Five Acts Round II
Aug. 27th, 2010 07:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kricketsINSTRUCTIONS
+ Post a list of your five favorite acts/kinks to read about. Check out this list if you need some inspiration. At the bottom, add what fandoms/pairings you're interested in.
+ Read other people's lists; the master list of lists is here.
+ Post comment-fic based off of other people's lists.
My Five Themes/Kinks
01. scars, tattoos, freckles, etc.
02. angst & dark themes, but not without some sweetness/hope/positivity
03. post apocalyptic/dystopias/etc.
04. travel, journeys, road trips and old motels, ghost towns, abandoned places, highways, trains, nomads
05. absence, denial or urgency leading to partially clothed, frantic, desperate, etc.
Pairings & Such
LOST jack/claire!, jack/sawyer/claire!, richard/alex!, sun/jack, sawyer/claire, saywer/jack, sun/michael, jin/michael, jin/michael/sun
BSG tucker/sam, sam/galen, ellen/sam!, kara/leoben, sam/leoben
CHUCK awesome/sarah [huh?]
GREY'S mark/owen!, owen/mark/lexie, arizona/alex, april/derek, april/jackson, jackson/cristina
FRINGE charlie/olivia!, olivia/other-charlie, charlie/peter
TSCC derek/allison!
DOLLHOUSE mag/zone!, alpha/echo!, priya/topher!, anthony/paul, topher/claire,
SGA ronon/sheppard!, elizabeth/rodney
HARPER'S henry/shane, abby/henry [no non-con/creepy henry please], shane/abby, sully/henry, shea/sully!, sully/shane
UGLY BETTY betty/daniel!
FIREFLY simon/mal!, river/simon, river/simon/mal
VERONICA MARS dick/logan, mac/dick!, veronica/dick
QaF [US] brian/michael, lindsay/brian
JERICHO jake/eric!
HAVEN duke/nathan
THE PACIFIC chuckler/leckie!, leckie/chuckler/stella!
TRUE BLOOD sookie/alcide
WRITTEN
tell us what's wrong [and what's right]; dollhouse, topher/priya; for
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
faded_facade's forbidden promptRECEIVED
dollhouse; alpha/echo; for prompt tattoos & apocalypse; by
toestastegood![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
dollhouse, alpha/echo, tattoos, apocalypse (epitaph one/two 'verse)
Date: 2010-08-28 12:15 am (UTC)With a clever tongue and worshipful fingers, he spends far too much time lavishing attention on the tattooed words.
I am Echo, it says. Nothing fancy. No delicate script - this isn't about decoration. This is about survival.
Echo. She is Caroline, sure, but she's Echo too. She's Echo more.
"I love this," Alpha says. She lies nude on her front in his bed, her hair spilling over the pillow. She looks over her shoulder at him and grins. The sight of him stirs a wicked desire at her centre. The muscles and strength of his body, the paleness of his skin, that look in his eyes - still deranged, still in love with her. Desire is a powerful aphrodisiac all on its own. "These words. We should have had them long before this started."
"No need for them before that," Echo points out.
"Need isn't everything," Alpha says. He looks at her with eyes like crystals: hard, shattering. "You are Echo."
She tries to smile because she wants to laugh. She wants to be innocent again and pretend that life is still easy. "You are Alpha," she answers. It's the only truth she knows.
He presses his mouth against her birthmark once more, while his hand slips lower - pushing between her open thighs. Clever fingers, wicked mouth, stunning brain. Her breath shudders and she rests her head against the pillow. Surrender is so easy.
The skin of her tattoo is well-healed and no longer sensitive, but underneath Alpha's tongue it feels alive. Her breath comes in shuddering breaks; she is falling apart for him, just for him, and can't bring herself to care. She wants this more than she should, more than is safe.
Fingers push inside of her and she hears Alpha murmuring against her skin: reading the words of her tattoo over and over and over again, letting them blend with the words of his own. The two mix and burn and meld. I am AlphaEcho. They are the same, the pair of them. They are linked by an ability that no one else has.
When it gets too much, when he pushes her to a precipice that threatens to consume her, she relies on programmed speed to let her move. He's on his back in an instant and she straddles him, facing the concrete wall. Her wet heat slides down upon him and she rides, her hips moving in steady, aching jerks. Her back faces him, tattoo on display, and his fingers brush over it with every thrust, obsessed in a way that only a lovesick ex-psychopath knows how to be.
She's got a death wish, they tell her.
She doesn't care, she tells them.
They fuck as the world dies outside; they fuck because it's dying and they are alive and it's the one thing they can do to celebrate that fact. Her heart beats. Her lungs breathe. She lives, gloriously - and so does he.
Re: dollhouse, alpha/echo, tattoos, apocalypse (epitaph one/two 'verse)
Date: 2010-08-28 11:10 pm (UTC)I love these two lines:
She's got a death wish, they tell her.
She doesn't care, she tells them.
Thank you!
Re: dollhouse, alpha/echo, tattoos, apocalypse (epitaph one/two 'verse)
Date: 2010-08-30 12:07 am (UTC)Grey's Anatomy, Mark/Owen, angst/dark themes
Date: 2010-08-29 02:03 am (UTC)Owen is curled up behind the reception desk, knees to chest, hands pressed tightly over ears. Everyone is standing around, no one is doing anything, just staring, just murmuring, someone is even flipping through some damn PTSD book, and Mark pushes his way through.
Kneeling on the floor, Mark keeps his hands at his sides. He doesn't to flip through some book to know that's a good idea.
"Owen?" he says carefully, remaining still until Owen meets his eyes.
"Former soldier," Owen whispers, hands kneading themselves together. "He served two tours in Iraq, got home yesterday. This morning he goes to get breakfast for his wife and little girl, surprise them, you know? And he walks into a holdup." His eyes involuntarily focus on the sheet-covered body a few feet away.
"It's not fair," Mark says softly. Owen shakes his head once, twice, and then Mark wraps his arms around him. Owen folds into him, hands still clenching and unclenching at his sides as he presses his face into Mark's shoulder.
"I want to be safe," Owen whispers into Mark's skin. "I want to be back from there, and be here, and not be afraid anymore."
"I know," Mark murmurs, "I know," rocking them gently back and forth, fingers rubbing expert circles up and down Owen's neck.
The One - (Sawyer/Claire, Road Trip)
Date: 2010-08-30 02:18 am (UTC)"Almost there, Claire." Sawyer whisked his hand over Claire's bandanna-covered eyes with one hand, while the other gripped the car wheel.
With her eyes covered Claire used her other senses to try and guess where Sawyer was taking her for her birthday. When the car made a left, the asphalt changed to rocky gravel and Claire smiled with excitement dancing in her heart.
The car came to a stop and Sawyer got out and led Claire out of it. With his hands on her hips and he walking behind her, he guided her forward.
"Happy Birthday, sweetheart." Sawyer slid the blindfold from Claire's face, who gasped instantly as she was allowed to view her surroundings.
She turned to Sawyer and beamed wildly before kissing him. "I love you."
"And I love you too."
At the Victorian Alps, they stood side by side on the top of a mountain that looked hand crafted by God himself. The sun was just now setting, casting colors Claire and Sawyer had never known existed. The sun was like a half-eaten peach sinking into the jaded horizon.
Sawyer looked to Claire, who stared at the scene with awe. Her eyes reflecting the sun and her golden locks of hair were complimented by the pink and orange casts of fading light. And in that moment Sawyer knew: She was the one.
a picture's worth a thousand words, jack/claire/sawyer, PG, travel
Date: 2010-08-30 06:07 pm (UTC)The boys are a few stalls away from her, their heads bent over a collection of knives. They’re standing close enough for their hands to brush together; Sawyer’s grinning, watching Jack out of the corner of his eye.
Claire rips the top off one of the packages of film and loads the camera as quickly as she can and then raises it to her eye. She squints through the lens until the boys are in focus and she snaps the picture, catches the moment.
There’s a satisfying sound of a pop and then the picture is in her hand. She shakes it as she crosses the short distance between them, and laughs when Sawyer’s goofy grin is the first thing to appear.
“Whatcha got there, Goldilocks?” Sawyer drawls.
Claire passes the photo to him and watches Sawyer’s eyes narrow as he examines the expression on his own grinning face. Jack peeks over his shoulder, the corners of his lips quirking upwards in a satisfied smirk.
“Good picture.”
*
She takes a picture of Sawyer wading in the Mississippi. His shirt is off and the sun’s setting behind him, he looks back at her over his shoulder but he doesn’t smile.
She takes one of herself and Jack sprawled across a motel room bed in Tampa. Her long hair is spread across his arm, covering most of his tattoos, but she can see the red stars peaking through her yellow strands of hair when she squints.
There’s a picture of her by herself sitting on the hood of the car, legs kicking back and forth. There’s a billboard behind her. It said “God Loves You”, but only the “Loves You” made its way into the frame. Sawyer took that one while they waited for Jack to pay for the gas.
*
She stuffs them all in the glove compartment and they’re constantly spilling out when one of them reaches for a map or the flashlight. The sound of Sawyer muttering son of a bitch as dozens of pictures of their smiling faces come tumbling onto his lap is not at all uncommon.
She labels each picture with a black marker. Sometimes she writes the date, other times the place or just their names.
Jack buys her an album, tells her to fill it up if it’ll make her happy.
She kisses him by way of thanks and tosses it into the trunk. She likes her system.
*
They visit the Grand Canyon on a whim. They’re already there and only Jack’s ever been (just once; Dad put his arm around my shoulder and said that’s a big, fucking hole, son.)
Claire stands at the edge, her hand in Sawyer’s. He holds on too tightly, ready to snatch her back if need be. Jack stands on her other side, his hand resting on the small of her back.
“It is,” Claire says.
Jack turns to her, one hand above his eyes to shield the sun.
“What?”
“A big fucking hole.”
Sawyer snorts and Jack’s shoulders shake as he chuckles. Claire turns and spots a smiling couple with round faces and wide smiles. She lets go of Sawyer’s hand and waves at them. She holds up her clunky old camera.
There’s only one picture left.
“Could you take a picture of the three us?”
The woman’s already impossibly big smile gets bigger.
“Sure thing, sweetie. Are these your big brothers?”
Claire passes her the camera before taking her place between Jack and Sawyer. She slips a hand into each of their back pockets, out of sight of the camera.
“Something like that,” she says.
*
That night Claire tucks the photo in the visor before she takes her turn at the wheel. Across the bottom she prints the words, “Family Portrait.”
Lost, Alex/Richard, absence/denial/urgency, NC-17, 1/3
Date: 2010-08-30 10:06 pm (UTC)The six months prior to his trip had been marked most notably by a growing attraction to Alex, one that had proved shockingly easy to pursue. The sixteen-year-old had never been starved for attention virtually the only child among their people when she was growing up. Yet, she responded to every single stolen touch Richard took, every lingering look. Without prompting or coaxing beyond a gentle kiss or two placed on her forehead, Alex began to seek Richard out. She climbed out of her bedroom window and in his, left open to fight the oppressive heat the old Dharma houses seemed to trap inside. He wasn't in bed yet and her footsteps in the hall startled Richard, but he was, nevertheless, pleased to see her.
"Can I stay here tonight?"
"Sure."
For a while, all she wanted to do was sleep. That was fine with Richard, pleasant enough to have a girl in his arms after so long. He knew that Alex had to be the one to set the pace. Though she was an adult by his standards, he realized his standards were a bit outdated and far from Ben's standards when it came to Alex. Nights spent in Richard's arms gave way to kissing, to touching. She'd panicked a little the first time Richard undid the button on her pants, his hand moving inside, even more so when he brushed against her clit and slid a finger inside of her. Eventually and inevitably, that stopped being enough. Alex stumbled over her words as she searched for the right way to ask for sex. Luckily, Richard didn't need much prompting aside from "please" and "I want to."
After Richard was gone, when she still thought he'd be back in three weeks, Alex kept sneaking into his room, sleeping in his bed instead of her own. She could still smell him on the sheets. Three weeks seemed an impossible amount of time for a girl only just discovering what her body wanted. Six months was worse.
Lost, Alex/Richard, absence/denial/urgency, NC-17, 2/3
Date: 2010-08-30 10:08 pm (UTC)"I missed you so much," Her voice was low, words whispered close to his ear. After a moment's delay, his arms wrapped around her small frame holding her against him.
"Missed you," He closed his eyes, savoring the feel of her. He knew he should let go. There were cameras all around the docks. Putting on a show for Mikhail would certainly get back to Ben. He couldn't bring himself to let go. It wasn't until Alex, rubbing her body against him, slid her hand down his chest and abdomen, feeling him through his pants that he pulled away. "Alex--" He warned.
"Oh, relax," She rolled her eyes, letting go of him nonetheless. "I'm not stupid. The cameras are off."
"Why are they off?"
"Dad said he needed Mikhail to help with unloading the sub and there was no point wasting energy and tape for nothing."
"Still, anyone could show up." It was too risky. Alex frowned. "Tonight," He promised fearing that she'd think he'd lost interest. They picked up the boxes and set off for the Barracks.
The men spent most of the afternoon unloading the sub, leaving only the rest of the Temple's supplies to be picked up by another team. Ben made dinner to welcome Richard back, inviting Tom, Mikhail and somewhat more awkwardly, Juliet to stay. Alex changed her clothes. She was wearing a dress that she had very nearly outgrown. It was still long enough, but not as long as it was meant to be. It clung to her breasts and hips in a way it hadn't when she'd first worn it. Richard wasn't sure if it was meant as torture for him or simply a choice made from any number of her supposedly "good" clothes she'd outgrown.
It was easy enough for them to end up sitting next to each other without either having to orchestrate anything. Her nearness was maddening. Nights alone in hotel rooms had been enough to make him long for her, but being forced to wait longer was uncomfortable to say the least.
The table cloth hid their laps well enough that Richard rested his hand on her bare knee. She'd had her legs crossed at the ankles, but as Richard's hand lingered on her knee she placed both feet back on the floor, thighs parting invitingly. Years of practice had taught Richard how to easily do two things at once without betraying what he was really thinking about. So to Ben, Richard recounted his time off the Island, right hand eating with a fork while his left rested idly in his lap. In reality, Richard's fingers traced the line of Alex's inner thigh, felt heat emanating from her.
Alex was aching. She wished everyone else would just leave so Richard could make that stop. He was only making things worse as his hand pushed her skirt up. He left his hand to rest on her panties. He stole glances at her occasionally, impressed at her ability to keep her own face so impassive without near the amount of practice Richard, himself, had had. He tested the limits, however, and when his fingers pressed a little too perfectly against her, a little too hard, she took a sharp intake of air, hiding her reaction from the other guests by pretending to cough. Richard moved his hand away at that and it took all of Alex's resolve not to reach for his hand and press it against herself once more.
Instead she pretended to be interested in whatever Ben and Richard were talking about. She put her fork down and shifted in her chair, resting her chin on her left hand, her right slipping under the table cloth and into Richard's lap. He didn't stop her, not at first. He let her fingers trace the line of his cock until he felt himself getting hard. He couldn't allow this to go too far. He took her hand in his and held it.
Lost, Alex/Richard, absence/denial/urgency, NC-17, 3/3
Date: 2010-08-30 10:08 pm (UTC)When she heard the front door close, Alex counted to ten before calling to her father in his study that she was going to bed. She doubted he would come check on her. He'd been having back problems lately and the stairs exacerbated that problem. She turned off the lights in her room and climbed out the window.
The curtains were closed on Richard's windows, something that almost never happened at any of the houses. Alex ran quickly across the compound not wanting to be seen. Richard was waiting for her on the other side of his front door. He pushed the door closed, locking it just to be on the safe side before pushing Alex back against the hard wood. She moaned loudly as Richard's lips assaulted her. It felt good to finally be able to let it out after holding it in all through dinner.
Richard hiked her skirt up, fingers hooking into the waistband of her panties. They fell to the ground and Alex stepped out of them, kicking them off to the side somewhere. She looked at him with gleaming, impatient eyes. Her hands undid his belt and unzipped his trousers, demanding he take care of her now. Richard lifted her up to his waist, her back still pressed against the door as he thrust into her. She gasped. It felt so good, better than she remembered, better than she had imagined in all the time he was gone.
"Oh...Richard..." Alex's nails dug into his back through his shirt. Richard's own fingers pressed firmly into her thighs and backside. There would be marks in the morning. He wasn't worried about one's that were easily hidden by clothes, but purple marks and bites on her neck were likely to get Ben's attention. Every time, Richard told himself he had to be more careful and every time, in the heat of the moment, he forgot. Alex arched her back. "Harder."
Richard thrust into her harder and faster. Alex wrapped her legs tighter around Richard's waist. Her arms around his neck as she came, pressing him impossibly close to her. He followed moments later, astounded that he had lasted as long as he had. Alex lent back against the door still balanced on Richard's hips with the help of his strong arms. She caught her breath, pushed sweat soaked strands of hair away from her damp forehead. Richard pulled out of her, lowering her back down to the ground.
Alex's dress fell back down, covering her bare thighs. She rubbed that back of her head. "I think I hit my head on the door," She punctuated her sentence with a sigh. Richard put an arm around her shoulders. He kissed the top of her head.
"Sorry," Richard moved Alex away from the door, down the hall to the bedroom. She looked at him through hooded, sated eyes.
"I can stay here tonight?"
"At least for a while," Richard offered.
Alex pulled her dress over her head, dropping it unceremoniously on Richard's floor, and climbed into the bed. Richard hadn't realized how much he missed just holding her.
Detente, Duke/Nathan, R, scars
Date: 2010-09-05 05:19 pm (UTC)Maybe it's just the full moon, who the hell knows.
Tomorrow they'll remember all the reasons they hate each other, all the things they've said to each other that they've never had the inclination to apologise for. That they've never wanted to apologise for. They're natural opposites that are never going to do anything but crash into each other. Hard enough to hurt - at least one of them.
Nathan, for all that he can't feel a thing, can be pretty fucking sharp. But for the moment, he's still soft, still stretched out on the bed, sheet curled round his waist.
"What about this one?" Duke runs his fingers across a curving line that flicks out at the edge, low on Nathan's back.
"Which one?"
Right, he can't feel it. "An inch above your ass on the right side - kind of looks like a hockey stick."
Nathan makes a noise that sounds like he's sifting through his memory. "Piece of glass from a window I fell through, probably."
Duke can feel the faint curve of it under his finger. It must have been deep.
"Probably?"
Nathan's bare shoulders shift in a shrug.
"Maybe a nail, something sharp. I didn't notice it for a while."
Duke snorts, in a way that translates pretty much perfectly as 'only you, dude, only you.'
There's another scar near it, a ragged circle that looks like something punched in and Duke can't resist trailing his thumb round it, feeling the way the skin is soft and naked in the centre. Warm, pale, and strangely fragile.
Nathan stays perfectly still. He doesn't fidget like other people, there are no shifts of discomfort, no twitching under his lazy exploration, no resettling of weight.
Duke isn't going to pretend that the fact that Nathan can't feel anything he does isn't part of this. That it isn't, in its own way, half the reason for this.
Because no matter how much he protests that this doesn't mean anything to him Nathan will always come back. He's always end up in Duke's bed eventually. Nathan will always react, reluctantly, face buried in his arms. Like he can't help it. Like there's no way you can't feel when someone's buried that deep inside you.
I Liked My Memories As They Were, Abby/Henry, ghost town, PG
Date: 2010-09-05 06:16 pm (UTC)How would things have been different, she wondered, if he’d never been told he was adopted, if he’d lived out the rest of his life believing the Dunns were his natural parents? Would all their friends, Nikki, Sully, Trish and all the rest of them, would they still be here? Or would Henry have fixated on her anyway? I wish we could live here forever, the two of us. Would that one obsession still have taken over his mind?
Just over there was where Henry had fallen and cut his knee, he must have been about nine years old or so, when he and Abby were running from Shane. He’d got into one of his many arguments with JD, who’d got away from him and Shane seemed to think we might know where he was. Abby had taken him home, she remembered, and her mother had taken care of Henry – her son – while Shane pounded on the door and her father made the usual remark about how the Pierce kid was nothing but trouble, and that sidekick of his, Jimmy (even though Jimmy hadn’t even been there). A nice sensible kid like Henry, that was the kind of friend Abby needed. A perfectly innocent scene, Abby had thought, but knowing what she knows now makes this take on a whole new light.
That was where they’d had their party on the beach, the one Abby had organised for Henry right before he went away to college. All their friends had been there, Henry’s schoolfriend Sully who was visiting, Trish and Shea, Nikki, Kelly, Jimmy, Trish’s friend Lucy. Henry and Trish had spent a lot of that evening together, talking about how they were going to make their relationship work once they were at different colleges. But towards the end of the night, Henry had taken Abby aside, pulled her into a bear hug. “Thanks for organising this for me, Abby,” he’d whispered. “It means a lot.”
There’s so many places like that on the island, like The Cannery, where they’d sat outside and talked about how they’d have their first legal drinks there one day, while Nikki had always said she was going to run the place. Neither of them had been surprised to hear it when she actually did. Or the house Henry’s family always took for the summer, where Abby had practically lived too as long as Henry was there.
Harper’s Island has been like a ghost town ever since the massacre, and Abby suspects it will remain that way for a long time. But these memories of Henry from before are the ones she wants to hold on to.