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And here I thought I didn't do WIPs.
I'm trying to stay offline while I try to get this fic project done, which is due this weekend (just in case people are wondering about my IM absence *makes puppy eyes at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
halfdutch*). Most of these are probably abandoned for good, but geez, I didn't think there were so many...
These are the rules…
If you happen to be working on some creative writing project, fanfiction or NaNoWriMo or what have you, post one sentence (or more) from each of your current work(s) in progress in your journal. It should probably be your favorite or most intriguing sentence so far, but what you choose is entirely your discretion. Mention the title (and genre) if you like, but don't mention anything else -- this is merely to whet the general appetite for your forthcoming work(s).
Jack/James couch!fic
He’d wanted to fall into bed with him and give back just as fiercely as James had done for him in the hallway, but not minutes after he’d come he was slouching against the wall, his head rolling to the side.
“You’re passin’ out,” James whispered, folding an arm around Jack to brace him against his side, all warmth and smooth skin. Jack sighed and rubbed his cheek against James’ shoulder.
***
Jack/Sawyer captivity!fic
In the end, he let it happen, let his mind slowly fade out as he sunk into him, letting their mouths make the barest connection as they both gasped in the dark without sound.
“Jack, I—”
He pressed his hand hard against his chest and shook his head, lips skimming back and forth across his mouth, because they could not speak of this. He couldn’t see his face, but he knew his eyes were open, watching, slightly out of focus. He had to know they were giving in because they had no choice. They were saving themselves.
But there could be no sound.
Because they were always watching.
***
Jack/Sawyer S2 canon!fic
It’s so much easier to believe when your eyes are closed.
Had to bring your gun back. Not dealin’ with your girlfriend again.
You nod like it all makes sense, and it does. His hand reaching out to set the nine millimeter at your feet like an offering makes all the sense in the world.
You slide your hands over him, checking for wounds, imperfections that weren’t there before, but he’s all warm skin that smells faintly of sea salt and sweat. There’s nothing, no blood, no broken bones. Just a pulse, a beating heart that tells you he’s alive.
Michael, Jin…are they—
Yeah. Alive and kickin’.
You sigh in relief, straight down to your bones, because you’ve known all along that you’d have failed them somehow if they’d been lost. The weight leaves you in a rush and you’re exhausted (the hatch oh god he doesn’t know) and terrified to explain to him this new existence. He was safer at sea, you want to tell him, but all you can manage is to pass your fingers over his face and feel his smile.
***
Foxshy fic: "Sex in Expensive Cars"
They really, in complete honesty, truly thought they’d been alone.
***
Xmas!Jack/James, sequel tohalfdutch's "Overtime"
The Jeep had been finished for three days when Jack finally came by. He was alone, no parent in sight, and while James had long since convinced himself that he didn’t care when he showed up or if he’d be working then or if Jack would ask for him, his hands shook slightly as he tried not to watch as Rick handed him the bill.
Jack never looked over. Not once. James tapped his wrench against the engine block of ’76 Cadillac and stared at his hands. It didn’t matter, one stupid night, that’s all; shared cocktails on Christmas morning weren’t much, either. He hadn’t said much to Jack then, and he drove him home without a plan, without saying goodbye. Jack had smiled, shrugged, the end.
He could see him shake hands with Rick out of the corner of his eye. Jack had his keys and that was that.
“Hey, Ford.”
James nearly slammed his head into the hood. Rick was standing into the doorway of the garage with Jack behind him, his head bowed.
He hated that his heart sped up a fraction. “Yeah?”
“Jack here says you did the majority of the work on his Jeep on Christmas Eve. He wanted to thank you.”
“Oh.” James tried his damndest to look bored and a little annoyed. He figured if he didn’t wipe his hands off Jack wouldn’t want to touch him, so he left his rag in his back pocket as he casually walked toward him, waiting for that look that didn’t come until the very last second.
Their eyes met and James saw his cheeks flush.
“So?” Rick started to walk away and James almost wished he’d stay. Jack was too close and everything from that night was flashing through his head—
“So, I, um, wanted to say thanks. For, y’know…” He waved his hand in a vague gesture at the Jeep parked off to the side.
“Sure. No problem.” They were staring at their feet, but James caught the way Jack licked his lips in a slow motion, exposing the tip of his tongue. He swallowed hard and took a small step back.
“Okay.” Jack nodded like they’d made some sort of agreement. “Well, see ya.”
“Yeah.”
There was a five second delay; Jack fidgeted with the zipper of his letter jacket and then abruptly turned away, jogged back to the Jeep, and it was over.
James returned to his wrench and stared blindly into the guts of the Caddy for the next half hour.
***
Sawyer/Shannon fic
He liked blondes, always had.
She expected him to look at her, so he did, keeping his lashes low as he watched her over the edge of his book, preening in the sunlight. She swept her hair up off her neck as a blatant excuse to raise her arms, stick her chest out.
Show off.
Funny how the girl hated him but wanted his attention all the same. Now he knew how that brother of hers felt. Poor bastard.
Sawyer didn’t bother thinking it further until he found the diamond stud rattling around the bottom of one of his duffles, practically flashing morse code into his eyes. It was round cut, backed in yellow gold, and so obviously hers.
It was only one, but one was enough.
“Got somethin’ of yours,” he purred at her in passing the next day.
“So what else is new?” She didn’t even glance up from her towel, just flicked her toes at him.
“Well, I highly doubt you’ll be findin’ a Tiffany’s out here anytime soon, ‘s all I’m sayin’.”
Her eyes flew open and she was on her feet, in his face. “No. Fucking. Way.”
He held up the stud by her cheek. “Way. Pretty, too.”
“I’ve been looking everywhere—”
“Just not with me.”
“I should’ve known—”
“Look, sweetheart, if you think I stole these—”
“Whatever, just give ‘em to me.”
He smirked. “Now that ain’t how things work and you know it.”
She tried to grab his hand, but he was quicker, jerking his arm behind his back.
***
sequel to "Puck's Intentions"
Maybe it had been at the end to a miserably long week full of reshoots and storms and humidity so thick you could slice it with a butter knife. Maybe they were all long overdue for a break and the simple fact that Matt had gotten in two nights ago from a night on Conan—proceeded by a day with Regis and Kelly—only made the feeling of unspoken resentment flittering through the air that much more pronounced. Whatever it was, it wasn’t the day to have Us Weekly on the set.
The oh-so-happy blonde and her photographer had completed a residual round of the set in all of fifteen minutes before zeroing in on Matt and Josh’s smoke break. Dom was about twenty feet away in the makeup chair, getting that goddamned scar retouched, and he watched as Matt gave a resigned sigh while Josh’s face lit up the way it always did at the prospect that someone—anyone—wanted to talk to him.
But then Happy Blonde took Matt by the elbow and abruptly lead him off, throwing over her shoulder at Josh, “Just lead guys on this story, sorry.”
Josh smirked and ducked his head, his cheeks turning faintly pink as he finished his cigarette.
“Fuck her, mate,” Dom yelled. He knew the feeling well, although he’d grown a fairly tough skin in New Zealand, and God knew he never held it against Elijah and Viggo for getting the brightest light. Nature of the beast and all.
For Josh, Hawaii was his New Zealand, only smaller and more storm-ridden. He waved off Dom. “Bygones, dude. Foxy’s the star.” But he kept his head down, and for the rest of the day Dom barely heard a peep out of him.
Dom waited for Matt to notice, maybe take him aside and ask if something was up with Josh, if he was upset, if he’d done something. Instead, he’d watch him over the edge of his script, worrying his lower lip as Josh passed in and out of his line of sight.
“Problems?” Dom asked.
“No, fine.” He rubbed absently at his face, looking tired and vaguely hurt, and that was when Dom decided he’d take everyone out to get one hundred and ten percent sloshed out of their minds. It was Friday, they were getting close to wrapping, and he couldn’t stand to see the two of them in this sorry state.
Happy Blonde and her American fucking rag could sod off.
~
Matt had sworn off drinking for the year—guy hits the gym a little harder and suddenly he’s got his pecs to worry about—but Dom could always persuade him to make an exception, which wasn’t often. They hit a small club closest to Dom’s place, because if anything, Dom wanted the excuse to be able to pour both Matt and Josh into a cab together and let them decide who was going where and with whom.
A round of shots was bought, and then another, and Dom paid special attention to Josh’s mood and for any hints that the melancholy was lifting. He was staring off into a corner, occasionally flicking his eyes over to Matt before staring down into his shot glass. It was almost eerie to see Josh any other way but content, and Dom couldn’t help but wonder if this was the Josh that existed before, the one with the C-grade Sci Fi Channel movie and the real estate license and the pretty boy spread in Cosmo.
And he knew from the subtle way Matt fidgeted beside him that he, too, could feel the lack of energy and that Matt blamed himself, wouldn’t mention it because to do so meant bringing it all out into the open, poke at the wound.
Dom was at a loss as to how to fix the situation, figured it was a lost cause for the moment…and then his cell rang.
Naveen was running late, had just left the set—isolated jungle scenes were the absolute worst—traffic was a goddamn bloody mess, and could Dom please have a martini waiting for him?
Problem solved.
***
O_o
halfdutch*). Most of these are probably abandoned for good, but geez, I didn't think there were so many...These are the rules…
If you happen to be working on some creative writing project, fanfiction or NaNoWriMo or what have you, post one sentence (or more) from each of your current work(s) in progress in your journal. It should probably be your favorite or most intriguing sentence so far, but what you choose is entirely your discretion. Mention the title (and genre) if you like, but don't mention anything else -- this is merely to whet the general appetite for your forthcoming work(s).
Jack/James couch!fic
He’d wanted to fall into bed with him and give back just as fiercely as James had done for him in the hallway, but not minutes after he’d come he was slouching against the wall, his head rolling to the side.
“You’re passin’ out,” James whispered, folding an arm around Jack to brace him against his side, all warmth and smooth skin. Jack sighed and rubbed his cheek against James’ shoulder.
***
Jack/Sawyer captivity!fic
In the end, he let it happen, let his mind slowly fade out as he sunk into him, letting their mouths make the barest connection as they both gasped in the dark without sound.
“Jack, I—”
He pressed his hand hard against his chest and shook his head, lips skimming back and forth across his mouth, because they could not speak of this. He couldn’t see his face, but he knew his eyes were open, watching, slightly out of focus. He had to know they were giving in because they had no choice. They were saving themselves.
But there could be no sound.
Because they were always watching.
***
Jack/Sawyer S2 canon!fic
It’s so much easier to believe when your eyes are closed.
Had to bring your gun back. Not dealin’ with your girlfriend again.
You nod like it all makes sense, and it does. His hand reaching out to set the nine millimeter at your feet like an offering makes all the sense in the world.
You slide your hands over him, checking for wounds, imperfections that weren’t there before, but he’s all warm skin that smells faintly of sea salt and sweat. There’s nothing, no blood, no broken bones. Just a pulse, a beating heart that tells you he’s alive.
Michael, Jin…are they—
Yeah. Alive and kickin’.
You sigh in relief, straight down to your bones, because you’ve known all along that you’d have failed them somehow if they’d been lost. The weight leaves you in a rush and you’re exhausted (the hatch oh god he doesn’t know) and terrified to explain to him this new existence. He was safer at sea, you want to tell him, but all you can manage is to pass your fingers over his face and feel his smile.
***
Foxshy fic: "Sex in Expensive Cars"
They really, in complete honesty, truly thought they’d been alone.
***
Xmas!Jack/James, sequel to
halfdutch's "Overtime"The Jeep had been finished for three days when Jack finally came by. He was alone, no parent in sight, and while James had long since convinced himself that he didn’t care when he showed up or if he’d be working then or if Jack would ask for him, his hands shook slightly as he tried not to watch as Rick handed him the bill.
Jack never looked over. Not once. James tapped his wrench against the engine block of ’76 Cadillac and stared at his hands. It didn’t matter, one stupid night, that’s all; shared cocktails on Christmas morning weren’t much, either. He hadn’t said much to Jack then, and he drove him home without a plan, without saying goodbye. Jack had smiled, shrugged, the end.
He could see him shake hands with Rick out of the corner of his eye. Jack had his keys and that was that.
“Hey, Ford.”
James nearly slammed his head into the hood. Rick was standing into the doorway of the garage with Jack behind him, his head bowed.
He hated that his heart sped up a fraction. “Yeah?”
“Jack here says you did the majority of the work on his Jeep on Christmas Eve. He wanted to thank you.”
“Oh.” James tried his damndest to look bored and a little annoyed. He figured if he didn’t wipe his hands off Jack wouldn’t want to touch him, so he left his rag in his back pocket as he casually walked toward him, waiting for that look that didn’t come until the very last second.
Their eyes met and James saw his cheeks flush.
“So?” Rick started to walk away and James almost wished he’d stay. Jack was too close and everything from that night was flashing through his head—
“So, I, um, wanted to say thanks. For, y’know…” He waved his hand in a vague gesture at the Jeep parked off to the side.
“Sure. No problem.” They were staring at their feet, but James caught the way Jack licked his lips in a slow motion, exposing the tip of his tongue. He swallowed hard and took a small step back.
“Okay.” Jack nodded like they’d made some sort of agreement. “Well, see ya.”
“Yeah.”
There was a five second delay; Jack fidgeted with the zipper of his letter jacket and then abruptly turned away, jogged back to the Jeep, and it was over.
James returned to his wrench and stared blindly into the guts of the Caddy for the next half hour.
***
Sawyer/Shannon fic
He liked blondes, always had.
She expected him to look at her, so he did, keeping his lashes low as he watched her over the edge of his book, preening in the sunlight. She swept her hair up off her neck as a blatant excuse to raise her arms, stick her chest out.
Show off.
Funny how the girl hated him but wanted his attention all the same. Now he knew how that brother of hers felt. Poor bastard.
Sawyer didn’t bother thinking it further until he found the diamond stud rattling around the bottom of one of his duffles, practically flashing morse code into his eyes. It was round cut, backed in yellow gold, and so obviously hers.
It was only one, but one was enough.
“Got somethin’ of yours,” he purred at her in passing the next day.
“So what else is new?” She didn’t even glance up from her towel, just flicked her toes at him.
“Well, I highly doubt you’ll be findin’ a Tiffany’s out here anytime soon, ‘s all I’m sayin’.”
Her eyes flew open and she was on her feet, in his face. “No. Fucking. Way.”
He held up the stud by her cheek. “Way. Pretty, too.”
“I’ve been looking everywhere—”
“Just not with me.”
“I should’ve known—”
“Look, sweetheart, if you think I stole these—”
“Whatever, just give ‘em to me.”
He smirked. “Now that ain’t how things work and you know it.”
She tried to grab his hand, but he was quicker, jerking his arm behind his back.
***
sequel to "Puck's Intentions"
Maybe it had been at the end to a miserably long week full of reshoots and storms and humidity so thick you could slice it with a butter knife. Maybe they were all long overdue for a break and the simple fact that Matt had gotten in two nights ago from a night on Conan—proceeded by a day with Regis and Kelly—only made the feeling of unspoken resentment flittering through the air that much more pronounced. Whatever it was, it wasn’t the day to have Us Weekly on the set.
The oh-so-happy blonde and her photographer had completed a residual round of the set in all of fifteen minutes before zeroing in on Matt and Josh’s smoke break. Dom was about twenty feet away in the makeup chair, getting that goddamned scar retouched, and he watched as Matt gave a resigned sigh while Josh’s face lit up the way it always did at the prospect that someone—anyone—wanted to talk to him.
But then Happy Blonde took Matt by the elbow and abruptly lead him off, throwing over her shoulder at Josh, “Just lead guys on this story, sorry.”
Josh smirked and ducked his head, his cheeks turning faintly pink as he finished his cigarette.
“Fuck her, mate,” Dom yelled. He knew the feeling well, although he’d grown a fairly tough skin in New Zealand, and God knew he never held it against Elijah and Viggo for getting the brightest light. Nature of the beast and all.
For Josh, Hawaii was his New Zealand, only smaller and more storm-ridden. He waved off Dom. “Bygones, dude. Foxy’s the star.” But he kept his head down, and for the rest of the day Dom barely heard a peep out of him.
Dom waited for Matt to notice, maybe take him aside and ask if something was up with Josh, if he was upset, if he’d done something. Instead, he’d watch him over the edge of his script, worrying his lower lip as Josh passed in and out of his line of sight.
“Problems?” Dom asked.
“No, fine.” He rubbed absently at his face, looking tired and vaguely hurt, and that was when Dom decided he’d take everyone out to get one hundred and ten percent sloshed out of their minds. It was Friday, they were getting close to wrapping, and he couldn’t stand to see the two of them in this sorry state.
Happy Blonde and her American fucking rag could sod off.
~
Matt had sworn off drinking for the year—guy hits the gym a little harder and suddenly he’s got his pecs to worry about—but Dom could always persuade him to make an exception, which wasn’t often. They hit a small club closest to Dom’s place, because if anything, Dom wanted the excuse to be able to pour both Matt and Josh into a cab together and let them decide who was going where and with whom.
A round of shots was bought, and then another, and Dom paid special attention to Josh’s mood and for any hints that the melancholy was lifting. He was staring off into a corner, occasionally flicking his eyes over to Matt before staring down into his shot glass. It was almost eerie to see Josh any other way but content, and Dom couldn’t help but wonder if this was the Josh that existed before, the one with the C-grade Sci Fi Channel movie and the real estate license and the pretty boy spread in Cosmo.
And he knew from the subtle way Matt fidgeted beside him that he, too, could feel the lack of energy and that Matt blamed himself, wouldn’t mention it because to do so meant bringing it all out into the open, poke at the wound.
Dom was at a loss as to how to fix the situation, figured it was a lost cause for the moment…and then his cell rang.
Naveen was running late, had just left the set—isolated jungle scenes were the absolute worst—traffic was a goddamn bloody mess, and could Dom please have a martini waiting for him?
Problem solved.
***
O_o
no subject
AHA! *feels unloved*
But wait -- I've never seen that Jack/James ... have I?!!! *drools*
And awww, the angsty!Foxshy. *huggles fic and you*
I love the Sawyer/Shannon one too. I'd love to see all these finished, esp. the J/J!
I should be buried in my H:LOTS DVDs, except I still have some work ... *trudges off*
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I don't think you ever saw the couch!fic snippet; that's the one inspired by the Dolce and Gabbana ad. ;)
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(The fact you're still using that icon actually makes me feel all warm and fuzzy!)
I meant the holiday sequel one -- the one in the garage. Never seen that before? Have I?!! I l'd love to see them both keep going!
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Please? Pretty please with a cherry on top. Pleeeeeeaaaasssssseeeeee.
♥
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Ah, screw that.
PLEeeaeeaeaeaeaeaeaeaeseee, puh-leeease finish one of the Jack/James! I'm not addicted, honestly, it's just been so long, and it's not even September yet, which means October is even further away and...or captivity!fic! Anything! You can have money, or pictures, or my firstborn...*breaks down begging*
Ahem. Sorry 'bout that. *sedates herself*
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SO. MUCH. TO LOOK FORWARD TOOO.
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