The first of the drabbles are ready to post - the first two in return for icons and the second a holiday request. The next holiday fic (for the wonderful grondfic), is longer than these and still being worked on, but will be up tomorrow or the next day.
In the meantime, hope you enjoy these! All standard disclaimers apply, of course - I don't own them and suing's a bit on the futile side! :D
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Severus Snape/Remus Lupin
Severus Snape always tried to maintain a composure marked by disdain every time he saw Remus Lupin, but deep inside he feared someday that composure would fail him.
Oh, he had managed to fill his eyes with barbs of loathing when Lupin had first come to Hogwarts to teach, and to let the Potter brat in particular sense that hatred, but now things were becoming detestably complicated. This development was, to Snape, as maddening as once having loved that Muggle-born girl who had gone on to become young Potter’s mother. He wanted to keep hating Remus Lupin, but something else was, frustratingly, starting to hold the supreme dislike he had clung to for so many years in check.
Each month, when Severus handed Remus the Wolfsbane Potion and the werewolf looked so tired and so pathetically grateful, something tugged at his heartstrings and made him force himself to look away. At the wall, the floor – at anything but the eyes of the other man. The man who Snape was struggling to consider little more than a beast, as he once had, but could not any more.
Lupin was no longer the one who Snape had thought of as a smug onlooker to tormentors, subtlely encouraging James Potter and Sirius Black in their bullying ways. There was tenderness in him, and goodness, and unselfishness – all qualities Snape saw himself as sadly lacking in, qualities he tried hard to resent Lupin for.
Snape’s feelings for Lupin were changing, and he would have almost preferred death to admitting how much this annoyed him.
Title: The Magic Island
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Pairing: Jack Sparrow/? (surprise slash pairing)
Rating: Soft R
Warnings: Implied sex, drunkenness
At least the rum was good here, Jack Sparrow had thought to himself on the third night of his visit, somewhat ruefully, and had then proceeded to imbibe more of it than was good for him, as was his usual habit.
He had heard the island spoken of in the tall tales of many a fellow seafarer for some time now, and had listened to the rumors of it being a magical place where the most exotic pleasures were to be had. Some legends even told that the place could fulfil desires that were known not yet by the heart, but only felt deep within the soul, and that it was a realm where anyone could become what he or she most wanted to be for a few brief hours before the dawn. Jack did not know if he believed this, but made up his mind to set sail for the island, more out of curiosity than anything else.
The little isle with its green hills and bustling sea-port was pretty enough, Jack had soon decided, but he remained stubbornly skeptical about its rumored supernatural properties. It had not brought him what he most craved every time he stepped ashore – saucy wenches – and there did not even seem to be any willing lads around, who would have sufficed quite nicely in the absence of women. Jack therefore proceeded to get very annoyed and of course, very drunk, grateful at least that nobody had tried yet to steal from him or start a fight.
He had determined there and then to leave the island as soon as he was sober enough and to spread the word that all the legends were lies, but then he had met the older sea-captain with the tangled golden hair and soft Scottish brogue, who had so many fascinating stories to tell, and who proved better in bed than any woman or man Jack had lain with in many a year. Jack had held him close as dawn broke, wondering why he could not seem to feel the other’s heartbeat against his own and why the otherwise gallant captain still refused to tell Jack his name.
The stranger parted from Jack with one more kiss before the sun rose, whispering some cryptic words in Jack’s ear about not being able to return for another decade at least. Back on the Black Pearl, Jack sometimes pondered as to what those words could mean, and then would irritably shake his head, trying to convince himself that his suspicions could not possibly be the truth, but were merely amongst the so-called magic island’s tricks.
Fandom: Bible slash/H.P. Lovecraft crossover
Pairing: Asmodeus/Raphael, slight implied Cthulhu/Gabriel
Rating: Soft R
Warnings: Blasphemy, implied sex, dubious consent
Raphael still had all his angelic powers, of course, but he could not help feeling vulnerable, lacking adequate protection, in the disguise he wore, this wingless human form. Especially since this ancient, dark and very dusty library felt so – for want of a better word – creepy. The presence of the many moldering volumes on the shelves, so full of forbidden lore, sent a shiver down the archangel’s spine as he tried to concentrate on the pages of the book before him. His slender fingers shook as he turned one page and riveted his gaze on the picture upon it, the being with the tentacles and claws and the eyes which, even on mere paper, seem to blaze with an evil that had existed before the world of humankind began. Raphael drew a slow, shuddering breath as he tried to read the fearful words of the Necronomicon, the terrifying verses that had driven the man who channelled them insane. This was knowledge he would need should the whispers circulating among his fellow angels have any truth in them, if the stars were indeed coming right and a fragile alliance from the past should have to be negotiated all over again, in order to stop some of the most powerful races in the universe from siding with the Powers of Hell. And this horrifying book was the only place such knowledge could be found.
Many centuries before, Raphael had actually seen the dread Cthulhu, High Priest of the Great Old Ones, woken briefly from his slumbers to meet with the Heavenly Host in the days just preceding the Great Flood. It was he, through skilful negotiations, who had ensured the safety of his star-spawn who slept in sunken tombs beneath the ocean. Raphael had not actually spoken to Cthulhu, who had seemed more taken with Gabriel than anyone else, but he knew what it was like to be gazed upon with eyes that burned like those in the picture in front of him.
The demon Asmodeus had fiery red eyes, and the shadows that always darted about him were as supple as Cthulhu’s many tentacles. Raphael shivered again, recalling their touch on his skin, remembering their strange beauty. So repellent, yet so alluring, making him recoil in horror yet crave more of them as they slid over his bare flesh and sought to enter him. He had resisted at first, but in the end…
“Don’t,” Raphael whispered out loud, as much to himself as to the memories of Asmodeus. There was every chance that the demon could find him here, and he did not want to encourage him further. He did not want to be brought to the brink of sin again.
… for was that not a stirring of shadows in the darkest corner of the room? Raphael kept his eyes resolutely upon Cthulhu’s image, dreading the sight of an actual red glare and not wanting to know if the sardonic chuckle he fancied he heard in his head was real.