HUGE post of fic. (part three)
Continued fic from previous posts.
Sorry if this is annoying on anyone's f-lists.
MISCELLANEOUS
X-Men, Pyro/Iceman, I don't know you anymore
He doesn't know him anymore; this strange man who only carries the used name. He who breathes fire and used to whisper his name in hushed tones.
He doesn't recall his touch anymore, a touch that burned paths through icy exterior that he called skin.
He doesn't know him anymore as they fight; anger burning so brightly. Flames lick at his hands, such a familiar feeling that he's longed for; missed with a passion.
He doesn't know him anymore.
Slowly he's stopped caring.
-------------------------
X-Men, Remy/Rogue, affair
"If you won't dare to kiss me, pretend it's an affair," he whispers through choked breath.
Laugh is thick through tears as she crouches besides him, too frightened to touch.
If he just holds on for a few more moments, the ambulance can come and everything will be like a fairytale.
Shaking her head, she leans over his body, eyes flickering everywhere but the bloody wound that is quickly staining the ground around him.
The childish part of her wants to be amazed that so much blood is escaping and he's still joking.
But he's her Remy, something she doubts she'll ever speak aloud.
Gloved hands whisper across his face, over lips and closed eyes.
"You can't die, not here," she pleads, so tired of pleading. Begging to touch, to be normal, and to be loved.
She wants this affair, wants it so badly she can taste it on the tip of her tongue.
Deeply breathing out, she slips her gloves off with practiced motion.
Before her mind can think, she runs hands over rough stubble, over soft lips.
"Ma chérie," he murmurs, voice trailing off as his eyes clench tighter.
Tears falling from her face, sobs echoing off her chest, she leans closer.
Hesitate, her lips brush his.
An affair.
--------------------------
Harry Potter, Sirius/Lily, liquid courage
He's never realized how green her eyes are, so bloody green.
It's like falling into pastures of grass and wind that smells like roses.
It smells like Lily should.
The fire whiskey burns paths down his lungs and everything's lighter.
He sees her sitting by herself, James' has always been impossibly late, and he cares.
He feels brave, braver then when he cursed his family name.
He'd really been shaking so much, he couldn't sleep the night before he finally decided.
Decided that maybe it was okay; okay to love someone who only was half.
He snots because god, has he gone bonkers?
She looks up as he approaches, grinning.
"Sirius, so nice to see someone I know here," she exclaims, using the smile reserved for him only.
He's always loved the smell of roses.
Leaning down, he closes the space between them. Lips hesitantly touch hers, no longer practiced womanizer.
Her hands are in his hair before he realizes, lips responding against his own.
She shoves him away; breaths ragged and face blazing red.
"I...really have to go Sirius. James and I are supposed to be home shopping," she explains, voice strained.
He watches her run out of the pub, downing the rest of the bottle with a sigh.
-----------------------------
Doctor Who, Ten/Rose, Through the Looking Glass
Her fist pounds against the glass, tears threatening to fall from her eyes.
She's never felt so defenseless, never before. The darkness slides in closer, the screams whisper in her ears; crawl along her spine.
"Rose, you need to calm down! I can fix this," the good Doctor all but shouted, shoving wooden chair into his side of the glass.
They were coming for her; she could feel the chains beginning to weigh her down, legs slowly sinking into the darkness all around her now.
Fists bled from repeating pounding, voice was all but stolen in quick gasps of panicked air.
The Doctor's face screwed up in angerhopelessness as he gave shout after shout.
Nails struggle to dig into the glass as shadowy hands claw at her legs. Eyes clench shut in pain as she tries not to let out screams fighting their way up her throat.
"I know you'll save me," she whispered, darkness swarming down her throat.
------------------------------
Dollhouse, Topher/Echo, retribution
Blank expression and she smiles, unsure of herself.
"Echo, it's time for your treatment," the doctor explains, smiling.
She's always liked him, he's so kind and his voice is always fun to listen to.
Sitting in the chair, she jumps as a needle slips into her arm.
"It hurts," she explains calmly, voice taking on odd strain that she's unfamiliar to. He nods his head, hand patting her arm in soothing motions.
"It's supposed to Echo, I'm so sorry." he murmurs, voice taking an edge. "Can you close your eyes for me Echo? This is a really big secret."
Nodding her head, she closes her eyes waiting. She wants it to be a surprise, perhaps extra pancakes?
Familiar hum of the chair begins to calm her before intense pain shoots up her arm. Gritting teeth in pain, she clenches her eyes shut.
He told her to keep her eyes shut and she'll do that, even with tears streaming down her face.
She'd like to go now; she wants to go so badly. Her skin's on fire and slowly peeling off. She lets out a scream followed by another.
"Did I fall asleep?" she whispers, voice rough from something she cannot recall.
The doctor smiles at her calmly, nods.
"Just for a little," he replies.
Hesitantly, she glances towards the door, arm hot.
"May I leave?" she questions, not sure if he'll let her. Something about him scares her; she doesn't want to be around him.
"You may."
Standing up, she glances behind her as she exits the room, catching the glare sent towards her.
--------------------------------
Dollhouse, Topher/Sierra!bff, glitch
"God, could you relax?" exclaimed the exotic-looking woman as she glanced behind.
The house was silent as could be as Topher followed after his friend.
"I mean it's just a little of this and that, I swear I'll clean up the dollies after, really!" she continued to plead, eyes wide and smirk present.
Rolling his eyes, Topher ran a shaky hand through his hair as the tall woman circled around her friend. Her eyes neared dangerously as she rests her head on his shoulder.
"Just think...pool gladiators. It'd be magnificent," she whispered, hands coming around Topher.
The scientist gave a great sigh before nodding in agreement.
"Fine...as long as you promise to clean up," he muttered.
There was no response from the Active causing Topher turn around.
Her eyes were wide and fearful as she gave a scream, shoving him away.
Tears sprang to her eyes as she whispered "no" over and over.
It was over before Topher could really comprehend what had happened and a smile lit her face.
"Really? God Topher, I swear you are officially my King!" she shouted, rushing past the shocked man.
----------------------------
Dollhouse, male! Echo/Topher Brink, would you like a treatment?
He knows it's stupid to be flustered by an Active's personality; they simply can't help it.
He especially shouldn't be flustered when he's the one who's made the lewd personality in the first place.
Echo's everything a woman (man) could want, not just in looks.
But broad shoulders that taper to small waist and brown eyes that always seem to say the dirtiest things...well they do things to him.
Echo playfully boxes his handler on the shoulder, grin wide and carefree.
He's been imprinted with star quarterback, for some odd father/son bonding experience.
Dirt smudges crisp white shoes and the beginnings of a bruise dot his cheek.
"So of course once you have the ball, you've just got to throw...straight. Feel the air between your fingers," he's explaining, with a slight cockiness to his voice.
Topher's programmed him to be like that, when have football players never been a pain in the ass?
"Echo, would you like your treatment now?" he questions, gesturing the chair with fake smile and all.
The Active in question looks over from his handler, eyebrow raised as he drags his gaze over the scientist.
It's when he licks his lips that Topher's forced smile slowly droops.
"Would you like a treatment? All we have to do is go someplace nice and quiet," he flirts, suddenly so much closer in half the time.
Topher finds the smile coming to his face is more real then it's been in a long time.
----------------------------------------
CROSSOVERS
Doctor Who/Gossip Girl, The Doctor/author's choice, "It's a WHAT?!"
She glared at him as he wearily pinched the bridge of his nose. Glasses clattered back into place as the grip on her arm tightened just a bit. They stared at the heavily breathing creature, blood dripping in stains down its face. Razor-shaped teeth clapped together loudly, bone against bone.
"A Dementor, not something you want to run into," murmured the Doctor, mouth curved down into one of the rare serious frowns she'd seen.
It took a moment for even Blair to realize he wasn't kidding as she let out a forced laugh; tight and just a little fake.
"It's a WHAT? As in Harry Potter soul sucking creature?" she questioned, taking a small step towards the immortal Time Lord.
He had to be kidding her, pulling her leg or something because Serena had dragged her to one of the movies and this was not what they had looked like. Compared to the thing before her, screaming souls begging against its skin, Harry Potter had faced bunnies.
Before she could wait for an answer, she was practically dragged away from the creature as they began running through the empty space station. Kicking off high heels (why had she worn them), Blair clasped the Doctor's hand within hers as they raced through halls thick with dried blood.
The Doctor had answered a distress call, too late. Blair had vomited all over the floor (first time not forced) as soon as they'd walked out of the TARDIS.
"Harry Potter honestly? Those books are complete rubbish. Next time, perhaps she should do proper research before writing lies," the Doctor fumed as they slid under a halfway closed gate.
He stopped to listen for the wet sound of flesh hitting flesh; the rags had hung off of the Dementor.
"Dementor's are related quite closely to the stone angels. Just they really don't care if you're looking or not. And they like to keep you alive for a few years...slowly stripping the flesh from your bones," he murmured as Blair's breath caught.
Clenching his hand tighter, she let out a shaky stream of air.
"We'll be fine. You're the Doctor...I trust you with my life," she whispered (believing it more as they crashed through time).
-------------------------------------
Heroes/Gossip Girl, Sylar/Blair, "You're broken"
She stares up at him, eyes glazed over. He's known the type of emotions she's feeling, has felt it many times.
When he was stupid and young; pitiful.
Dark curls fall across her face, frame her neck; slender and pale. She's breathtaking and beautiful, ugly and disgusting all in the same breath.
His eyes are trained on the single tear that rests in the corner of her eye, but refuses to fall.
Refuses to fall, just like she refuses to scream and thrash in his grasp.
"What are you waiting for?" she whispered, lashes dark and lips full. Her eyebrow arches and lips curve into a slow smirk. "Scared?"
He's never come across anyone like her, not even Claire is this giving with her never-ending life.
Its times at this that he wishes he'd stolen that stupid cop's ability.
"You're broken, there's no fun in killing someone already dead," he murmured, watching the confusion flash in her eyes.
She squared her jaw, leaning into the hand enclosed around her throat.
"Then fix me."
-----------------------------------
Kings/Heroes, Jack/Tracy, blackmail
The disc twirled between her fingers as she sat behind the large desk. Red lips curved into a small smile as he watched her with growing annoyance.
"Anything else?" he snapped, jaws tightening.
She had come out of nowhere, with damning evidence even worse than sobbing video left behind.
Her head tilted to the side, strand of blond falling across her vision. Nail came to tap against pale cheek as if she were really thinking (had probably planned this for weeks).
"More power never hurt anyone, I always say," she laughed, eyes closing for brief moment.
Gaze flickering to stupid little disc in hand, he was certain there were thousands of copies hidden, he gave a tight smile.
"It's a prince's duty to make sure his people are well."
----------------------------------
Merlin/Dr Who, Morgana & Author's choice of Doctor, There are different ways to see the future
[Set before he meets Rose and all that business.]
He doesn't expect her to be like this; frail (insanity peeking it’s dark gaze). He has seen planets explode, stars born and extinguished all in the time he takes breath. Legends speak of her in whispered screams, things that used to haunt a child's dream; legends are slowly eroded and forgotten.
She looks up at him through eyes circled in black, lips quirk into strange grin. He doesn't think he's ever seen a lonelier human, her very gift clutching her in poisonous hands.
"I dream of you, watching a home burn to ground. Of you becoming someone else in the blink of an eye," she whispers, voice raspy from screams in the night. Sweat clings to her skin, lips redder from constant worrying.
He can help her, knows he can; yet doesn't know when he began to care at all. She shudders before him, knuckles white from pressure put onto bed post. Her legs shake beneath her, but eyes are determined and look steadily into his; he can understand why she becomes nightmares.
"Take my hand," his voice is rough, unfeeling (something he's learned after eons of life, not yet perfected). Her gaze flickers to his hand, skin calloused and used. "There are different ways to see the future."
It's the sentence that causes her to jerk forward, clinging to his hand; a lifesaver in turbulent seas. Dark curls brush against his shoulder as she slumps into him, whole body shaking.
"I trust you Doctor," her words are the wind that dies outside the window.
------------------------------
Merlin/Gossip Girl, author's choice, Morgana is Gossip Girl
She begins to think that perhaps going through college once again is not nearly as insufferable as she once deemed it to be.
Reincarnation is not as great as people write it to be, she should definitely know. Born into the same body, over and over; reduced to go through the frightening nightmares when they returned to grip her body.
But now it's different, she sometimes thinks with a careful smirk. Cell phone always at hand, she lazily leafs through the messages displayed on the screen.
She can easily tell truth from false tale, sometimes she dreams even about brunette Queen.
Laughing at one of the snippets of gossip, Morgana quickly sends out the call.
Queen B not so queenly? We hear there's a Brooklyn rat gunning for you. Might want to be careful B...happiness never lasts long when Prince Charming can't keep it in his pants.
XOXO Gossip Girl
She quite likes reincarnation this time around.
--------------------------------
Merlin/Supernatural, Morgana and Chuck, you see all the big things, but it's the little ones that bite you in the ass
He wrote she would be coming, knew she would be gorgeous, but seeing her is something different entirely. Red lips are pursed and eyes are hard as she walks past him into the untidy home.
"There's really no point in introductions, I dreamed we'd meet and you...wrote it," she muttered, strolling over to the books strewn about the floor. Long hair brushed past her shoulders; as she crouched down to inspect the books closer. He's just as tongue-tied as he wrote, but she already knows he won't really be much of a talker.
"You know, I saw you had books in the vision, but these...are cute," she teases, holding up the book on Arthurian legends. He prays she won't flip through the pages to see the passages about her highlighted and underlined; those pages worn.
"Do you w-want something to drink?" he managed to exclaim, almost shout. Surprised, she stood, head tilted to the side as she regarded him.
He hadn't talked in her dream at all, merely pointed out what she'd been looking for and allowed her to leave.
He reminded her a bit of Merlin, the awkwardness about him.
"I'll have to accept the invitation Chuck. I'm Morgana," she murmured, walking closer. The two seers allowed small smiles to fleet across their faces.
-------------------------------------
The Middleman/Supernatural, Dean Winchester/Wendy Watson, the value of zombie movies and pie
"No, see I'm not thinking you understand me. Zombie movies are kick ass while pie is for old men," she explained, yelling over the loud bar music. Taken aback by the volume of her voice, Dean struggled to not roll his eyes.
He'd come over here expecting to get laid that night, but from the way things were going, they were likely to spend the night arguing over pie and movies.
"Those movies are utter crap. Nothing like how zombies really move or act. Now pie can't be faked; it's either good or bad," he replied smugly.
She smiled widely; adjusting her glasses (Dean had always had a thing for kinky librarians).
"Well I think we need to put that to the test then, huh? I actually have a new movie at ho-" she cut off, glancing at her watch as the screen lightened.
Dean watched as she quickly stood, grabbing her jacket and pulling it on.
Writing on a dirty napkin, she handed the address to Dean, grinning.
"I'm Wendy Watson. If you ever want to take me up on the marathon, just go there," she explained, rushing out of the bar.
-------------------------------------
Kings/Merlin, Jack/Arthur, battlefield
Breath is ragged, hands shake.
He's not sure whether he should laugh, but god does it hurt to even do that. Flat on his back, he stares at the sky before him; sight blurring.
Isn't this how he's supposed to die? In the glory of battle and with another prince at that! It's like a fairytale.
Laughing, he wheezes as blood splatters his face in warm droplets. Legs are cold, he's sure that is what they are (hasn't been able to feel them for a while now). He's dying for his country, a damned thing he stopped believing in so long ago.
Next to him, blond prince gives a gasp (splatters as warm and red as his own). He thinks that if he just reaches out his hand far enough, he could touch him. Just some sort of contact before the world blackens around him.
So he does.
The hand tightens around his own, as if trying to drag him along to whatever happens when you die.
He's certain he'll end up in hell.
"That was a bloody good war, befitting of another prince," blond man murmurs, voice thick with rising blood.
He smiles before everything goes black and sound is but a memory.
Sorry if this is annoying on anyone's f-lists.
MISCELLANEOUS
X-Men, Pyro/Iceman, I don't know you anymore
He doesn't know him anymore; this strange man who only carries the used name. He who breathes fire and used to whisper his name in hushed tones.
He doesn't recall his touch anymore, a touch that burned paths through icy exterior that he called skin.
He doesn't know him anymore as they fight; anger burning so brightly. Flames lick at his hands, such a familiar feeling that he's longed for; missed with a passion.
He doesn't know him anymore.
Slowly he's stopped caring.
-------------------------
X-Men, Remy/Rogue, affair
"If you won't dare to kiss me, pretend it's an affair," he whispers through choked breath.
Laugh is thick through tears as she crouches besides him, too frightened to touch.
If he just holds on for a few more moments, the ambulance can come and everything will be like a fairytale.
Shaking her head, she leans over his body, eyes flickering everywhere but the bloody wound that is quickly staining the ground around him.
The childish part of her wants to be amazed that so much blood is escaping and he's still joking.
But he's her Remy, something she doubts she'll ever speak aloud.
Gloved hands whisper across his face, over lips and closed eyes.
"You can't die, not here," she pleads, so tired of pleading. Begging to touch, to be normal, and to be loved.
She wants this affair, wants it so badly she can taste it on the tip of her tongue.
Deeply breathing out, she slips her gloves off with practiced motion.
Before her mind can think, she runs hands over rough stubble, over soft lips.
"Ma chérie," he murmurs, voice trailing off as his eyes clench tighter.
Tears falling from her face, sobs echoing off her chest, she leans closer.
Hesitate, her lips brush his.
An affair.
--------------------------
Harry Potter, Sirius/Lily, liquid courage
He's never realized how green her eyes are, so bloody green.
It's like falling into pastures of grass and wind that smells like roses.
It smells like Lily should.
The fire whiskey burns paths down his lungs and everything's lighter.
He sees her sitting by herself, James' has always been impossibly late, and he cares.
He feels brave, braver then when he cursed his family name.
He'd really been shaking so much, he couldn't sleep the night before he finally decided.
Decided that maybe it was okay; okay to love someone who only was half.
He snots because god, has he gone bonkers?
She looks up as he approaches, grinning.
"Sirius, so nice to see someone I know here," she exclaims, using the smile reserved for him only.
He's always loved the smell of roses.
Leaning down, he closes the space between them. Lips hesitantly touch hers, no longer practiced womanizer.
Her hands are in his hair before he realizes, lips responding against his own.
She shoves him away; breaths ragged and face blazing red.
"I...really have to go Sirius. James and I are supposed to be home shopping," she explains, voice strained.
He watches her run out of the pub, downing the rest of the bottle with a sigh.
-----------------------------
Doctor Who, Ten/Rose, Through the Looking Glass
Her fist pounds against the glass, tears threatening to fall from her eyes.
She's never felt so defenseless, never before. The darkness slides in closer, the screams whisper in her ears; crawl along her spine.
"Rose, you need to calm down! I can fix this," the good Doctor all but shouted, shoving wooden chair into his side of the glass.
They were coming for her; she could feel the chains beginning to weigh her down, legs slowly sinking into the darkness all around her now.
Fists bled from repeating pounding, voice was all but stolen in quick gasps of panicked air.
The Doctor's face screwed up in angerhopelessness as he gave shout after shout.
Nails struggle to dig into the glass as shadowy hands claw at her legs. Eyes clench shut in pain as she tries not to let out screams fighting their way up her throat.
"I know you'll save me," she whispered, darkness swarming down her throat.
------------------------------
Dollhouse, Topher/Echo, retribution
Blank expression and she smiles, unsure of herself.
"Echo, it's time for your treatment," the doctor explains, smiling.
She's always liked him, he's so kind and his voice is always fun to listen to.
Sitting in the chair, she jumps as a needle slips into her arm.
"It hurts," she explains calmly, voice taking on odd strain that she's unfamiliar to. He nods his head, hand patting her arm in soothing motions.
"It's supposed to Echo, I'm so sorry." he murmurs, voice taking an edge. "Can you close your eyes for me Echo? This is a really big secret."
Nodding her head, she closes her eyes waiting. She wants it to be a surprise, perhaps extra pancakes?
Familiar hum of the chair begins to calm her before intense pain shoots up her arm. Gritting teeth in pain, she clenches her eyes shut.
He told her to keep her eyes shut and she'll do that, even with tears streaming down her face.
She'd like to go now; she wants to go so badly. Her skin's on fire and slowly peeling off. She lets out a scream followed by another.
"Did I fall asleep?" she whispers, voice rough from something she cannot recall.
The doctor smiles at her calmly, nods.
"Just for a little," he replies.
Hesitantly, she glances towards the door, arm hot.
"May I leave?" she questions, not sure if he'll let her. Something about him scares her; she doesn't want to be around him.
"You may."
Standing up, she glances behind her as she exits the room, catching the glare sent towards her.
--------------------------------
Dollhouse, Topher/Sierra!bff, glitch
"God, could you relax?" exclaimed the exotic-looking woman as she glanced behind.
The house was silent as could be as Topher followed after his friend.
"I mean it's just a little of this and that, I swear I'll clean up the dollies after, really!" she continued to plead, eyes wide and smirk present.
Rolling his eyes, Topher ran a shaky hand through his hair as the tall woman circled around her friend. Her eyes neared dangerously as she rests her head on his shoulder.
"Just think...pool gladiators. It'd be magnificent," she whispered, hands coming around Topher.
The scientist gave a great sigh before nodding in agreement.
"Fine...as long as you promise to clean up," he muttered.
There was no response from the Active causing Topher turn around.
Her eyes were wide and fearful as she gave a scream, shoving him away.
Tears sprang to her eyes as she whispered "no" over and over.
It was over before Topher could really comprehend what had happened and a smile lit her face.
"Really? God Topher, I swear you are officially my King!" she shouted, rushing past the shocked man.
----------------------------
Dollhouse, male! Echo/Topher Brink, would you like a treatment?
He knows it's stupid to be flustered by an Active's personality; they simply can't help it.
He especially shouldn't be flustered when he's the one who's made the lewd personality in the first place.
Echo's everything a woman (man) could want, not just in looks.
But broad shoulders that taper to small waist and brown eyes that always seem to say the dirtiest things...well they do things to him.
Echo playfully boxes his handler on the shoulder, grin wide and carefree.
He's been imprinted with star quarterback, for some odd father/son bonding experience.
Dirt smudges crisp white shoes and the beginnings of a bruise dot his cheek.
"So of course once you have the ball, you've just got to throw...straight. Feel the air between your fingers," he's explaining, with a slight cockiness to his voice.
Topher's programmed him to be like that, when have football players never been a pain in the ass?
"Echo, would you like your treatment now?" he questions, gesturing the chair with fake smile and all.
The Active in question looks over from his handler, eyebrow raised as he drags his gaze over the scientist.
It's when he licks his lips that Topher's forced smile slowly droops.
"Would you like a treatment? All we have to do is go someplace nice and quiet," he flirts, suddenly so much closer in half the time.
Topher finds the smile coming to his face is more real then it's been in a long time.
----------------------------------------
CROSSOVERS
Doctor Who/Gossip Girl, The Doctor/author's choice, "It's a WHAT?!"
She glared at him as he wearily pinched the bridge of his nose. Glasses clattered back into place as the grip on her arm tightened just a bit. They stared at the heavily breathing creature, blood dripping in stains down its face. Razor-shaped teeth clapped together loudly, bone against bone.
"A Dementor, not something you want to run into," murmured the Doctor, mouth curved down into one of the rare serious frowns she'd seen.
It took a moment for even Blair to realize he wasn't kidding as she let out a forced laugh; tight and just a little fake.
"It's a WHAT? As in Harry Potter soul sucking creature?" she questioned, taking a small step towards the immortal Time Lord.
He had to be kidding her, pulling her leg or something because Serena had dragged her to one of the movies and this was not what they had looked like. Compared to the thing before her, screaming souls begging against its skin, Harry Potter had faced bunnies.
Before she could wait for an answer, she was practically dragged away from the creature as they began running through the empty space station. Kicking off high heels (why had she worn them), Blair clasped the Doctor's hand within hers as they raced through halls thick with dried blood.
The Doctor had answered a distress call, too late. Blair had vomited all over the floor (first time not forced) as soon as they'd walked out of the TARDIS.
"Harry Potter honestly? Those books are complete rubbish. Next time, perhaps she should do proper research before writing lies," the Doctor fumed as they slid under a halfway closed gate.
He stopped to listen for the wet sound of flesh hitting flesh; the rags had hung off of the Dementor.
"Dementor's are related quite closely to the stone angels. Just they really don't care if you're looking or not. And they like to keep you alive for a few years...slowly stripping the flesh from your bones," he murmured as Blair's breath caught.
Clenching his hand tighter, she let out a shaky stream of air.
"We'll be fine. You're the Doctor...I trust you with my life," she whispered (believing it more as they crashed through time).
-------------------------------------
Heroes/Gossip Girl, Sylar/Blair, "You're broken"
She stares up at him, eyes glazed over. He's known the type of emotions she's feeling, has felt it many times.
When he was stupid and young; pitiful.
Dark curls fall across her face, frame her neck; slender and pale. She's breathtaking and beautiful, ugly and disgusting all in the same breath.
His eyes are trained on the single tear that rests in the corner of her eye, but refuses to fall.
Refuses to fall, just like she refuses to scream and thrash in his grasp.
"What are you waiting for?" she whispered, lashes dark and lips full. Her eyebrow arches and lips curve into a slow smirk. "Scared?"
He's never come across anyone like her, not even Claire is this giving with her never-ending life.
Its times at this that he wishes he'd stolen that stupid cop's ability.
"You're broken, there's no fun in killing someone already dead," he murmured, watching the confusion flash in her eyes.
She squared her jaw, leaning into the hand enclosed around her throat.
"Then fix me."
-----------------------------------
Kings/Heroes, Jack/Tracy, blackmail
The disc twirled between her fingers as she sat behind the large desk. Red lips curved into a small smile as he watched her with growing annoyance.
"Anything else?" he snapped, jaws tightening.
She had come out of nowhere, with damning evidence even worse than sobbing video left behind.
Her head tilted to the side, strand of blond falling across her vision. Nail came to tap against pale cheek as if she were really thinking (had probably planned this for weeks).
"More power never hurt anyone, I always say," she laughed, eyes closing for brief moment.
Gaze flickering to stupid little disc in hand, he was certain there were thousands of copies hidden, he gave a tight smile.
"It's a prince's duty to make sure his people are well."
----------------------------------
Merlin/Dr Who, Morgana & Author's choice of Doctor, There are different ways to see the future
[Set before he meets Rose and all that business.]
He doesn't expect her to be like this; frail (insanity peeking it’s dark gaze). He has seen planets explode, stars born and extinguished all in the time he takes breath. Legends speak of her in whispered screams, things that used to haunt a child's dream; legends are slowly eroded and forgotten.
She looks up at him through eyes circled in black, lips quirk into strange grin. He doesn't think he's ever seen a lonelier human, her very gift clutching her in poisonous hands.
"I dream of you, watching a home burn to ground. Of you becoming someone else in the blink of an eye," she whispers, voice raspy from screams in the night. Sweat clings to her skin, lips redder from constant worrying.
He can help her, knows he can; yet doesn't know when he began to care at all. She shudders before him, knuckles white from pressure put onto bed post. Her legs shake beneath her, but eyes are determined and look steadily into his; he can understand why she becomes nightmares.
"Take my hand," his voice is rough, unfeeling (something he's learned after eons of life, not yet perfected). Her gaze flickers to his hand, skin calloused and used. "There are different ways to see the future."
It's the sentence that causes her to jerk forward, clinging to his hand; a lifesaver in turbulent seas. Dark curls brush against his shoulder as she slumps into him, whole body shaking.
"I trust you Doctor," her words are the wind that dies outside the window.
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Merlin/Gossip Girl, author's choice, Morgana is Gossip Girl
She begins to think that perhaps going through college once again is not nearly as insufferable as she once deemed it to be.
Reincarnation is not as great as people write it to be, she should definitely know. Born into the same body, over and over; reduced to go through the frightening nightmares when they returned to grip her body.
But now it's different, she sometimes thinks with a careful smirk. Cell phone always at hand, she lazily leafs through the messages displayed on the screen.
She can easily tell truth from false tale, sometimes she dreams even about brunette Queen.
Laughing at one of the snippets of gossip, Morgana quickly sends out the call.
Queen B not so queenly? We hear there's a Brooklyn rat gunning for you. Might want to be careful B...happiness never lasts long when Prince Charming can't keep it in his pants.
XOXO Gossip Girl
She quite likes reincarnation this time around.
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Merlin/Supernatural, Morgana and Chuck, you see all the big things, but it's the little ones that bite you in the ass
He wrote she would be coming, knew she would be gorgeous, but seeing her is something different entirely. Red lips are pursed and eyes are hard as she walks past him into the untidy home.
"There's really no point in introductions, I dreamed we'd meet and you...wrote it," she muttered, strolling over to the books strewn about the floor. Long hair brushed past her shoulders; as she crouched down to inspect the books closer. He's just as tongue-tied as he wrote, but she already knows he won't really be much of a talker.
"You know, I saw you had books in the vision, but these...are cute," she teases, holding up the book on Arthurian legends. He prays she won't flip through the pages to see the passages about her highlighted and underlined; those pages worn.
"Do you w-want something to drink?" he managed to exclaim, almost shout. Surprised, she stood, head tilted to the side as she regarded him.
He hadn't talked in her dream at all, merely pointed out what she'd been looking for and allowed her to leave.
He reminded her a bit of Merlin, the awkwardness about him.
"I'll have to accept the invitation Chuck. I'm Morgana," she murmured, walking closer. The two seers allowed small smiles to fleet across their faces.
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The Middleman/Supernatural, Dean Winchester/Wendy Watson, the value of zombie movies and pie
"No, see I'm not thinking you understand me. Zombie movies are kick ass while pie is for old men," she explained, yelling over the loud bar music. Taken aback by the volume of her voice, Dean struggled to not roll his eyes.
He'd come over here expecting to get laid that night, but from the way things were going, they were likely to spend the night arguing over pie and movies.
"Those movies are utter crap. Nothing like how zombies really move or act. Now pie can't be faked; it's either good or bad," he replied smugly.
She smiled widely; adjusting her glasses (Dean had always had a thing for kinky librarians).
"Well I think we need to put that to the test then, huh? I actually have a new movie at ho-" she cut off, glancing at her watch as the screen lightened.
Dean watched as she quickly stood, grabbing her jacket and pulling it on.
Writing on a dirty napkin, she handed the address to Dean, grinning.
"I'm Wendy Watson. If you ever want to take me up on the marathon, just go there," she explained, rushing out of the bar.
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Kings/Merlin, Jack/Arthur, battlefield
Breath is ragged, hands shake.
He's not sure whether he should laugh, but god does it hurt to even do that. Flat on his back, he stares at the sky before him; sight blurring.
Isn't this how he's supposed to die? In the glory of battle and with another prince at that! It's like a fairytale.
Laughing, he wheezes as blood splatters his face in warm droplets. Legs are cold, he's sure that is what they are (hasn't been able to feel them for a while now). He's dying for his country, a damned thing he stopped believing in so long ago.
Next to him, blond prince gives a gasp (splatters as warm and red as his own). He thinks that if he just reaches out his hand far enough, he could touch him. Just some sort of contact before the world blackens around him.
So he does.
The hand tightens around his own, as if trying to drag him along to whatever happens when you die.
He's certain he'll end up in hell.
"That was a bloody good war, befitting of another prince," blond man murmurs, voice thick with rising blood.
He smiles before everything goes black and sound is but a memory.