Save Tonight, Haven, Duke Crocker/Audrey Parker/Nathan Wuornos, possessionmonimalaJanuary 20 2013, 16:22:58 UTC
Slight spoilers for season three finale.
She doesn’t want to leave her boys. Ever. It’s this wild panic in the pit of her stomach, telling her to hold on to them, to dig in her heels and her nails and refuse to go anywhere. But, somehow, she makes herself say “Goodnight” and turn toward the door. She’ll go upstairs, she’ll lie awake and she’ll wait for the meteor shower to seal her fate. There is nothing left for her but the inevitable.
Because Audrey Parker is practical and self-contained and unselfish. Because she doesn’t belong to herself, even if Nathan and Duke will always belong to her. Because asking them for what she really wants tonight might just be asking too much. Stay with me. Don’t let me go. Help me forget that it’s my last night on Earth.But, as usual, Duke knows what she wants without her having to put it into words. He knows her better angels, and her worse ones, too. He’s the first to cross the room, to stop her hand on the knob and stroke the backs of her fingers. He rests his chin on her shoulder. His hair
( ... )
until gravity is too much, lizzie bennet diaries, Lizzie/Darcy, understanding, kiss abvjJanuary 20 2013, 16:46:59 UTC
The most fascinating thing that happens during “Hyper-Mediation in New Media” is what the camera doesn’t manage to catch on film. Lizzie probably won’t ever be able to explain why, but she seeks him out afterwards
( ... )
A Smudge of Darkness, Prison Break, Michael Scofield/Lincoln Burrows, Darknessclair_de_luneJanuary 20 2013, 16:47:16 UTC
There’s no light.
The night has fallen, pitch black and velvety, hardly any stars at all, and there’s no light. Michael smells like sweat and dirt and tastes like life under Lincoln’s mouth. Lincoln kisses him deep, deep, deeper as if he wants to devour him. His hand slides down to Michael’s groin, directly and without hesitation, because it’s been too long since they’ve done this and, sure, he wants to make it right, he wants to make it last, he wants to make it good, he wants a shower and a large fresh bed to savor it, he wants to kiss, lick and stroke Michael until Michael pants and surrenders, but there’s no way all that happens for now. [The rest is here]
Take my body, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Robb/Theon, battlelust, blood, biterevarieJanuary 20 2013, 18:04:02 UTC
They say you should not bother a king the night before a battle.
The plans have been made, the dices have been thrown, and each of them anticipate the war in their own way. Always praying. Some to their gods, head hanging low and lips moving in a quiet whisper; a few to their swords, running a thumb over the sharp edge and believing in nothing else but the soft hiss of the air when metal hurries to meet flesh and bones. Some pray to their dead blood, fathers of their fathers who earned their own victories. And then there's those who pray to the warm space between a woman's breasts, the delicate curve of their hips and the wetness between their legs.
The northmen know who their king prays to.
(It's not the gods.)
Late at night, so late that the sky goes from black to dark, dark purple, Robb Stark prays to the comfort of an ironborn's mouth. There's no battlelust bigger than the one before the battle, and Robb presses Theon firmly against the ground, grinds down on him as he kisses him hard and hot and desperate. Theon likes to use
( ... )
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She doesn’t want to leave her boys. Ever. It’s this wild panic in the pit of her stomach, telling her to hold on to them, to dig in her heels and her nails and refuse to go anywhere. But, somehow, she makes herself say “Goodnight” and turn toward the door. She’ll go upstairs, she’ll lie awake and she’ll wait for the meteor shower to seal her fate. There is nothing left for her but the inevitable.
Because Audrey Parker is practical and self-contained and unselfish. Because she doesn’t belong to herself, even if Nathan and Duke will always belong to her. Because asking them for what she really wants tonight might just be asking too much. Stay with me. Don’t let me go. Help me forget that it’s my last night on Earth.But, as usual, Duke knows what she wants without her having to put it into words. He knows her better angels, and her worse ones, too. He’s the first to cross the room, to stop her hand on the knob and stroke the backs of her fingers. He rests his chin on her shoulder. His hair ( ... )
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The night has fallen, pitch black and velvety, hardly any stars at all, and there’s no light. Michael smells like sweat and dirt and tastes like life under Lincoln’s mouth. Lincoln kisses him deep, deep, deeper as if he wants to devour him. His hand slides down to Michael’s groin, directly and without hesitation, because it’s been too long since they’ve done this and, sure, he wants to make it right, he wants to make it last, he wants to make it good, he wants a shower and a large fresh bed to savor it, he wants to kiss, lick and stroke Michael until Michael pants and surrenders, but there’s no way all that happens for now. [The rest is here]
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The plans have been made, the dices have been thrown, and each of them anticipate the war in their own way. Always praying. Some to their gods, head hanging low and lips moving in a quiet whisper; a few to their swords, running a thumb over the sharp edge and believing in nothing else but the soft hiss of the air when metal hurries to meet flesh and bones. Some pray to their dead blood, fathers of their fathers who earned their own victories. And then there's those who pray to the warm space between a woman's breasts, the delicate curve of their hips and the wetness between their legs.
The northmen know who their king prays to.
(It's not the gods.)
Late at night, so late that the sky goes from black to dark, dark purple, Robb Stark prays to the comfort of an ironborn's mouth. There's no battlelust bigger than the one before the battle, and Robb presses Theon firmly against the ground, grinds down on him as he kisses him hard and hot and desperate. Theon likes to use ( ... )
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The North belongs to him now, and Theon is his by rights.
(He isn't.)
IT HURTS SO GOOD I LOVED THIS.
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