[fic] five acts: my list
Apr. 18th, 2010 01:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
krickets
Five Acts Master Post hosted by
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
toestastegood- Post a list of your five favorite kinks/acts or themes in your journal. At the bottom, add what fandoms/pairings you're interested in.
- Comment to the master post with a link to your post.
- Read other people's lists.
- Post comment-fic based off of other people's lists.
[sounds like fun, come join us!]
My 5 Themes/Kinks
01. scars, tattoos, freckles, etc.
02. angst & dark themes, but not without some sweetness/hope/positivity
03. absence or denial leading to urgency, partially clothed, frantic, desperate, etc.
04. travel, journeys, road trips and old motels, hikes, highways, trains, nomads
05. in secret
Pairings & Such
LOST jack/claire!, jack/sawyer/claire!, richard/alex!, sun/jack, jacob/richard, jack/alex, alex/sawyer, sawyer/claire, saywer/jack, sun/michael, jin/michael, jin/michael/sun
BSG tucker/sam, sam/galen, ellen/sam!, kara/leoben, sam/leoben
GREY'S mark/owen!, owen/lexie, owen/mark/lexie, arizona/alex
FRINGE charlie/olivia!, olivia/other-charlie, charlie/peter
TSCC cameron/derek, derek/allison!
DOLLHOUSE mag/zone!, priya/anthony, anthony/paul, topher/claire, priya/topher, alpha/echo!
SGA ronon/sheppard!, elizabeth/rodney, sheppard/teyla, teyla/ronon
HARPER'S henry/shane, abby/henry, shane/abby, sully/henry, shea/sully!, shane/jimmy, abby/sully, sully/shane
BETTY betty/daniel!
FIREFLY simon/mal!, river/simon!, river/simon/mal!
VERONICA dick/logan, mac/dick!, veronica/dick
QaF [US] brian/michael, lindsay/brian
LUX baze/cate, baze/anyone
JERICHO jake/eric!
ETA:
FICS RECEIVED
DOLLHOUSE
Free Until they Cut Me Down; dollhouse, mag/zone; from
stainofmyloveclaire/topher, dollhouse, from
kay_obsessiveFRINGE
so in love with the wrong world, fringe, olivia/other-charlie, from
gigglemonsterGREY'S ANATOMY
alex/arizona, grey's anatomy, from
primarycolors92LOST
claire/jack, lost, from
gemjamclaire/jack, lost, from
toestastegoodjacob/richard, lost, from
wandersfoundjack/sawyer, lost, by
haldoorjack/sawyer, lost, by
ciaimpalaout of the ashes we might be reborn, jack/sun, lost, from
ozmissagejack/sun, lost, from
lenina20 STARGATE ATLANTIS
ronon/sheppard, stargate atlantis, from
nightswhisperronon/teyla, stargate atlantis, from
medieTERMINATOR: THE SARAH CONNOR CHRONICLES
Skin for Scars; allison/derek; from
krazykipperUGLY BETTY
betty/daniel, ugly betty, from
dreamsofspikeFICS WRITTEN
DOLLHOUSE
come on, all ye reborn; dollhouse, alpha/echo; r; for
toestastegooda kiss with a fist [is better than none]; dollhouse, topher/paul; pg13; for
dreamsofspikeFIREFLY
to keep you warm; firefly, jayne/river; pg13; for
wandersfoundthe hardest button to button; firefly, mal/simon; r; for
haldoorGREY'S ANATOMY
in your wake; grey's, cristina/preston; pg13; for
primarycolors92LIFE UNEXPECTED
confession unsaid; life unexpected, baze/cate; r; for
nightswhisperLOST
the far distant spring; lost, alex/richard; r; for
mollivanderswho is the lamb?; lost, claire/jack, esau/jacob; r; for
hitlikehammersburn down the house [see what comes out clean]; lost, claire/jack; pg13; for
823frecklesevery road takes us farther from home; lost, claire/jack; r; for
lenina20there is no moon; lost, claire/jack; r!; for
ozmissagethe birds won't sing; lost, claire/jack/sawyer; for
gigglemonsterit will go on; lost, jacob/richard; r; for
aurillybooks and covers; lost, jack/shannon; pg13; for
gemjamdust off our memories; lost, sayid/sun; for
zelda_zeeSTARGATE: ATLANTIS
a storm on the wind; sga, jennifer/ronon; for
medieVERONICA MARS
polish it 'til it shines; veronica mars, leo/veronica; pg13; for
ciaimpala![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
Lost, Jack/Sawyer, scars/tattoos, angst/hope, journeys/motels, R (979 words) part one of two
Date: 2010-04-22 01:57 am (UTC)Rolling over in the early morning sunlight, Jack squinted towards the doorway, taking in Sawyer's lean frame shadowed in brightness as he leaned against the frame, cigarette in hand and smoke trailing lazily from the corner of his mouth. He wore only jeans, and his feet were bare.
Jack took in the posture since he was unable to see a facial expression with the sun as it was behind Sawyer. He was worried about something. He hadn't been this tense last night, nor for some time, in fact; neither of them had. The travelling life seemed to suit both of them these days; it was hard to settle down after everything they'd seen and done, and any case, why did they need to?
Prising himself off the bed, Jack quickly pulled on his shorts and headed towards the door. Sawyer, sensing the movement, turned back towards the room, flicking the cigarette stub out into the parking lot of the motel.
"Hey." His voice was whisky-smooth and more relaxed than his posture had been. "Rise and shine time, huh?" He slung an arm across Jack's back as he approached and nuzzled into his neck, uncaring of who could see across the courtyard outside the open door.
"What's up, Sawyer?" Jack arched his neck, letting Sawyer lick and kiss at him, savouring the warmth that started trickling through his body because of it. Why should he care either; no one knew them out here.
"Up?" Sawyer murmured against his skin, making him shiver deliciously, and using his spare hand to flick the door closed before backing Jack towards the bed. "Why should anything be up, 'cept this?" The smirk on his face as he guided Jack's hand to his crotch made Jack grin despite himself.
Sawyer could change moods faster than most, but it didn't mean he'd forgotten anything. Jack squeezed lightly, causing Sawyer to hiss softly; he was half-hard already.
"You looked uneasy just now. Need anything?" Jack didn't give up the playful look; teasing was more effective with Sawyer than demands.
"What I need," Sawyer told him, heated look shifting from his eyes down to the obvious bulge now growing in Jack's boxers, "is right in front of me." He waggled his eyebrows and gave Jack a push so he bounced into the mattress.
Sawyer's jeans were off quicker than Jack could shift back and rid himself of his shorts, and then he was covering Jack's body with his own, fair hair glinting magically in the sunlight as Jack looked up at him. Jack's eyes slid over Sawyer's chest, and he touched the scar on Sawyer's left arm lightly, seeing in his mind's eye the swollen bloat of infection he'd had when Jack first saw it. Strangely, it wasn't off-putting; it reminded him of what they'd been through to get this far, how desperately he'd felt the need to fix Sawyer way back then.
Lost, Jack/Sawyer, scars/tattoos, angst/hope, journeys/motels, R (979 words) part two of two
Date: 2010-04-22 01:58 am (UTC)"What do you see when you do that, Doc?"
"Same as you do when you touch my tattoos, I suppose," Jack answered after a moment's thought.
Sawyer snorted, like he couldn't imagine they saw the same things, but Jack was fairly sure it couldn't be too different, even if he had gotten the tattoos before he and Sawyer ever knew the other existed.
Propping himself up over Jack on one arm as Jack continued to trace the pattern of scars on his golden skin, Sawyer smiled dreamily down at him, free hand straying to the tattoos. It tickled lightly, but Jack didn't mind and he held still, ceasing his own finger motion as he watched Sawyer's green-blue eyes deepen in thought.
After a few silent moments, Sawyer met his eyes again. "I wanna find something."
Desire didn't completely disappear at the words, but Jack's heart thumped solidly and he swallowed cautiously before asking, "Find what?"
"Not sure you'll agree to it." Sawyer looked as worried as before suddenly, his tension practically crackling between their bodies to make Jack feel equally as afraid all of a sudden.
"What is it?"
"A place." Sawyer almost shifted off him, but Jack held him there, questioning with his eyes. He thought about asking again, but Sawyer knew what Jack wanted to know. It took a while, but Sawyer finally went on. "We been together a while now, Doc, ya know? Been through a lot. This—what we have—is more'n I've had before. Just…" He rolled his eyes, his difficulty with the admission obvious.
"Sawyer, I know all that. Just tell me. I'm not going to run screaming from the room, okay?"
Sawyer licked his lip carefully, shifting so that a frisson of their interrupted lust sparked through Jack. "A place for us. Somewhere to stop. Ain't we done enough running now? Don't ever have to go back there." He was still on edge and the frown that marred his perfect brow made him look older than it should.
Was that all? Jack smiled, putting his hand around Sawyer's neck and pulling him in for a long, slow kiss. Sawyer responded slowly, but Jack could feel the tension ease out of his body as the kiss deepened.
"Yeah," Jack said when they finally parted for breath, "Let's do that."
SGA, Teyla/Ronon, scars/tattoos, (618 words)
Date: 2010-04-22 03:58 am (UTC)If asked, Teyla would tell the tales of her people. Sing the songs, repeat the rites, and paint pictures in the air with the gestures of hand and body. If asked, Ronon wouldn't answer at all, but remember the archives and computers buried deep beneath Satedan ground. There still, if one knew where to look and had the codes for entrance. Records and histories both, painstakingly preserved in their way, but not theirs.
Not in ways which matter. They are stories and histories carried in thought and memory. In careful repetition and lessons learned. Not in the beat of a heart, or the rasp of breath through throat and lung, and not in the touch of fingers on skin.
The stories marked in blood and ink.
Ronon catches Teyla about the waist. His arm pulls her even as his body twists, bringing her up and over his hip with the speed of the motion. Her hair whirls about them, falling loose from its binding, and the scent she favors fills the air.
He tries to savor it, to remember that morning, her body slick and wet against his while his hands had worked it through her hair. She doesn't give him a chance. She moves in a way he can't describe, slipping free of his hold.
Her bare feet strike the mat with a slap and she dances away. He recognizes, in the steps, the story told of a harvest centuries ago. The Wraith had attacked, their weapons fire setting the forests around carefully hidden Athosian fields to burn, and a generation of elders had died to save them.
Ronon has learned the dances of the Athosians, watched each and every one she's performed, seen the ways of war buried in the stories of old. It's no help as she pivots away, changing the step, and the sticks in her hands make contact with his body.
Stinging blows that send him forward, stumbling despite reflex, and she laughs. It's soft, caught in the back of her throat, but he hears it nonetheless.
Ronon knows the attack is coming. Can feel the whistle of weapon through air long before Teyla actually moves. Seconds pass, stretching out, and he turns to block it. She isn't there.
He catches a flicker of motion, fabric and flesh, and he's falling.
"Nice," he says, breath gusting out of him with the impact. He reaches for her again. This time, when his hands touch her, she doesn't break the hold. She settles onto him in one graceful motion, knees pressed into the mat on either side, watching with a little smile.
Ronon ignores the scrutiny in favor of some of his own. With gentle fingers, he follows the lines of her body. Teyla's scars are difficult to see. Athosian ointments and creams liberally applied have blended and smoothed them into the skin. It's a victory, he knows, that has nothing to do with shame. The Wraith may not mark her any more than Teyla will permit.
He finds one, a long curved mark at the line of her top, and his touch lingers. Ronon can feel the catch of her breath, watches her chest rise and fall, and then lifts his eyes to hers.
Teyla's little smile grows and she reaches, with two fingers, to trace the tattoo marking his arm. Beneath it, hidden by ink, there is a faint hint of scarred flesh. He remembers seeing the jagged wood stained with blood, as he'd fallen back through the window, but forgetting the wound under the fury of Wraith fire.
He watches her fingers. His own find her laces, working them loose, tugging and pulling. In moments, her clothing will be scattered about them, his to follow moments after that.
Alone, in the press of skin, their story's told.
Re: SGA, Teyla/Ronon, scars/tattoos, (618 words)
Date: 2010-04-22 04:10 am (UTC)I loved this line so much:
The Wraith may not mark her any more than Teyla will permit.
God, that is 100% Teyla.
You've captured them both so well!
*claps*
Thank you! Thank you!
Re: SGA, Teyla/Ronon, scars/tattoos, (618 words)
Date: 2010-04-22 04:16 am (UTC)This is gorgeous. So fluid and poetic and SO very them.
So much emotion in this too. It really is lovely :)
Re: Lost, Jack/Sawyer, scars/tattoos, angst/hope, journeys/motels, R (979 words) part two of two
Date: 2010-04-22 04:31 am (UTC)I loved the image of them standing in the doorway together, not caring who saw. Very hot. Hehe.
Thank you!
♥!
RononShep - secret, angst, frantic - PG13
Date: 2010-04-22 05:21 am (UTC)Sheppard hated this feeling, empty, desperate, almost afraid. He despised how it rushed over him whenever one of his team, one of his friends, went missing or the worst was presumed. He hated the calm exterior he was forced to uphold. Every time was harder, worse, and another punch in the gut. But this, this was too much.
HE had been missing for three days. Sheppard wasn’t stupid. He knew if anyone could survive on that planet it was Ronon. But there were so many things stacked against him. There were so many things that could go wrong. He keeps a strong face, and when on the fourth day he stumbles back through the gate he almost doesn’t believe that it’s him.
He’s covered in fresh marks and bruises, some he’s sure will leave their mark. He’s immediately shuttled off to the infirmary, which is where the colonel stalks. He watches, and waits, and avoids all the questioning looks.
As soon as the runner’s released, to be sent to his own quarters, Sheppard stalks. He waits, and when he knows no person or patrol member is watching he comes up behind the warrior, grabs his arm, and pulls him into the nearest nook he can think of. Ronon doesn’t protest, having sensed him long before even Sheppard realized.
They collide, teeth and tongue and sweat. Their actions are rushed, simply seeking an establishment of reconnection. Sheppard needs to know he’s alive. He needs to inspect each new mark, to know them, and to make sure the warrior isn’t being to stubborn. But they must be brief; there is no time for what each other truly wants. Far too much is at stake should someone unexpected pop up.
Sheppard’s job for one. Anything they could have for another. And that is before dignity.
Body relaxed of some of its tension, with hands reluctant to leave, Sheppard slips back out of their place. He walks back the way he came. His uniform is straightened, his hair perpetually a mess is fine, and no sign of his distress can be detected in his face. He can’t resist licking his lips, which still faintly taste of the other, knowing that an in depth check will occur that evening in a certain abandoned room in the lower city.
Re: Lost, Jack/Sawyer, scars/tattoos, angst/hope, journeys/motels, R (979 words) part two of two
Date: 2010-04-22 05:50 am (UTC)Re: RononShep - secret, angst, frantic - PG13
Date: 2010-04-22 05:56 am (UTC)♥!
Dollhouse, Mag/Zone, scars, NC17
Date: 2010-04-22 11:05 am (UTC)Free Until They Cut Me Down
--------------------
He's pretty sure that he knows every single scar on her body, but he's never seen a one. Been traveling--fuck, "traveling?" What a joke. Surviving is more like it. Getting by and not much else. Blowing up shit. Been doing that with Mag for about two months. It's the longest any companion of his has managed to stay alive, and he wants to say that it's a surprise--that she's too much of a girl sometimes, cries at night when she thinks he's asleep. He says so constantly, just to mock her, but he doesn't really believe that. She's tough, deep down. Knows when she's gotta be strong and comes through. So far.
She's probably got a long, jagged scar on her right shoulder blade. She'd been trying to help some pimple-faced tween they'd never even met before, and a butcher had gotten her there with an ax. It was a glancing blow, didn't cause too much damage, but she bled everywhere and refused to let him sew her up. He guesses that she didn't trust him yet--'cause the next time she needed it, she did. Bitched and moaned the whole time, but let him.
She's got one on her right bicep, that he's pretty damn sure of, since it's the one he stitched up. He hopes that it's neater and better healed than the rest of 'em, but it's not like he's a fuckin' doctor or anything. He's not to blame if it isn't. In fact, he doesn't care. At all. She shouldn't have risked going out on her own just for a shot at some year old Oreos. They were still pretty tasty, though. Fucking chemicals, he'd thought then. It all goes back to the tech. But that doesn't mean they waste the rest of them or anything. They're not stupid.
She's got the start of a new one on her left ankle, and it's making her walk slightly stilted and slower than usual. He's lucky she's kinda tall--it makes supporting her as they follow some old train tracks west easier, 'cause her arm around his neck isn't tugging him down too much.
"Are you doing okay?" His voice is scratchy and strained, so he clears his throat and tries again. "You gonna be able to fight if push comes to shove and shove comes to sharp metal objects?"
"I'm pretty sure I can point and shoot, yeah."
She seems kind of distant, but he'll be fucked with a chainsaw before he offers a penny for whatever thoughts are running through that crazy brain of hers.
"You seem--"
"I seem what, Zone?" she interrupts, eyes squinting through the dark at him, daring him to say one mean thing.
"Forget it," he backs down. But only because the reason she's limping along with him this time is because, well, she'd kind of saved his ass. Just a little. Barely. And she looks tired as hell, so when he spots some kind of railroad station he starts leading her there. "Sorry."
"Excuse me?" she teases, gun raised in preparation for scouting out the small building. "What was that strange word I just heard come out of your mouth?"
"I ain't saying it again."
continued at my LJ, 'cause I seriously fail at brevity ...
Re: RononShep - secret, angst, frantic - PG13
Date: 2010-04-22 12:07 pm (UTC)Re: Betty/Daniel, angst w/hope
Date: 2010-04-23 08:58 am (UTC)Dollhouse - Topher/Claire - scars - PG13
Date: 2010-04-23 12:19 pm (UTC)He knows it better than any of her other scars, despite the fact that, compared to the ones on her face, he hardly ever sees it. After all, he spent almost three years inventing stories for that scar, explanations to satisfy any clients with curious hands. Actives can’t deal with incongruities once they’re pointed out.
From her file: Whiskey – scar right hip, approx. 3 in. – correct for imprint. So she fell off her bike, or the neighbor’s cat scratched her, or she got into a fight and someone pulled a knife on her. Whatever made sense for the engagement. You could never fault him for a lack of creativity.
He thinks if she appeared one day without the scars Alpha gave her (they can do that now, and he knows she thinks of it, smoothing that history away), he’d never be able to remember their exact pattern. But he’ll always know this one.
Topher sweeps his thumb over the line of it and thinks, strangely, he can’t recall what explanation he created for Claire Saunders. (He doesn’t look at her file anymore, because that’s cheating.)
He asks her, “How did you get this scar?” and she immediately narrows her eyes. Funny how her glare is no less fierce for the way her legs are hooked around his waist and her hands are knotted in his hair. He knows she still kind of hates him and always will. He tries his damnedest to hate her, but it’s hindered by that fact that he still kind of loves her, his masterpiece in flesh. They’re buried so deeply in each other’s minds that matching the bodies only makes sense.
“I don’t know,” she says sharply in reply. “You know that.”
He corrects himself, says, “How do you think you got it?”
Claire looks at him with suspicion, slides a hand down to the back of his neck and digs her nails in, like she wants to give him his own scar just to make him explain it. Finally, she gives in and says, “Climbing a tree when I was younger. I fell.”
Topher laughs. He laughs obnoxiously hard, and she can feel the vibrations travel through their bodies. “That’s boring,” he smirks when he finally stops. “Definitely not my best.”
She yanks on his hair, makes him wince and lose that amused expression, and pulls his head down until his nose nearly touches hers. “Stop talking,” she breathes, and she presses her mouth to his to enforce the order. This doesn’t work right if he talks.
Topher feels the rough brush of scar tissue against his lips and closes his eyes, flicks his tongue across where the old wound splits nose-to-chin when she lets him pull back. He’s getting to know this one quite well, too, and thinks he might miss it when it’s gone and he can no longer picture which side of her face it marred. The little things slip away from him so easily these days. He presses his hand against her side and sighs, “Whiskey, correct for imprint.”
Claire frowns at him and says, “Losing your mind.”
“I know,” he responds, smiling.
Re: Dollhouse - Topher/Claire - scars - PG13
Date: 2010-04-23 06:32 pm (UTC)Thank you for this! :)
Re: Dollhouse, Mag/Zone, scars, NC17
Date: 2010-04-23 06:45 pm (UTC)Re: Dollhouse - Topher/Claire - scars - PG13
Date: 2010-04-23 09:03 pm (UTC)Glad you liked it! =)
so in love with the wrong world; olivia/other-charlie; scars, angst, urgency
Date: 2010-04-24 09:54 am (UTC)[fringe, olivia/other-charlie, 978 words]
this might kinda suck. mostly because i'm not sure it even makes sense lol
It started after Jacksonville.
Olivia feels like she spends all her time waiting. Waiting for something.
She can’t sleep.
She gets those calls more and more often. The ones about portals and doorways and they have to stop them all. Or else, Walter warns. They’re taking on cases like these far too often for his taste.
You get too close to the fire and you’re bound to get burned.
Maybe that’s where something inside her is innately flawed. She doesn’t feel the same fear or panic at the thought of that other world anymore.
+++
She visits Charlie’s grave.
Some days it clears her head. Others days she leaves feeling an ache in her chest so heavy that she can’t go back for weeks.
+++
Eventually things get worse. The veil is getting thinner and thinner and consequently more simple to send soldiers through – savage orders and all.
Broyles finally makes the call that it’s time to bring the fight to them. Damage control.
It’s the longest she’s ever been on this side and it makes her head pound. Everything is too bright here, the edges too sharp.
The glimmer is too strong.
+++
He doesn’t even look surprised when she shows up.
Charlie takes her out for a drink and the familiarity of it makes her breath catch in her throat.
Their beers are emptied quickly. They were only a formality anyway.
Charlie has the top button of her pants undone before they even have the door to his apartment closed. He pushes them down her legs, pulls them off and lifts her onto a side table in one swift movement.
She yanks at his tie and hears his shirt tear as she fumbles with buttons in the dark. His teeth nip at her neck and she can tell by the way his beard scratches her jaw that he hasn’t shaven in days.
Charlie doesn’t bother with her panties, just moves the fabric aside and pushes in. The table hits the wall with a rhythmic thud as he thrusts inside her, no finesse.
Olivia kisses him frantic and messy. Her tongue curls around his and she tastes beer and pretzels. His thumb fits against her clit and a stuttered gasp from her lips follows.
They come together.
Olivia hopes that there will be a bruise where his hand grips her thigh.
Re: so in love with the wrong world; olivia/other-charlie; scars, angst, urgency; pt.2
Date: 2010-04-24 10:05 am (UTC)Her Charlie didn’t have that scar. On his temple or his heart.
“What happened?” she asks, resting her head on his shoulder.
“Forgot,” he replies. Short, like a warning.
A warning she ignores.
Olivia runs a hand across his chest, over lungs and ribs covered in skin. She catalogues all the differences as she goes. She tallies them up in her mind, but it makes her feel guilty. He still feels like Charlie and that’s all that matters.
She points to another scar, long and jagged that curves around his hip.
“You,” he answers, having resigned himself to her stubbornness.
Olivia frowns and makes a questioning noise. He tells her about a bust gone wrong. Some underground trafficking scam and they got ambushed, bad.
“I got out, you didn’t,” he says, matter of fact.
Olivia had never thought to ask about herself. Her other self. It makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end to hear of her own demise.
She moves to kiss the scar, erase it from both their memories with the press of her lips. Charlie runs a hand through her hair and her mouth finds his. She takes his cock in hand, stroking him till he’s hard and aching. A moan escapes her as she guides him inside.
His hands grip her hips, pushing her down harder as she rocks on top of him. But this is nothing like their furious, hurried reunion.
Charlie trails his hand up her stomach to palm at the curve of her breast. The touch is gentle and unexpected and it makes her shudder and come. She is barely able to stay upright with the force of her orgasm and she leans forward, letting blond strands fall around Charlie’s shoulders. They lie like that for long minutes, breathing into one another.
+++
Olivia wonders if there are an infinite number of alternate Charlies.
Will there be others if something should happen to the one whose limbs are tangled in sweaty sheets with hers? Maybe she could work her way through each universe until she found one where they were safe.
Instead of a cop Charlie would be one of those professional poker players. She remembers the night he taught her how to play Texas hold 'em. She cleaned him out and he made her promise to call him if she ever took a trip to Vegas.
She’s seized from her thoughts by the feel of Charlie running a finger down the curve of her spine. It tickles but she doesn’t move. She doesn’t want him to stop.
Olivia doesn’t think of her Charlie anymore. She doesn’t remember when one stopped and the other began.
He kisses her neck and snakes an arm around her waist. His hands are rough but warm and she wants to stay. She wants him to hide her away where no one will find her.
If this were any other universe, Charlie would be the first place Olivia would look for herself.
+++
She asks him one night if ever thinks of the other Olivia. (The one who is dead and gone).
He shakes his head and she smiles.
The glimmer has worn off of everything here.
-end
Re: so in love with the wrong world; olivia/other-charlie; scars, angst, urgency; pt.2
Date: 2010-04-24 02:07 pm (UTC)Totally random, I keep thinking of Charlie telling Liv after John dies that John told him that he loved Charlie too, lol. I don't know why. Charlie's funny. ;)
Re: so in love with the wrong world; olivia/other-charlie; scars, angst, urgency; pt.2
Date: 2010-04-24 05:26 pm (UTC)Haha aww Charlie! He is funny. I loved that line. I think that was what solidified their bff-ness in my mind.
Jack/Sawyer, absence, in secret
Date: 2010-04-24 09:01 pm (UTC)And when the door is opened, and Jack has frantically pulled him inside, the wood barely slamming closed before Sawyer's jumpsuit is unzipped and his stomach flat against the nearest wall, Sawyer breathes out, "Better than the fantasy," and when Jack laughingly asks him what he means, Sawyer chuckles back and grabs Jack's ass and pulls him in tighter.
In the morning, Jack's bed is empty. Sawyer flirts with Kate at breakfast, but sneaks Jack the last packet of sugar for his coffee.
Re: Jack/Sawyer, absence, in secret
Date: 2010-04-25 01:35 am (UTC)Re: Jack/Sawyer, absence, in secret
Date: 2010-04-25 01:37 am (UTC)Re: Jack/Sawyer, absence, in secret
Date: 2010-04-25 05:08 am (UTC)Re: Jack/Sawyer, absence, in secret
Date: 2010-04-25 05:08 am (UTC)