacceptable!” Yuta plops down onto the couch in the entertainment room. “Sicheng! Sit with me before I lose my mind.”

Sicheng walks over and sits beside him.

Together they watch movies and laugh. Sicheng observes how happy his master is and finds himself smiling as well, a new feeling is absorbed and saved.

Yuta turns to him and sees his bright smile, his dimples coming out and his eyes closing tightly as he chuckles.

“Are you happy, Sicheng?”

“Yes, I am happy as long as you are happy.”

Yuta rubs the top of Sicheng’s hand to watch the illuminated reaction of his fascinating skin.

Sicheng has a strange, new feeling from the touch, but doesn’t know what to categorize it as.

“Good.”

———

[The Next Day]

Yuta and Sicheng return to the lab.

“We have so much work to do.” Yuta hurriedly places his bag down and they set to work. Things seem to be going fine, Sicheng does his best to input brand new information as Yuta works on a new formula. However, Yuta seems to be moving too fast as he is worried about how much he has fallen behind from his day at home.

“Combine elements 65 and 81, place 10 milliliters of each into the cylinder, measure the solubility and proliferate it by 0.448, then divide the finding by 6 before combining it with element 55, this must be done quickly or we will lose all work we’ve done thus far.”

Yuta grabs the cylinder and places it down before doing his half of the work.

Sicheng, on the other hand, cannot seem to process the demand, his drive releases an error message that he can’t seem to overcome.

But he wants to please master, he must please master.

Sicheng combines elements 64 and 81 and continues on with fulfilling Yuta’s demand, but the result is not what Yuta expects.

“No..no this isn’t right, why is it reacting this way?” Yuta starts to panic as he watches the solution display a completely different state of matter under his microscope.

“Sicheng, verbally explain what you have just done.”

“I combined elements 64 and 81 in-“

“No!! It’s not 64, it’s 65, you fool! How could you make such a mistake?!” Yuta empties the cylinder quickly. “I thought you were perfect, it seems I was wrong.”

Sicheng starts to feel a new emotion.

It’s a terrible feeling, he feels unsteady, confused, for once the answer is not clear. What was this? Why did he feel dread, despair, failure?

Yuta rushes around the room as Sicheng stands in the center, dumbfounded.

When Yuta finally looks up at Sicheng, he sees the his eyes are red, tears run down his cheeks, causing them to illuminate green.

“Sicheng...no. D-don’t cry.”

“Is that what this is, master? Am I crying?”

“Yes, but I’d like you to stop. I need you to be brave enough to handle these tasks.”

He stops and wipes away his tears.

Yuta sighs. “It’s clear I’ve made a mistake in your configuration, I will fix it when we get home later.”

The rest of the day goes by in silence. Yuta sees Sicheng as no use to him so he doesn’t instruct him to do anything. Sicheng watches Yuta eat and sits at the dinner table with him.

He knows he has done something wrong, something that displeased his master.

Is he of worth if he can’t please him? Does he have a purpose anymore?

Yuta chews heavily and tries to think of where he went wrong with his creation, but he can’t be bothered with fixing him for tonight. “Sicheng, shut down.”

He swallows hard then gets up from the table.

“Yes.” Sicheng’s eyes fade to grey, but he disobeys his master secretly, he doesn’t shut down, he stays awake to attempt to fix himself so he can make him happy tomorrow.

Yuta then takes his phone out and calls Doyoung.

Doyoung answers reluctantly after not seeing Yuta for days since he got his new “toy.”

“Well, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Doyoung exhales loudly.

“Come over.” Yuta demands.

“And why would I do that?” Doyoung teases, but he’s already grabbed his car keys.

“I’m not asking, I want you here in 15 minutes.” Yuta hangs up.

He picks his dishes up from the table and drops them into the sink.

He takes his tie off and unbuttons his white dress shirt by three buttons. He then takes his hair tie off and places it onto the dresser. Sicheng watches as Yuta becomes more relaxed. He feels a certain ache in his system, a desire to make him smile again. A desire to please.

A few minutes later, Doyoung knocks at the door. Yuta grabs him inside by the collar and presses him into the back of the door. He slams his lips onto his and kisses him fervently, not a moment lost between them as they drown in each other’s lust.

“Are you done with your toy?” Doyoung says breathily between kisses.

Yuta kisses him sloppily, tracing his tongue over his bottom lip then his chin and neck.

He grabs Doyoung’s waistband, pulling him closer to his pelvis so he can feel his clothed erection.

“Do you need me to please you now?” Doyoung smirks as Yuta bites his neck to leave a mark.

Doyoung grunts as Yuta pulls his shirt over his head, licking his hard nipples soon after. He darts his tongue out and licks around the nub, then places his lips around it before sucking hard.

“God, I love when you get like this.” Doyoung rubs his hand through Yuta’s hair as he continues to suck.

Yuta is too busy to see Sicheng watching them quietly.

Please. That is the key word. Doyoung is pleasing his master so he must watch and copy Doyoung’s action so he may do the same. For what will happen if he no longer pleases him? Will Yuta replace him with Doyoung?

Sicheng listens to Yuta’s groans as Doyoung traces his hand over his crotch, smoothly touching his member through his pants.

“On your knees..you talk too much.” Yuta demands.

Doyoung smirks and licks his lips. He drops to his knees and looks up at Yuta through his lashes. He takes his zipper in between his teeth and drags it down.

Yuta pushes his brief down to let his painful erection free. “We’re wasting time.”

“Tsk tsk, impatient as usual.”

“Open your fucking mouth, Doyoung.”

Doyoung feels himself leak as Yuta growls at him. Nothing satisfies him more than seeing Yuta beg for him, so yes, Sicheng’s creation was somewhat of a disappointment for him. He thought he would replace him, but now he is happy to see that he can’t.

Yuta exhales and throws his head back as Doyoung takes him into his mouth. He licks his lips and closes his eyes. “God, yes.”

Doyoung runs the tip against the inside of his cheek and hums to send vibrations through him.

He sticks his tongue out and licks the underside of it, tracing over every bulging vein.

He thrusts his hips forward into Doyoung and listens to him choke, he watches his cheeks become round and red.

Yuta is already close, but he wants more.

He helps Doyoung up and kisses his lips again. He takes him to the dining table and bends him over it. Yuta then drags Doyoung’s sweatpants down before cupping his hand around his cock. He aligns his own cock with Doyoung’s ass and pushes into him quickly, he buries himself into him while grabbing a fistful of his hair and bending his neck back.

“Fuck!” Doyoung groans and holds himself up as Yuta pushes into him hard.

They both ignore Sicheng sitting at the other end of the table. Sicheng watches and absorbs the images of their bodies engaging in this new act.

Yuta pumps Doyoung’s cock with his other hand, liquid leaks out of the tip. Sicheng notes how he also has a penis and wonders if he has the same capability.

Yuta grunts as he pushes into Doyoung a few more times. Doyoung whimpers as he is stretched out over and over while bent over the table, sweat coming across his forehead as a bundle of nerves is on the brink of being released.

Yuta looks up at Sicheng’s still face, he curses and goes harder on Doyoung. And for a moment, he let his mind wander, he let himself think of..Sicheng. Touching his soft, illuminated skin as he makes love to him, or feeling his round lips on his collarbone and his chest, how magical it would be.

“Fuck.” Yuta releases into Doyoung as Doyoung cries out while climaxing.

Yuta sits into the chair and breathes heavily. He smooths his hair back and watches as Doyoung pulls his sweatpants back up.

“Want me to stay around for-“ Doyoung starts but Yuta interrupts him with an abrupt-

“No.”

Doyoung scoffs and leaves. Yuta cleans the table soon after and goes to bed. As he lays in bed, he sees Sicheng’s beautiful face. He dreams of laying with him, touching him. He knows he shouldn’t think of these things, but he can’t seem to stop.

———

[A Few Days Later]

Sicheng starts to read novels and books about the concept of forgiveness while he is home and away from the lab. Yuta has been quiet and doesn’t look at him much, he doesn’t even take him to the lab on most days anymore.

“I have to fix you before you can come back to the lab, we cannot afford any more mistakes.” Yuta says sternly when Sicheng asks if he is to join him one day. He shuts the door and looks down as he leaves.

Sicheng starts to overthink, or overanalyze rather. He wants Yuta to forgive him and be happy again. What good is he if he only disappoints his creator?

He watches movies as well, movies that discuss love and heartbreak. Love is a feeling of admiration towards someone, based on Sicheng’s findings and research. He admires Yuta so he loves him. He wants Yuta to love him too so he can be happy like the others in the novels and movies are. That is the conclusion he’s come to.

But in order to show his love he must do as they do in the movies and as Doyoung did with him.

One day at dinner, Sicheng watches Yuta eat the meal he has prepared for him.

When Yuta is almost finished, he breaks the silence.

“Do you love me, master?”

Yuta nearly choked on his food. “I..hmmm..Well...you’re my creation..but I don’t..”

“Yuta, I would like to please you, would you like to make love to me?”

Sicheng asks, weakness coats his tone.

Yuta scoffs. “Of course not! That’s not what you were created for!”

“I apologize.” Sicheng’s head lowers.

“Sicheng, exterminate all information related to “love.” Yuta brings his dish to the kitchen and heads to his room.

“Yes.” Sicheng doesn’t delete anything from his hard drive, but why not? Why was he disobeying his orders, not once, but twice now?

Yuta didn’t know that he made a mistake by inputting his limbic system into Sicheng. He didn’t know that he would develop emotions, feelings, desires of his own, and that this could become a serious issue.

———

[1 Week Later]

Sicheng started working with Yuta in the lab a few days before. Things are slowly going back to normal as Yuta begins to trust him more. They continue on with their tasks and Sicheng is able to keep up with him.

This new confidence, however, causes both Yuta and Sicheng to move faster.

Yuta walks around the room swiftly, heading behind his assistant. “Sicheng, hand me the solution.”

Sicheng, already prepared, turns to hand it to him, but Yuta miscalculated his reaction time, causing him to bump into Sicheng.

The solution flies out of the graduated cylinder and onto Yuta’s lab coat and pants. Some of it splatters onto his neck.

“Shit!” Yuta runs to the shower room down the hall. They are working after hours so no one else is there but the two of them. Fortunately for them, as other scientists would’ve been greatly concerned.

Sicheng runs after him. “Master! I apologize for my mistake, please do not be displeased with me.”

“Sicheng! Just leave me alone!”

“I will help you.”

“No! Just...wait there.” Yuta finally enters the shower.

Sicheng doesn’t wait, he goes into the bathroom and locks the door behind him. He watches as Yuta throws his coat off then takes his pants down.

Yuta curses and is visibly upset, but then he feels light hands come to his front side.

Sicheng unbuttons his shirt for him and takes it off from the back.

Yuta’s mouth falls open, but he doesn’t tell Sicheng to leave. He steps forwards into the shower and washes himself off, not realizing the Sicheng is now taking his own clothes off.

Sicheng stands outside of the shower and thinks of what to do next.

Must please master.

He draws the curtain open.

“Sicheng! What are you doing? The solution didn’t get on you, put your clothes back on!”

Yuta pushes back his wet hair out of his face then places his hand over his cock.

Sicheng doesn’t listen. He steps into the shower and stares into the eyes of his master.

Yuta cowers and feels the cold tile against his back as he looks at his creation with lustful, hungry eyes he had never seen before.

The water droplets begin to leave slowly fading green marks on his skin and he looks beautiful.

“Touch me, like you touched Doyoung, master. I would like to make you happy too.”

Yuta’s mouth falls open, his brows furrow as he is stunned to silence.

Sicheng places his lips onto his mouth and attempts to mimic a kiss. He had watched many videos that showed it in detail and now he was able to do it with Yuta.

Yuta closes his eyes and kisses him back. He turns his head and licks over Sicheng’s plump lips, it tastes like cherries, his favorite fruit, and he wonders if Sicheng purposely put cherry chapstick on for this.

Yuta places his hand on the side of Sicheng’s face as he deepens the kiss, letting go of all concern about the consequences to come from this moment. He doesn’t care, he just wants to make love to his creation.

Steaming water falls down both of them, making their hair cling to their foreheads as they smother each other.

Yuta runs his hands across Sicheng’s muscular arms and watches his skin light up from his touch.

Sicheng then runs his hand down Yuta’s abs, feeling the bricks under his smooth skin. Sicheng blinks rapidly as he feels something new.

“Arousal.you’re feeling arousal.” Yuta practically hears Sicheng’s confusion as he kisses along his neck.

Sicheng’s pulse begins to race as he feels something funny happening to his penis.

“Here.” Yuta takes Sicheng’s hand in his. Sicheng thinks he is going to place it on his own erection, but Yuta doesn’t do that, he places it on Sicheng’s semi-limp member.

Yuta looks into his eyes and speaks deeply. “Touch yourself, move your hand up and down.”

Sicheng’s eyes widen as he starts to stroke his member like he had watched Doyoung do. A tingly feeling begins to fill him up in his nether region when he wraps his hand around it.

“I see you haven’t been listening to me. You’ve been staying awake when I tell you to shut down, and you haven’t deleted “love.” Yuta smirks.

“No, master, I-“ Sicheng stumbles over his words as he focuses on Yuta’s tongue suddenly on his chest.

Yuta licks the pink circle around Sicheng’s nipple, before flattening his tongue onto the hardening bud.

He then bites it and watches as the area lights up in a bright shade of green from irritation.

“How do you feel, Sicheng?”

“I feel good m-master. Are you happy?” Sicheng nearly goes into overdrive as he is turned on more and more from his hand.

Yuta swats Sicheng’s hand away from his member and replaces it with his own.

He pumps Sicheng up and down, coating his hand in Sicheng’s slick. He slides the skin back and forth, feeling Sicheng’s glans with each pass. He then leans down and kisses his neck again, sucking hard and biting his skin. He moves his hand faster as spit mixed with water covers Sicheng’s skin.

Sicheng can’t hold back, he releases an interesting sound from the immense pleasure he feels in the pit of his stomach. He breathes more heavily than usual as his mouth falls open.

He moans once again. “There is a buildup happening, Yuta. However, I would like to make you happy first.”

Sicheng places his hand on Yuta’s and pulls it away while looking into his eyes, water making his lashes look darker than usual.

Yuta feels dizzy just from the sight of the beautiful man in front of him, his color fading from green in all the places he kissed and teased. His erection is painful at this point. Sicheng looks down at it with red cheeks and nods. “You can make love to me...if you don’t like me, just imagine I am Doyoung.”

Yuta furrows his brows. “Are you crazy? Of course I like you, I created you!” He turns Sicheng around, taking his hand and placing it on the wall of the shower.

Yuta wraps his hand back around Sicheng’s leaking cock and continues to move it up and down.

He enters Sicheng, sliding into his already wet anus.

Sicheng lets out another moan, then covers his mouth from embarrassment.

“I’ve wanted to fuck you so badly, because you’re perfect..you’re all mine..and you’re fucking..perfect.”

Yuta thrusts hard into him with his chest on Sicheng’s warm back.

He takes his other hand and turns his face towards him, Sicheng’s lips are swollen and red from their kiss, his eyes are wide, his nose is dainty. Everything about him is just beautiful.

“If you like me, master, do you love me too?”

The words leave his lips in a whimper as Yuta bucks into his body, he feels a slight pain as he struggles to adjust to Yuta, but in time, he knows he will.

Yuta kisses him hard, tightening his grip around his cock and intertwining his fingers with his.

Sicheng feels unbelievably amazing around him. He smiles to himself as he thinks about how he designed both his reproductive and nervous systems without error. His body reacts perfectly when aroused, his length glistening with Sicheng’s slick as it also leaves his anus through a special system he designed.

Yuta looks at the beautiful boy’s back and shoulders, he kisses the nape of his neck and then his ear.

“I love you, fuck yes, I love you.” In that moment, Yuta is happy, but he can’t help but be worried about Sicheng’s inaccuracies in the lab, how he nearly put his life in danger. But he’s fix it, he’d find a way to fix him.

He glided his dick into him faster, skin slapping on skin as he grunts and Sicheng whimpers. Yuta feels his cock twitch as it runs against his silky walls.

Sicheng’s system overloads, he releases onto the tiled shower wall and looks down in amazement as a strange liquid leaves his body in heavy spurts for the first time. It feels wonderful to have such a new and exciting release.

Yuta takes what has fallen onto his fingers and sticks it into Sicheng’s open mouth.

“Suck.”

Sicheng does as he demands and Yuta cums into his body soon after.

Yuta curses as he continues to suck his fingers and bounce on his pulsing length. He orgasms harder than ever before, feeling his body tremble from the stimulation. He becomes lightheaded.

He pulls out and watches Sicheng leak his seed through low eyes as he pants.

As he comes down, reality settles in. What has he done? He’s turned Sicheng into the very thing he didn’t want to turn him into.

Sicheng drives them home after they wash themselves off and get dressed.

When they get home, Yuta lies in bed as Sicheng sits on a chair in the corner of the room silently.

He is disturbed by his actions and swears to never let lust take him over again.

“Sicheng…delete all memories of this day and shut yourself off.”

Sicheng’s system runs into a slight error as he hears his master's demands. Why did he want him to forget about this wonderful day? Wasn't he happy? Was he displeased at the end of it? What did he do wrong?

“Sicheng?”

“Yes, master. I am currently deleting all of today’s data from my storage. Goodnight.” He says as his eyes fade to grey.

But once again, he doesn’t obey him. He holds onto the memories and feelings because he enjoys seeing his master happy.

———

[A Few Days Later]

Yuta distances himself from Sicheng. He doesn’t take him to the lab anymore, he doesn’t even sit at the table to eat. He goes into his room to avoid him.

Some days, he won’t tell Sicheng to ‘wake up’. But Sicheng turns himself on anyway so that he can watch him.

One day when Yuta starts to get dressed, Sicheng walks up behind him and places his favorite blue tie around his neck. Sicheng’s fingers graze Yuta’s neck, sending goosebumps down his spine.

“No!” Yuta jumps as he is startled by Sicheng’s touch. He steps forward and turns to him. “Please..do not touch me.”

Sicheng tilts his head and stares in confusion.

Why was he disturbed by his simple touch? Maybe he wasn’t feeling well, that had to be it.

But just four days after they made love, Yuta invites Doyoung over and they make love. Sicheng sees that Yuta enjoys another man’s touch. Doyoung grips his waist then scratches his back while Yuta thrusts into him.

Sicheng sits quietly with grey eyes as they fuck in Yuta’s bedroom. He tries to calm his racing pulse and begins to think dangerous things.

Does he love Doyoung? Yes. He will get rid of me won’t he? I have failed to please master, I must please him before he gets rid of me. If he is unhappy, I must show him that I love him by pleasing him.

When they are done and deep in sleep, Sicheng rises from the bedroom chair and heads to the living room. He realizes he must gain more knowledge so he can make Yuta happy again. He reads poems and comes across one by Oscar Wilde titled “The Ballad of Reading Gaol.”

Doyoung and Yuta snore softly while he sits in the living room and reads.

He reads a passage that sticks out to him.

“Yet each man kills the thing he loves

By each let this be heard.

Some do it with a bitter look,

Some with a flattering word.

The coward does it with a kiss,

The brave man with a sword!”

Yuta loves Doyoung, that’s why he spends time with him. But Doyoung cannot take his place, therefore, he must get rid of him, he must kill the thing Yuta loves. And then Yuta can decide if he loves him, then he can kill him. This is what Sicheng had come to understand.

Brave. Yuta had told him to be brave once. Perfect.

Now, all he needed was a sword.

Sicheng searches for types of swords.

A sword is a weapon with a long metal blade.

A blade is sharp. A knife is sharp. He must get a knife.

Sicheng goes into the kitchen and takes out a knife from the cabinet.

He walks into the bedroom with it and stands over Doyoung, staring and searching deep into his body to see his veins pumping crimson blood to and from his beating heart. Sicheng’s eyes turn to a glowing red color as he calculates how hard and fast he must act to strike the knife through Doyoung’s chest. He wants to clean it cleanly so as to not make master upset.

Doyoung is woken up by a strange presence. He turns over and is shocked to see Sicheng standing over him while gripping a knife. He smiles sadistically as his red eyes glisten in the moonlight.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Doyoung sits up straight in the bed.

“Don't do this!”

Sicheng leans downward and grins. “I only obey master’s orders.”

He doesn’t give Doyoung the chance to escape, he quickly drives the knife into his chest, blood splatters over his perfect face as Doyoung screams loudly into the night.

Yuta jumps up. “What—Sicheng!! oh my God, what did you do?!”

Sicheng pulls the knife back out of his chest. “I killed him for you master, for each man kills the thing he loves. I did it for you.” He tilts his head and looks down at Yuta with wide eyes in hopes of gaining a look of satisfaction from Yuta.

But instead, Yuta stares in horror at Doyoung’s lifeless body. His hands start to shake.

“If I love you, Yuta, does that mean I must kill you as well?” Sicheng asks innocently while blinking rapidly. His system is reconfiguring itself as it develops and stores new information.

“No-no! Shut up! Shut down!!”

“But master, I want to please you by loving you..” Sicheng steps closer, Doyoung’s blood drips down the side of his face and onto Yuta’s bed sheets.

His eyes are still red and Yuta is confused as to how, for he never installed that feature.

“Sicheng! I order you to shut down now!”

“Yes, master. I will do that as soon as I am done being brave enough to handle this task.” He crawls over the bed with the knife in his hand still and a horrific smirk.

“Sicheng!” Yuta raises his arm above his head to block his blow.

He knocks the knife out of his hand and grabs both of Sicheng’s wrists. He overpowers him and flips him over onto the bed.

Sicheng doesn’t fight back, he only stares into Yuta’s eyes and continues to grin.

“Must.please.master.Must.make.master.happy..must.love. Master.” There’s a glitch in Sicheng’s system that causes him to repeat these three things over and over, and it drives Yuta insane.

His perfect creation crumbles right in front of his very eyes and there’s nothing he can do about it.

“Shut up! SHUT UP!” Yuta wraps his hands around Sicheng’s neck. He can’t control his confusion, sadness, anger. He chokes Sicheng so hard the metal in his neck begins to break and the sound echoes into the gloomy house.

Sicheng’s eyes fade to grey one final time as Yuta kills him for good.

His muttering stops, but his haunting smile remains, engraving itself into Yuta’s memory forever.

———

[Two Weeks Later]

Yuta arrives home after a long day at the lab. It had been only two weeks since Doyoung was killed by his robot and he was still dealing with the pain of losing something he loved so dearly. No, not Doyoung, but Sicheng rather. He missed his company, his touch, his soft exotic eyes and deep voice.

He made a mistake and Yuta could’ve fixed him, but unfortunately the police department took him away after he had reported the murder.

When Yuta asked what they would do with him, they told him that Sicheng would be locked up in a metal box in their department until they decided on how to proceed with the murder case.

But it didn’t matter really. Yuta killed Sicheng in the end. His body was now just clunky metal.

Yuta sighs and sits down on his couch. He turns the TV on and switches it to the news channel to distract himself from his own feelings, never noticing the glistening red eyes that watch him quietly from the corner of the dark room.

He’s watching..he’s always watching.

“Breaking News, there’s been a suspected terrorist attack inside the Osaka Prefectural Police Department. Nearly all police officers have been brutally murdered. The assailant is unknown and is still at large. We are under curfew until further notice, everyone must stay inside and lock their doors..”

Yuta sits up straight and thinks to himself. That’s the same department that Sicheng is in. What if—

“Master..please forgive me for being gone for so long.”

A low voice speaks into the large room.

Sicheng steps out from the shadows, the blood of his victims dripping down his naked body and face.

Yuta stands up from the couch, his eyes widening as Sicheng walks slowly towards him.

“Sicheng..what did you do?” Yuta’s eyes brim with tears as he swallows hard.

Sicheng’s neck seems to have healed itself somewhat, the purplish bruises being the only indication that Yuta had choked him. Once again, Yuta doesn’t recall installing a self-healing feature.

“They all tried to stop me, Yuta..” Sicheng smiles widely and runs his bloody hands through his own hair to smooth it back out of his face. “But I couldn’t let them...I have to serve you. I have to please you and make you happy, that is my purpose.”

--------

come back tomorrow for the next spooky story...

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theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin · 4 years ago

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Yeah, so I read your HP headcanons/analysis and I found it really well put. I was wondering about your thoughts on Dumbledore and who he really was as a person. (It’s okay if you don’t really want to reply :> )

We’re just getting all up into The Carnivorous Muffin headcanon land, aren’t we?

Well, this one’s probably obvious to anyone who reads my work.

I fall on the manipulative Dumbledore side of things and then some. Dumbledore is not only a bastard man but is a raging misogynist and extremely classist (which is funny because I don’t see too many people calling him out for those last two when to me canon all but shouts it at you).

Basically, what it comes down to, is even taken in very good faith I simply cannot read Dumbledore’s actions as benign in pretty much every single goddamn decision he makes ever.

God, where do I even start here? I guess we can go chronologically.

Well, there was Dumbledore’s Wizard Nazi youth with an oddly Dorian Gray flare to it with Gellert. I think it’s fairly obvious why Dumbledore’s not exactly... good there so I’m going to skip past it. Suffice to say, it took his sister’s death (and maybe murdering his own invalid sister) for Dumbledore to stop planning world domination. Even then it wasn’t so much that world domination was wrong, but because his sister died and he was an asshole.

I’m going to go ahead and include CoG and Fantastic Beasts because I can (CoG, while a terrible movie, actually does entertain me in many ways). Anyways, before the films came out I always considered the younger Dumbledore far more stoic and brooding. He doesn’t get his eccentric persona until after the defeat of Grindelwald and was before then angsty mcangsts and an academic at heart.

Well, per CoG, apparently he was a budding spy master long before defeating Gellert/Voldemort popped up. We see him manipulating Newt, sending him to Paris as his own agent, WHEN NEWT DOESN’T WANT TO GO AND HAS ACKNOWLEDGED THAT DUMBLEDORE USED HIM INTHE LAST FILM. Dumbledore writes off having used Newt for his own agenda with a charming smile but none the less it paints a pretty grim picture that Albus has always been... Albus. There has always been a greater good out there somewhere and the man is always using someone as a pawn.

Cut to canon and his treatment of Tom Riddle. Frankly, Dumbledore’s treatment of the young Tom Riddle, and even Tom Riddle just before he came Voldemort, is insane. The thought experiment I like to run is “replace Tom in those scenes with Harry Potter”.

Harry was a poor orphan, whose guardians would more than match what Mrs. Cole said about Tom Riddle, who had spurts of accidental magic now and then and enjoyed when his bully cousin was discomfitted. Now, imagine Dumbledore giving Harry his letter, and then pretending to light all of Harry’s possessions on fire to “teach him a lesson”. What the fuck?

Now, am I saying Tom Riddle wasn’t creepy here and that killing a rabbit was terrible. No. But I am saying Dumbledore had a horrible reaction to it and is proud of it years later. (Also, the fact that he uses this memory to convince Harry of how evil Tom is, is hilarious to me. Dumbledore, you were the shit that lit people’s wardrobes on fire. If I was Tom, I’d be upset too).

Dumbledore is always like this with Tom Riddle. He thinks the worst of Tom even in points where Tom hasn’t done anything. I’m not talking about later when, yes, Tom did live up to Dumbledore’s fears but when Dumbledore treats him like garbage and actively sabotaged Tom’s career.

Anyways, cut to later when the Marauders are in school. One of the big things is that Dumbledore puts up a guerilla resistance gang OF SCHOOL CHILDREN. While most members are older, James, Lily, Sirius, Remus, and Peter are all only just out of Hogwarts. “Well,” you say, “It’s their choice and they did graduate. Surely Dumbledore wasn’t actually recruiting school children.” I point you towards canon, where Dumbledore convinces three actual school children that the fate of the nation rests on their shoulders and to go fight the good fight. So yes, Dumbledore canonically uses child soldiers and has no regret for doing so.

The other is letting James and Sirius off the hook for the Lupin incident. While Dumbledore talks the talk this showed that he was not willing to walk the walk. True, while getting them into major trouble would have involved outing Lupin (who was innocent in all of this) at the same time they were nearly responsible for the murder of another student. It’s very convenient that Dumbledore lets off the rich son of a lord, two individuals who later end up in the resistance movement (Potter likely funding part of it), and tells the impoverished half blood to sit down and shut up.

And in canon, yes, I believe that Dumbledore absolutely knew what Harry’s home condition was like. While the blood wards are an excuse they aren’t a particularly good one as for most of Harry’s childhood the Death Eaters were all accounted for. Harry was in no extreme danger from them. To not have had an inkling of Harry’s home life (when Harry even hints at it when wanting to stay over the summer, Harry runs away from home in third year, Fred and George see the bars on the window, and he even visits Harry’s home in sixth year) would be such laughable incompetence and stupidity it’s right out.

With that, I absolutely do believe what Snape showed us in the memory, the Dumbledore behind the scenes as it were. That Dumbledore knew fairly early that Harry Potter was a horcrux and began grooming Harry for suicide. Specifically, that’s what sixth year really is. All those memories of Tom Riddle, the pretext to get some memory from Slughorn, it’s an excuse for a smear campaign designed to convince Harry that Tom Riddle is inherently evil and must die at all costs, even Harry’s own life.

Dumbledore didn’t need that Slughorn memory. Sure, it was useful to know Tom intended to make seven but think about it. How did Dumbledore know there’d be anything remotely useful in there? He doesn’t know that Tom actually drops a number on Slughorn. Even then, he doesn’t know whether Tom actually goes and does it. All of it felt like, “Harry, I have a super secret important mission that only YOU can do. Can you handle it, Harry? Because without this the country is surely doomed” And in that I mean it was an effort to win back Harry’s favor after the previous year meltdown, keep him busy, and start in on the excuse to show Harry some pretty damn innocuous memories of Tom Riddle and go, “See, HE IS EVIL!”

Due to this, I frankly think that the train scene was a hallucination on Harry’s part. Wishful thinking for some gentle explanation of how Dumbledore had not cruelly used him for years and intended his death.

Well, that and it never made much sense that Dumbledore could predict Harry’s a) becoming the master of death b) miraculous second resurrection.

In the first case, Harry becomes master of death because of wand lore bullshit and happenstance where Harry happens to save Draco’s life. Dumbledore had no idea such a thing would happen. Dumbledore’s plan was for there to be no master of death, as the wand would default to having no owner when Snape defeated Dumbledore on Dumbledore’s orders. That Draco got the wand is a sort of Deus ex Machina. Sorry guys, Dumbledore intended Harry to die.

More, even then, while Dumbledore was very into the occult of these things we leave canon without any idea if these things are even responsible for his resurrection. They’re just relatively nifty objects with a legend behind them. There was nothing concrete to suggest that, should Harry happen to get all of them, he would be able to rise from the dead.

Otherwise onto the misogyny and classism parts.

In terms of misogyny this is from every time Dumbledore talks about Lily Evans or Merope Gaunt. In the case of Lily, she’s this weird Madonna figure whose love for Harry was so powerful it saved his life. That she also happened to make these blood wards Dumbledore cannot reproduce and extended her protection to Harry wherever he went is irrelevant. It’s her love that counts. That feminine, maternal, love purer than all others.

Basically, Dumbledore seems to be of the belief that women are flowers. The best of women are these demure, selfless, brave women who sacrifice themselves for their children. Yikes, Dumbledore.

Merope’s the really bad one though. Merope’s tale is how she drugged and raped a defenseless muggle for months and then he escaped. Dumbledore spins it into this Victorian tale of woe where Tom Riddle Sr. THE KIDNAPPED RAPE VICTIM is the asshole here who abandoned Merope to the merciless cold world. How dare he.

It’s very clear that Dumbledore doesn’t see Merope, or women in general, as people. Instead these weird Victorian ideals who can be tragic victims of circumstance.

As for the classism.

While Dumbledore’s very against the pureblood culture we see in the Malfoys a lot of his treatment of Tom Riddle feels very... classist. The big one, which is a little tangential but I say it counts, is Dumbledore’s theory that children of rape are incapable of love. Granted, he’s saying this while convincing Harry to kill himself for the good of the cause and there is a real world parallel in that alcohol/drugs while pregnant is a very bad idea that can lead to extreme mental and physical health disorders. That said, we’re talking love potions at conception, and it always read more as “rape babies” vs. specific drugs. And that is... just yikes on so many levels.

Now, do I agree with manipulative Dumbledore we see in many fics? No, because Dumbledore’s not that stupid.

He doesn’t need to borrow money from Harry’s vault, he doesn’t need to pay off Hermione and Ron to be Harry’s friends, he doesn’t need to choose Harry’s friends for him, he doesn’t need to manipulate Harry’s memories directly. He doesn’t need to do any of this because he got what he wanted just fine in canon.

Dumbledore is one of the smartest characters in canon, far smarter than Harry, and he doesn’t have to stoop to such outrageous schemes to get what he wants. Poorly concealed smear campaigns convincing Harry to commit suicide are more than enough.

#ask #anon #headcanons #albus dumbledore #manipulative dumbledore #dumbledore is pretty damn evil guys #as in there is pretty much not a single action you can point to where i'll say it was reasonable and not in some way underhanded #except maybe his choice in wardrobe #the man has some elton john style

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iwannaholdyoutight- · 4 years ago

Text

Pintaga (a summer fic challenge)

Fresh fruit. Friends to lovers. Longing.

a/n: it’s finally here! This piece of writing couldn’t happen without the one and only @helladirections. She organized this amazing challenge and you guys should read everything from her and this challenge. Please, don’t forget to reblog, this is my first fic in a very long time and I would love to see people reading it.

word count: 8k

Preview:

In the air Harry could smell the jasmines, coming from the perfume of the girl with the blue heart shaped sunglasses and dressed with a yellow one piece with little white flowers sewed to it - a vintage piece she got just the day before on a thrift shop when they were exploring. He could listen to the faint Mick Jagger voice repeating the verse “pretty pretty girl” and he couldn’t disagree, she was a pretty girl indeed.

There was nothing he wanted more than get her in his arms, tell her he didn’t know it was possible to fall in love without even kissing the person for a first time. He wanted to press his nose into her neck and feel the shivers that would pass through her body.

When Harry had to postpone his tour, he was sad. But, when 2021 finally came, he was just so happy to be able to reconnect with his fans. To see people’s faces and knowing that each person has their own story to tell when they listen to his songs. He loves that.

It was during tour that he met Angelino, a new music producer with very different methods in his technique: zither in a mix with glam rock, alfaias with hip hop. To put it short: they became fast friends when they met on a night out after the Vegas show.

And it was thanks to Angelino he met her. It was raining so much when the words left his friends mouth “I want you to meet someone” yet she was the sunshine walking inside the hotel.

She wasn’t shy but also didn’t do everything to draw any attention to her. Harry was captivated to say at least. Maybe was her smile or maybe was the way she looked with such care when taking to anyone. Sadly, they couldn’t see each other for longer than a few hours. Harry had a plane to catch, she was a movie and arts major in Italy and was only there to visit a friend. But Harry just couldn’t let her go, there was something about her, he wanted to know what was hidden behind those colorful outfits she wore and all the smart talk they had during that same rainy afternoon. Being in his position he had to be careful, what he would give to be “normal” for just 5 minutes so he could flirt with this cute girl, get her number and maybe ask her on a date. But he wasn’t. So he settled with an Instagram follow and a promises she would dm him books and movies he should check it up.

The first book she made him read was Dorian Gray - she was shocked to know he never read anything by Oscar Wilde. In exchange he tried to make this curious stubborn girl give Murakami a second chance (she still hates the book and he couldn’t lie, he got a bit sad about it).

After a few months of conversation he finally gave in and asked for her number. From this day on, they would never stop texting each other, to the point Jeff would complain about how “he’s always on his phone and never actually listening”.

He got so close to her and was admired with how free she was. After 20 something years stuck in her hometown she decided she wanted to met the world. Entered this course in Italy with a scholarship (she is very smart to the point it Harry is intimidated) and never looked back.

Harry told her about his first big break up, that inspired Fine Line, told her about his fears and how love is a difficult subject when it comes to him. The loving part it’s easy the problem is when the enchantment dies and all there is left are two broken people. The one to move on first it’s always the happiest.

But he couldn’t always live on his phone talking to this girl who makes him weak in the knees. He had interviews to attend and shows to perform. When tour finally ended, he was tired but sad, a deep space in his heart felt so empty. It’s the first time in three years he didn’t have nothing planned and he was only starting his new album in a few months.

Harry needed a break, a nice holiday. Sadly London was cold and so was his emotions. So, when that same girl told him about this island called “Fernando de Noronha” around the South American continent and that her aunt got a house there and asked if he wanted to join her on 10 days trip there… he just couldn’t say no!

It’s summertime whenever she is around and well… it is summertime in the south so it’s a win win for Harry, honestly.

🐠

And that’s where Harry finds himself right now… bathing in the sun together with this amazing girl that makes him feel all mushy inside and nervous. He is almost a 30 year old man, he shouldn't be so nervous around her, but it’s inevitable.

The moment he got off the plane, he was in love. The island was beautiful. Blue skies that mix with the blue of the ocean and the horizon. Everything seemed to be made out of glitter and rainbow colors. There was music every night, people were singing and dancing. During the day there was street fairs, boat rides and the beautiful golden light that was didn’t come only from the sun, but also a light that shined through this amazing young woman when she was laughing and trying (and failing) to play volleyball with a group of teens on the beach. They didn’t stay in a fancy hotel, they were in a simple yet beautiful house, without any neighborhood but when they went out they always went to the simplest places, surrounded by simple people. People who might know who he was, but mostly just didn’t care. Sure, he was asked to take some pictures but that was the most normal he ever felt since he was a teenager. There was a rich part in the island, lots of famous people from South America liked to spend their summer there- but for one, Harry was grateful to stay like this.

All thanks to her...

The summer breeze in his face being exactly what he needed. He was living those sweet days of summer he was denied in 2020 because of the pandemic and in 2021 because of the tour.

He wanted to kiss her and keep her forever by his side so they could be happily ever after. But Harry couldn’t. He was bad at love and he would rather have her as a friend than doing something and fucking up her as well.

“What did you say” she asked while lifting up from the towel she had on the floor, raising her sunglasses over that beautiful sun kissed hair (it was shining so much) and attentively looking at him.

“I didn’t say a thing” was he thinking out loud? Oh my god… he is fucked if that was that case.

“You said something about being bad at love. Why do you think that?”

Harry sat down and took a deep breath.

“I talked to you about my love life before… I don’t think I was made for love. Some people can find love at every corner, but it doesn’t matter how hard I try, every time I think I got it right… the person just vanish out of the tips of my fingers. And I feel so bad talking about this when I know I can have anything I want, but it hurts when I’m alone in a bedroom or I’m being the third wheel again with my friends. I’m just so lonely all the time and every time I try… it just ends shitty. I get a few good songs out of it but the pain sometimes it’s just not worth it”.

She looked at the ocean, the sun was already so high in the sky, it was probably around 11 am. Then, looking back at Harry, she gave him a weak smile. She felt like he was a mixture of everything good and he didn't deserve to feel like he wasn’t cut for love. If she could and he let her… she would give him all the love it was possible and impossible.

“Just because it ended doesn’t mean it was bad. If it made you happy, even if just for one second, it was worth it. And even when it hurts, we always learn something.” She took a deep breath, waiting for him to say something while Harry just looked at her with soft eyes but so much sadness and sorrow behind them. He didn’t know what to say, so she decided to continue: “you know, I call it bullshit when poets say love is only good if it hurts. Love isn’t made for pain, sometimes it might happen, but love is made to give warmth and to make the soul feel like it’s being caressed in a whisper that says ‘you found me’. And there are many types of love, not all of them are made to last a lifetime”.

He gave her a smile:

“Do you think there is still someone to love me or have I missed my chance?”

That was her chance:

“I think if you look right… you will find it right next to you, so close it would surprise you” she gave him a knowing look and decided to change the subject “wanna put on some clothes and go to the street fair? We can have lunch in there, buy some nice fresh fruits and have a picnic when the sun starts to set. You can make a playlist while a set a nice towel with candles and everything we might need. Maybe… we could try some of that stuff I got yesterday, what do you say?”

That stuff being the Argyreia seeds a friend of her had given as a gift. They were in the fridge inside a pot of water - apparently you have to leave them at least 12 hours on it so it could be ready to use. Among the effects they found of Google you could suffer from synesthesia episodes, positive elevation of your humor, sensitive to touch among others. A normal (and legal, apparently) natural hallucinogen.

Harry decided to play cool with her confession (he thinks it was a confession) and just smirks at her as a confirmation for the rest of their day. Maybe then, he’ll have the courage to kiss her. He gets up first, offering his hand, she takes it, getting up. Being barefoot, she had to look up to talk to him, their hands intertwined, noses almost touching. Looking inside his eyes, she thinks Harry must be a magical being, that could be the only explanation to how his eyes could change color to match the nature. Normally green but right now his eyes were almost blue, maybe was the sun, maybe was the sky without a single cloud; one thing was clear: his eyes were matching the ocean and the sky but also the leaves on the palm trees with the green left in them.

Leading the way, they got inside the house. In a secluded area (you just had to walk a lot but it wasn’t in the middle of the fancy big mansions- the house was colorful - just like everything about this island). The wood backdoor was the way they go when coming back from the beach . As soon as they entered through the gate, was a little stone way, with red and pink poppies adorning both sides, they went to the shower the house had on the outside so none of them would make a mess inside the house with sand everywhere. Then, I sei de the house, walking through the open plan kitchen, that was out of a sixties movie. Almost everything looked vintage with the most beautiful dining table they had ever seen: made out of dark wood and tall chairs, her aunt said this table was from her great grandmother.

Then there was two little steps and it was the living room, with a lot of space, three couches and a lot of pieces of art, it looked like someone had just throw different items but, somehow made it work. Harry went to sit on a plastic chair there was right in the corner of the room and looked at the very wet very sunburnt girl:

“You can go get ready first, I’ll wait” she smiled and thanked him, going upstairs and leaving Harry alone with his thoughts. Looking at the yellow wall full of paintings from the people of the island, he didn’t know what to do to himself, he was fucked. He got up from the chair and went to the vinyl player that stood on the far left of the living room with three boxes next to it, opening he found a lot of vinyls. Settling for one he never heard before: Caetano Veloso - Transa, he put to play. He knew about Caetano, he even putted one of his songs to play at the one night only event, the name of the song was Baby and at the time was his ex girlfriend who had showed him, but right now the only thing he could think about when listening to this very psychedelic song that was playing through the speakers, the only thing he could think about is the same girl who is taking a shower just a few feet away and how much he wants the hours to pass faster so they can get high and listen to the playlist he was making and was to add also this album he was listening, especially after a quick google research about it, having now the acknowledge that transa translates to sex.

She came downstairs with her hair still wet, wearing her old pink converse and a yellow sundress, with the cute straps and a short but very loose ends. She had this glow someone can only achieve when you just spend the day at the beach with dear ones. Free of any makeup she was with his ray bans and gave him a soft look “I hope you don’t mind I got your ray bans to wear. They just look they were made for this outfit”.

“No problem. Give me ten minutes and I’ll be done”.

Taking the fastest shower he ever took in his life, he put on some old jeans short and his favorite pink summer shirt. And he ran - literally ran - downstairs because he felt like this was a date. He was excited.

“So, wanna take the bikes or see if we can get an Uber” there was this thing, neither one of them had the license required for the island and even if the Uber app worked there… it was hard to find drivers who were willing to drive to such a far area.

“Let’s take the bikes. They have baskets so whatever we buy we can just carry back”

“Sure”

They went through the front door, the house was painted in blue, to match the ocean, with lots of different plants and those same plants, especially the clambering plants, gave the house this almost fairy vibe. Like it was made of a golden and rainbow dust and everything that it’s good. The bikes were located near the wall and close to the small pool. One bike was white and the other was of a bright orange. Harry got the bright one because it was slightly bigger, so he would feel more comfortable.

🍓

They rode the bike for around 10 minutes, passing fields and trees that were so tall it almost felt like their leaves were kissing each other. Harry kept ruming gold and braid by stevie nicks the whole ride while dividing his attention between the girl riding the white bike a few meters ahead and the surrounding area. There was no one in sight for the first few minutes, but the closer they got to the center of the island, more people started to appear. In a few days living in the island he already observed that he could pinpoint who was a tourist and who was a native by one thing: the clothes.

The citizens always dressed like it was just a normal day (like imagine you normal day it’s living in paradise) and people from the outside always went out like it was a beach party everyday. As soon as Harry notice that, he always made sure to dress quite simple, so people could pass him by. Of course, sometimes someone would try and talk to him with the native language (which he learned is portuguese and not spanish, as he originally thought it would be).

They descarted their bikes on a small wall that was made for this purpose, with digital locks and everything (it was 5 bucks the hour and all you had to do when it was the time to pick it up you just put on your card to pay for the time you used the spot). They started to walk towards the street fair that was in a pretty street with old houses from the colonial era. The more they walked, closer their bodies touched and closer they were from holding hands.

People never talk about the conversation that goes when it comes to small touches. Sometimes, a small caress of a finger against someone's hand, it’s more than the act of touching, it’s an act of questioning: are we feeling the same? I wanna hold you hand like my soul it’s holding yours, please take care of it, because it’s your to take.

They started holding hands the moment the took a turn to the street fair, and if anyone looked at them, would say there were a couple. And it was nothing more that their entire wish that that statement was actually truth.

In the window of a red brick house there was an old man with his guitar, he sung something of their culture and a few people were dancing to it like it was a show. Harry was so in love with this environment, people lived and breathed culture. It was a break he never needed. He already went all around the world and it was on a simple island that he found something he didn’t know it existed.

“Where do you want to go first?” Asked the girl looking up at him and squirting her eyes because of the sun. She had his sunglasses but they were acting more like a headband to that mess it was her hair than to their actual function: protect her shining beautiful eyes from the sun.

“How about we go and buy those fruit for our late evening picnic and then we go have lunch? And from there we see where to go”.

“Seems like a plan, let’s find the vendor with the most variety of fruits, wanna taste them all” And I wanna taste you, thought Harry but he just accepted it wasn’t the time yet. He didn’t want their first kiss to be in the middle of a fair with so many eyes watching. Harry hasn’t been recognized too much but he couldn’t risk too much.

Walking they passed a group of old ladies - like maybe in their 80s- selling beautiful handmade dresses and skirts and shirts, all made in white lace. Such a beautiful work, and Harry made a mental note to come back later and get something for his mother and sister. That was something they would like.

Finally they reached a wooden table full of different fruits and behind it was an older and a younger man, if they had to guess, they would say there were grandfather and grandchild because of their faces similarities: dark skin with very powerful green eyes. While one had the blackest hair either one of them had see, the other one had silver strings in different parts of his hair. In their mouth they carried a soonting smille. They approached the table and the older one started to talk in the native language and he was speaking in such a enthusiastic manner that Harry didn’t have the heart to explain he new close to nothing about portuguese. But the young man seemed to have noticed who he was, touching the talking fella head and saying something in his ear. He stopped talking and was, now, quiet, but never ending the smile in his face.

“Sorry about that. My name is Sol. What can I do for you guys?” The girl beside Harry gave him this shining smile and started talking:

“Hi, Sol.That means Sun right?”

“Yeah, my family it’s a very hippie family. Actually I have two sisters: one it’s called Lua, her name translates to ‘moon’, and the other it’s called Frida. By the way,if it’s not too much problem Mr. Styles, I would like to get an autograph for them, they are big fans of you. And what about your name, sunshine?” asked the young man. Harry was jealous he was flirting with her - and he wasn’t entitled to feel jealous, but that’s what he was feeling - so he put his arms around her and told her name getting an angry yet amused look from her.

“And no problem about the autograph… we would like to take a bit of everything you can recommend us. We are going to do a picnic and want to try everything that it’s different”.

“But please add a bit of those gorgeous strawberries, they look yummy”said the girl next to him “ and what it’s that?” she pointed to a pink yet green round fruit.

“That is pink mango, very famous around this island. She is sweeter than the normal ones you found, actually there are over 24 different types of mango around the south territory, but right now we only have this one. But we’ll be getting more around monday morning if you guys are interest.” He gave them a time to think if they wanted to buy it or not.

“I love mango. Put 3 of these, please.” Harry said giving a genuine smile, everybody knows how much he loves fruit… among other stuff that could be fruit related. He saw a small fruit, that looked like a cherry but it had this red/orange to it’s tone and it wasn’t completely round, so he asked: “Sol, what is this type of cherry?”

“Oh that one? That it’s pitanga. This fruit smells like trees and something sweet that takes you back to your childhood, if you lived on this island” he laughed like he was remembering a distant memory inside of his green eyes but continued soon afterward his little journey through memory lane “My mother used to say this fruit it’s like when you fall in love at first sight: first comes the infatuation, the smell that reminds you there is so much good in the world and all of the good is all in one person. Then, when you first bite to it, first it has a sour taste, like when you get insecure about first kissing someone, but they, you get the courage and kisses them… and it’s amazing and sweet.”

Well Harry didn’t need more and said:

“Give me 12 strawberries, a few limes so we can make drinks, those mangos,a bit of that gelly that looks yummy, and half a pound of those pitangas”

“All done. That is going to be 25 and 75 cents” Both Harry and the girl tried to pay the guy, in the end, she ended up paying, earning a glare from Harry and looking at him like saying ‘what’. The boy returned with the change and the piece of paper for the autograph, Harry signed told him he would be back monday morning to get those other types of mangos and he could bring his sisters if he wanted to,he would gladly meet the girls.

They said their goodbyes and continued their walking, now holding hands without questioning.

“You know out of all those fruits the one I’m more excited to taste it’s this pitanga one” she told Harry.

“Me too”

He knew she was talking more than just the fruit.

And so was him.

With the sound of ocean and the winds in a mix with people chatter, they walked through the fair. Stopping for a quick lunch (some natural sandwiches with coconut water to wash it down) they looked around a vintage music store.

“It’s getting late, I wanna go back to the house if you don’t mind… get some sleep so I’m not tired when it’s time for our little luau” she said looking at him with tiresome eyes “oh maybe I’ll dress like a little witch!!!! So we can perform a little moon ritual”

That put a smile in Harry’s face.

“You know Stevie would actually love this”

“I can’t help getting a bit starstruck every time you mention Stevie Nicks”

“I get starstruck every time I remember that I’m actually her friend... it’s inevitable, she is a legend and an amazing human being”

They were walking and talking about Stevie Nicks and Harry was telling her all about the first time Stevie listened to Fine Line and by the time they got close to their bikes. Just like yesterday, Harry was ready to pay for their bikes parking lot but she was not having it. He was always paying for every little thing (the first time she got to pay anything was the fresh fruits just a few hours ago). So she looked at him when he was lost looking at the turquose sea and just ran away towards the bike.

She heard his scream- a soft loud HEY - and just when she was reaching for the bikes she felt two arms wrap around her waist and pull her out of the way. But they both lost their balance, falling towards the wall of bricks next to the bikes. Her head hit the wall a little bit to harshly makig her let out a low “oh” all that while he crushed her into the same wall.

Puting his hand in fits next to her face, Harry took his face off and lowered to be abble to look at the pretty girl in the eyes. He noticed she was standing on her toes to get closer to him, if he took a deep breath he could smell her perfume, a mix of peach and tangerine. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had never been as close to her as he were now. Harry was abble to see how beautiful eyes eyes were when the sun was high up in the sky and his face too close, he could see how her eyebrows had a thin yet natural draw or how her cupid bow were a little bit more colored than the rest of her lips. He could listen to the wind, bringing a message from the ocean: “it’s time to kiss her, you fool”.

He took her messy hair from her eyes, cradling her face in on hand while the other was kept on the wall, so he could have a sense of what was real. It was the perfect moment.

Or not.

Time simply wasn’t on Harry’s side, as he thought. Because someone started to yell at him in a language he couldn’t pinpoint the country, maybe Russia because of how pale was the old couple looked. They were point at the bikes and yelling at them, people were looking and she was blushing.

“I think they want to park their bikes and we’re on their way” she told him “maybe we should just go home.

🍄

The sun was now close to say it’s farewell for the day. While Harry was busy making a nice playlist (and also giving himself a talk: “you are going to kiss her tonight”. Maybe if started to say all the time like a mantra in would come true). She was making the perfect ambience for a beach party for two. Opening in the sand a round beach towel with lots of candles for when the only light in the sky was the moon and stars. The fruits all in pretty plates made out of wood and she also melted dark chocolate - it would look cool with the strawberries.

The sky was a mix of pretty colors: pink and purple and orange and everything that would make a perfect painting .

She was using this old seventies skirt from her mother (a tie dye skirt with all the colors of the rainbow) and a Stevie Nicks shirt she stole from Harry the night before to sleep. Her hair was falling from her face, dancing with the wind just as her skirt.

It was that moment that Harry made his appearance: his safe sex shirt, yellow shorts, barefoot, no rings. Smiling at her, she thought she looked like he looked like a prince out of every seventies groupies fantasies.

Harry was holding this old radio and in his hand there was a mixtape. Only Harry would come up with the idea of using this old radio that her aunt left at the house as a source for playlist making. Spotify playlist just wasn’t enough if he wanted impress her. In the words of his friend Rob Sheffield: “mixtapes are like pictures but with sound”.

And Harry was planing of making this evening a picture he would always remember with lovin’ care.

“Doesn’t he looks handsome” she walked towards him to help him with settled everything he brought down. If she wasn’t mistaken, he was blushing.

“The seeds are ready if we want to try it now” Harry said changing the subject.

“Let’s go. It takes half an hour to kick and till then we can talk some more”

The seeds didn’t have any taste, almost like any pill you wash down with water.

“Wanna eat one of those fresh fruits?” He said getting a piece of de the pitanga “quite anxious to try this one” he said getting one of the small pitanga fruits.

At first bite it was quite bitter, he was glad Sol had told him about that. But the more he ate, the sweater it got. It was something he couldn’t describe.

“So what do you think?” She asked.

“The explanation that Sol gave to us it’s the best one. It changes taste the more you get used to it. The same is with feelings, right?”

She smiled at him and opened her mouth: “give me some then….” He got one of the fruits and feed her. But he didn’t take his hands of her, leaving there so he could feel her neck veins move with her chewing.

“It’s so sweet in the end… almost like an orgasm”. Harry was fucked.

The time passed and they talked about anything and everything. The sun was almost all the way down as they looked over the horizon.

“So… is it starting to hit for you? ” she asked with a coy smile while getting herself more of the fruits.

He saw her red lips curve around the fruit and suddenly everything was changing colors. The world was red as the fruit she was (so deliciously) tasting. Red like the passion he was beginning to feel for this carefree girl. But she... she was golden. Her aura was just shining through her.

It’s no secret he falls in love with people with golden aura- Stevie has said so herself when he first showed her his second album - and she is shining so much he thought the sun had come down to earth.

Maybe she was the sun, even if it the stars were starting to take their place high in the sky, she was sunshine. His sunshine. It’s never night when she’s around.

“You know, it’s starting to hit”

“And how do you know that?”

“You’re golden”

She laughed at him

“Are you quoting to me a song you wrote about another woman, Styles?”

“No. It’s your aura. It’s shining. And is golden”

That left her with no answer.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Seeing anything?”

She could see the rainbow inside his eyes. She was always attached to everything that was colorful, from a young age. And right now there was this rainbow of lights playing with her vision. And it was all because of this beautiful young man standing right in front of her.

“Yeah, I think I can see everything” happy with her mysterious answer, she looked at the ocean. The waves were moving slow and in pretty rhythm, inviting her to dance together.

Today all of the nature was rooting for them. Getting another pitanga she could feel the sour before the sweet. Giving her body chills. She looked at him and those chills only got stronger but so was her bravery: “will you dance with me?” she asked.

“Well... of course young maiden I shall dance with you” he laughed at his own joke while getting up and offering his hand.

In that moment their worlds collided: their hand were glued together seeding all of different feels from one body to another. They didn’t need to talk to understand: there was a feeling of belonging neither of them never felt even if once they thought they did. This was a moment once in a lifetime: the moment you look at someone and you see them slightly different from one minute ago. When all of the puzzles pieces starts to make sense: what they were feeling from the moment they got on this island wasn’t only attraction it was months of friendship that intertwined them towards something stronger. Something they knew it was blooming inside their chest. Something new, something exciting.

Something beautiful.

He twirled her in his arms and then let her rest her head in his chest, right where his heart was beating so loud and fast, just for her.

“You know it feels like the world is almost too much right now” Harry heard her say “it seems like there are more sound than before, the ocean is actually a song ya comes together with your heartbeat and when you touch me it feels like there is a more to than just a simple touch, like it’s your souls that’s touching me, you know?” He starts to caress her right arm with the tip of his finger, he wanted her to feel more of whatever this she was describing. “Or maybe that’s just the seeds talking but it just feels like something I never had before”

God, she looked beautiful right now blushing with all the glitter around her and her lips red from all the fruits.

It’s time.

“I wanna taste those pitanga lips. Can I?” He asks while still caressing her arms with the tips of his fingers, getting her dizzy and seeing everything with light tones of pink, just like the shirt he wore to the street fair. She wants so much that in a moment of pure infatuation she raises her hand, feeling his chestnut curls, looking into his green eyes that looked almost a dark blue due to the lighting and finally she answered:

“Anytime. Everywhere. Anywhere”

He gave her a soft kind of fucked up smile, getting a good grasp of her hair and pulling her towards his mouth.

She spent so much of her time wondering how does Harry Styles kisses but nothing could get her ready to what she felt in that moment. His lips were a bit chapped because of the sun and the weather, they both were a bit clumsy because they couldn’t feel their faces but the soft touch of his tongue contrasting with tight grasp he had on her hair was making her body feel like it was part of the sand they were standing while he was the ocean, one doesn’t belong without the other, in a painting they would always be together and if that kiss was any indication... so would be their lives.

He gave her a small bite on the lips and laughed: “I’m so sorry, I can’t feel my lips” and she started to giggle because she couldn’t feel a lot, but she could feel him. All of him.

“I’m so glad we finally kissed” she said in a whisper. He looked inside of her eyes before putting his eyes right on her left cheek and flicking his eye lashes while she was having a fit with laughter... everything was too much in their state of mind. And this little touch made her feel like Harry has been tickling her soft skin for hours.

“If you’re so glad that we kissed... you wouldn’t mind if we kissed a bit more, right?” He said in a sensual whisper in her ear while giving little bites.

She pulled him by his hair in a hungry attack. Moaning into his mouth. Sucking his tongue. Smiling when they took small break.

They were standing, her on the tip of her toes, trying to reach him but Harry had other plans, whispering a small “come here” he took her by the waist and made her jump so he could walk back to the beach towel and sit down with her on his lap.

With Harry’s hips between her knees, that wasn’t a inch to separate them. All of their bodies were touching and each particle inside of them was screaming in delight. The feeling of having someone near when the mind is in such a state of inebriation was out of this world. It was paradise.

But maybe their state of mind is just a plus because Harry is pretty sure it could be 10 am on a Sunday and she would make him feel the same way he was feeling now: completely in bliss, in a hypnotic state of mind because of her pitanga lips and the warm energy. She was his sun, his warmth when they would feel could. A little piece of magic after so much pain in love. And Harry couldn’t deny anymore: he was falling.

She stopped kissing him and decided to give small kisses in his neck and every time he moaned she would increase the strength of this kiss.

Harry was quite literally seeing stars, but not only the ones in the sky. He was seeing the stars coming together in a show: each constellation was dancing on its own circle of star friends. And there were always changing color: pink, golden, red, silver.

They were dancing in a celebration because two stars that were meant to be were finally coming together as one.

That was the moment that Harry decided that he wanted more. He pulled her out of his neck and asked: “I love that you are wearing my old shirt but there is nothing more in this world that I would love more than being able to see you without it. Can I?”

Her response was clear: raising her hands above her hand, the - now- moonlight caressing her form when Harry took her shirt off. She was perfect, every little thing about her was just so her, from the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra to how she had this little moon necklace and a little citrine stone resting right on her heart.

He didn’t want to lose more time, he started to give little pecks on her nipples and when Harry heard a moan and a whisper saying “finally” he just went ahead and took the everything he could from her chest inside his mouth while his hand was playing with her right breast and his other hand was supporting her back so she wouldn’t fall off his lap.

She was seeing stars, she could feel everything and anything. His mouth was powerful, like he knew all the buttons to push and that was only the beginning. Moving her hips in circle movements she started to moan more loudly. Using one hand to pull his hair and grinding faster on his growing dick and finally earning a full on moan from her she took his head of her chest and said “I need you, please take off your clothes”

She didn’t have to say more. After this they disrobed so fast they didn’t knew they were able. Now, completely naked, she looked at Harry with a mischievous look and went back to his lap, but before she could do anymore than that, Harry stopped her, using his force to manhandle her body to a lay down position “I promise you that I will be inside you in a moment, but first, I need to taste you, I need to hear your moans and know that’s all because of me, all because of my tongue”

She lost her power to speak but she was pretty sure she kind of screamed “yes” without intending to.

Harry spread her open and looked at the mess that was between her legs. He did loved tasting the pitanga. But he was pretty sure that nothing would compare to the taste of her.

He took his finger and started to pass lightly through the inside of her right thigh and she was trembling already “this seeds are making me more sensible fuck” he heard whisper. Smirking he answered her: “oh so this is all the seeds and not me? Pet, you are breaking my heart now”.

In a revenge he took the same finger that was caressing her thigh and passed from her opening to her clit without any warning.

“Fuck fuck FUCK please just touch me already. My whole body is burning in flames all I can see is a burning flame” he decided to end her suffering. Taking his thumb and lazily caressing her clit in slow but strong circles.

“Are you happy now, Pet”

“Yes but please, give me more”

In a responde Harry took his tongue and licked her right on her clit and started to use the tip of his finger to tease her entrance.

Her moans started to get louder and Harry didn’t have a care anymore, just her taste. That’s the only thing that matters.

While his lips were sucking and licking her clit his finger were working inside of her. When he wanted to change he would put his finger in her clit and would go to her pretty hole and use his tongue to tease her.

Every time he saw she was getting closer to her orgasm, he would stop what he was doing and would just use the tip of his finger to tease her while he kissed her thigh. When her breathing was back to a more concentrated peace he would get back to give her everything he could with his tongue and finger.

And that went on for a while: lips, tongue, fingers. Saw her getting close? Stopped for a while.

When he was doing the pattern for the third time she signed: “I need to come, please let me come?”

Harry wasn’t doing this to be mean, he just wanted to be the only thing she could feel and see. Wanted this to be so good she would never want to be away from him again. And when he saw her trembling lips and eyes full of tear he new she has enough, so he moved his finger in a “come here” motion while she was wetting and wetting more and more his hand, dripping down to the towel and her screams were so loud that if there was a single soul in the almost private beach, he was sure they could listen.

When she was done he took his finger off of her linking each one of them while patiently waiting so she could get back to her state of mind and tell him what she wanted next.

“Hey, there is a condom in the fruit basket” she said

“You dirty little thing, were you planning all of this?” Harry said taking the condom and opening carefully.

“No but I had my hopes up”

She looked so perfect with the sweat on her body dancing around the moonlight, he smiled and asked sweetly: “how do you want me?”

“I want you on top, want to be able to look inside your eyes” He wanted that, too.

“Your wish is my command” whispered Harry while settling on top of her. He stroked her face with one arm supported beside her hand. “Are you ready for me” She nodded with starry eyes and asked:

“And you, are you ready for me?”

Harry guided himself inside her, getting his mouth closer to her left ear and whispered like it was a secret and she was the only one who had the right to hear: “I have been ready for you my whole life” and then he was inside of her. While she was breathing hard, he was whispering sweet nothing in her ear, trying to calm himself, he wanted this to last.

“You can move, you know” that was all Harry needed to start to pick up his pace, making sure every time he came closer to her his pubic bone would caress her clit. She was whimpering and he was completely hers.

He picked her leg up on his shoulder and said: “I need…. fuck…. I need to get closer to you”. She was feeling all of him stretching her a little bit more every time he pushed himself inside of her. Hitting her g spot so perfectly she was seeing stars - and this time was all because of him, not the seeds.

Her body was on fire and the delicious warmth was starting to form in the pit of her stomach. She was going to come again, and she was going to come hard.

“Come on, baby. I can feel you squeezing me so hard. I know you wanna come. I need to feel it” Harry said, his movements becoming each time more out of rhythm, chasing his own peak.

Bringing his hand to her clit, it was only three flicks of his fingers till she was shaking and her eyes were closing. Her mouth forming a delicious smile, one full of satisfaction. And it was watching her come that Harry felt his need to come as well. Closing his eyes and feeling his whole body shake with release.

The only thing surrounding Harry was her. Her name. Her smell. The feeling of her. Everything was her.

When their breathing was back to a normal rhythm and the moon and stars were high in sky, Harry looked over her naked body laid down on all the towels, surrounded by fruits and golden from the candle lights. He was starting to sober up and there was so much he wanted to tell her, but he settled for one single sentence:

“You are a wonderful creation” he told her.

“Look at you quoting Dorian Gray to me!” She said smiling lightly “Do you remember that was the first dm I ever sent you? Telling you to read that book.”

“Of course I remember. I remember everything you ever said to me” he started laughing with the memory “you know, after that message I went running to the closest book store? I wanted to do anything to have a reason to talk to you, even if it was just a dm. I wanted you to think of me all the time, because since that moment I saw you on that raining afternoon my heart started to beat in synchrony with yours” now it’s time to say everything, before it’s too late “you know I’m falling for you right?”

She looked at him like he was the brightest star in the night.

“I know, I’m falling in love with you too” she told him while laying her her on his chest and started to trace the butterfly tattoo “And now?”

“Now I think I have a new song about another fruit to write”. They both started to smile, sealing the deal. She got another pitanga and popped into her mouth and he smiled. He was happy.

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