My Five Acts List
4/18/10 04:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ozmissage
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toestastegood is hosting a Five Acts comment fic-a-thon this week. Here’s the deal: - Post a list of your five favorite themes/kinks to read about and a list of your favorite fandoms/pairings.
- Read other folk’s lists here at the master list (and leave a link back to your own.)
- Post comment fic for people based on their lists.
Here’s my list, I apologize in advance for the serious lack of kinkiness in my kinks. If I were an ice cream flavor I would be vanilla. Probably low-fat.
1. Kissing (First kisses, almost kisses, welcome home kisses, kissing hands/necks/legs/whatever)
2. Hot Nights/Days (can’t sleep because of the heat, trying to cool down, sweaty sex, disrobing to cool off, just drop the characters in the hottest day of the year and see what happens)
3. Scars/tattoos (I have a serious thing for scars and tattoos, particularly when it involves one person seeing the other’s for the first time)
4. Domesticity (cuddling, shopping together, cooking for one another, hanging out, spooning, anything that an established couple/friends who might as well be a couple might do)
5. Forced to share a bed (make it as dirty or as non-dirty as you like)
Fandoms/Pairings
Lost: Juliet/Sawyer, Miles/Juliet, Jack/Juliet, Miles/Richard, Miles/Dan/Charlotte, Dan/Charlotte, Desmond/Penny, Miles/Dan, Miles/Ana, Jack/Boone, Jack/Ana, Jack/Kate, Jack/Claire, Jack/Claire/Sawyer, Charlie/Kate, Charlie/Miles, Charlie/Claire, Frank/Juliet, Frank/Sun, Sayid/Any female character (especially Ana, Kate, and Juliet)
BTVS/Angel: Willow/Oz, Buffy/Xander, Anya/Xander, Fred/Gunn, Cordy/Angel, Oz/Xander, Faith/Robin, Fred/Willow, Wes/Gunn
Dollhouse: Adelle/Dominic, Adelle/Topher, Paul/Mellie, Sierra/Victor, Topher/Bennett
Being Human: Any combination of George/Mitchell/Annie.
Doctor Who/TW: Doctor/River Song, Nine/Jack/Rose, Mickey/Martha, Rose/Alt!Ten, Jack/Donna, Eleven/Amy, Tosh/Owen, Rhys/Gwen, Ianto/Owen, Jack/Owen
Supernatural: Dean/Cassie, Dean/Anna, Bela/Sam, Ellen/Bobby, Jo/Dean, John/Ellen, Jo/Bela
Harry Potter: Remus/Sirius, Luna/Harry, Ron/Hermione, Ron/Hermione/Harry, James/Lily
Community: Jeff/Annie, Jeff/Britta, Abed/Troy
Mad Men: Don/Peggy, Don/Rachel, Pete/Peggy, Joan/Roger, Peggy/Ken
Ugly Betty: Betty/Daniel
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Being Human, George/Mitchell, scars, domesticity, PG
Date: 4/18/10 10:48 pm (UTC)Claw marks on his shoulder, clean lines: to George, they represent the end of his life. To Mitchell, it represents the beginning.
They're sleeping in on a Sunday morning (nothing to do, nobody to see, might as well doss around while they have the chance) and George is as close to docile as he ever gets. His breathing flutters in and out from his bare chest; Mitchell watches. He makes his lungs move in time with George's, allows them to align. For him, the act is artificial. His need for air is long gone, long dead. Doesn't matter. It's all a performance, these days. Everything is.
A wave of peace washes over him as they match up, George's dozing breaths with his forced ones, and he stays like that for a while, too long. This is what life should be. This is comfort.
Pressed against George's body beneath their shared blanket, Mitchell's fingers reach for the scars. He barely dares to touch them at all, knowing that George doesn't like it; it feels wrong. A violation.
Lighter than butterfly wings, his fingers trail over the lines. They mark what George is now, a werewolf, but it's more than that; they make George his. They pushed George into the world of the supernatural but it's Mitchell that keeps him here, clinging on tightly. Sometimes he wonders if he ought to feel guilty about that, but every second he spends with him, his best friend, makes it impossible.
In his arms, George stirs. His eyes blink open like a long-gone drunk. "What," he asks, half-mumbled, "are you doing?"
Mitchell hides his mouth in the crook of George's neck. He's trying not to smile, but George always sounds slurred and confused when he first wakes up. It's as if everything has changed around him while he sleeps. "I'm touching," he says. "I like it."
"Oh." That seems to be the most that George can come up with. He leans lazily back against Mitchell's chest, eyes closing once more. "Carry on, then."
Permission granted, Mitchell can't stop grinning. With his fingers against the injured marks on George's shoulder, he is free to touch, kiss and worship as he pleases - as long as he is careful not to disturb George's rest.
annie/mitchell, kissing
Date: 4/18/10 10:54 pm (UTC)he kisses her and doesn’t know why and decides it’s again, he’s doing it again for all those times he could have but did not. again. this time he means it. she’s here again (with them) and she’s real and gorgeous and solid enough for him to see her, touch her, crush her palpable softness to his chest and taste her. real. here. cool. here. again.
almost flesh and bone and blood.
she’s laughing her happy laugh that’s always hers.
she doesn’t mind. she knows he means it for the way his palms caressed the screen from the other side, as if it were her skin. she knows. has for a while. she laughs. genuinely. for one second the memory of the pain of missing her (him) is gone and the fear and the longing and she sounds happy, is happy, jingles happy as her laugh always does.
“mitchell…” she sings.
she smiles like she used to, pretending to scold him while she laughs and laughs and doesn’t pull away, clings to him as if she never would. “mitchell…,” she repeats after a while, the singing fading. “mitchell.”
Re: Being Human, George/Mitchell, scars, domesticity, PG
Date: 4/19/10 01:23 pm (UTC)OMG. This is so insanely adorable and perfect. I love how comfortable they are with each other and they're snuggling in bed on a Sunday morning! *hugs*
Mitchell's voice is so wonderful here and his view of George and his scars (!!!) was perfect. This bit in particular made me squee all over myself because matching his breathing to George's manages to be both incredibly hot and the sweetest thing I've ever heard:
A wave of peace washes over him as they match up, George's dozing breaths with his forced ones, and he stays like that for a while, too long. This is what life should be. This is comfort.
Thank you so much for this! What a wonderful way to start my Monday. :)
Re: annie/mitchell, kissing
Date: 4/19/10 01:28 pm (UTC)Thank you so much for this! :)
Re: Being Human, George/Mitchell, scars, domesticity, PG
Date: 4/19/10 03:30 pm (UTC)LOST, Sawyer/Juliet, Hot Days and Domesticity
Date: 4/19/10 06:10 pm (UTC)Disgustingly.
He’s lounging on the couch in just jeans, clutching a sweating glass of lemonade that is now dilute because of the amount of ice he’s had to put in to keep it cool. There’s a book on his lap but it’s too hot to read, too hot to move, too hot to do much of anything.
There’s a soft, sleepy sound from down the hall and then the quiet pad of footsteps in the hallway. Glancing behind him, he catches a glimpse of Juliet in the doorway, her hair mussed, clad only in a pair of skimpy pyjama shorts and a light lace tank top.
She stifles a yawn before bitching,
“Why’s it so damn hot?”
He shrugs, “There’s lemonade if you wan’ it.”
“Coffee.” She grumbles.
He raises an eyebrow, amused and confused,
“It’s a million degrees out, an’ you want coffee?”
She just narrows her eyes, frowning until he relents,
“There’s a pot on the counter.”
He watches as she fills a mug, mixing in heavy cream and the tiniest hint of sugar. He pulls up his leg, making room for her, but she diverts to the fridge and grabs a handful of ice. When she releases the ice into her glass, he grimaces,
“That’s nasty, Juliet.”
She shrugs, sinking down on the couch but ensuring a foot of space is still between them to keep the warm body heat away, and absently prods at the ice with her finger to try and cool the drink,
“We had iced coffee in the 2001, why not now?”
He remains adamant with his grimace, shaking his head,
“Didn’t like iced coffee then, don’t like it now.”
“Your loss.” She says, taking a sip.
It’s too hot to argue so he lets it go, draining the last of his lemonade and reclining on the couch, draping his arm over his face. She wiggles her feet closer, nudging his ribs as she asks,
“Watcha’ reading?”
“Nothin’, He grunts, “Too damn hot.”
She drains the last of her coffee, sucking a melted cube of ice into her mouth to chill her warm mouth. She inches closer on the couch and he moans,
“Back off, you’re like a damn fireball.”
He moves to push her away lazily but she’s quick, ducking beneath his arm and straddling his waist. She jerks away from her with an irritated glare but she rolls her weight onto her hips, pinning him down and lowering her mouth to his chest. He jerks beneath her, cussing colourfully as she opens her mouth and lets the ice trail over his chest, goosebumps raising over his skin.
She snakes a hand down, squeezing between his thighs and he bucks up against her. She traces kisses down the centre of his chest, lips hot against his skin despite the ice, before asking,
“You want to?”
He’s going to kill himself for what he’s about to say but the thought of hot, sweaty sex while the tiny yellow house is acting like an oven is making his temperature sky rocket. He can’t even say it, just gives her this pathetic ass look until she laughs,
“Shower sex? We can at least turn on the cold water.”
*
mad men, peggy/pete, kissing
Date: 4/19/10 07:42 pm (UTC)(Ever since she told him she didn't choose him, he's wanted to protect her, keep her for himself.)
Because they're the best of the best, they don't go home even when the air conditioning blows on Labor Day weekend. There's work to be done.
Pete finds excuses to stand by her corner desk, lets his fingers trip from where Trudy sits to where Peggy's pens spill. He always cleans up after himself (and it puts him that much closer to her breath).
Nobody pays attention.
But Trudy always goes home an hour earlier than he does and he catches Peggy in the tiny kitchen making iced tea for the stragglers. I miss you, he breathes against her neck, and presses a damp kiss against the moisture collecting there.
The ice falls with a soft clatter as she grips the kitchen counter, his hands sliding around her waist and down over her dress. Pete, she starts, but he presses another kiss against her neck, moving closer to her pulse. She stops talking, just waits, tense, as his hands move in deceptively soothing circles, turning her in his arms.
I miss you, he says again and she lifts her head. Anyone else would mistake it for an invitation. Pete waits.
Peggy struggles only a moment longer before sliding her hands into his hair and pulling him down to her mouth, lips pressing softly against his. He tries not to lose it, tries not to push back too hard but her mouth is open and sweet against his and he's crushing her waist against his. His senses shut down and he's warm and shivering against her at the same time (feels wetness slide between their cheeks and wonder which of them it came from).
But then her hands are gone from his face and are pushing his away from her waist. He stands, hungry and in shock as she smoothes her skirt and brushes his hair back. Breathing (he knows her act).
Peggy, he rasps and she smiles her sad knowing smile at him before walking back to her desk without a word.
He finishes the iced tea for her.
Frank/Sun, kissing Pt 1
Date: 4/19/10 08:21 pm (UTC)They’re running out of gas and people are jumping and ol’ crazy eyes is yelling about a bomb, but Frank is a man, and even when the world is falling down around them, men notice women. She’s a pretty, almost ethereal (Frank doesn’t usually think in such airy-fairy terms, but this bird deserves special treatment), and even though shit is going to hell, it must be his lucky day, because she appears to be a friend of his passengers.
Within seconds, it turns out to be his most unlucky day. The Asian guy they leave to his death is her husband. Not only was she married, but he’s the reason she isn’t anymore.
Sun spends the week on the boat giving Jack and Kate the stink-eye, but for some reason she doesn’t seem to blame Frank, the pilot, the one actually responsible. She actually talks to him, as much as she talks to Hurley or Sayid or Desmond, even though he doesn’t deserve it. They chat about little bits of nothingness: about the island, and the Others, and her vegetable garden, and lost friends like Kevin the freighter janitor, Aaron’s real mother and some girl named Shannon who sounds like she was a real piece of work.
Never once does her father, the Fortune 500 tycoon, come up.
When they part ways, only Sun and Hurley seem to give a damn. It’s alright, though. It’s only been a couple of weeks, but he’s had more than enough of this group’s drama. He just says, “Bye,” feeling strange that his usual “see ya” isn’t applicable here. He isn’t supposed to see any of them ever again. Sun gives him a hug and waves a sad little wave as Jack and Sayid paddle away. He can feel the ghost of her fingers through his shirt all the way to Fiji, where Penny lets him off.
Frank has never been one to follow the news unless it’s directly relevant to his life. It’s funny how in the past year, it feels like all the news is relevant. He watches every day, smirking inside at the lies these people tell and the way everyone soaks it all up. Not that anyone would ever believe the truth. Funny how life works that way.
He’d lived with these people for over a week, but he feels like it’s only through the news that he gets to know them. Kate Austen, rampaging killer; somehow that had never been mentioned. Jack Shephard, miracle worker; that one actually wasn’t all too surprising. Sayid Jarrah, desperate romantic; who knew? Hugo Reyes, gazillionaire; he sure didn’t act like one. Sun Kwon, daughter of gazillionaire; somehow even more surprising.
He watches her in all of the reports, looking distant and pained, trying to pretend that wounds are less fresh than they actually are, that the screams he remembers so piercingly never happened. He watches and feels guilt like he’s never felt before.
It’s wrong and it’s selfish and she’s pregnant, for fuck’s sake, but those scraps of conversation replay themselves in his mind long after he’s switched off CNN and long after CNN has switched off of her. Everyone’s fifteen minutes of fame run out after… well, fifteen minutes, right?
Frank continues to fly around the world. He’d quit his job with Oceanic in order to join Widmore’s freighter, but he’s a good pilot and finding a new gig isn’t hard. He does his job and he does it well, pretending nothing has changed even though it has. He never saw any monster, but knowing one is out there is enough to rock anyone’s world view.
Sun’s out there, too. Frank flies in and out of Seoul every so often with Ajira, but Kwon is hardly an uncommon last name, and he can’t make heads of tails of languages that have characters instead of letters. She’s as lost as she was on the island. Plus, Frank has a feeling Jack wouldn’t like it.
A few months after returning to civilization, Frank reads it in the newspaper: “Oceanic 815 survivor Sun Kwon buys Paik Industries just before giving birth to baby girl.”.
Fuck Jack, Frank decides.
He waits a couple of months, and then googles Paik Industries, typing with one finger while biting savagely into an apple. Sun is no longer a private citizen lost in an unreadable phone book. She has an office now, and a public phone number and a secretary whom Frank hangs up on without saying a word.
Re: Frank/Sun, kissing Pt 2
Date: 4/19/10 08:22 pm (UTC)The guys at work tease him about wanting to take vacation time in Korea of all places. “Got a girl there?” they ask. He wants to punch them, because they’re more right than they know, except that they aren’t right at all.
When he gets to the lobby, he asks the receptionist to let Sun Kwon know that Frank Lapidus is there to see her. It takes some wrangling, between the language barrier, the culture barrier, and the fact that he doesn’t have an appointment much less a plausible way of convincing the receptionist that he isn’t a psycho-stalker (maybe he is). In the end, he finds a young secretary with a weakness for sweaty, blue-eyed pilots. She’s planning on quitting the next day, so she has nothing to lose in helping him.
“Mrs. Kwon, a Mr. Lapidus is here to see you.” Frank doesn’t speak a word of Korean, but some things don’t need translating. He’s standing outside the door of the big boss’s office as the girl announces him. He can hear a chair scratch against the floor and Sun’s quiet voice repeat, “Lapidus?” Something happens, Frank’s little friend sounds terrified, and then the door closes.
This was a terrible idea.
“She doesn’t know anyone named Lapidus,” the secretary says. “Please follow me to the exit.”
Well, shit. “I hope I didn’t get you into trouble,” Frank apologizes, feeling crushed. The girl glares at him.
On his way out, another woman, running by him without acknowledging him, slips an envelope into his hand and keeps going. Frank pretends nothing’s happened until he reaches a bar down the street. He definitely needs a drink after all that.
Inside the envelope are a key and a note.
The address is below, written in both Western letters and Korean characters.
Frank downs his whiskey. And then another.
Re: Frank/Sun, kissing Pt 3
Date: 4/19/10 08:23 pm (UTC)“If I hadn’t known you were coming, I would not have recognized you. You look different without your beard.” She always had a knack for saying it like it was; Frank never knew if it was lack of native English fluency or just her personality.
“That was just something I was trying out back then when I didn’t have a real job,” he replies as she ushers him in. He hopes that ‘different’ means ‘better’.
This sleek, modernist apartment is just as jarring as her suit. Just as Frank’s wondering to himself what the hell he’s doing here, Sun asks, “So what brings you here? Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine. I just wanted to check on you.”
Sun studies him again and then leans in to give him a little peck on the cheek that quickly turns into a full-body hug. Sun grips Frank much more tightly than he expected, and he has a feeling she’s repressing the urge to burst into tears.
“Thank you,” she whispers into his shirt pocket.
It should be the most awkward experience of his life, but Frank’s suddenly oddly at home. Ill-advised as this visit was, Frank’s glad now that he came.
“Where’s the rugrat?” he asks, still holding her.
“She’s asleep. Come, I will show her to you. But shhhh…” Sun wraps her tiny hand around his and leads him to the other end of the apartment. She pushes the door in a little to show a sweet toddler fast asleep. She’s the spitting image of the poor screaming bastard who haunts Frank’s nightmares. At the sight of her, whatever crazy fantasies Frank had entertained about this visit are gone; the guilt is back and he wonders how he ever thought he could deserve to make a move.
When Sun closes the door again, Frank says, “She’s beautiful.”
“Thank you. Would you like something to drink?”
“Sure,” he says, hoping that she’ll give him lemonade or something, because he’s still getting over that whiskey.
“How long are you here for?” Sun asks on the way to kitchen. She gestures for him to go out on the balcony, where he finds two lounge chairs.
“Just a few days.”
“Where are you staying?” she asks next, just before reappearing on the balcony with a tray holding two glasses and a bottle of that fancy French-looking pink lemonade he’s seen sometimes in expensive airplane bars.
Frank shrugs, watching as she pours them both a drink. “Some hotel near the airport. I have no idea what it’s called.”
Sun shakes her head and takes his hand again. “No you aren’t. You’re staying here, for as long as you want. I can show you around the city tomorrow, if you like.”
Frank isn’t sure what comes over him, but he takes advantage of their already joined hands to bring hers to his lips. He kisses the soft skin lightly, fixing blue eyes on brown. “Thanks, Sun.”
“It’s my pleasure. I have often thought about how nice it would be to see you.”
“I’m really sorry,” he blurts out, apropos of nothing. The sweet way she’s looking at him, how nice she’s being---he doesn’t deserve it and he feels like he’s the only one who sees the elephant in the room.
“It wasn’t your fault. I don’t blame you,” she says, and then bends over to return his hand kiss with another one on the cheek. Frank feels his face turn red.
He breathes a sigh of relief on his own behalf and tries not to get too excited, but something hard in her voice makes him afraid for the people she does hold responsible.
Lost, Miles/Daniel, forced to share a bed + hot nights + kissing + sorta cuddling, PG13
Date: 4/19/10 09:54 pm (UTC)If you had asked him on the freighter, he’d have laughed in your face. Because really. Sharing a bed with Daniel Faraday in the seventies in the worst tropical heat ever existed?
Yeah. Not really. Thank you so much, just not his thing.
Except that circumstances change people, or something like that, and it’s not like the Dharma people here decided that they could give them separate places. No, they gave them one house with three rooms. Now, Juliet got one because she’s the only woman and all that jazz and of course Sawyer bunked in with Jin, he’s the one he’s known longest anyway.
And that’s how he ended up with Daniel, who has stopped being in shock over Charlotte for maybe three days now or so, and Miles really would like to know what the fuck he should do. Daniel hangs around all day looking at that journal and trying not to stare at the younger version of Charlotte who conveniently lives almost next door, and during the night he just sticks to his side of the bed.
But this particular night the heat is insufferable and there’s something about the way Daniel lies still that makes Miles almost snap. It bothers him enough that he decides to do something, anything, and the first idea he has is reaching out a hand towards Daniel’s hip.
He expected him to flinch. He doesn’t. He actually arches back.
A-ha. Miles decides to be bold and even if his senses scream that he doesn’t need fucking body heat of anything, he reaches forward and moves closer until his arm lies across Daniel’s stomach.
Daniel actually moves and presses back against him.
This is fucking unbelievable.
“You don’t… you don’t have to,” Daniel mutters, even if it sounds like he’s saying it because it’s proper and not because he wants to.
“Genius, I know I don’t have to. Shut up,” Miles answers back, his voice less harsh than he had planned, and if Daniel moves backwards a bit, well, Miles asked for it.
“I… I mean it. Don’t, don’t feel like you should…”
Miles rolls his eyes and pushes on Daniel’s side so that he rolls over and they’re face to face.
“I don’t fucking feel like I should anything. I just give a damn about you. That so hard to get? One would think it can’t be harder than string theory or whatever it is.”
Daniel bites his lip, his cheek flushed, obviously not knowing what to do with it even if his eyes tell another story (translation: that he’s fucking happy to hear it), and Miles decides that really, at this point, he can safely allow himself not to give a damn and just act.
He moves closer and kisses Daniel, and for a second he thinks he royally fucked things up; then Daniel surges a bit up and presses back in a way that is both eager and tentative, obviously not expecting this. And Miles, well, Miles figures that he’s doing something right, praise somebody, and he doesn’t let go until he has thoroughly made his point.
And considering that, when they part, for the first time in weeks Daniel looks something close to okay instead of close to outright suicide wannabe, he figures that he isn’t doing a bad job.
When he throws his arm around Daniel again and complains something about the fucking heat, he’s pleased to hear the ghost of a laugh echoing in the room.
Re: LOST, Sawyer/Juliet, Hot Days and Domesticity
Date: 4/19/10 10:01 pm (UTC)That she then put on his chest...
OMG I LOVE YOU.
That was hot and adorable. I love that Juliet clearly wants to have sex, but he's so hot that he can't even think about it. And she suggests shower sex! *dies*
But I think my favorite part was poor Sawyer.
He’s going to kill himself for what he’s about to say but the thought of hot, sweaty sex while the tiny yellow house is acting like an oven is making his temperature sky rocket. He can’t even say it, just gives her this pathetic ass look until she laughs,
This was perfect! Thank you so much. <3
Re: mad men, peggy/pete, kissing
Date: 4/19/10 10:09 pm (UTC)Excuse me for a minute, I have to go pick my jaw up off the floor.
DUDE. This is fantastic. You write these two perfectly, the way Peggy pulls away, the way she puts on a act, and that kind of puppy dog thing Pete does. And I kind of love that he takes these risks in front of Trudy (that makes me a bad person right?)
Also the hotness. OMG, the hotness.
And this is made of win:
He finishes the iced tea for her.
GUH. Thank you so much for this!
Re: mad men, peggy/pete, kissing
Date: 4/19/10 10:16 pm (UTC)*cough chance meetings cough*
You're bad for wanting that - but we can bad together. Let's plot ;)
Re: Frank/Sun, kissing Pt 3
Date: 4/19/10 10:24 pm (UTC)Your Frank voice is a thing of beauty. I love that he notices her in the midst of the craziness of season four and that they talk and he can't stop thinking about her.
The part where he can still feel her fingers pressed against his back long after she's gone? That did funny things to my heart.
In the end, he finds a young secretary with a weakness for sweaty, blue-eyed pilots.
THIS. OMG, I feel like that secretary is all of us because who wouldn't give Frank exactly what he wants? ;)
And then there was hand kissing and cheek kissing which are like bullet proof kinks for me. It's such a charming gesture.
This whole fic is so beautiful and feels so real. I'm just going to go ahead and call it canon.
Thank you so, so much for writing this! It's amazing. :D
Re: LOST, Sawyer/Juliet, Hot Days and Domesticity
Date: 4/20/10 12:33 am (UTC)I thought about taking it further with the ice but then it would have been epically long and no longer comment fic ;)
THank you for the compliments :)
Re: Lost, Miles/Daniel, forced to share a bed + hot nights + kissing + sorta cuddling, PG13
Date: 4/20/10 01:29 am (UTC)I swear you just hit every kink I have in one kickass comment fic. Sharing a bed? Check. Hot night time kissing? Check. Cuddling? Yep. And that's not to mention the part where it's Miles and Dan.
You write both of these boys so well. Your Miles voice is stunning, it's so snarky and defensive, but you can see how much he cares under all of the bravado. And Miles caring about anyone makes me happy, but him caring about Dan makes me doubly so.
When he throws his arm around Daniel again and complains something about the fucking heat, he’s pleased to hear the ghost of a laugh echoing in the room.
This made me grin like a crazy person. *happy sigh*
Thank you so, so much for this! :D
Re: Lost, Miles/Daniel, forced to share a bed + hot nights + kissing + sorta cuddling, PG13
Date: 4/20/10 07:50 am (UTC)I don't write the pairing that often even if I love it so it's awesome to hear you liked it! ;) And I just couldn't help myself using more than one thing on the list, since they worked well together anyway. Also much glad to get the seal of approval on the both of them, also because Daniel is haaard. I'm so happy that you liked it, thank you so much again!! :DDD <3
Re: Frank/Sun, kissing Pt 3
Date: 4/20/10 12:19 pm (UTC)Harry Potter, Remus/Sirius, scars, PG
Date: 4/20/10 02:45 pm (UTC)“Moony, don’t you ever wish things were different?” he asks with something like mourning in his voice.
It’s a very blunt question, although Sirius sort of pretends to look into the fire, not at Remus’ arms and the endless scars, disappearing somewhere into his sleeves. So many marks, as if he would’ve slashed his arms over and over again in some desperate, angry fit – which, of course, isn’t very far from the truth. But Sirius is nothing if not blunt and none of them would want him any other way; Remus certainly wouldn’t.
It’s also a very leading question, although these days everyone wishes things were different. The war separates friends and it’s not like Remus would’ve asked them to stay over at full moon on the night they all happened to be home. Free nights are too precious, between this and that mission. Easier to forget that once upon a time, Sirius would spend mornings trying to make his scars go away by distracting him; never wished them away, staring at flames. There were fewer of them then, so Remus could almost succumb to the illusion, for a while.
It’s not unbearable, but then, Remus has come to notice, few things are. “You don’t miss what you’ve never had,” he says without bitterness.
That’s not quite true, it's just that he never makes unreasonable wishes.
end.
I’ll come to your meme and make depressing things out of your kinks, ha!
Re: Harry Potter, Remus/Sirius, scars, PG
Date: 4/20/10 04:04 pm (UTC)*tackles you*
THIS. You wrote my OTP! And they have to be angsty, no worries, that's their thing. :D
This is so good, I love the line about the scars disappearing into his sleeve (Oh, Remus) and it's so haunting, the way Sirius is pulling away from him just breaks my heart. But still...GUH. My boys, I've missed them so!
Thank you so much for this!
Re: Lost, Miles/Daniel, forced to share a bed + hot nights + kissing + sorta cuddling, PG13
Date: 4/20/10 05:46 pm (UTC)Re: Harry Potter, Remus/Sirius, scars, PG
Date: 4/20/10 07:50 pm (UTC)I've never posted any R/S, but I happened to feel very nostalgic last week and re-read an old favourite fic with them - an epic of over 30 chapters - so I was still in that sort of mood.
Thanks! :)
Re: Lost, Miles/Daniel, forced to share a bed + hot nights + kissing + sorta cuddling, PG13
Date: 4/20/10 10:30 pm (UTC)Dollhouse, Adelle/Dominic, Scars (PG-13)
Date: 4/21/10 03:08 am (UTC)Her scar has faded over time, into a pale skinny line pointing towards her navel. Laurence traces it with his finger, and occasionally his tongue. She calls him a sadist when it does it, that he enjoys the memory a little too much. He tells her it’s a reminder of what they’re capable of. It’s as close to sentimentally that they can manage.
“How’s this gonna end?”
“Badly.”
Even now, when things are allegedly back to normal, they circle each other like the chair is still downstairs. They’ve both tried to end it, her with lazy apathy, and him with drunken tirades. But the alternative is what brings them back here. A kinder, gentler America is no place for someone who’s bargained their soul to the quick.
“I wasn’t trying to kill you.”
He only believes this when the guilt creeps in, when there’s something in the way she touches him that makes him forget why they’re here in the first place. She says, “Yes, you were,” because haven’t earned the luxury. “I thought you would die too. I was disappointed when you didn’t.”
The scar could fade eventually, rubbed away by bath scrubs and loofahs. She wonders if they’d take that as a sign that this should fade too, that whatever they’re clinging to is too old to be of any use anymore. Maybe they’ll drift instead of splinter, walk away with a modicum of function instead a bitter, fractured mess.
“Maybe it’ll disappear.”
“It was a bullet Dewitt; they’re called war wounds for a reason.”
It’s just as well. They probably haven’t earned that either.