Five Acts Round Three
1/6/11 10:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ozmissage
+ Read other people's lists here.
+ Post comment-fic based off of other people's interests.
1. Sleep and bedding themes (sharing a bed by necessity such as in a hotel with only one room left; sharing a sleeping bag for warmth; accidental spooning, sex while drowsy; sex as a sleep aid; arousal from proximity; morning wake-up sex, falling asleep against someone's shoulder; watching someone sleep)
2. Kissing (first kisses, last kisses, reunion kisses, playful kisses, kissing parts of the body other than the mouth---seriously anything. Ooh, and you can never go wrong with a game of spin the bottle…)
3. Scars/Tattoos/Marks (swapping stories, tracing them with fingers and/or tongues, seeing them for the first time, etc.)
4. Trapped or stranded together ( on a desert island; in a cave-in; in a cabin during a snowstorm; in an elevator, the old stuck on the roof top trope popularized in ‘90s sitcoms, bonus points for having couples play games and/or have revelatory conversations to pass the time)
5. Talking (dirty talk, talking someone to orgasm, sweet talking, talking during sex, whispering, rough/broken/gravelly voices, rambling at inappropriate moments, intimate phone calls, character A reading to character B, etc.)
Lost: Any combination of Sawyer/Juliet/Jack or Sawyer/Claire/Jack, Juliet/Any fellow except Ben (bonus points for Miles, Richard, Sayid, or Des), Jack/Anyone, Charlie/Anyone, Miles/Anyone, Kate/Tom Brennan, Ana/Sayid, Daniel/Charlotte, Desmond/Penny, Esau/Richard, Richard/Eloise, Shannon/Boone, Alex/Sawyer
SPN: Any combination of Dean/Cassie/Castiel, Sam/Becky, Sam/Ava, Sam/Sarah, Sam/Bela, Bela/Henrickson, Bela/Crowley, Bobby/Crowley, Cassie/John, Mary/John, Bobby/Ellen, Jo/Adam, Chuck/Becky
SPN/Lost: Juliet/Any Winchester, Juliet/Castiel, Claire/Any Winchester, Miles/Sam, Jo/Sawyer, Sayid/Bela, Miles/Bela, Jack/Cassie, Jack/Castiel, Daniel/Anna
Being Human: Any combination of George/Mitchell/Annie, Carl/George, Lucy/Mitchell, Annie/Sykes, Annie/Hugh
The Vampire Diaries: Stefan/Katherine/Damon (any and all combinations), Alaric/Damon, Caroline/Stefan, Caroline/Tyler, Bonnie/Jeremy, Bonnie/Damon, Bonnie/Stefan, Stefan/Lexi, Alaric/Isobel, Alaric/Jenna, Mason/Alaric, Jenna/John, Elijah/Elena
DW/TW: The Doctor/River Song, Jack/Nine/Rose, Eleven/Amy/Rory, Amy/Vincent, Donna/Anyone, Ten II/Rose, Owen/Martha, Owen/Tosh, Owen/Ianto, Rhys/Gwen
Fringe: Charlie/Olivia, Charlie/Olivia/Lincoln, Astrid/Peter, Peter/Alt!Liv, Astrid/Lincoln
Haven: Nathan/Audrey, Duke/Audrey, Nathan/Duke/Audrey
BTVS/ATS: Willow/Oz, Buffy/Xander, Xander/Anya, Angel/Cordy, Fred/Gunn, Wes/Lilah, Oz/Fred, Dawn/Connor
Community: Jeff/Annie, Jeff/Britta, Abed/Troy, Abed/Troy/Annie, Troy/Britta
Parks & Rec: Leslie/Mark, Leslie/Ben, Leslie/Ron, April/Andy, Tom/Ann
TBBT: Sheldon/Penny
Miranda: Miranda/Gary
Ugly Betty: Betty/Daniel
Mad Men: Don/Peggy, Don/Rachel, Peggy/Pete
Sherlock: Sherlock/John, John/Molly/Sherlock
Psych: Shawn/Gus, Gus/Juliet, Gus/Juliet/Shawn, Lassiter/Juliet
Iron Man: Pepper/Tony
Harry Potter: Remus/Sirius, James/Lily/Sirius, Harry/Luna, Ron/Hermione, Harry/Ron/Hermione
Written
BH; Lucy/Mitchell, angst, hard R, sinners in the hands of an angry god for
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
joyyjpgBH; George/Mitchell, marks, PG-13, intervention for
galaxy_songDexter; Deb/Quinn, weather, R, for you i forget about my tainted heart for
gigglemonsterLost; Jack/Claire, tattoos, voices, affection, R, on the inside looking out for
hitlikehammersLost; Miles/Richard, hard R, risky business for
pann_cakeBTVS/Lost; Charlie/Oz, taking it slow, PG, take a sad song and make it better for
toestastegoodMad Men; Pete/Peggy, apocalypse, quick/rushed, R, i won't march again on your battlefield for
lenina20Sherlock; John/Sherlock, scars, PG-13, two atoms in a molecule for
primarycolors92SPN; Dean/Cas, angst, ghost story, PG, i believe for
angela_weberTVD; Damon/Alaric, attention and a bit of consensual d/s and cross dressing, R, cool kids belong together for
janie_tangerineTVD; Damon/Elena, first time, R, my heart was never pure for
angeldylan628TVD; Stefan/Caroline, apocalypse, ghost town, isolation, PG-13, an act of faith against the night for
cricketsReceived
Mad Men - pete/peggy (trapped); every second is a lifetime, pg-13 by
lenina20Being Human, George/Mitchell, kissing, talking by
toestastegoodDeliverance - Crossover (SPN/Lost): Juliet/Castiel - Kissing/Scars - R (The End!verse) by
hitlikehammersstrange bedfellows, Sherlock, sleep & kissing, John/Sherlock by
pann_cakesomewhere only we know -- lost/spn, juliet/castiel, sleep, kissing, marks, AND stranded by
joyyjpgGeorge/Mitchell little bit each of scars/Kissing/Talking by
galaxy_songFringe; Alt!Charlie/Olivia, scars, PG, a thousand names for a single thing by
angeldylan628Gwen/Rhys, trapped together, sleep themes by
ienabluvampire porn, damon/alaric, scars + kissing, pg13, 1/2 by
janie_tangerine![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 1/7/11 04:02 am (UTC)...I think my brain just broke. And why the hell have I not thought of that before?
*DIES*
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Date: 1/7/11 04:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 1/7/11 05:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 1/7/11 03:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 1/7/11 10:27 pm (UTC)Mad Men - pete/peggy (trapped); every second is a lifetime, pg-13
Date: 1/7/11 12:19 pm (UTC)They work together. They share a building. They (more or less) share a schedule. It’s not the first time they’re the last ones to leave, and it won’t be the last time, either. It’s okay. She’s not even talking herself through it. It really is okay. Someone will come soon to get them out. This is New York—and not the lousy Brooklyn neighbourhood where she used to live in. This is Manhattan. This is the heart of Manhattan. Buildings are prepared for this type of eventuality. She pressed the emergency button ten minutes ago. The interphone will ring soon. Any second now. Someone will come to get them out.
Meanwhile, it’s okay. They can be workmates—they can be professional. They have been for years. They can be elevator-mates, too, Peggy supposes. They’re mature adults. They’re different people than they were over five years ago. It’s okay. It’s really okay. Five years ago is forgotten. Five years ago never happened.
“I can hear you thinking, you know.” He’s looking intently at her. He doesn’t look worried or uncomfortable at all. “Stop worrying, or the minutes will take forever to pass.”
It’s okay. It’s okay.
Only it isn’t okay at all, because it’s never okay when Pete is around, especially not in a confined space like an elevator—an elevator that’s usually crammed with people, but now it’s past midnight and they’re alone and no, they can’t be alone, someone must be around whatever floor they’ve stopped by. She could bang her fists into the walls, she could scream for help, someone get her out, but no, she isn’t going to do that, because it is okay, and she is a grown-up woman and can stand on her own two feet and she isn’t getting desperate, or claustrophobic, or too aware of Pete’s close proximity. Why isn’t he leaning against the opposite wall? It would be much more comfortable for both of them—but Pete’s never been one to make people comfortable.
Minutes drag by like hours. Peggy doesn’t open her mouth to speak—not a word. At last, Pete starts getting restless. He taps his foot on the floor, fidgets with the handle of his briefcase. “You know, I didn’t do this on purpose.”
Peggy looks up at him, genuinely confused. “What?”
Pete isn’t looking at her. He’s finally looking away, literally at anything but her. “I’m not that desperate. I mean, yes, I stayed late so I could talk to you. But I wasn’t planning this. I didn’t sabotage the elevator.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I just wanted to talk. I wanted to know how you’re doing. I—I don’t see you much these days and I—I…”
She grabs his hand on instinct. She stares in disbelief at her own brave fingers, curling reckless around his. What is she doing? She wants to let go, but she doesn’t want to let go. She squeezes his hand and, deep down, she knows he understand what she can’t say out loud. I miss you too. Instead, she whispers, moving closer, forcing him to drop his eyes to hers. “It’s okay,” and she means it: It’s okay. “They’re coming for us.”
It’s reassurance as much as it is a warning. They’re coming for us. Don’t lean any closer. Don’t let me kiss you. Don’t let me fuck you against the wall of the elevator.
Don’t make me fall again.
Please.
(He squeezes her hand back.)
Re: Mad Men - pete/peggy (trapped); every second is a lifetime, pg-13
Date: 1/7/11 03:35 pm (UTC)This is so amazing. First of all, excellent use of the stuck in the elevator trope. You couldn't have trapped a better pairing. Everything is so restrained and polite, but you can feel the yearning and the mild panic simmering just below the surface. I love the ending where Peggy takes his hand, it's such a beautiful moment and the way they understand each other without having to spell anything out is so perfectly them. And then this:
It’s reassurance as much as it is a warning. They’re coming for us. Don’t lean any closer. Don’t let me kiss you. Don’t let me fuck you against the wall of the elevator.
Don’t make me fall again.
Please.
(He squeezes her hand back.)
*squees* EPIC.
Thank you so much for this! <333
Re: Mad Men - pete/peggy (trapped); every second is a lifetime, pg-13
Date: 1/8/11 12:02 am (UTC)Re: Mad Men - pete/peggy (trapped); every second is a lifetime, pg-13
Date: 1/8/11 12:21 pm (UTC)Re: Mad Men - pete/peggy (trapped); every second is a lifetime, pg-13
Date: 1/8/11 03:28 pm (UTC)Being Human, George/Mitchell (no surprise there!), kissing, talking
Date: 1/8/11 12:44 am (UTC)The warm smile on George's face wipes it all away. "Mitchell," he says, sighing out his name like it's the only thing he remembers how to say. "I'm glad to see you."
"Rough journey?" Mitchell suggests. He can't keep his amusement off his face. Doesn't try.
"Don't get me started. Phil made us get on the wrong train. Twice." George groans and doesn't resist when Mitchell takes his backpack from his shoulder. "I'm never travelling with that lot again."
The sound of George's voice is like a tonic for Mitchell's ears; it had surprised him how much he'd missed him, while he was gone. He'd nearly called a thousand times, always putting his phone away just in time. "But you had a good time?" he checks, fighting back the part of him that wants George to say no.
"Yeah. It was nice, you know. Being normal, just for a bit." George tilts his head to the side and looks at Mitchell, eyebrows raised, as if he's waiting for something.
"What?" Mitchell says. Around them, the other passengers who got off of the train have spilled past, but the new lot are still around. There is no peace, here.
"You missed me," George says, and it sounds like an accusation. "It's alright to say it. It's not like the earth is going to open up and swallow us whole if you so much as dare to admit that you were miserable while I was gone."
Mitchell frowns and shifts George's bag where it is now slung over his shoulder. "Did you miss me?" he counters, rather than providing an answer of his own.
George rolls his eyes, and Mitchell wonders if he's still drunk or if it is the good influence of old friends that has made him relax. He isn't used to seeing George looking comfortable in his own skin; he likes it. It suits him perfectly, even if Mitchell loves the awkward, twitching George that he is more familiar with. He loves the way that his skin flushes under any attention, especially when Mitchell presses close and lets him know how much he wants him, how attractive he finds him. George seems to live in his own mental world where no one could want to touch him, especially not anyone who knows what he really is. It's a strange, broken place, and Mitchell is endlessly glad that he lives in reality instead of in George's insecure worldview.
"Of course I did," George says. "I nearly called you when we were in Amsterdam."
"Why didn't you?"
"Gav threw my phone into a canal." George's cheeks flush, then, a brilliant pink that makes Mitchell's smile widen. "He said I'd been mooning over someone all weekend and it was pissing everyone off."
The image makes Mitchell lunge forward, holding George as tightly as he dares to. George is warm, smelly and alive in his arms: George is here, and it scares Mitchell just how much that calms him. He can remember a time when he didn't need George around this much - he can remember when he was free from dependency.
Now there is George and a long weekend away feels like eternity. Mitchell leans in to kiss him while the commuters stream past them onto the train. His fingers curl beneath George's chin while the other hand traps the back of his head - but there is no need. With a relaxed sigh against Mitchell's lower lip, it's clear that George has no intention of going anywhere. Standing in the middle of the train station, tired and reunited, they kiss until their lips go numb and their legs ache from standing, all of it just to remember what it feels like to be together.
Re: Being Human, George/Mitchell (no surprise there!), kissing, talking
Date: 1/8/11 03:52 am (UTC)I LOVE YOU. Seriously, you have no idea how much I needed this tonight. Okay, maybe you do because you read the article of doom too. (I should not still be angsting over that...but here I am.) Anyway, moving on: THIS FIC. Mitchell meeting George at the station and taking his bag and being all reluctant to admit how much he missed George---it's all so wonderful and right. I grinned so much my face hurts. And I'm not too proud to admit, I totally cried at the end. I mean look at this awesomeness: Standing in the middle of the train station, tired and reunited, they kiss until their lips go numb and their legs ache from standing, all of it just to remember what it feels like to be together. How could I not?
Also, am I crazy or did you totally imply that George is Budgie? Cause Gav! You are the best. Thank you so, so much! <333
Re: Being Human, George/Mitchell (no surprise there!), kissing, talking
Date: 1/8/11 03:59 am (UTC)Smithy's reaction would be beautiful.
Deliverance - Crossover (SPN/Lost): Juliet/Castiel - Kissing/Scars - R (The End!verse)
Date: 1/8/11 12:50 am (UTC)She wonders how this happened, how she escaped one Hell to find another. She wonders if there’s such a thing as fate, even, wonders if God has a plan; she doesn’t mean to say it out loud -- and maybe she doesn’t, maybe it’s conjecture and a sob in her throat that slips through, but he bites down on her lip and sucks the tender swell like a benediction, retribution, and she moans into his mouth like it’s the last place in creation left for her to hide.
His hands are rough, dry and calloused like they’ve seen wear, and fear, and war, but only just; his touch is warm, though, warm and firm like he’s finding his bearings and leaving a trace, like he wants to be sure that in the morning, when the fires die and sunlight gives them up, that he’ll remember the way back to the beginning, footsteps and a prayer to lead them home.
His hands cup her breasts, trembling, and he thumbs her nipples as he sucks welts, bruises at her clavicle, colorful and radiant in the shadows -- she can feel the deep places, violets and blues, the tender shallow golds and greens like watercolors, suspended in the skin. She rolls her hips, traps the way he strains between them and grinds, slow until he’s gasping, nipping and mindless for the want of release, of control, and she’s not ready for dawn to break, not yet; so she eases away, drags her thigh against the length of him and swallows his gasps until his chest stops heaving, until his eyes come back to earth.
He bends around her, once he’s grounded -- turns, licks at the brand on her spine: top to bottom, left to right, a Sign, and for the first time, it feels sacred in her flesh, something less than shameful. He presses his lips against it, breathes slow and cool at the center before he trails up, lilts about her ribs and up her sides -- careful, like he sees worth a worth in her soul that’s hidden from her, blind against her eyes.
He pulls back and looks at her, and his gaze shines in a way that catches in her pulse and surges, runs frantic and quick before he leans in and lines his parted mouth to hers, breathes her in and lays her out, defenseless, sucks her air and begs it, owns it until she pushes, takes -- until she owns herself and him inside of her, takes them both in and saves them from what lingers at the edges, looms beyond the fringe.
He doesn’t taste like the dark.
They break, and he tongues at the push of her heart against the skin: wings in flight, like he mourns the cadence, scorns the beat -- like it’s everything, a memory, pieces of a place that they never stopped to know.
She grips tight and pulls him down close, doesn’t look him in the eyes.
When they’ve both reached a peak they know will never touch the skies; when they tumble farther than they know to redeem, but still not far enough: she watches the ceiling and thinks of treetops and rain; his lips move without speech or sound, his eyes leak with soft tears, too perfect to know regret.
She can’t make out what it is he means to say, can’t recognize the pleas he lets fly to a careless divinity, a capricious flicker in the night: she can’t know, but she feels it shiver through her bones when she breathes, like the secrets she’s lost in lifetimes forgotten.
She cries, too, before the night is over.
Re: Deliverance - Crossover (SPN/Lost): Juliet/Castiel - Kissing/Scars - R (The End!verse)
Date: 1/8/11 06:00 am (UTC)This is unbelievably gorgeous. There's something haunting about it, the imagery took my breath away. The way we can feel their loss even as they're coming together is remarkable. It feels wrong to single out a line in such a beautiful piece, but this one in particular grabbed me: They break, and he tongues at the push of her heart against the skin: wings in flight, like he mourns the cadence, scorns the beat -- like it’s everything, a memory, pieces of a place that they never stopped to know. Beautiful.
Thank you so much for this! <333
Re: Deliverance - Crossover (SPN/Lost): Juliet/Castiel - Kissing/Scars - R (The End!verse)
Date: 1/9/11 06:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 1/8/11 06:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 1/9/11 05:45 am (UTC)strange bedfellows, Sherlock, sleep & kissing, John/Sherlock
Date: 1/8/11 08:36 pm (UTC)The next time he wakes up he is sure he must be delusional, because Sherlock is curled up in the bed next to him. His dark hair is wilder than usual, his mouth set in a firm line of disapproval. Or maybe it’s worry, based on John’s current state. Speaking of which.
“Why aren’t you in your own bed, Sherlock?”
John is dimly aware that he has surprised him, and counts it as a tiny victory. Sherlock’s face turns slowly into a grin, his piercing eyes fixed on John.
“The explosion threw you against the wall,” he began in his usual academic tone, and John would have rolled his eyes had be been in better shape. “You got the most of it. I tried to push you out of the way, but you’re quite stubborn, old boy.”
John manages a smirk at the nickname. “That doesn’t explain why you’re spooning me.”
“I...” If John didn’t know better, he’d say Sherlock was at a loss for words. Uncomfortable, even. Surely not.
“It’s okay, you know,” John says sleepily. “You can stay.”
“John,” Sherlock begins again, and John pries his eyes open to look at him. He is distracted by the curve of Sherlock’s mouth and misses whatever he had to say.
“Sorry, what was that? I believe I’m a bit drugged up at the moment.”
Sherlock sighs, an honest to goodness sigh. Then he leans in and brushes his lips against John’s. It’s quick and quite chaste, and John is only fifty percent sure that it even happened at all. Then Sherlock rubs gentle circles against John’s jaw with a calloused thumb, and John closes his eyes again.
“I said, I’m very glad that you’re all right,” Sherlock murmurs, and John smiles before drifting back off to sleep.
When John has recovered, a few days go by when he believes he imagined the whole thing. He’s released from the hospital and Sherlock brings him home. John is still stiff and sore, but Sherlock helps lower him to the couch.
“Sherlock, stop me if I imagined this, but...” John begins, and Sherlock quirks an eyebrow at him, “did you, erm, kiss me, bychance?”
Sherlock smiles deviously at him. “If you call that a kiss.” John lets out a quick, nervous laugh and doesn’t get to ask for further details. Sherlock pulls his legs up and curls onto the couch next to him, resting his head in John’s lap.
“You might have gotten plenty of sleep in the hospital, but I am quite exhausted from the task of looking after you.”
“I’m sure the nurses couldn’t be trusted to do their jobs properly.”
“Quite right.”
John sets his fingers lightly on Sherlock’s hair, and this time they both fall asleep.
Re: strange bedfellows, Sherlock, sleep & kissing, John/Sherlock
Date: 1/9/11 05:31 am (UTC)Re: strange bedfellows, Sherlock, sleep & kissing, John/Sherlock
Date: 1/9/11 08:22 pm (UTC)Re: strange bedfellows, Sherlock, sleep & kissing, John/Sherlock
Date: 1/9/11 03:05 pm (UTC)Re: strange bedfellows, Sherlock, sleep & kissing, John/Sherlock
Date: 1/9/11 08:24 pm (UTC)somewhere only we know -- lost/spn, juliet/castiel, sleep, kissing, marks, AND stranded (1/3)
Date: 1/9/11 04:56 am (UTC)~
She's always sort of wondered what death is like, if there's something more, something better than life (she's always doubted it, but it's a nice thought) or if there isn't anything at all, just black nothingness, and you simply cease to exist.
She wakes up on the island, of course, because it was stupid to think that even death could take her away from this place.
It's not waking up, exactly; it's like she's been sitting on the beach all this time but her mind was somewhere else and she's only now coming back to reality. There's a plane in the sky, slowly getting smaller, further away, and she wants to smile but her lip don't cooperate. She's not alone and her first real, conscious thought is who the hell wears a trench coat on the beach?
“Are you dead too?”
He looks down at his hands, studies them, like he's making sure he's real, solid. “I believe so.”
She goes back to watching the plane, doesn't look away until it's disappears entirely, and that's unfair on so many levels. Because someone actually got to leave, but after everything she's still here, she still can't leave. She's never believed in Hell until now but it's chosen a painfully appropriate form to take.
“This is not Hell.”
She blinks. “How would you know?”
He finally looks at her, like he's looking through her, and it makes the blood that shouldn't still be pumping freeze in her veins. “I've been there.”
-
She still sleeps, more out of habit than any real need to. It's a relief that she still can sleep, that for a little while she can drift away from here, for a little while she can forget. She dreams of a song and a little boy with her sister's eyes and a yellow house and sunflowers.
Sometimes he watches her. It doesn't bother her as much as it probably should.
“You checking me out?” she jokes one day, voice heavy with sleep. She doesn't even have to look over her shoulder; she can feel his eyes on her back.
He doesn't say anything for a while. She's half asleep again when she hears him say, “I was looking at your mark.”
Oh. She stiffens, sits up and pulls her shirt down, and prays he doesn't ask.
“What's it like?”
“What's what like?”
“Sleep.”
“You serious?” she asks because he must be joking. He nods, somber as ever. “It's hard to explain,” she shifts, searching for the words. “It's like you shut down, your subconscious takes over while conscious mind and your body rests.” It's a really poor response, but she's never really thought about what sleep is like, never thought someone would ask her to explain it.
“You have no control.”
“No, I guess not.”
“I don't think I would like that.”
She huffs, something that could almost be a laugh, shakes her head. “Sleep is great,” she says – then adds, “you should try it,” half as a joke because she isn't quite sure it what to say, because it isn't possible that he's never slept.
He just nods again and turns his eyes back to the ocean.
-
Re: somewhere only we know -- lost/spn, juliet/castiel, sleep, kissing, marks, AND stranded (2/3)
Date: 1/9/11 04:57 am (UTC)“Yes, that's a full house, now stop showing me your cards.”
There's really no point in continuing the hand, just like the last five hands before it. He'd have one hell of a poker face if he only knew what he was doing. She gathers the cards and shuffles again. “I thought everyone knew how to play poker.”
He watches the cards slide against each other in her hands. “Someone tried to teach me once. I wasn't very good at it.”
There's something about the way he says someone that she understands too well, that tugs at her chest and makes her think of another someone, another poker game, with toothpicks for chips and too much Dharma wine. She deals. “This time please do not show me your hand.”
She's pretty sure she's got him beat – two pair, Aces and threes – and she adds her last two mangoes to the pile between them. She tosses her hand down, tells him to “read 'em and weep.” He lays his cards down on the sand, carefully spreading them out one at a time. Three sevens. “Son of a bitch.”
He actually smiles.
-
She goes for a walk, with no real destination in mind. The island is different now, quiet, empty except for the two of them, but it's the same in so many ways. She still knows every path, every tree, every secret place as well as she ever did without having to think about it.
She doesn't ask him to come along but she's glad he does.
They come to a broken, rusting fence and she stops in her tracks. She shouldn't, she should just let go. But just once – just one last time, that's all she wants, hadn't even realized it until now that she needs it.
She goes to their house first – an aging, filthy shell, nothing like she last saw it, nothing like it was then. There's nothing left of that world, that life, and maybe it's easier that way.
Except that it isn't easy at all.
She turns to leave, but he's there, looking at her with something too much like pity and she wants to punch him. “You were happy here,” he says, very matter-of-fact, then he hesitates. “He loved you very much.”
“Don't,” she warns, meeting his eyes. “Get out of my way.”
Her house dusty like the rest of them but more or less as she left it. There's still a disc in the CD player; she presses play, just to see.
When you're alone and life is making you lonely, you can always go...
She sinks to the floor, rests her head against the wall. It's too much, she should just leave, but she wants to remember as much as she wants to forget. There's movement in the corner of her eye but she doesn't have the strength to make him go away. He keeps his distance, lingering in the doorway, head tilted, listening.
“I've never heard this song.”
The sound that escapes her throat is ugly, trapped somewhere between a sob and a laugh. Her face is wet but she's definitely grinning, definitely laughing now and it's such a release – a relief – that she can barley force herself to stop. “How have you never heard this song?”
“My knowledge of popular music is...limited.”
It's not really funny but she keeps laughing anyway, until her sides hurt, until she can't breathe.
“What planet are you from?”
The look she gets is priceless, but before he can say anything she restarts the song and turns it up.
-
Re: somewhere only we know -- lost/spn, juliet/castiel, sleep, kissing, marks, AND stranded (3/3)
Date: 1/9/11 04:59 am (UTC)He's just shamelessly kicked her ass for the eight game of backgammon in a row, and she can't help thinking out loud how it's ridiculous that he's such a natural yet he can barely wrap his mind around a simple game of poker. And she laughs because he makes her laugh without even trying, just looks at her like she's out of her mind, and maybe she is but maybe that's okay. She can't be bothered right now and she leans in, impulsively.
She's going for his cheek but he turns just so, and he's right there, looking at her with those eyes – and well, what the hell?
It's slow, gentle, and he doesn't kiss back at first. When she pulls away his gaze follow her lips as he hesitantly licking his own, and she has a thought. Because he's never slept or heard Petula Clark and doesn't know a flush from a straight. “Don't tell me you've never done that before either.”
He raises his eyes to hers. “Once.”
“With the someone who tried to teach you poker?”
“Yes.”
“What's her name?”
“His name is Dean.”
“Tell me about him.”
“I fell for him,” he says simply, and she thinks that's an odd way of putting it. “I died for him.”
She swallows around the lump in her throat, can almost taste the blood again. He says it like it's the most natural thing in the world, like choice must have been so easy to make, but something changes about him.
It's always been obvious, in everything that he says or does, that there's something different, something a little off about him, but she's never pushed it, beyond the teasing only half registers as such. None of her jokes seem funny anymore.
It's something that anyone else probably wouldn't notice, if there were anyone else, but she sees it, feels it, and knows that whatever else he might be, he's very definitely human.
-
She watches him sleep. There some kind of ridiculous satisfaction in the fact that he does sleep on occasion now. She wonders what he dreams about.
He stirs, the trench coat spread out underneath him bunching up as he moves. Convincing him to remove it had been the hardest part because, surprise, he's never taken it off. She doesn't even ask.
“I told you sleep is great.” He groans in response and turns his back to her. She watches the waves for a while, buries her toes in the sand.
He pretends not to notice when lies down next to him – she'll make some joke about it when they wake up, and her last thought before she drifts to sleep is that she's looking forward to the chance to explain spooning.
~
/END LONGEST COMMENT FIC EVER
Re: somewhere only we know -- lost/spn, juliet/castiel, sleep, kissing, marks, AND stranded (3/3)
Date: 1/9/11 05:43 am (UTC)Second: It so does not show because, HI THERE EPIC FIC, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY LIFE?
I'm so glad you thwarted the universe. This is spectacular. The concept alone is brilliant, the idea that Cas and Juliet both died for the ones they loved and then ended up on the island is just an incredibly cool idea. But it's the way they play off of each other that really did me in. They both seem so amused and bewildered by each other (your Cas is a thing of beauty, I'm in awe of folks who can write him and you write him perfectly). The poker playing! Juliet visiting her house! The kiss! No, seriously THE KISS! BRB, FLAILING FOREVER.
And I love that final image of Cas asleep on his trench coat in the sand with Juliet. This: He pretends not to notice when lies down next to him – she'll make some joke about it when they wake up, and her last thought before she drifts to sleep is that she's looking forward to the chance to explain spooning. is gorgeous.
Thank you so, so much for such an awesome fic! <333
Re: somewhere only we know -- lost/spn, juliet/castiel, sleep, kissing, marks, AND stranded (3/3)
Date: 1/10/11 02:47 am (UTC)No, seriously. Your comment is making me bouncy because I love that you love it. You totally get credit for this, since my brain is too retarded to put my two favorite people ever together.
But can you now please tell them to stop attacking my brain with plotbunnies?But, just -- YAY! I am SO thrilled that this worked for you! ♥
Re: somewhere only we know -- lost/spn, juliet/castiel, sleep, kissing, marks, AND stranded (3/3)
Date: 1/11/11 04:41 am (UTC)Dissuade you from writing more awesome Cas/Juliet fic? Pssh. Never. Doooo it! ;D
George/Mitchell little bit each of scars/Kissing/Talking 1/2
Date: 1/10/11 11:48 pm (UTC)He tried not to smirk when he felt George watching him. He could smell the other mans arousal and he knew it wouldn’t be long until he caved in and was crawling on top of him. Not able to keep his hands to him self.
Four days before the full moon George had already started to change in the smallest ways. The increased senses and liquid fast reflexes. But there was also the wolfs instincts creeping to the surface. Being territorial and protective of what Mitchell was pretty George considered to be his pack, even if he would never admit it.
Then there was the instinct the wolf had to find it’s mate and for some reason it had picked him. Mitchell didn’t really understand it but he was happy to give George what he needed, even if they never did talk about it. He just went with the flow and spent the rest of the month fantasising about the best sex he had ever had.
He watched George edge closer, fidgeting with random items around the room. Getting board of watching George have some sort of argument with him self, he stood up and headed for the stairs.
“George I’m going up stairs, to get naked. If you don’t join me with in the next ten minutes I’m starting with out you.”
Re: George/Mitchell little bit each of scars/Kissing/Talking 2/3
Date: 1/10/11 11:51 pm (UTC)It had only been five minutes since he left George staring after him in the living room when the bed room door opened.
He watched George pull his clothes off before climbing on to the bed and straddling his waist. Mitchell reached out, tracing his finger tips down each scar on his shoulder. Every one had stories behind there scars but George’s could beat them all.
George moved into his touch, moaning and he knew the closer to the full moon it got the scars became over sensitive. He pulled him down into a soft kiss, teasing his mouth open. It quickly turned into open mouthed sloppy kisses, George’s tongue thrusting in and out, fucking his mouth. Mitchell couldn’t resist rolling George onto his back so he was on top, only pausing for a second to make sure George didn’t mind. He was sure the wolf would have let it’s self be known if he had a issue with him being on top.
He kissed his way down to his shoulder, pressing soft kisses to the scared area, loving the soft gasps George made. He teased and sucked on each nipple and soon George was withering underneath him and begging for more.
“Please Mitchell, please.”
Mitchell nuzzled into the side of his neck. “What do you want George? Do you want me to suck you, slow and deep until your insane with it?”
He laughed softly as George whimpered and thrust his hips up.
“Or do you want me inside you? Fucking you so hard and deep you feel it for days.
George moaned and spread his legs without shame, “Inside me, please Mitchell.”
Mitchell reached for the side tables drawer and grabbed the bottle of lube. It wasn’t often George wanted to be fucked and his cock throbbed as he helped George onto his knees. Legs as far apart as they could be with loosing his balance.
He teased a finger slowly into George, trying to take it slow but George growled in frustration and shoved back wanting more. Mitchell quickly added a second finger, his own need growing.
Only when he was sure George was ready he took hold oh own cock and George’s hip and thrust in until he was balls deep. He rested his head between George’s shoulder blades, taking a few deep breaths before he started move his hips.
Any one who said anything but face to face fucking wasn’t intimate were idiots and just not doing it right in Mitchell’s opinion.
He held onto one hip and wrapped his other arm around Georges chest. Resting his hand over his heart, his finger tips just brushing the edges of his scars.
Mitchell thrust harder into George, both of them panting and so close already. It took all his will power not to bite George and drink from him. He was pretty sure the taste of cursed blood would be a instant mood killer. He had to make do with biting down and sucking on the soft skin of his neck, leaving a mark that would be there for days.
Re: George/Mitchell little bit each of scars/Kissing/Talking 3/3
Date: 1/10/11 11:51 pm (UTC)Mitchell trailed his hand down to George’s leaking cock and started to stroke him in time with his thrusts.
“Please oh god, Mitchell please.”
Mitchell cried out as his own orgasm took him by surprise, George moaning his name, tipping him over the edge. When he could breath again he realised George was rutting frantically into his hand, desperate to come.
He kissed George just under his ear, holding him close. Not able to stop watching George fuck his fist.
“Come for me George, want you to come all over my hand so I can taste you.”
George gasped and thrust once, twice and came all over his hand.
Mitchell let got of George’s cock and licked his fingers clean, the smell and taste of George making his cock twitch and attempt to get hard again.
They both flopped onto the bed, exhausted and aching in all the right ways. Mitchell grinned when George pretty much lay half on top of him, resting his head on his chest. They were both a sticky mess but Mitchell was looking forward to sharing a shower with George in the morning.
He watched George fall asleep with out a word just like always, a small part of him missed Georges usual constant rambling.
He kissed the top his head and could feel him self starting to fall asleep. Soon after the full moon George would be back to his chatty self and they would act like this never happened.
With out realising he held George closer, he fell asleep hoping that one day he wouldn’t need the excuse of the wolf to have George in his bed.
*
Re: George/Mitchell little bit each of scars/Kissing/Talking 3/3
Date: 1/11/11 04:39 am (UTC)Re: George/Mitchell little bit each of scars/Kissing/Talking 3/3
Date: 1/12/11 10:25 pm (UTC)Fringe; Alt!Charlie/Olivia, scars, PG, a thousand names for a single thing
Date: 1/13/11 05:12 am (UTC)Scars are rare here. Charlie's might say otherwise, but his is the exception that proves the rule.
Which is why when they meet - really meet, complete with introductions - Charlie notices her scar immediately. She has her hair up. The first thing she did when she had the time was get that ugly mark burned off the back of her neck. It hurt like hell and stung for days after but it was worth it. Not to be confused as someone else.
The second he spots the mark, his fingers feel the need to brush over it. Her Charlie was never this bold with his touches. A hand on the back or a pat on the shoulder if she was having a bad day. Occasionally he'd tilt her head back to examine a cut or bruise, but it had taken years for him to feel comfortable touching her.
But from the moment she met him, she knew he was different than her Charlie. Not as guarded and a little more impulsive with his thoughts.
"That's odd," he says, proving her right.
There are a thousand different responses, none of which Olivia likes at the moment. Charlie's pulling away though and smiling at her - it's different than any look she's seen on his features before. Brighter and more open than she remembers.
"I think I'm gonna like you," he says and he walks away before she can say anything else.
She thinks she's gonna like him too.
---
Charlie's scar is legendary. The type of story that gets whispered wherever he goes. At first, Olivia thinks their hushed tones are weighed with horror, but she quickly learns that's not the case. Charlie is a hero. Got it saving a bunch of people in South New Jersey before it was quarantined. A shard of amber not fully solidified broke off and cut him across his cheek.
Charlie is the only one who doesn't talk about his scar. Olivia's sure it has to do with the hundreds of thousands of people he couldn't save that day.
Olivia knows that feeling all to well.
---
The first time they're on a case together as Charlie from Here and Olivia from There she blows another air quality warning sign chasing a lead down an alley. This time she passes out from lack of oxygen.
She wakes up in the hospital with scarred lungs. In her world, they would never heal, but here it's two days rest.
Charlie sits by her bedside and whispers that the first time this happened was when he knew she wasn't his Olivia.
Olivia can't speak, the spray they coated her throat with is thick and heavy. She moves for the pen and paper, gets two shaky words down - why didn't - before he cuts her off.
"I liked you better."
Olivia wants to cry.
ii. emotional
And this is how we get there.
The worlds stop colliding eventually. Olivia wins and The Other Her lies bleeding on the concrete.
{Peter sheds a single tear and Olivia wants to cock her gun and plant another bullet in Her chest}
Her home still smells like another woman. Still smells like Peter. She's moved twice and it still lingers in every corner, invades her senses and conquers.
Olivia won this war, but she's stuck on the battle she lost.
---
Charlie hears they've lost, but really they've won. Their world is starting to patch itself at the seams and Walter Bishop can no longer use it as his justification for revenge.
He is signing his divorce papers and waving goodbye to his little girl when the news comes across the wire.
Healing seems to be a foreign concept.
---
They don't ask her to go Over There. She volunteers for the job. Here one day, There the next. She doesn't bother saying goodbye.
She's met with hostility. It doesn't matter that she's here to heal. Most of the wounds are ones she opened.
Charlie's the only one who can't find a reason to hate her. He'll admit later that it's because he's not trying hard.
iii. both
Years later, they'll laugh about these scars like they're a distant memory.
Scars will have grown rare between them.
Re: Fringe; Alt!Charlie/Olivia, scars, PG, a thousand names for a single thing
Date: 1/14/11 04:06 pm (UTC)THIS IS GORGEOUS AND PERFECT AND OMG THANK YOU. <333
I love the way you used the scar theme to tell their story. I love that Olivia got that tattoo burned off and that Charlie got hs scar from saving people. I love that he likes her better than alt!Liv and that she goes over that after she wins the war. Honestly, I just love all of it. The details,the backstory, the way they fit together so easily---just YES. Thank you so, so much for such an amazing fic!
Gwen/Rhys, trapped together, sleep themes
Date: 1/13/11 10:51 am (UTC)The hard part is chasing the alien through a corporate office building up to the roof and getting locked out at midnight in the freezing cold.
Gwen leans next to the door and slides down the wall. It's been a long day.
"So what do we do now?" Rhys asks, coming and sitting beside her.
Gwen can barely remember how Rhys got involved. There had been some yelling about how she left the flat at six in the morning and she sounded tired and he was coming to pick her up.
"Gwen?"
"Uh," she says, trying to think back to what he had asked. "Oh. I think we should call Jack." Which is probably not the answer Rhys wanted, but it's the first thing that comes to mind. The only problem is that all of Gwen's tech gadgets were somewhere inside the building, where the alien had undoubtedly taken them.
"Lost my phone," she mumbles. "We'll have to use yours."
He hands his phone over, saying, "I don't have Jack's number, though."
She stares blankly at the phone. She knows Jack's number. She knows Jack's number. But she's had a long day, and at the moment her brain is only supplying radio silence. After a few moments it starts to vibrate, and while it's not Jack's number, it is still familiar, so Gwen answers it anyway.
With a long yawn. "'lo?" she finally manages.
"Gwen?" comes the voice from the other line.
"Ianto," she says, before breaking off into another yawn. "The alien took my phone."
"That would explain why we couldn't get in touch with you. Where are you?"
Gwen frowns, then turns to Rhys. "Where are we?"
Rhys stares at her for a moment, then plucks the phone from her hands and starts talking to Ianto.
She leans against his shoulder, trying to listen in on the conversation (which starts becoming off-track once Rhys demands to know how they got his number), but the next thing she knows she's being jostled awake. "Sorry," she says blearily, rubbing at her eyes. "'m a bit tired."
"I ran around the city chasing an alien for an hour. I'm a bit tired. You're exhausted." He dislodges her from his side, briefly, so he can wrap his arm around her. "Ianto and the rest of them are on their way but it may be a while, go back to sleep."
Gwen opens her mouth to object, but only ends up yawning again.
Rhys presses a kiss to temple, and pulls her closer. "Go to sleep."
There are many good reasons why she should stay awake, but she's so tired she can barely think straight and Rhys is warm, so she just curls into his side and drifts off to sleep.
Re: Gwen/Rhys, trapped together, sleep themes
Date: 1/14/11 04:10 pm (UTC)vampire porn, damon/alaric, scars + kissing, pg13, 1/2
Date: 1/13/11 08:19 pm (UTC)It’s a very long story, whose salient elements are that he was eight, he was in school, something made of glass broke and he was careless. He can’t really remember most of how it actually went, but if he turns his wrist up, you can see a scarred, almost white gash that runs from the elbow almost to his wrist. It had been bad back then.
He never really thinks about that, really, but lately it’s brought up in a lot of conversations because apparently Damon is fond of it.
Trust Alaric to end up in a no-strings-attached thing with a psychotic vampire when his job is killing them, but then again, it’s another story, thought it’s not long. Damon had pushed him against the wall in the back alley behind the grill and kissed him stupid, then when Alaric had shouted at him Damon had calmly explained that:
1. Neither of them was in a relationship.
2. They spent half of the time calling each other (you call me, Alaric had stated. Semantics, Damon had answered.)
3. Alaric was the one person that was okay with sharing a drink or two with Damon, and the punching didn’t count.
2. Damon had to grow some respect for the only person he never managed to kill.
This stated, he had said, no point in not fucking. It was just going to make them feel better, right?
Alaric still isn’t sure about that, but whatever.
Point is, Damon is quite fond of that scar, or so it seems. Whenever Alaric has his guard half-down Damon always grabs his arm and spends an unhealthy amount of time tracing it with his fingers, and if they’re actually having sex he might lick along its length. Alaric has been afraid that he’d bite, a couple of times, but he never did and so well, everyone has their weird kinks, right?
Except that after this crazy thing lasts for a month he’d really like to know what’s going on here.
“What’s so fascinating about that?” he asks one day as Damon traces the scar with a nail. Alaric can’t help shivering.
“Nothing,” Damon answers, but he doesn’t even try to hide that he’s lying.
“Yeah, like you don’t think it’s my most fascinating trait.”
“It’s long,” Damon says then. “And deep.”
“So? I still don’t’ see the point.”
“We don’t have them,” Damon shrugs after giving Alaric his arm back.
“You what?”
“We don’t scar. It doesn’t work like with you. If you hurt me, it’ll just regenerate.”
Damon says it like it’s no big deal, but it’s obvious that it is some kind of big deal. Alaric would just like to get how it –
Right, he realizes then, of course. It’s because they leave traces. He’ll always remember that he did a stupid thing when he was eight because of that scar, like he’ll always remember the first time he killed a vampire because said vampire had tried to stake him in the hip and there’s another scar there, as well. Or one he has on his back when he was thrown against a tree and he had just a t-shirt that got ripped apart, or all the other small ones that he’s remembering right now. They’re memories burned on his body, they’re there to testify that he has lived to get them.
While yeah, right, now looking at Damon (who’s naked but then again they just fucked, it couldn’t be different), Alaric realizes that his skin is flawless. Pale, smooth, not a scratch, not a bruise. A clean slate, which will never get dirty, and damn but he hadn’t thought that Damon would care about that.
“You do miss living. Sometimes at least, I guess.”
Damon snorts, but he doesn’t question what he just said.
“I got one when I went to war.”
“What –”
“Someone shot me in the hip. Here,” Damon says, his hand covering a patch of skin that is definitely not scarred. “It was pretty ugly. It wasn’t even completely scarred when I got turned. Sometimes it hurt. I hated it back then.”
“And now?”
“It went away when I turned. Now I wish I still had it.”
Alaric moves closer and Damon shakes his head. “If you feel like you should make me feel better, fuck off.”
Re: vampire porn, damon/alaric, scars + kissing, pg13, 2/2
Date: 1/13/11 08:19 pm (UTC)He bites softly in the hollow between neck and shoulder, sucking a bit on the flesh between his teeth before running his tongue over the reddened skin and then biting it again. He isn’t aiming to draw blood, hell no, but he wants that bit of skin to be wrinkled and full pink against its surroundings, and he repeats the process for a while until he’s sure that he did his job to the letter. He can’t resist pressing mouth to the skin he was biting until a second ago before moving his head away though; he just uses his lips, no tongue or teeth, the kiss way too chaste in comparison to what they were doing half an hour ago, and then he leans back.
And he has to congratulate himself – that’s a hickey that is going to be hard to cover, but since it’s not exactly a wound he doubts that it’ll disappear more quickly than it would with another normal person.
“That shouldn’t go away for a couple of days. Maybe you’ll want to wear a scarf,” Alaric says before leaning back against his pillow, and Damon stares at him, his eyes carefully blank but wide enough to betray a hell of a reaction. Then Damon’s hand reaches up, tracing the hickey for a handful of seconds, and Alaric figures that it’d be pretty low if he tried to come out with something to lighten up the situation.
He’ll let Damon work through this crap. If he accepts that he obviously still has feelings, maybe Alaric will feel allowed to admit to himself that he likes Damon a lot more than he should.
Re: vampire porn, damon/alaric, scars + kissing, pg13, 2/2
Date: 1/14/11 04:23 pm (UTC)YOU WIN AT LIFE.
JUST...seriously, what did I do to deserve such amazingness? This is so hot and still sweet and I'm having trouble using my words because: SCARS.
This:
Point is, Damon is quite fond of that scar, or so it seems. Whenever Alaric has his guard half-down Damon always grabs his arm and spends an unhealthy amount of time tracing it with his fingers, and if they’re actually having sex he might lick along its length. Alaric has been afraid that he’d bite, a couple of times, but he never did and so well, everyone has their weird kinks, right?
Oh man, that right there is perfection. Clearly, Damon and I share at least one kink. ;) The way you use their scars feels so intimate, I love it. The fact that Damon was shot in the war and he misses his scar? I'm filing that one under personal canon because it's such a bittersweet, perfect idea.
And then ALARIC GAVE HIM A HICKEY. I need a moment.
Okay, that's a whole new level of awesome because 1) he wants to make Damon feel better, 2) he's only kind of sort of admitting to that fact and 3)Damon's reaction. He made him speechless.
I love this so freaking much. THANK YOU! I'm going to read it again now. <333
Re: vampire porn, damon/alaric, scars + kissing, pg13, 2/2
Date: 1/15/11 12:22 am (UTC)Seriously, thanks so much! :DDD I'm so thrilled that this worked for you really. I'll admit I like my scarred people myself so I figured I'd go for that one, then Alaric being nice without being too chatty about it happened and I'm just really glad you liked it this much. Also UHM WELL YEAH ALARIC GIVE US ALL MOMENTS. ;) <3333
Shatter (1/2): Damon/Bonnie, NC17
Date: 1/16/11 01:30 am (UTC)part 1 of 2: http://skysamuelle.livejournal.com/42534.html
Title: SHATTER
Summary: Bonnie and Damon are forced to share the same motel room during a quite distressing roadtrip. The results are… interesting to say the least. And dirty.
Shatter part two, Damon/Bonnie NC17
Date: 1/18/11 09:48 am (UTC)part 2 of 2: http://skysamuelle.livejournal.com/43028.html