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18 April 2010 @ 12:04 pm
Five Acts meme  
Okay, this is my list for toestastegood's AWESOME five acts meme.



Rules are:

- Post a list of your five favorite sexual acts/kinks. At the bottom, add what fandoms/pairings you're interested in.
- Read other people's lists.
- Post comment-fic based off of other people's lists.

My list (half kinks and half tropes I guess)

[PS: random order, not preference.]

1. crossdressing: okay, say what you want, but men dressed as women and viceversa totally makes me a satisfied reader. I'm okay with any degree of it, whether it's just underwear or full-on crossdressing.

2. amnesia: I have such a thing for amnesia fic. Either with just one character forgetting stuff or the both of them, it's awesome either way.

3. consensual d/s: okay, this is nothing I write usually because for some reason I'm crap at it, but give me some fully/entirely consensual d/s and I'll love you forever. I don't care if it's some 24/7 thing or not, as long as there's no non-con going on I'm a happy camper.

4. hurt/comfort: call me a sap. I can't resist it. Especially when combined with any of the other items in the list, but give me some nice h/c (as unconventional as you want) and I won't resist it. It doesn't really have to be sexual either.

5. music: which might not be a proper kink, but it's totally my thing. I like people playing instruments (and maybe character A gets turned on if character B plays), or people having sex with music in the background, hell, band AUs are totally a-okay. Hell, singing even!

Fandoms and pairings

Lost: Jack/Boone, Desmond/Sayid, Jack/Sawyer, Boone/Charlie, Jacob/Richard, any combination of Jack/Sawyer/Sayid/Boone really, Desmond/Penny, Jack/Juliet, Daniel/Desmond and Frank/anyone really are my favorites, but I'm of open views. As long as the pairing doesn't involve Locke or Ben and isn't Kate/Sawyer, Jack/Kate and Sawyer/Juliet? I'm all in.
Supernatural: Dean/Castiel, Dean/Sam/Castiel, Dean/Sam, Sam/Castiel (yeah, I totally have imagination), Ash/Andy (SO WHAT? Random but awesome XD), actually Ash/everyone, screw it, the world needs more Ash XD, Dean/Jimmy, Castiel/Jimmy (hell, Dean/Cas/Jimmy is totally awesome too). Oh, and Chuck/Becky? XD [hint: I prefer it if Dean bottoms if you go for a Dean pairing, but if he wants to top it's fine either way. ;)]
The Dark Tower series: Roland/Eddie, Cuthbert/Alain, Roland/Eddie/Susannah.
Good Omens: Crowley/Aziraphale, Newt/Anathema if you're feeling bold.
Chuck: Chuck/Bryce, Ellie/Awesome.
Deadwood: Jane/Joanie (this one is probably hopeless but hey, I'm trying XD), Sol/Trixie.
The Three Musketeers (same as the previous, but hey. Let's try it. XD): Athos/d'Artagnan, Porthos/Aramis, Rochefort/Richelieu (come on, OTP!). Also friendship and not-slash is awesome.
The Vampire porn Diaries: Damon/Alaric, Damon/any male character that isn't Jeremy or Tyler.
Firefly: Zoe/Wash, Mal/Simon.
Six Feet Under: David/Keith, Nate/Brenda.
Friday Night Lighs: Tim/Jason, possibly set before S2.
Watchmen: Daniel/Rorschach.

Okay, that covers it.

What I've written:

- Lucifer/Esau which is kinda Lucifer/War + implied Jacob/Esau (Lost/SPN crossover), reunion + hand holding, NC17 for toestastegood [spoilers for the first part of SPN S5 and up until 6x09 in Lost just to be sure]
- Jack/Boone + Sawyer (Lost), rimming + voyeurism, NC17 for haldoor
- Damon/Alaric (Vampire Diaries), knife-play, R for gottalovev
- Bryce/Chuck (Chuck), post-apocalypse + rainy weather + motels, R for gigglemonster
- Desmond/Sayid (Lost), breathplay + kissing + touching + h/c-ish stuff, NC17 for wandersfound [spoilers up to 6x12]
- Miles/Daniel (Lost), forced to share a bed + kissing + sort-of-cuddling, PG13 for ozmissage
- Damon/Alaric (Vampire Diaries), blood-play, NC17 for fullonswayzed
- past!Dean/future!Castiel (SPN), rimming + sort of biting, NC17 for mf_luder_xf
- Dean/Castiel (SPN), protectiveness + h/c, sorta, PG-ish for catoasapun
- Dean/Castiel (SPN), orgasm denial + established relationship, NC17 for invisiblelove
- Desmond/Sayid (Lost), fugitives + kissing, either light r or hard pg13 for aboutbunnies
- Ellie/Awesome (Chuck), food, pg for rayruz
- Sam/Castiel (SPN), AU + sort of staring + movies (grad!student!Sam + librarian!Cas), PG13 for hopelessfangirl
- Jack/Sawyer (Lost), stars + tattoos + light foreplay but just barely, light R or hard PG13 for gemjam
- Dean/Castiel (SPN), restraints + blowjobs + first times, NC17 for zelda_zee
- Dean/Castiel (SPN), coats + voices + h/c-ish + begging, NC17 for bold_seer
- Sam/Castiel/Dean (SPN), fingers + sort of double penetration + kissing for entangled_now
- Jack/Juliet (Lost), angst + quick + stockholm syndrome for lenina20
- Dean/Castiel (SPN), foot fetish, hard Pg13 for emerald_embers
- Jack/Sayid (Lost), sex against a wall + worry, hard R or light NC17 for mollivanders
- Faramir/Eòwyn (Lotr), happy endings + happiness + lightlightlight possessiveness, PG for yersi_fanel
- Dean/Castiel (SPN), crossdressing + sort of biting, NC17 for cs_whitewolf
- Dean/Castiel (SPN), orgasm denial + coming untouched, NC17 for liadan14
Tags: , ,
 
 
feeling: excitedexcited
 
 
 
Shona: lost - charlietoestastegood on April 18th, 2010 11:16 am (UTC)
Lost, Boone/Charlie, D/s, NC-17
Doing this makes him feel kind of like a knob.

Charlie feels like he should be wearing leather and wielding a whip - but Boone had said that's not what this is about. "It's not like that," he'd complained, flushing pink with embarrassment. Charlie had been willing to take him on his word at that.

And that's how he finds himself here, with Boone spread out before him without a stitch covering his body. Tan lines, still not faded from their time on the island, stripe his body, honeyed skin contrasting with the milky white of his ass. Charlie's handsmooths over the warm, firm globes: Boone shivers. Charlie's pretty sure he just heard him muffle a whimper, just from this. Bloody hell.

"Don't move," he reminds him. On his knees, hands braced against the headboard of their bed, Boone has his instructions: his hands aren't to move a single inch, and he doesn't get to do a thing without Charlie's permission. He doesn't even get to think unless Charlie says it's okay.

Power like that? It's kind of a rush. Charlie thinks Boone must be bonkers to trust him to do this.

His fingers are already slick when he pushes two straight inside of Boone's hole. They've been together for a few months now, after spends bloody ages doing the "does he like me? doesn't he?" dance. Every time, though, every single time, he feels like Boone is going to come to his senses and tell him to fuck off. He's gorgeous. He's sodding beautiful, though he'd probably give Charlie the death-stare if he ever said that to his face.

Inside of Boone, his fingers crook and slide. He makes Boone's breath shiver but it isn't enough - could never be enough.

"Speak to me," he instructs. He doesn't sound as confident as he wants to. "I want to hear your voice." Boone gasps, no words coming, and Charlie doesn't pause his movements for a single moment. "C'mon, Boone. If you don't do what I say, I'm gonna stop right now, and you'll be on the sofa for the night."

He isn't sure which threat works. He has the feeling it's probably the former.

"I don't-" Boone's breath hitches and he moans when Charlie hits it just right. "I don't know what to say. God."

"Say whatever you like. Just remember I'm in charge here: next time I tell you to do something, don't bloody hesitate."

He doesn't know if he sounds cross enough, authoritative enough, but Boone moans again and that tells Charlie that he's doing something right.

"This is good," Boone blurts after a gasping pause. He sounds desperate, like a junkie chasing a high (and Charlie knows more than enough about that to make the comparison) and Charlie speeds up the movement of his hand, just enough to make it even harder for him to concentrate. "You doing this, taking charge like this. Such a turn-on."

"Yeah?" Charlie says. "Why? Details."

It's enough to break the block, to have Boone spilling ragged filth from his lips: how he wants him, how he thinks about this when he's by himself, how he's always wanted to be able to trust someone like this. He talks about how good it's going to feel when Charlie's cock pushes inside him, and upon hearing that it's bloody difficult for Charlie to hold back. He had a plan when tonight started. He's pretty sure he did, anyway - Boone's making him lose track of everything.

"You've been good, Boone. Really good," Charlie tells him. Boone's hands haven't slipped an inch from their position, and his hips have remained solidly in place despite the wicked stimulation Charlie has been providing. "You want to come now? You've earned it."

Boone nods in a hurry, wheezing out a barely-there please. Grinning, Charlie reaches underneath his taut body to wrap his hand around his solid cock. It's red and leaking, harder than he's seen it before.

"That's it," he soothes, stroking him. "You can come now, it's allowed."

It takes no time at all before Boone's hips thrust into his hand and he comes, splattering down onto the clean sheets. His arms start to buckle with relief but Charlie raises a hand to steady him. "I didn't say you could move," he reminds him, voice low and promising.

Boone shivers again, still lost in the glow of orgasm - and Charlie doesn't mind. It's just going to be his first of the night: he's got plans.

They don't end here.
the female ghost of tom joad: lost boone/charliejanie_tangerine on April 18th, 2010 05:14 pm (UTC)
Re: Lost, Boone/Charlie, D/s, NC-17
OMG OMG OMG OMG I LOVE YOU SO MUCH I CAN'T EVEN, THIS IS SO PERFECT I CAN'T EVEN.

*has had a good number of kinks hit* *fans self* OMG I LOVE IT. All the d/s I've ever read in Lost (and sadly there isn't enough around) never had Boone in the pairing and OMG YES THIS. I just love that you had Charlie being the top because of course he'd feel weird but then would totally be into it. And omg yes Boone being the one wanting it makes so fucking sense that I can just bow. ;) And GUH. SCORCHING HOT MUCH? *fans self again* Also you totally hit my fingering kink, among the rest. God, Charlie thinking he doesn't sound authoritative enough is so IC really. And damn, I think you totally fried my brain because I want to comment on the whole bit after Charlie asks for details and the only thing I can say is OMG SCORCHING. And exactly everything I could have wanted so THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!! And that ending. That totally was perfect. Guh. I'm in a total happy place now, thank you!! *goes to re-read* <333333333333333333
Re: Lost, Boone/Charlie, D/s, NC-17 - toestastegood on April 18th, 2010 05:25 pm (UTC) (Expand)
Re: Lost, Boone/Charlie, D/s, NC-17 - janie_tangerine on April 18th, 2010 05:30 pm (UTC) (Expand)
Re: Lost, Boone/Charlie, D/s, NC-17 - toestastegood on April 18th, 2010 05:37 pm (UTC) (Expand)
Re: Lost, Boone/Charlie, D/s, NC-17 - janie_tangerine on April 18th, 2010 05:42 pm (UTC) (Expand)
Re: Lost, Boone/Charlie, D/s, NC-17 - haldoor on April 19th, 2010 09:19 am (UTC) (Expand)
Re: Lost, Boone/Charlie, D/s, NC-17 - toestastegood on April 19th, 2010 12:03 pm (UTC) (Expand)
Re: Lost, Boone/Charlie, D/s, NC-17 - blackwolf1480 on April 20th, 2010 02:57 am (UTC) (Expand)
Re: Lost, Boone/Charlie, D/s, NC-17 - toestastegood on April 20th, 2010 05:49 pm (UTC) (Expand)
Gempopaloula!: sayid downgemjam on April 18th, 2010 07:46 pm (UTC)
Desmond/Sayid, hurt/comfort, pg-13ish
They don’t talk. It’s not about that. They have other ways to fight their demons.

Sayid could spill every secret he had and none of it would make him feel any less alone. He knows that Desmond feels the same. Saying it out loud is like condemning himself and burdening another person in the same breath. So they don’t talk, or very rarely, and never about anything important. Instead, they touch, fingertips grazing flesh, warmth captured between them. Instead of confessing, they forget.

It’s never really gone though, the things that they’ve done, the consequences they’re hiding from and calling towards them. Instead, Sayid apologises for his sins by kissing Desmond’s collarbone in a way that makes him sigh, while Desmond pushes the darkness back by sucking on Sayid’s pulse point and feeling the life flow beneath.

They writhe and moan like they deserve it, push each other to the brink and then allow themselves to fall over. And then, it’s okay, in the moments while they breathe together and their hearts beat too fast. Because they’re not alone and they realise that fact and life isn’t simply against them. It’s all still worth fighting for. They can fight it together.
the female ghost of tom joad: lost des/sayidjanie_tangerine on April 18th, 2010 10:52 pm (UTC)
Re: Desmond/Sayid, hurt/comfort, pg-13ish
OOOH WOW THIS IS SO GOOD. It was so short but it packed so much, I just love how everything comes through so clearly even with no dialogue. And duh, it might be PG13 but some bits were indeed sexy (IE, the last line of paragraph two. God. Yes. THAT). And that last paragraph was just fantastic, as the whole thing is but the conclusion just hits the spot. H/C like this, I totally approve of. <333 Thank you so much, I absolutely loved it!!!!!!! <3333 *re-reads*
Re: Desmond/Sayid, hurt/comfort, pg-13ish - gemjam on April 19th, 2010 04:30 pm (UTC) (Expand)
Re: Desmond/Sayid, hurt/comfort, pg-13ish - bold_seer on April 18th, 2010 11:01 pm (UTC) (Expand)
Re: Desmond/Sayid, hurt/comfort, pg-13ish - gemjam on April 19th, 2010 04:31 pm (UTC) (Expand)
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Re: Desmond/Sayid, hurt/comfort, pg-13ish - gemjam on April 19th, 2010 04:32 pm (UTC) (Expand)
Re: Desmond/Sayid, hurt/comfort, pg-13ish - haldoor on April 19th, 2010 09:21 am (UTC) (Expand)
Re: Desmond/Sayid, hurt/comfort, pg-13ish - gemjam on April 19th, 2010 04:33 pm (UTC) (Expand)
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a geek in such the wrong way: lost-jack/boonehaldoor on April 18th, 2010 09:36 pm (UTC)
Lost, Jack/Boone, hurt/comfort, PG-13 (826 words) , part one
Jack's never seen this kid before but he feels a sense of responsibility that he doesn't quite understand when he's called down for a spinal consult in the ER. They haven't cleaned all of the blood off the kid—no, young man, Jack realises as he gives the patient a once-over—and it makes him look vulnerable; more vulnerable than Jack thinks… he looks at the chart for a name… Boone should. He asks the resident what happened and nods as she explains how Boone fell several feet from a balcony of an apartment block—only a couple of storeys—and onto a car in the street below, but enough for him to have been serious injured. He landed on his back, hence Jack's involvement.

He studies the x-ray and tells the resident that although there's some swelling, he doesn't think surgery is needed. As he's about to suggest she call him if there's no reaction to stimuli in Boone's legs when he wakes, he stirs, mumbling something that Jack thinks he should hear. He moves away from the door, closer to the bed and leans down. He doesn't catch Boone's words. A nurse in the doorway asks the resident if she can see another patient for a moment and Jack lifts his head enough to nod that he'll stay here for now.

Boone is blinking awake and Jack's breath catches. He's never seen such blue eyes, and they're fixed on him like he's some kind of saviour.

"Don't let me die. I'm not ready," Boone rasps.

Jack smiles a little, taking the hand that's reaching uncertainly for something. "You're not going to die. You're going to be fine." He reaches out with his spare hand and shifts a stray hair back from Boone's face. He should be checking Boone's feet; looking for responses there, but he can't shift yet. Boone's looking into his eyes like they know each other—like he means something to him—and Jack simply can't move from that.

"I…" Boone starts, then seems to be stuck. Jack frowns, wondering if there's something the other doctor's missed, but Boone swallows and finally goes on, "I didn't jump. I wasn't… trying to hurt myself." His eyes fill with tears and Jack's heart clenches at his anguish, wondering why Boone would think he—or anyone else for that matter—would believe he did this to himself. "I fell."
a geek in such the wrong way: lost-jack/boonehaldoor on April 18th, 2010 09:37 pm (UTC)
Lost, Jack/Boone, hurt/comfort, PG-13 (826 words) , part two
"Ssh, it's okay," Jack soothes, stroking around Boone's jawline—it's more intimate than he usually is with a patient, but it seems right somehow—and smiles again when Boone seems to respond like it's a good thing. "No one thinks you jumped."

Boone tries to blink the tears away, but one rolls across his cheek and down into the pillow. "John will think I did. Like he cares. I dumped him; why would I hurt myself because of him?"

"John's your…ex?" Jack asks hesitantly. "Was he there when this happened? Is he here?" He looks around like he expects to see another young man nearby looking guilty, but it's eerily quiet in the corridor outside the glass window of the room.

"Yes," Boone manages, shifting restlessly, "He's an asshole though; he won't be here. Especially if a better prospect passed by while I was falling."

"I'm sure that's not true," Jack tells him, "but I'll check for you, if you want?"

"No, don't leave, please?"

Jack glances around again, then nods back at Boone. "No, okay. I should look at your legs though. Can I let go of your hand?" Boone's been clutching it pretty hard through the last part of the exchange and although Jack winces now when Boone lets him go and apologises, he didn't really mind; in fact, he kind of liked it.

He gives Boone another reassuring look, trying to keep in mind what he's here for and not the way Boone's blue eyes make him feel. He does what he needs to do, exchanging looks with Boone that seem hotter than they should be in the circumstances, but he's happy with Boone's reactions; the swelling isn't as bad as the resident had feared.

He's about to sit down next to Boone when the resident returns. He wishes they could have had longer alone and wonders how to organise things so he has to see Boone again. Telling the resident about Boone's condition, he glances at him over her shoulder. Boone knows, he thinks to himself, sure the expression in those vivid blue eyes means he's completely onto Jack.

Taking a breath, Jack moves back to Boone's side. Hoping the resident doesn't understand what he's really doing, he finds his card from inside a coat pocket—thank God he put a few in there yesterday—and hands it to Boone. "If you have any problems with your back or your legs after you're discharged, give me a call."

He doubts there will be any problems, but he's pretty sure Boone will call.
bold_seer: in bedbold_seer on April 18th, 2010 10:59 pm (UTC)
SPN, Dean/Castiel, h/c, PG (5x18 coda)
Scratching at the Surface

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Castiel says and traces the little cut to Dean’s mouth. Lets his finger rest there, between Dean’s half-open lips, and watches him intently. “I should’ve done everything for you, but not that.” There’s a sorry in there, somewhere.

Dean looks away, shakes off Castiel’s hand, because he doesn’t want to. Doesn’t dare look at him, because then he’ll wonder –

“Did they give everything for you? Did they look at you like this, before you, ah, got laid?” Cas’ voice is low, very controlled, and Dean would call him a fucking tease, but with Castiel you never know. You never know whether he is genuinely curious – lips two inches from Dean’s – or something else. “Did you send them away? Tell them to blow you, because you –”

“Cas. I do shit, you know that.” But some things need to be said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mea–”

He did –

Some things need to be said, but now is not really the time for that. Not when Dean’s afraid of what he might find on Castiel’s chest, if he looked. His skin could still be uncarved, smooth, it could. Or ruined with a brutally beautiful mark, something that seems a lot weaker than it is, a little like Castiel himself. Dean takes a deep breath. “Your wound.”

Castiel lets him open his shirt buttons, and Dean does so with shaking fingers. He holds his breath, there’s –

Nothing there, like nothing ever happened.

end.


the female ghost of tom joad: supernatural dean/castieljanie_tangerine on April 18th, 2010 11:16 pm (UTC)
Re: SPN, Dean/Castiel, h/c, PG (5x18 coda)
OMG *KEYMASHES* THIS = PERFECT.

No, seriously, it's totally one of the best 5x18 codas I read until now if not the best. Wow. Really. The dialogue is perfect, the characterization is spot on and just, the writing is sparse but it packs so much, ohgod. Castiel's lines were positively perfect. And DEAN WANTING TO LOOK AT THE WOUND AND IT NOT BEING THERE OH GOD MY HEAR. ;___;

. Or ruined with a brutally beautiful mark, something that seems a lot weaker than it is, a little like Castiel himself.

This was beautiful. Seriously. It-so-was. And that ending = perfect. And YOU MENTIONED GETTING LAID AND BLOWING AND THIS GAINS YOU A BONUS SEAL OF AWESOME. Even if this was totally awesome on its own. I LOVED IT, thank you!!!!!!!!! :D <33333333333333333333333333333
Re: SPN, Dean/Castiel, h/c, PG (5x18 coda) - bold_seer on April 19th, 2010 08:00 am (UTC) (Expand)
(Deleted comment)
Re: SPN, Dean/Castiel, h/c, PG (5x18 coda) - bold_seer on April 19th, 2010 08:03 am (UTC) (Expand)
Re: SPN, Dean/Castiel, h/c, PG (5x18 coda) - invisiblelove on April 19th, 2010 02:18 pm (UTC) (Expand)
Re: SPN, Dean/Castiel, h/c, PG (5x18 coda) - bold_seer on April 19th, 2010 05:06 pm (UTC) (Expand)
catoasapun: [GO] Aziraphale/Crowley pretty wingscatoasapun on April 19th, 2010 07:35 am (UTC)
Good Omens, Aziraphale/Crowley, Hurt/Comfort, PG13; PART 1
The thing bothering Crowley the most is not, exactly, that he was caught completely off-guard. It’s not even that he barely escaped being wiped out of existence by a particularly overzealous young demon out to make a name for himself by killing off anyone on Hell’s list of Potential Concerns*. It’s the way the bloody angel is cooing over him like some tartan-clad mother hen, bandaging wounds, cleaning dried blood, preening damaged wings as though Crowley needs him to.

Death, Crowley decides, would have been preferable to this humiliation.

“Angel, if you don’t release me immediately I will be forced to—”

“Forced to do what, my dear?” Aziraphale looks up from where he’s been mending an especially nasty gash in Crowley’s side, one unimpressed eyebrow raised.

Crowley hesitates, and tries to think of something really terrible.

“…something really terrible. Just you wait.”

“You may have noticed that you’re not in much of a position to threaten anyone with anything at the moment. Now hold still and let me finish stitching you up.”

Crowley stops struggling enough to allow Aziraphale to finish, glowering down as plump hands expertly weave a thin strand of thread through his skin, cinching it up and, finally, knotting it off at the end.

It stings a bit at first, but Crowley imagines that it no longer does, so it no longer does. His head is thrumming a bit, a dull sort of pain, but he ignores it.

“I must say,” Aziraphale starts, before using his teeth to cut the needle from the thread. Crowley swallows. “You’re acting rather childish right now. Don’t you think?”

“I think I’ve almost been killed, that’s what I think!”

Attempting to stand, Crowley pushes Aziraphale’s hands aside and manages to take a single step before falling forward, flailing wildly as his legs give out beneath him.

Aziraphale catches him before he hits the ground, arms securing themselves about his middle and steadying him. Aziraphale’s supernatural strength may be hidden beneath a soft, rounded body, but it’s there nonetheless.

Crowley forgets that sometimes.

“I don’t think you’re well enough to move quite yet.”

“Er. Right. Thanks. Whatever.”

Aziraphale deposits Crowley back into the musty armchair in which he’d been sitting, before stepping back and crossing his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes and looking vaguely like a school teacher considering whether or not being fired and imprisoned would be worth striking one child just this once*.

“Tell me again what it was you were doing before you were nearly vanquished?”

“I told you, I was working. The bugger tracked me down just as I was about to close a deal that would have disrupted air traffic for all of Europe. You should have seen it: it would’ve been brilliant. We’re talking global-scale, angel. Every human in the Western world would’ve been affected; and bloody pissed off at that.”

Aziraphale just stares at him for a moment, clearly not awed by the image of millions of humans simultaneously flying into rages and abusing each other verbally, emotionally, and possibly even physically (road rage would have skyrocketed, at least,) that Crowley has just painted. He sniffs.

“Well, then. I guess this is what you deserve – trying to tempt some poor souls into helping you—”

“Oh, shut up, Aziraphale—oh, fuck!”

The harsh expression on Aziraphale’s face drops away as Crowley doubles over, clutching his head and wincing. The pain in his skull explodes then, searing through him in all directs like an atom bomb went off inside him. It tears through him with force he’s not experienced since… since before he’d been assigned to Earth, anyway. His Will has always been enough to shield him from any unpleasant sensations he doesn’t wish to experience, but now it’s not helping. Not at all. It’s like every inch of him is on fire, and he can feel it, all of it.

He feels like he’s burning from the inside out.

Then, hands are on him.

One cradles his face, the other grips one of his own so tight, he knows it should hurt. But it doesn’t.

Instead, a cooling sort of relief washes over him. It starts at the point where his skin meets Aziraphale’s hands and works its way outward – soft, subtle, and abating.

It isn’t much, but it’s enough.
catoasapun: [GO] Aziraphale/Crowley pretty wingscatoasapun on April 19th, 2010 07:37 am (UTC)
Good Omens, Aziraphale/Crowley, Hurt/Comfort, PG13; PART 2
“Crowley,” Aziraphale begs, and Crowley wonders why he sounds so damn worried. Everything is wonderful. Doesn’t he know that? It’s wonderful. “Crowley, dear, stay with me. You’ll be all right. You will. Just stay with me.”

He nuzzles against the hand on his cheek, trying to leech from it every last iota of comfort it has to offer.

He’s feeling sort of light now, like he’s floating. Like he’s flying. He hasn’t flown in a long time, a very long time, and he wonders why…

“Don’t leave that body, Crowley. Do you hear me? Don’t you do it!”

Aziraphale sounds distant, his voice is echoing.

Crowley’s glasses slip from his face and then Aziraphale is there, right there, his eyes as blue and pale as ever. Crowley has never been able to find anything on Earth that matches that colour, and not for lack of trying. He doesn’t think Aziraphale knows that.

“Do you know, angel,” he says, and the sound of his own voice surprises him. It sounds wrong, somehow, like it’s not really his, “do you know, you’ve got the most beautiful eyes?”

Feeling proud of himself for saying something so kind, he grins, at least he thinks he does, and his eyes slip shut.

Then, he’s being shaken. Violently.

His eyes snap back open. He shuts them again.

He’s seeing double. At least, in a manner of speaking. He’s seeing Aziraphale, the Aziraphale he’s known for six millennia: the dowdy, soft around the edges, bibliophile he’s come to consider a friend. But he’s also seeing Aziraphale, Angel of the Lord: all light and brilliance and divinity and fuck if it doesn’t burn. Fuck if it isn’t more than a bit terrifying.

“Stay awake, you! You can’t—you can’t do back Down There. You—I may never see you again.”

“But. It. Hurts.”

And it does. His head feels like it’s about to burst, and he feels hot, too hot.*

“I know it does, darling, I know,” Aziraphale is closer now, his arms are snaking around Crowley and pulling him in, holding him, “but you need to stay here. With me. Please.”

He feels Aziraphale’s forehead rest against his own, feels soft curls tickling his nose, and opens his eyes. Aziraphale’s eyes are clasped shut and he looks pained, almost.

“Angel…”

“Shh! Just stay here. Stay.”

The edges of Crowley’s vision are swimming now, the world looks like an old television set, waving and blinking in and out of focus. He nods, weakly.

Soft lips find his and then Aziraphale is kissing him. Any other time, Crowley may have feigned surprise, perhaps even disgust, but not now. Now he kisses back, now he indulges in it. Because it feels good, it feels good, and he wants to. Has wanted to.

He opens his mouth and Aziraphale’s tongue slides inside, caressing his own, soft and curious and Aziraphale.

Aziraphale.

Crowley passes out.

* *


When he wakes, it’s morning. At least, he can assume it’s morning: the fucking birds are making a ruckus outside his window like it’s morning. He blesses loudly and rolls over, pressing his face into a pillow and covering his ears.

A rustling behind him and a sharp intake of breath alert him to someone’s presence. Aziraphale’s presence, if he isn’t mistaken.

“You’re awake…” he hears.

He looks up and realizes he isn’t in his own bed, no. That’s not his bedside table, the dusty lace doily confirms as much.

“Angel?” he asks, looking up to see Aziraphale gazing down at him like he’s announced the Second Coming or something. He is positively glowing. It’s nauseating.

“You’re awake!” Aziraphale repeats, kneeling beside Crowley to clutch his hand. Crowley flinches.

“Yes, I believe we’ve established that.”

“Well, no need to be rude, my dear. I’ve been waiting three days for you to wake up, you know.”

Sitting up abruptly, Crowley rubs his eyes.

“Three days?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale moves to sit beside Crowley on the mattress, eyeing him with his patent concern, looking like he’s wondering whether or not Crowley has finally lost the last of his marbles, “don’t you remember what—?”

He trails off, but the light switches on in Crowley’s mind nonetheless. Attacked. Almost died. Kissed. Yes. Right.


(Deleted comment)
Lou: spn - castiel deangottalovev on April 19th, 2010 03:24 pm (UTC)
SPN, Dean and Castiel, H/C, Gen
Dean is lying still, eye closed and breathing deeply, feigning unconsciousness. It's avoidance, but they let him get away with it, for now. The blood from the cuts on his face is vivid against his skin. Blood and cuts that Castiel put there with his fists earlier, in the alley. He had been taken over by a force so strong, hot and burning in his chest, that it had made him lose any remnants of detachment he hoped he still had. And God help him, it had felt good, even for an instant, to hit Dean again and again.

Wrath, a little voice keeps whispering, look how far you've fallen.

Castiel's hands don't even hurt or show any marks and he wonders if he would feel better if they were. He's tempted to heal the cuts on Dean's skin, too, fix him with the brush of a finger so he's unmarred, perfect, like when Castiel raised him from perdition.

But this insufferable, infuriating man needs to understand the lesson, the despair that made Castiel do this. He has learned that actions are way more effective than words with the Winchesters; Castiel knows he should regret what he did, but he doesn't. Dean is now handcuffed to the bed in the panic room and Castiel insists to a hovering Sam that he's got everything under control until he leaves them alone.

Castiel uses a damp washcloth to clean Dean's injuries, making his touch as soft as he can in the only apology he can give.



***

I see I am not the only one who chose the aftermath of the beating scene for some H/C! ;) (it called for it!)

sorry this turned out gen. wtf, muse??? *hands*
the female ghost of tom joad: supernatural castiel 3.0janie_tangerine on April 19th, 2010 04:44 pm (UTC)
Re: SPN, Dean and Castiel, H/C, Gen
THAT SCENE IS ALWAYS A-OKAY WITH ME. ;)

And oooh this was so good! And who cares if it's gen! Gen is awesome! And this was so precious ohmy. <333 I just loved you Cas insight here, and it makes so much sense. His little voice totally hit the spot and duh, it's totally canon imo. You got his train of thought absolutely right I think. And awww Castiel wanting to heal him the angelic way but doing it the human way = PERFECT. I just, yes to all of this. I love it, thank you so much!!!!!!!!!! :D
Re: SPN, Dean and Castiel, H/C, Gen - gottalovev on July 6th, 2010 05:09 pm (UTC) (Expand)
Re: SPN, Dean and Castiel, H/C, Gen - invisiblelove on April 19th, 2010 07:10 pm (UTC) (Expand)
Re: SPN, Dean and Castiel, H/C, Gen - gottalovev on July 6th, 2010 05:11 pm (UTC) (Expand)
ozmissage: Lost. Jack. LOL.ozmissage on April 19th, 2010 05:33 pm (UTC)
I've Always Had a Thing for Music Men, Jack/Boone, PG-13, music
Boone bought a guitar once. He used to slip the strap over his shoulder and let his fingers strum the strings making noise instead of music. He never learned to play, it’s probably still in the back of his closet somewhere gathering dust.

He has a thing for musicians though. And he has a thing for Jack.

These two feelings collide when he watches Jack sit down at the piano.

“You play?” Boone asks surprised.

Jack chuckles, and the laugh lines around his eyes crinkle. Boone fights the urge to touch them, to touch him.

“A little,” Jack replies.

So he plays, his fingers racing across the keys, something classical and melancholy---Mozart maybe, or Chopin, Boone isn’t sure. It doesn’t matter. It’s good, it’s beautiful.

He watches Jack’s face as he plays; he looks so earnest, so lost in thought. His head is tilted to the right just a tiny bit, and Boone knows he’s thinking, remembering what note comes next.

Boone’s breathing a little harder than he should be. Jack stops mid song and Boone knows he’s been caught, but he can’t stop staring at Jack’s lips, at his hands, at all of him really.

Fuck it, Boone thinks. There’s a guitar in his closet he never learned to play and a mother a thousand miles away he never learned how to say no to, and a man sitting across from him he doesn’t want to say he never kissed.

So he does.

It’s hesitant, like he thinks better of it halfway there and tries to pullback but Jack places a hand on the back of Boone’s neck and forces him to close the gap. Then he’s kissing Jack Shephard. Jack’s lips are soft, but the stubble on his chin stings when it scrapes across Boone’s skin. He tastes nice and clean somehow, like mint.

Boone moves forward, trying to get closer and his hand slaps down on the keys. The sound is loud and unexpected and Jack breaks their kiss with a laugh.

“You play too?” he asks, a twinkle in his eye.

Boone grins, hopes he’s not blushing, knows he probably is.

“You have any requests?” Boone asks.

Jack reaches down and catches Boone’s hand tugging him to his feet. He leans in and whispers, “Just one.”

Boone hopes he knows the song.
the female ghost of tom joad: ian somerhalder guitar <333janie_tangerine on April 19th, 2010 06:53 pm (UTC)
Re: I've Always Had a Thing for Music Men, Jack/Boone, PG-13, music
.... OH MY GOD YES THIS.

*flails*

Music kink: hit tenfold. Between Boone + guitar (which should have happened on the show as my icon proves, sadly it's from a movie) and Jack + piano which is totally bulletproof for me you totally hit every possible visual I could wish for, lol. And Jack playing either Mozart or Chopin = win because I love both *cough* and BOONE GOING FOR IT, YES? I just loved how you described everything here, including Jack's face as he plays. *dies* and

There’s a guitar in his closet he never learned to play and a mother a thousand miles away he never learned how to say no to, and a man sitting across from him he doesn’t want to say he never kissed.

This totally turned me into mush for some reason. And it's in the good sense. And THE END IS SO PERFECT I CAN'T EVEN. PERFECTION. I love this so much, SO MUCH. Thank you!! :DDD
lover all aloneinvisiblelove on April 19th, 2010 09:33 pm (UTC)
OOOOH this meme looks fun :) I'll probably have to come out of my LJ posting stupor to join in. Not that I actually have any time to write...but still *facepalm*

And you should link to the ones you write here! I won't have time to read all of them, but I want to try and get to yours if possible. Especially any D/C ;)
the female ghost of tom joad: supernatural dean/castieljanie_tangerine on April 19th, 2010 09:35 pm (UTC)
Oh, I totally will! I'm trying to see if I can come up with a couple more prompts before I crash, but I'll totally update the list in half an hour or so. I'm planning on D/C, so keep your eyes open. ;)
Dayln: ♥ c/b. if i were a spy inside your headgigglemonster on April 20th, 2010 03:43 am (UTC)
i remember hearts that beat; chuck/bryce; amnesia + music
Bryce has always felt responsible for Chuck. Why, he’s not sure. They’re the same age and Chuck is probably the smartest guy he’s ever met.

Hell, it’s the reason he’s gotten Chuck into this mess in the first place.

The intersect backfired. It uploaded wrong, too fast, there were files missing. The reason doesn’t matter. It didn’t work and it cost Chuck his mind and his freedom.

Because of Bryce, Chuck ends up in a CIA hospital with no memories of his past. (No memories of Bryce Larkin being his greatest nemesis)

In the end, it's just one more mistake in a long line of things Bryce thought he was doing for Chuck’s own good.

+++

The first week Bryce can’t even bring himself to see Chuck, let alone talk to him.

He paces outside Chuck’s room while he sleeps and tries to think of a way to ask for Chuck’s forgiveness that won’t make him hate Bryce before he even gets to know him.

+++

Bryce introduces himself under the guise of being one of Chuck’s doctors. (Hi, we were best friends at Stanford for three years before I got you kicked out for cheating probably wouldn’t get him very far)

Chuck doesn’t talk much those first few days.

What is there to say?

Chuck doesn’t remember his family, his friends or his job. He doesn’t even remember his favorite song. He tells Bryce as much and buries his head in his hands.

“I’m sorry,” Chuck sighs. “It’s not your fault. Hey, I guess this is as good a time as any to just pick a new favorite song, right?” he laughs, a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

Bryce’s chest aches.

+++

Chuck wants to be pissed, but mostly he’s just confused. He feels like all his thoughts are on the tip of his tongue and the whole world is just out of his reach.

The feeling is worse when Bryce is there.

Chuck can tell Bryce wants him to remember. He can see it in his eyes and hear the desperation in his voice.

Every once in a while Chuck considers making memories up, but something stops him.

Somehow he knows Bryce would be able to tell if he was lying.

+++

Bryce spends weeks trying to jog Chuck’s memory. He tries recalling Chuck’s memories to him as if they’re his own.

He even tells Chuck about the best friend he had in college. They’d fooled around a few times and it was probably the first time Bryce was in love but he’d never had the stones to actually do something about it.

“Too late now,” Bryce shrugs.

+++

Chuck is pretty sure that the stories Bryce tells him are things he’s never told anyone else. It’s moments like those that Chuck wishes, more than anything, that he could remember. Just so he could return the favor.

He kisses Bryce instead. Chuck expects Bryce to push him away but instead feels Bryce’s hands twist through is hair, tugging him closer.

Chuck leans back, pulling Bryce on top of him. He feels stubble scratch his lip.

Bryce’s mouth and solid warm weight on top of him are the first things in months that feel even remotely familiar.

+++

Bryce buys Chuck a copy of Arcade Fire’s first album.

“42 minutes and 15 seconds of awesome,” he says tossing the case on Chuck’s bed.

An auditory aphrodisiac. Chuck’s words from what might as well be another life.

“You’ll have to let me know which track is your favorite,” Bryce says and kisses Chuck’s smile.

Whatever his life was before this, Chuck hopes Bryce was in it.

-fin



the female ghost of tom joad: chuck bryce <3333333janie_tangerine on April 20th, 2010 07:39 am (UTC)
Re: i remember hearts that beat; chuck/bryce; amnesia + music
OMGOMGOMG I LOVE YOU FOREVER THIS IS PERFECT.

I just, YES to all of this? I loved that the amnesia was the intersect's fault, one never thinks about what could go wrong with that and instead... duuh THIS WAS HEARTBREAKING. ;__; And you got them down so well. I could hear the both of them perfectly and I seriously didn't know who I wanted to hug most.

He paces outside Chuck’s room while he sleeps and tries to think of a way to ask for Chuck’s forgiveness that won’t make him hate Bryce before he even gets to know him.

THIS POSITIVELY KILLED ME. ;__; It packed such a punch. The favorite song bit totally packed another. And I loved that despite it they still have a connection here. Also the kiss totally made me melt or something very close to it.

Whatever his life was before this, Chuck hopes Bryce was in it.

THIS THIS THIS. <33333333333333333 Okay, best thing I could read first in the morning, really. I absolutely loved it, thank you!!!!!!!!!!!! <33333333333333333 :D

Edited at 2010-04-20 10:44 am (UTC)
Rayrayruz on April 21st, 2010 01:55 am (UTC)
Chuck/Bryce Crossdressing PG
"You planning on coming out any time soon?"

"Nope."

"Chuck, you can't stay in there forever."

"Just watch me."

Chuck leaned heavily against the door, wriggling. The black pantyhose were riding up on him. Why would women put themselves through this kind of torture?

Chuck had done group Halloween costumes with Morgan ever since they were kids. He’d been more than excited when Bryce took him up on a group costume. Looking down at the red lieutenant’s uniform, he wondered how the hell he’d let himself get talked into this.

“I have a key, you know,” Bryce teased from the hallway.

Chuck sighed, shook his head, and stood. He took a deep breath, planning to take it like a man. When he opened the door, the expression on Bryce’s face quickly morphed from amusement to…something else entirely, his eyes sweeping down his body.

A silent moment hung between them before Bryce forced out a laugh, completely incongruous with his pointy-eared costume.

“Nice legs,” he said, before gesturing down the hall. “Party’s already started. Come on, Uhura.”
the female ghost of tom joad: chuck -> generaljanie_tangerine on April 21st, 2010 07:41 am (UTC)
Re: Chuck/Bryce Crossdressing PG
... THIS. THIS. THIS.

Thank you. There's not enough crossdressing in this world which makes this already awesome, BUT IT'S CHUCK/BRYCE. <33333333333333 OMG I LOVE IT. And oh God Chuck dressed as Uhura would be ace. I can't shake the visual out of my head and I totally love this. And Bryce's reaction = A++++++ or something. Thank you so much, this was wonderful!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Re: Chuck/Bryce Crossdressing PG - toestastegood on April 23rd, 2010 12:06 am (UTC) (Expand)
Re: Chuck/Bryce Crossdressing PG - imisspadfoot21 on May 6th, 2010 05:01 am (UTC) (Expand)
Thyme: Ror: OMG BRASsteals_thyme on April 21st, 2010 08:41 pm (UTC)
Dan/Rorschach; Crossdressing, H/C; PG-13; 1/2
They're disgusting, all frothy lace and sleek black satin that is difficult to stitch, slips the needle and snarls around the workings of his machine no matter how he holds it. These frilled things are designed for men, not the women who wear them—furtive, sweaty men who pay to see the shining fabric filled out with fat curves, elastic biting into fleshy skin. It's galling that he has to construct them, knowing all that, but even more so because he has to admit to himself: he prefers them to the brassieres. At least the satin is—

Walter pulls the fabric taut and drives it through his sewing machine, deliberately passing over the same spot again and again until the thread bulges in ugly ridges and the satin buckles and snags, begins to shear. Until it doesn't feel quite as smooth against his rough fingertips, doesn't feel quite so like—

"Kovacs!" his boss barks, far too close to his ear, and Walter jerks the panties away in alarm. Long trails of thread reel out in their wake and lie in spidery tangles against his arm. He apologizes, subservience gritted out from between clenched teeth; he never reduces himself to the groveling that would save him from compulsory overtime.

Later, in his rathole apartment, he relaxes his bunched fist and the underwear unfurls over his hand. No ribbon or lace on this pair he has made, no trim to distract from the warmed luster of the dark satin. He sits, drapes them over one bony knee and rubs them with the heel of his hand, drags idle circles with his fingers.

It's fine like this; hard planes beneath the sleekness, not the give of doughy, feminine flesh. Pulled over muscle and sinew, it becomes something else, nothing more deviant than the inside of his jacket or the soft lining of his gloves. It is reclaimed as something honest, baptized in the pursuit of justice. This makes it more bearable to touch them all day.

The sun is setting. It will be time soon.

-

"No," Rorschach says, and bats Nite Owl's hand away, hauls himself up from the asphalt. He digs his fingers into the alley brickwork and tries not to give away how much pain he is in.

"Don't be an idiot," Nite Owl says, his mouth bowed unhappily, pulling down and pressing worry-lines into his face. His hand is straying again, gripping the hem of Rorschach's trench, lifting. "He got you, I can see the blood. Come on, man. Let me take a look."

Stupid mistake, stepping over the kid without being certain he was out cold, without kicking the knife away first. Stupid, rookie mistake and he's glad he'll have a scar to remind him of his foolishness. "No," he says again, pushing away emphatically.

There is a lot of blood, warm and damp against his inner thigh, sticky against leather when he presses his gloved hand to the wound. He's starting to feel dizzy, nauseous, and that's the only reason he lets Nite Owl pulls his arm over his shoulders and guide him to the Owlship.

He's pushed in the co-pilot seat before he knows where he is, and Nite Owl is pulling his trench coat aside, clumsily fumbling open the buttons of his suit jacket, still with his gauntlets on. He is still frowning, but there's an edge to his expression now. Rorschach doesn't like it.

Rorschach freezes up when Nite Owl starts on the fly of his pinstripes, tugging frustratedly, and there's a reason he shouldn't let him do this, something about standards of appropriateness mixed up with ideas of his self-image and the boundaries that their partnership should observe, but it's nebulous, drifting out of his grasp like so much smoke.

His vision is graying, sharpening and dulling in turn. Sensation is narrowed to the dull throb of his leg in time with his breathing and Nite Owl's breathing, and the small agitated noise Nite Owl makes when he finds the suspenders, thumbs them free.

A sharp intake of air, and it's hard to focus but he thinks it was Nite Owl who made the noise, and not himself. Nite Owl is hovering, hand poised over Rorschach, suddenly apprehensive. Beneath the unreadable dark glass of his goggles, his mouth opens wordlessly.

Rorschach thinks, disconnectedly, that he must be hurt pretty badly.

Nite Owl's tongue darts over his lower lip. It's arresting and obscene, and it's the last thing he remembers.

-
Thyme: NO/R: Awkwarrrdsteals_thyme on April 21st, 2010 08:44 pm (UTC)
Dan/Rorschach; Crossdressing, H/C; PG-13; 2/2
He has never been here during the day. He only visits Daniel when he is Rorschach, and he is usually only Rorschach after dark, so it's disorienting, sets his reality at a slant when the morning sun plays across his masked face. It is increasingly unnerving when he shifts and feels the slide of bedclothes against bare skin. He cracks his eyes open, and sees his uniform folded neatly at the end of the bed.

He swallows thickly, shifts again. There's the telltale pull of sutures in his left thigh, and a towel beneath him, stiff and rasping against his legs. He grunts, slides a hand down to check the damage. His chest and torso are still covered by his undershirt. Daniel spared him the indignity of being stripped naked, but he is unhappy with the unnecessary revelation of freckles and red hair.

His fingers travel further down, glide over the fabric at his hips. He stops short, and the breath rushes out of him.

He is too hot suddenly, face and neck prickling with it, and when he heaves himself into a sitting position, he can't shake his lightheadedness. He curls his fingers into the hem of his mask, pulls it over his nose to sip at the air. He is too horrified to make a sound.

Daniel appears in the doorway, dowdy in a knitted cardigan and shapeless slacks, a glass of water in one hand. "Hey." A relieved smile spreads across his face.

He moves over to the bed, offers the water. Rorschach takes it cautiously, holds it between both hands as he drinks. Daniel crouches by the bed and takes off his glasses to clean them on his sleeve. Rorschach is familiar with most of Daniel's nervous habits through long association, but this one would be obvious even to a stranger.

"So, uh. How are you feeling?" He's blinking at the middle distance, glasses hovering halfway to his face. "You gave me a bit of a scare."

Rorschach ignores the overture as best he can. Conversation is not something he is inclined to at present. He slurps the last drops of water from the glass, deliberately uncouth.

A sigh, more exasperated than weary. "Listen," Daniel says, and Rorschach can tell he's trying to infuse his words with Nite Owl's confidence. He isn't particularly successful.

"No."

"No...? Oh. Well, okay. I, uh, just wanted to say..."

It occurs to Rorschach that Daniel can be poor about picking up certain cues. He tries not to listen.

"I'm not going to judge you for...uh. I'm not going to judge. I admit it's not what I was expecting—I thought you'd be a tighty whiteys kind of guy, if I'm honest with you—but hell, I wear mine on the outside of my pants, so I'm hardly in a position..."

Reality tilts a little too far to the left, and Rorschach finds himself wondering why Daniel would have occasion to consider the kind of underwear he favors. He fixes his partner with a withering stare, lets the ink speak for him.

Daniel licks his lips, and Rorschach finds his mouth is dry.

"...I'll get you more water."

-
lover all aloneinvisiblelove on April 22nd, 2010 04:43 am (UTC)
Dean/Cas, amnesia [R]
HOLY CRAP THIS GOT REALLY LONG AND REALLY SAD. I HOPE YOU STILL LIKE IT *IS NERVOUS*


The apocalypse was averted: good had prevailed, it turned out God really did give a damn, and the angels and demons were all back where they belonged. The powers that be in Heaven had decided it would be for the best if no humans had any recollection of the angels who had walked among them.

Of course, that meant that one human was left with a strange scar on his shoulder and no memories of the one who had put it there.

It turns out Castiel had been playing for the right team all along. And when all was said and done, he was welcomed home with open arms. His grace was restored, and he was once again in good standing with the heavenly host.

Which is why it made absolutely no sense that he felt a vast, empty ache pulsing throughout his entire being.

One day after months of antagonizing, Castiel finally approached Gabriel. “I wish to return to earth for one night in the visage of my former vessel.”

“Little Brother, you and I both know that’s a terrible idea.”

“Gabriel, please.”

The archangel stared at his younger brother, finally free to exist in his true form – shining and bright and so painfully beautiful that one mere glimpse would burn the eyes from that Winchester boy’s skull. But even amidst all his radiance, Gabriel knew Castiel was not at peace.

“He won’t even recognize you,” he said, making one last effort to save his brother additional pain.

“Don’t you think I know that? I don’t care. Please. Please, Gabriel. Please do this for me. I will not ask it of you again.”

Gabriel sighed. “If you say so. The carriage turns back into a pumpkin at midnight, though.”
And with that, he pressed a hand to Castiel’s forehead.

**
lover all aloneinvisiblelove on April 22nd, 2010 04:44 am (UTC)
Re: Dean/Cas, amnesia [R] [Part 2]
One moment he was in heaven and the next he was back in a human body again. He appeared to be in some dive bar, the kind that he had frequented countless times while on the road with Sam and Dean. He looked down at himself; Gabriel had put him in something less conspicuous than Jimmy’s trench coat. He was instead wearing blue jeans and a soft cotton shirt with the sleeves cuffed up around his forearms.

Castiel could feel Dean’s presence in this place and it only took him one sweep of his eyes across the room to land on his former charge. He was sitting at the bar with a bottle of beer, mind clearly miles away but unburdened in a way Castiel had never really seen him while he had been on earth. He looked good. He felt something in his human chest constrict and his vision begin to cloud, but he took a few deep breaths and managed to steady himself. If he was going to do this, he would have to appear entirely natural.

Taking a look at his borrowed face in one of the mirrors on the wall, Castiel steeled himself for what he was about to do before turning and making his way to the bar. He thought he had prepared himself for the lack of recognition on Dean’s face when he saw him, but nothing could have made him ready for the wary glance Dean gave him when he sidled up next to him at the bar. He very nearly scrapped the whole idea. Gabriel was right; this was going to do nothing to help ease the gaping emptiness that had followed him back to heaven. But now that he was next to Dean again, he knew he would only be kidding himself if he thought he had the strength to turn away.

“Hey,” he said, the sound of Jimmy’s voice strange to him after not hearing it for so long.

“Ugh, hi.”

Castiel wracked his brain for the pick up lines he had heard Dean use. He had never had to learn to be flirtatious while on earth. His relationship with Dean had grown from something so infinitely deeper than any clever phrases and wit ever could.

Realizing that directness was his only hope for getting what he needed, he positioned himself into Dean’s personal space and made sure no one was looking before dropping his hand between Dean’s splayed legs and squeezing him through the worn denim of his jeans. He pitched his voice low and whispered, “Could you find somewhere private so I can get this in my mouth?”

Dean nearly choked on his beer. He managed to swallow and then locked eyes with Castiel. “Hell yeah,” he breathed. Eyes hooded and pupils blown, it was the same look he used to elicit on Dean’s face – only there was none of the underlying affection, and maybe even love, that was there before. He tried to push the thought out of his head; if he was going to go through with this, he was going to try and enjoy it as much as possible.

Dean stood up and Castiel followed him as he made his way to the bar’s bathroom. They entered and the pale, sickly light brought on a fresh wave of pain over the fact that Dean would remember nothing more than maybe an orgasm from tonight.
Re: Dean/Cas, amnesia [R] [Part 3] - invisiblelove on April 22nd, 2010 04:44 am (UTC) (Expand)
Re: Dean/Cas, amnesia [R] [Part 4] - invisiblelove on April 22nd, 2010 04:45 am (UTC) (Expand)
Re: Dean/Cas, amnesia [R] [Part 4] - hopelessfangirl on April 22nd, 2010 05:38 am (UTC) (Expand)
Re: Dean/Cas, amnesia [R] [Part 4] - invisiblelove on April 22nd, 2010 05:53 am (UTC) (Expand)
Re: Dean/Cas, amnesia [R] [Part 4] - janie_tangerine on April 22nd, 2010 06:06 am (UTC) (Expand)
Re: Dean/Cas, amnesia [R] [Part 4] - invisiblelove on April 22nd, 2010 06:13 am (UTC) (Expand)
(Deleted comment)
Re: Dean/Cas, amnesia [R] [Part 4] - invisiblelove on April 22nd, 2010 07:20 pm (UTC) (Expand)
(Deleted comment)
Fangirlage like WHOA.: SFU // D&K - Intertwinedhopelessfangirl on April 22nd, 2010 06:01 pm (UTC)
Six Feet Under, David/Keith, music (with a hint of d/s), R
Basically this is the pornier version of this. ALSO, I'M LOSING MY PORN-WRITING VIRGINITY HERE, SO BE GENTLE. ♥

_________________


Fa la la LA la la la!

David was singing his scales again.

Fa la la LA la la la!

At 7 o'clock in the morning.

Fa la la LA la la la!

"David." Keith gritted his teeth.

"What?" David asked, a hint of defensiveness already in his voice.

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Singing at me. This early in the morning." Keith stirred creamer into his coffee and took a gulp of it as if it was a shot of whiskey.

"Well, I'm sorry,” David said curtly. “The Chorus is having a show in two weeks, I have a chance to get one of the solos, and I have to practice."
David hated when Keith added "at me" to the end of that sentence. At present David was just singing to himself, but he only ever sang to Keith, not "at him." Now he had two choices: stop singing and feel bad for the rest of the day (the usual option), or keep singing in hopes that it will annoy the fuck out of Keith.

Today he was going with the latter.

Good mornin' / Good mornin'! / We've talked the whole night through / Good mornin' / Good mornin' to you!

Keith sighed heavily and took his toast out of the toaster.

If you're blue and you don't know where to go to / Why don't you go where fashion sits / Puttin' on the Ritz!

Keith buttered his toast with fervor, pieces of bread flicking off every which way.

Don't know why / There's no sun up in the sky / Stormy weather--

"Alright, you know what--?" Keith fumed, letting the butter knife drop with a clang onto his plate. Before David knew it, Keith strode across the kitchen and covered his mouth with his own, walking him backwards and pinning him against the cupboard. Keith's tongue invaded David's mouth, licking and swirling and dancing around David's. He reached a hand down David's pyjama pants and cupped his balls over his underwear, eliciting a gasp from him that broke their kiss.

"What does it take to shut you up, huh?" Keith asked, running his hand once down David's length before letting go of him. David breathed heavily and smirked at him, beginning to hum another tune. Keith quickly replaced his hand around David's cock, beneath the underwear this time, and started to stoke him slow and hard. The only sounds that came from David's mouth now were moans and pants. Keith watched David as he pumped him faster; David always bit his lip when he was close, and Keith was waiting for that as his cue. He rhythmically tightened and loosened his fist around David as he worked him harder, David’s head lolling back and forth against the cupboard door. When David's bottom lip finally twitched upward towards his front teeth, Keith leaned in so that his lips barely caressed David's ear. He hovered there for a second before whispering melodically:

Oh, can't you see? / You belong to me.

With that, David let out a long, drawn-out moan and spilled into Keith's hand. He slumped forward and rested his forehead on Keith's shoulder, his body heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

With his free hand, Keith grabbed a paper towel off the counter and cleaned the mess off his other hand. "Don't get any ideas," Keith said. "I'm not giving you a hand job every time you start singing at the fucking crack of dawn." He pulled up a chair for David, sat him down, and walked away.

David was still too blissful to retort, but he resolved to see if Keith was a man of his word the next morning.
the female ghost of tom joad: six feet underjanie_tangerine on April 22nd, 2010 06:21 pm (UTC)
Re: Six Feet Under, David/Keith, music (with a hint of d/s), R
OMG OMG OMG I LOVE YOU AND I LOVE THIS AND THIS WAS FIRST CLASS PORN. Seriously it was. PLEASE EXCUSE ME WHILE I GO FAN MYSELF.

LOL, that bit in canon was hilarious BUT I LIKE YOUR PORNY VERSION BETTER. ;) ;) LOL, poor Keith, I sort of can get him there. I wouldn't be wanting to hear scales at the crack of dawn either. *cough*

Also I just LOVED David here. He was so IC with the continuing on singing deal, and aww that bit about feeling bad for the rest of the day if he stopped = ;_;, but then I stopped being ;_; and started being like OMG OMG *FANS* because DUUUUH. That was one hot kiss. AND THAT WAS SOME HOT PORN. The singing turning into moans = UNF. And David coming when Keith said that OMG YES PERFECTION. Yes YES AND YES ALL OVER. Damn, I can't shut the capslock off.

AND PLEASE DAVID DO RESOLVE TO SEE IF KEITH KEEPS HIS WORD. The d/s hint was just delicious. AS THIS WHOLE THING WAS AND I TOTALLY LOVE IT AND THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!!! <3333333333333333333333