Saturday: FREE FOR ALL SPECIAL

[havenward.livejournal.com]

Happy Saturday everybody! The contest art will be up just as soon as our graphics monkeys are ready. But wow. WOW. You guys have totally blown us away!

Also, because I was waiting for the art to make the announcement, but Amara's already announced the week's winners, the winners for Day 5 and 6 were aravistarkheena with 21 responses, and guiltyreasons with 40 responses. Great job guys!



So, to celebrate, and to give our prompters a little more time to play after a week off, we're making today a special Free For All day!

There's just a few things you need to remember:

Please do not go overboard with your prompts. We've just had so many prompts answered, lets not fill up the Lonely Prompt indexes all over again in one weekend. Don't post more than 5 prompts in a row, and please limit yourselves to 3 prompts per fandom per prompter. If a prompt is answered, you can feel free to prompt again.


Please remember to format your prompts appropriately, and leave only one prompt per comment. For example:
Wolverine, Logan/Remy, ain't nothin' up my sleeve mon ami

SPN/Leverage, Dean/Eliot, you wouldn't know a nightmare if it punched you in the face and then threw you across the room


And absolutely DO NOT utilize spoilers as part of your prompt for at least a week. Especially since this time of year is ripe with season finales and movie premiers, please be considerate of those who wish to remain unspoiled and give them some time to see the show. Writers must clearly warn for any possible spoilers.

If you put a spoiler in your prompt, or do not warn for spoilers in your response, they will be deleted at the mods' discretion.



As always, if you're not seeing a prompt that catches your eye, there's still plenty of Lonely Prompts that need good homes.

Alright, everybody ready? Let's get writing!

Comments

[havenward.livejournal.com]

Wolverine, Logan/Remy, ain't nothin' up my sleeve mon ami

Ain't nothin' up my sleeve, mon ami, Wolverine, Logan/Remy

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

It's New York where Remy next meets Logan - a long way from the Island, to be sure, in both time and distance, but not, perhaps, that much of a surprise. After all, he came up to New York state looking for Logan, didn't he, unable to just drop the acquaintance just like that, like so many others he's known and left over the years. And Logan grabs at him, pulls him out of the bar where Remy was having a nice, quiet drink, and shoves him up against the wall in the alley outside and, oh, but that's familiar - not the alley so much as the shoving and being pinned and those fierce eyes glaring at him.

"I know you, don't I?" Logan says, and that hurts. Really. It would have done, anyway, if Logan hadn't been all shocky and amnesiac the last time Remy had seen him.

"Gambit," he says - he'd offer his hand, but those are pinned between brickwork and one big strong hand, the other has those shiny claws coming out and pricking the skin at the base of Remy's throat. Shiny, and Remy curses his Thieves Guild upbringing for just a second because he has a mind like a magpie now, and those sharp, oh-so-dangerous claws are so shiny...

...And so damned dangerous.

Logan huffs a little and backs away, but he's still watching Remy closely, warily and, okay, maybe a minute or so on an island with chaos and destruction all around and sirens closing in wasn't the best way to remember the beginnings of a friendship. Remy remembers more than that, of course - remembers turning his plane around after twenty minutes flying in the other direction, cursing himself the whole way back, just because he couldn't leave.

"Hey, ain't nothin' up my sleeve, mon ami," he says, arms wide and hands spread to show the truth of it. Like he'd want to get into a fight with Logan again - not after he's come all this way.

And Logan's eyes glint with maybe a little humour, and he turns and moves back to the door to the bar - turning at the end of the alley to look back at Remy, and Remy grins and scrambles after him. He left this man once - fled to save his own skin and let Logan take care of himself - and he'll be damned to Hell if he's going to do it again.

[havenward.livejournal.com]

SPN/Leverage, Dean/Eliot, you wouldn't know a nightmare if it punched you in the face and then threw you across the room

Protection, SPN/Leverage, Dean/Eliot, you wouldn't know a nightmare if it punched you in the face

[hunters-retreat.livejournal.com]

“You wouldn't know a nightmare if it punched you in the face and then threw you across the room.”

There were a lot of things Dean and Eliot fought about. A lot of things they didn’t like about one another but in the overall scheme of things, they tended to get past it. As soon as he said those words though, the look in Dean’s eyes made Eliot think perhaps he’d crossed some line he hadn’t intended to.

He hated it. Hated that Dean and, to come degree, Sam still treated him like he didn’t know what was out there. He’d been a different person before he’d become a hunter, a person who knew all about the big baddies in the world. The ‘natural’ ones. Sometimes he needed to scream it to make sure Sam and Dean remembered where he got his training.

Dean scowled, his eyes filled with knowledge that Eliot wanted him to share but that he feared almost as much. “A nightmare?” Dean asked. “You think you understand what a human nightmare is?” He gave a bitter smile and shook his head. “Tell me Eliot. What have you seen?”

“Murderers. Sociopaths. Child molesters and insanity. It’s all out there Dean. It’s all out there and you don’t see past the supernatural monsters to know it.”

Dean had him pinned to the wall a second later, his eyes boring into him. “Don’t talk to me about what’s out there Eliot. You know about it all from behind the veneer of safety. You know about it because you chose to be a ‘retrieval specialist’.” The way he said the word it was a joke, something nasty and stupid and Eliot felt his stomach drop because he’d been so proud of the jobs he’d done in that capacity. He’d prided himself at being the best.

“You want to talk about child molesters? Pedophiles?” He let go of Eliot, eyes darting to the door as they both heard it opening, watched Sam walk in the door after a day’s research. “Find out how I put food on the table when John got caught up in a hunt, or just miscalculated what we needed.”

He walked out without another word and Eliot was left reeling in his wake. He looked at Sam who looked at the door, eyes almost liquid before turning back to Eliot. When he sat on the bed he took a deep breath and just shook his head when Eliot slid down the wall. “He didn’t just protect me from the supernatural. Two young kids without an adult around in the types of areas we lived in? We got noticed a lot. Dean got noticed a lot. He made sure it never touched me though. I knew. God help me I knew what he was doing, but I couldn’t stop it.”

Sam moved to the window looking out across the parking lot to the parked car as he watched Dean sitting on the hood of it. “There are a lot of monsters in the world Eliot. He’s protected me from them all. Except one.” He said, giving a small smile.

“He said he’d take care of me. Said he’d protect me. But he never learned to say no to me. He thinks he let me down. He thinks he’s a monster because of what’s between us.”

“No Sammy, he loves you.”

“Yes he does and he’s loved me for a long time. I was young enough when it started to be considered pedophilia even outside the issues of incest. He thinks what happened to him, the things he had to do, he thinks they made him what he is.”

“I love him for who he is Sam.”

Sam nodded. “So do I. He’s never learned to accept that though. He’ll always hate himself for it, always hate himself for wanting and for caving to it, but he’ll do it anyways because I want it. But he is his own worst nightmare and he relives it constantly, always playing in his head, the way he touched, the way they touched him.”

“What can we do?”

“The same thing he does for me. I protect him. I tell him what he means to me. I remind him of how much I feel for him, how he feels for me, what makes us work so good together. I don’t know if it will ever be enough, but until his nightmare stops, I’ll keep on doing it.”

“Jesus.” Eliot said under his breath.

Sam smiled softly. “Yeah. Welcome to my life. There’s a lot of twist and turns and Dean complicates the hell out of it all, but he’s mine and I’ll do what I can now to protect him.”

[havenward.livejournal.com]

RPS/Firefly, companion!Chris/Mal/author's choice, there's gotta be a mighty good reason someone wants a fancy Companion like you sent right on to the dark place...

[ravensword.livejournal.com]

He keeps his head low, stays out of the way. Mostly he stays in his room, resting, recovering.

Inara brings him meals and they eat quietly. She doesn't pressure him for the details and he doesn't offer them.

He closes his eyes though, and he sees it...feels it, remembers every blow, every boot heel, the knife, the look in their eyes.

"You all settled in?"

Chris looks up, half surprised to see the Captain in his doorway. He'd met the man a handful of times when he'd brought Inara back to the training house. Chris shifts a little, cradling his still bandaged arm to his chest. "Yes, thank you Captain. Your doctor has been...most kind."

"That's our boy." Mal crosses his arms and leans on the frame of the door. "I have to admit, I was right surprised Inara asking us to go looking for you. Thought you were the kind to stay close to home."

If he had, none of this would have happened. "I got restless." Chris stands, paces the small space. He'd decided to try his hand at traveling the way Inara did.

"Inara don't want me to say, but I figure you got a right to now what's what. We picked up a wave with your picture in it, there's folks looking for you."

Chris scrubs his hand over his face. "I tried to tell her..." He looks up, shaking his head lightly. "I don't want to cause you trouble."

"Too late for that mostly. You're here on my ship, all legal and proper like. You were might busted up when you came on board, makes me to feeling all protective."

"I don't want your protection, Captain."

"Someone tried to kill you, Christian."

Chris turned at his tone, the quirky smile disappearing from Mal's face fast. It played out in his head again...his client had been a gentle man, quiet, beautiful...living on a terraformed moon. Then came the others.

He shivered and turned away. Mal came up behind him. "I reckon there's gotta be a mighty good reason someone wants a fancy Companion like you sent off into the dark."

Mal's hand touches his shoulder and Christian stiffens uncontrollably. He's better trained then that, but all he can feel are those hands, holding him down, hurting him.

Mal seems to get the notion and pulls his hand away. "All I'm saying is, ain't right someone hurting you like that, and it looks like they aim to be finishing the job. Think on that. We'll be making planet-fall inside a week, and you'll be wanting to tell me a story before we do."

[havenward.livejournal.com]

RPS/Firefly, companion!Chris/author's choice, it's like lai huh moh sheong tze tian uh zoh**

**literally "for a toad to think of eating a swan", used to imply having desires beyond one's ability to realize them

[katzb101.livejournal.com]

A big old angst warning on this one. Sorry!

His fingers cup Mal's cheek, the touch feather like and not enough to wake the man sharing his bed. He ought to know better, to say no every time he comes around. Not to touch to leave well alone. This one isn't his no matter how much he wants and never will be.

No companion's aren't supposed to want or need they're not supposed to love either – but that doesn't mean they don't; they're human after all. And with this one he's fallen into his own trap, giving he emotions over to one that can never return them.

But then again he's safe and he knows it. His feelings will never be returned and he can't make that mistake with someone who might. If you can't stop them, then it's better to give them over to the impossible and he knows that.

But that doesn't stop it from hurting when the Mal turns into his touch and whispers 'Inara'.

Some days he feels as though his Grandmother should have tattooed 'ai huh moh sheong tze tian uh zoh' on his forehead.

[dreamsofspike.livejournal.com]

Dollhouse, Topher/"Natural-Born-Killers"-Echo :P, hostage

[trulybloom.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Dean, the real reason Dean likes pie so much

[vampedvixen.livejournal.com]

Little Jo was lucky; though she didn't know it yet. She was just a kid, oblivious to how much the real world could suck. She didn't know how easy it was to lose someone you loved, or how quickly they could be taken from you. Dean sat in Harvelle's living room, jealously eying the young girl.

Her mother brought her a slice of blueberry pie, fresh from the oven. Dean could smell it from where he sat, the air was flavored with the scent of blueberries.. and childhood.. and family.. and home. All the things he'd never have again. He pouted while Sam sat in front of him, coloring in his coloring book.

Then Ellen brought two more pieces of pie out for the two of them. She smiled, "It's probably not as good as your mom's but I made it special once I heard you Winchester boys were coming out to visit."

There was something in the way she said it.. the way she didn't try to replace their mom, but was still motherly in her own right. Something that softened Dean's mood and his heart, he still had a family. Granted, it wasn't one of blood, but it was just as strong.

Whenever he thought of pie from then on in his life, it always brought back memories of his family-- the one he chose and the one that chose him.

"Thank you, Ms. Harvelle."

[dreamsofspike.livejournal.com]

Dollhouse, Topher/Dr. Saunders, hate

[trillianastra.livejournal.com]

Okay... this might not be exactly what you were imagining. Also, it's kinda spoilery for 1x11.
----------

DeWitt had told Topher to see Dr Saunders, to get checked out after Ballard tasered him. Topher winced at the memory and headed for the medical lab. As he approached the door he couldn’t see if the doctor was inside. He tapped on the glass quickly.

“Doc? Are you here?”
At first there was no answer, then he heard a soft, barely audible whisper. “Topher?”
He turns, and sees Doc Saunders sitting on the floor in the corner, hugging her knees to her chest. She looks up at him. “Is he… is he gone?”

Topher knows who she means, and nods. “Uh-huh. He walked right out of here, Echo too. Did he… hurt you?”
She shakes her head. “Not physically.” She takes a deep breath. “Was there something you wanted, Topher?”
“It’s nothing… that Ballard guy tasered me… DeWitt thought I needed to be checked out. But I’m fine. I’ll just… go back to my lab.” He turned to leave.
“Wait.” He looks back at her. “I should make sure.” She stands up slowly. “Sit down on the table, please.”
He shrugs and goes to the examining table, where he sits on the edge. She fusses around with medical things for ten minutes.
“So, what’s the verdict, Doc? Am I OK?”
She nods. “There’ll be some bruising tomorrow, but otherwise you’re fine.”
“Thanks for the check-up, Doc.” He’s about to leave when he glances at her and sees that her eyes are full of tears. “Doc? Are you all right?”

She turns on him. “No. No, I’m not all right. He was here, Topher, he was here and I couldn’t do anything. I was so scared, I could barely move.”
“I… er, sorry?”
“Shut up!” She screams at him. “You’re always talking, always… and don’t call me ‘Doc’. My name, if anyone in this place could be bothered to remember it, is Claire. Claire Saunders. I wanted to be a doctor my whole life. I had a life, before I came here. And then he did this to me,” she gestured at the scars on her face, “and this place made him the way he is… this place… I hate it, I hate what it’s done to me. I hate the Dollhouse, and I hate what I’m a part of, and I hate him, and most of all I hate that fact that I’m so scared of him.”

She glares at him, as if daring him to make some wiseass comment, as he did most of the time. He swallows, forces himself to meet her gaze. He reaches out, slowly, and touches her arm. “Claire… you’re not alone, you know. You think I dreamed of this place when I was a kid? Maybe you need to… talk to someone sometimes. And you’re right. I do talk too much. Maybe I need to learn how to listen.” He smiles apologetically.

She looks at him, and he sees a small smile on her face. “I think… you might be right.” And then he knows that they’re both going to be OK.

[dreamsofspike.livejournal.com]

HIMYM, Barney/Robin, on his knees

The Bitches of Lily and Robin

[lilithisbitter.livejournal.com]

Robin could have him on his knees, begging and pleading with her to bring him to orgasm and she'd deny him that sweet little pleasure. He is her bitch after all. He does what she wants and enjoys it.

Barney tonight is kneeling, his head in her suited up lap as she strokes his hair. She takes a puff of her cigar and muses over how well the hair extensions took, extending Barney's curls to midback. The blue satin lace trimmed dress was custom-tailored by one Barney's suit-makers that always suspected Barney would make a good looking crossdresser. The corset pinches his already tiny waist into an ideal womanly figure and gives him some psuedo-hip even though it still looks boyish. His long legs are covered in lacy stockings complete with garter belt and thong panties for easy access for naughty things to be done with Marshall and Lily that night. Mmmm... there was something fulfilling about a perfect foursome, with Barney as your perfect slave. Three doms and a sub. Well... tonight was a little different though. Marshall was a sub for the night.

Lily on the other chair, strokes Marshall's wig, touching up her husband's lipstick. Marshall, leans back, pucking up his lips, careful not knock his reddish-blond wig off. Marshall is clad like a 70s go-go girl complete with boots and minidress. Like Barney, his legs are amazing. But his make up... bit on the heavy side. Robin feels a bit of pride. She only had to give Barney a bit of blush and lipgloss to make him the best little crossdresser ever. "Psssttt... Marshall..." Barney whispers, "I'm so much awesome as a girl than you are and hotter too with my delicate beauty."

"Nu-uh."

"Uh-huh."

"Hush," Lily says yanking back on Marshall's shoulder and adjusts her fake mustache, "No slapping today... we're going to win this contest... just smile and sit pretty."

"Barney," Robin whispers, "You're a eighteen year old girl with daddy issues. Work with it. Remember... 'girl' at the end of the night with those most guys who flirted with her wins."

Barney gives a thumbs up. "Gotcha."

[dreamsofspike.livejournal.com]

HIMYM, Barney/anyone-and-everyone, common property

In Excess

[lilithisbitter.livejournal.com]

His real first time wasn't with Rhonda although his mind creatively inserts that in because she let him in her house after it was done, tucked him in her cigarette-smelling bed while she called the police. She stroked the bristly remains of his hair and tried to get him to say anything about the attack that left the back of his khakis stained with blood. Barney Stinston died that night in a way, raped to death by Greg, reborn as property of anyone and everyone who wanted him.

Everybody wanted the handsome suit-clad man... cute little Barney Stinson... no, not cute, never pretty... handsome... handsome.

That was the main problem. Barney was too good looking for his own good. He looked young for his age with bright blond hair and eyes that were smoky blue. He was slender, tall with narrow shoulders, tiny waist, and long legs. His face with its wide eyes, high forehead, high defined cheekbones, and overall delicate features was too mobile, too expressive. People wanted him and the problem was Barney's only method of copying with his forgotten memories was to bury them in a wave of suits, sex, booze, and cigars.

He went through two hundred girls in the first month he decided to become awesome. And when there weren't any women around, he turned his attention to men, since he liked them just as much. Barney hadn't been as good as flirting as he was now, so he was just a cute kid that they wanted to seduce, corrupt, and claim as their own. He started creating lists of positions he wanted to try, people he wanted to claim, places he wanted to fuck, situations he wanted to fuck in, and even started thinking up top conquests. Not everyone made it into the scrapbook unless they were good. The girl who slid her fist up his ass and made him come so hard that his torso was liberally covered in ejaculate was scrapbook material, but the girl who gave him an awkward handjob behind the Stop and Shop wasn't.

But... it doesn't make him a slut, right? Right? People love him... people love Barney Stinson... never use him for their own gain... they never would. If anything, he's using them... right? Right?

[dreamsofspike.livejournal.com]

HIMYM, Barney/Marshall/Lily, traumatized

[lilithisbitter.livejournal.com]

"Barney, stop tugging at them like that. You're just going to draw attention to yourself."

"You make it sound so easy, Lily. I'd like to see you put Marshall through it. I'm throughly traumatized here."

"Hey, I'm wearing them too. Worn them for years. Not traumatic at all, you baby. Dr. Grossbard would call it therapy of sorts."

"Drgrossbardisaquakandidontwannaseehimanymore."

"See? Marshall doesn't find them traumatic at all. You look cute in them."

"Barney Stinson is not cute. He's handsome and sexy."

"I agree... they emphasis your ass and package."

"I want to take them off... right now!"

"In public? Okay, go ahead and get arrested."

"Grrrr... why do I have to wear blue jeans?"

"Because you lost a bet. Complain any more and we'll make you wear a hoodie. I mean then your cuteness will go up so much girls will never see you as sexy ever again."

"Ahhh!"

"Cheer up... you only have a month of this to go. Besides, I let you wear a buttoned-up shirt and a vest, didn't I?"

"Yes, Marshall."

"So smile. Be cute."

---

For bonus yum... the outfit Barney's being forced to wear...
http://nph-fan.com/gallery/displayimage.php?album=372&pos=1

[flariariia.livejournal.com]

Star Trek, Chekhov/Sulu, sweet

Star Trek, Chekhov/Sulu, sweet

[emmademarais.livejournal.com]

It's kind of sweet really, this schoolboy like crush Pavel seems to have on him. Just hearing him try to say Hikaru in that crazy accent of his makes him smile.

It's just he's focused on his career right now. This chance he got to pilot the Enterprise? It's so far beyond one in a million that he's still pinching himself every day when he wakes up in his quarters and realizes he's not dreaming.

Even Kirk - rumored to be quite the ladies man at the Academy - has calmed down his exploits now that he's captain. Even he feels the gravitas of the honor placed on him, on all of them, to serve on board Starfleet's newest flagship.

So if Pavel asks overly politely to come sit with him at meals, that's okay. And if he really is serious about learning to play Go, he'll teach him. An offer of fresh strawberries he grew himself in the horticulture lab? Well, that would be rude to turn down.

And perhaps, at the end of a quiet evening of conversation in Pavel's quarters, if he should decide to indulge in a little kiss, that would not be so bad either.

[ribbon-purple.livejournal.com]

SGA, John/Rodney, "I'd give up the sky for you."

[jayfray18.livejournal.com]

Just pretend that the scenes at the end of the series didn't happen quite like that ok lol!

They sat on the balcony looking down at the bay, and how weird was that John thought. Back on Earth after all these years, permanently. John shuddered at the thought of having to start being all proper military, proper Air Force, again.

“What happens now, with this, you know, um, us?” Rodney suddenly asked, gesturing between them.

John just looked at him, not quite sure that he had heard correctly. Didn't Rodney realise how he felt, about him, about them? Didn't he know that anytime apart was like a knife wound that wouldn't heal, constantly festering until Rodney was there with his magic hands and lips. That John merely existed without Rodney around bickering with him, and complaining, and being brilliant, that he only came alive inside when Rodney was there, by his side.

Didn't Rodney know that he was John's reason for getting up in the morning, that he was his first thought of the day, and his last memory before sleep, mind you, this was probably because Rodney was usually sprawled all over him in the morning, and had just finished making love to him before sleep claimed them both, John thought.

But still, didn't Rodney KNOW just how much John loved him, wanted him, NEEDED him?

“I'd give up the sky for you” John said softly, cupping Rodney's face gently, leaning in and kissing him, lips barely touching but saying so much. “If things get bad, with SGC, about us, I'll quit, retire. I think there are some that would be happy so see me go! I'm not losing you McKay.”

Rodney just smiled that crooked smile that John loved so much, “I love you too John”.

[smilesoftnsweet.livejournal.com]

The Fast and the Furious, Brian/Dom, tastes like sin

The Fast and the Furious, Brian/Dom, tastes like sin

[yoruichiyoshi12.livejournal.com]

Dom's skin tasted like sweet and salty sin on Brian's tongue. This was his new girlfriend's brother he was seducing, yet he couldn't find it within himself to stop. The man's chest was all muscle, glowing gold in the sunlight, singing for Brian's attentions. He continued down to Dom's abs, licking away the drops of sweat that gathered there, relishing in the delicious taste of his sin.

[smilesoftnsweet.livejournal.com]

RPS, jealous!Jensen/Jared, Jared has a crush on Gambit

[morgan-cian.livejournal.com]

"Dude," Jared said helplessly. He followed in Jensen's wake. In what could only be called pissed off, Jared knew Jensen, and that was definitely Jensen's pissed off shoulders.

"I thought you liked the movie," Jared tried again in the car. He met Clif's gaze in the rearview.

Jensen just looked out the window and refused to reply.

At home, Jensen continued his cold shoulder routine, calling to Sadie. He took her leash and walked out leaving behind a very confused and befuddled Jared and Harley. Good thing Icarus was with Danneel, the little legs wouldn't have been able to keep up.

Jared waited. If it was one thing he momma told him, you don't let the sun go down on anger. Well, it was pitch black but he couldn't sleep, not knowing what had Jensen so angry.

The fact that he heard the downstairs bedroom door slam had him on his feet. Oh hell no, boy.

"Leave it, Jay." Jensen growled as Jared opened the door.

"Not until you talk to me," He replied mulishly. "I thought you were having fun at the premiere party."

Got it in one, Jensen's body went bowstring tight. "What did I do now?" He couldn't help it, he played everything he had from puppy dog eyes to the pitiful voice.

"Taylor Kitsch."

"Tay-huh?"

Jensen rounded on him and had him backed against the wall, "Gambit this, Gambit that..." Jensen spat.

Jared's eyes bugged, "Seriously?" He bit his cheek to keep from laughing. "Taylor's cute, but come on Gambit was hot."

Jensen growled. "Jen, it was the Creole accent. You know how they get to me."

"That I do, cher," Jensen whispered against his ear. Jared shuddered. "Just remember that you are mine, Jay."

Jared wrapped his arms around Jensen, "Forgiven?" He asked hopefully.

Jensen looked at him with wicked promise, "Not even close, boy." Texas thick in his voice.

Oh fuck.

[havenward.livejournal.com]

RPS, pirate!Kane/author's choice, one foot on sea and one on shore

[morgan-cian.livejournal.com]

Jensen had served with Christian most of his life. Christian had always been for the sea looting and pirateering. It was the life Jensen understood. Until the island and Swan's cove.

Not until Steve, the merchant. Chris would set their sails for land fall, more than Jensen could ever remember. He no longer asked for Jensen or even Jared to share his bed. It was confusing and disconcerting.

Jared's large palms massaged his shoulders as they both watched Christain staring off into the horizon, one foot on the sea and one on the shore, tearing the man they both knew and love apart.

Damn Steve Carlson to the watery depths of hell.

[havenward.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Nemesis!Eliot/author's choice, for the voices silenced (requiem aeternam dona eis)

Leverage, Nemesis!Eliot/Hardison, for the voices silenced

[neierathima.livejournal.com]

((I have no idea about Hardison's Bio parents in the show, and I'm being lazy and not looking it up right now. ))

Eliot dogs his steps for weeks but Alec manages to avoid him. Which considering they work together and hang out together and share three really close friends is pretty impressive actually. Add on to that the freak not human thing Eliot has going on which Alec does not like to talk about, and he knows he has skills.

Which doesn't explain why Alec feels so crappy sitting alone in his (admittedly pretty tricked out) apartment while at the office the rest of the team is watching a movie and having popcorn and problem some sort of delicious homemade-by-Eliot treats.

He is perfectly fine working on his computers by himself. He has plenty of shit to do. Jobs he could take if he wanted. People to talk to. People to talk to who actually understand what he's saying when he talks.

Alec sighs, deletes the absolutely useless crap on his computer, bringing up a fresh command line. On the black he can see Eliot's reflection. He spins in his chair, and sure enough Eliot is standing there, looking more amused than pissed.

"Holy shit. You do not do that man. That is not cool."

Eliot grins and the goosebumps on Alec's arms subside a little.

"Sorry. Thought I'd bring you some food. Figured if you missed movie night you missed dinner too."

They both know the working line Alec is trying to sell is bullshit, but he's glad Eliot doesn't call him on it. He helps Eliot clear some space on a desk and set up the food he brought. It's way better than whatever nasty leftovers he has in his fridge. When Alec goes to fetch drinks from one of the mini fridges, Eliot pulls another chair up next to Alec's and makes himself comfortable.

They eat in silence until Alec can't take it anymore.

"I know what you are. Well, no, actually, I have no idea what you are. All I know is that I took one team job, which I don't do, and now all this," he waves his fork in the air to demonstrate 'all this', "and I've got you stalking me. I grew up just fine once..."

Eliot looks genuinely remorseful as Alec chokes up.

"You were a kid. Too young. But we haven't forgotten what happened. And you can pretend all you want but you haven't either."

Eliot's voice is stern in a way that Alec remembers from a night he was cold and blood soaked and scared out of his mind. Even as it reminds him it comforts him.

"So what now? You do some jedi mind trick and make everything ok? 'Cause from where I'm sitting everything's still pretty fucked up."

"We can't change the past. But we can offer you justice."

[trulybloom.livejournal.com]

Supernatural/Angel, Dean/Lindsey, "if I didn't know you, I'd want to hunt you"

[vampedvixen.livejournal.com]

Dean watched as Lindsey undressed in the moonlight that filtered through the open window. The man’s skin was covered in tattoos, dark symbols of his stupidity—the mark of someone who had sold out, given up. Dean couldn’t stop himself from becoming aroused though. He was in the same position as Lindsey. They were both taking the easy way out and giving up.

Lindsey neared the bed and began to work his lips up and down Dean’s neck. Dean only starred at his own reflection in the mirror on the far wall and mouthed his words to his fallen image, “If I didn’t know you, I’d want to hunt you.”

[cyphersushi.livejournal.com]

X-Men, Remy/Logan, Sweet like sin

Sweet like sin, X-men, Remy/Logan

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

Sometimes Logan can't quite believe that this is real - the way Remy moves up to him, moves over him and into his lap, straddling Logan and rolling his hips down so very nicely...

But it is real - the scents surrounding Remy fill Logan's senses, cologne, whiskey and those cheap cigarettes the younger man adores. And the way Remy's hands move over him after a fight, petting and soothing him, calming down the animal inside even as they wake it up for a whole different reason - that can't be faked.

There's wickedness in Remy's eyes, and Logan's not just talking about the glowing colour that gave Remy the 'Diablo Blanc' moniker. It's something different, something stronger, and Logan loves that look because it means all sorts of things - it's the look Remy gets in his eyes before he does something crazy like jump from the Blackbird into a fight or from the roof of the mansion into the swimming pool. Or when he's under Logan, tight and hot around him, and then he gets that look, just before he somehow managed to turn them, rolling Logan onto his back and himself ending up on top, riding Logan and leaving scratches on his body that last mere seconds as he digs his nails in when the change in position forces Logan deeper.

It's the way Remy kisses, though, that convinces Logan that this is real and not just the product of some kind of fever, let alone the fact that he doesn't get sick now. It's in the way Remy crowds in close, urging Logan with the tilt of his head and the hooding of his eyes to touch him as much as Logan likes, getting his scent all over the kid. It's in the way Remy leans in, mouth wet and parted, eyes already blown wide and dark where they're not red, glowing where they are, and Logan takes that eager mouth, licks across the parted lips and inside, taking Remy and hearing the kid moan as he leans into it and opens under Logan's mouth. It's in the way the kisses taste as sweet as sin and as wicked as anything Logan's ever known.

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

RPS/Dollhouse, doll!Chris/handler!Steve, running/hiding/touching

[havenward.livejournal.com]

When Steve thinks about pushing Whiskey up against a wall, this isn't what he pictures. (Considering he shouldn't be picturing Whiskey up against a wall to begin with, maybe this is kharma finally calling due.) He's hurt, and for a moment, Whiskey is the only thing keeping him from collapsing into the wall himself.

"You're hurt," Whiskey murmurs, hand closing tightly over the bullet wound in his arm.

"It's a through and through," he responds. It's true, but what he's not mentioning is that he's praying to whomever's listening that his ribs aren't broken.

Whiskey stills, tips his head and listens. He leads Steve farther down the alley (and Steve isn't thinking about why his shy southern boy imprint would pay so much attention, would think to do this) before pulling him into the shadow of a corner. Pulls him close enough that even though they're both barely breathing, trying to stay silent, Steve can feel his breath on his face.

Men cross at the mouth of the alley, pausing briefly before moving on. When Frank finds an opening to roll up with the van, they'll have to run...

[havenward.livejournal.com]

Leverage, priest!Nate/assassin!Eliot, Lacrimosa dies illa/qua resurget ex favilla/judicandus homo reus./Huic ergo parce, Deus**


From Mozart's Requiem, translates as: That day of tears and mourning/when from the ashes shall arise/all humanity to be judged./Spare us by your mercy, Lord

[danse-amore.livejournal.com]

Eliot feels the life leave the body under his hands, feels that one-degree difference of heat, the twitch of a pulse that is all that separates this world and the next. He lays the man out carefully on the floor and steps back.

Nate steps forward to replace him, kneeling over the body. "Lacrimosa dies illa," he begins, and closes the man's eyes. Eliot closes his, too, letting Nate's words slide through the wall of emotionless strength he's built up over the years. "Qua resurget ex favilla," The first time he heard Nate do this, he thought he was administering last rites to the man whose throat he'd just slit. But when he'd mentioned it, amusement and disbelief warring in his voice, Nate had shook his head. "Judicandus homo reus..." He'd explained that he was actually thanking the man, in a way, and reassuring him. "All will be judged," he said to all the marks, and, with a curl of his lips, "Believe me, you've got way more chance at His mercy than we do." Eliot had laughed, and then grown thoughtful, and then wondered again at what had brought this good man, this smart man, this devout man, to the side of someone like him.

He opened his lips and softly joined Nate from the shadows. "Huic ergo parce, Deus."

Spare us by your mercy, oh Lord.

Eliot watched as Nate stood and turned and cracked his neck, his eyes showing the same wall that Eliot had just shed. Spare him.

[trulybloom.livejournal.com]

Leverage/Dark Angel, Eliot/Alec, Eliot goes up against the undefeated "Monty Cora"

[daria234.livejournal.com]

He was short. His hair was loose, wild. He was one of those fighters who respond to a hit to the face with a smile.

He was strong. And more importantly, he was fast. For the first time in a long time Alec had to make an effort. To concentrate or risk getting his ass kicked. Because when this guy punched, Alec really felt it.

But eventually Alec managed to get in a few good punches. He tried to hit only hard enough to knock the guy out - no point in doing real damage - but in the end he had to put some muscle into it.

As Eliot fell to the ground unconscious, Alec let his eyes linger on the muscular body, the ruddy skin from the bloodrush of adrenaline, the hair, messy and wet from sweat. The guy really was a damn good fighter.

------------------

Walking home that night, Alec heard steps behind him. Not loud, but certainly not stealthy enough to be Manticore.

"Monty!" a voice demanded.

A fan, Alec thought. He turned around and said, "You like what you saw in the ring?"

"Rematch." Eliot demanded this of Monty as if it were certain to happen.

"Forget it. I won, fair and square." Sort of, Alec thought. "Besides, we're not in the ring. And I only fight for money."

Eliot walked closer to Alec and yelled, "Then you're not really a fighter!"

"Kicked your ass pretty good," Alec said and turned to walk away. But Eliot caught up with him and did his best to put Alec in a half Nelson.

Alec pushed Eliot off of him, but not before Eliot noticed the back of Alec's neck.

"You're one of -"

Eliot didn't finish his sentence, but Alec knew the rest anyway. One of those transgenics. One of those freaks. Those monsters. Seeing the rage on Eliot's face spread, Alec knew that this would be a problem. Alec felt a gust of regret for being stupid enough to think he could be a local celebrity without bringing hell down on them.

"You went easy!!" Eliot yelled.

"What?"

"You weren't even trying your hardest, were you?!!"

Alec couldn't help himself. He laughed. Of all the things to be upset about - the unfair advantage, the fact that most people think he's not even human, the bounty on any transgenic -- and this guy is mad that Alec wasn't giving enough to the fight.

"Funny?" Eliot said as he threw up his hands and started pacing, "Is it funny to prance around in satin shorts for a few extra bucks when you could be doing - you know, ANYTHING else?!"

"Hey, you looked pretty good in satin shorts, too," Alec smirked.

"I was only there because people said you couldn't be beaten!"

"Looks like the people were right. Look, I don't know what you thought you saw -"

"I don't care that you're - whatever you are. I do care that you're a jackass who won't even show me the respect of a real fight."

Alec stared at the man, who was seething with accusation. His blue eyes were intense, daring Alec to dismiss him again. Alec looked at him a long time, thinking about what kind of man discovers that a mutant freak publicly beat him and responds by demanding a rematch.

Or what kind of man just assumes that transgenic or not, they had an obligation to treat each other as equals.

Alec knew that this man's anger was real. But he also knew that Eliot had no idea what he had stirred in Alec, who wasn't usually a big believer in human decency.

Finally, Alec answered. "Earn it."

"What?"

"I don't fight for free. So if you want me, you'll have to earn it."

That night, as Eliot came inside of Alec, he whispered into Alec's ear, "You'd better not be holding back on me, Monty."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

[andrea-deer.livejournal.com]

RPS, Jared/Jensen, say this line again! Evil!Sammy is so hot!

[andrea-deer.livejournal.com]

Jared's face smoothed. As if he suddenly pulled on a mask. For a second there was no expression at all, and only then a cold, cruel smirk appeared slowly. Jensen moaned quietly, still pinned to the wall with Jared's strong hands.

"Tsk, tsk. I said no sound, right?"

Jensen nodded quickly, frantically.

"Good boy," said Jared fondly, but still he hold up the gag. "Open up."

Jensen couldn't stop the whimper and Jared just smirked wider.

[andrea-deer.livejournal.com]

RPS, author's choice/author's choice, sleeping in the Impala

Sleeping on the Job, Jared/Jensen

[smilesoftnsweet.livejournal.com]

---

Jared and Jensen were running on very little energy as the season wound down nearing its finale and desired hiatus. They had been working on a location shot. Dean was supposed to drive down the road with Sam passed out in the backseat—hurt but inevitably secure inside the Impala and safe with Dean watching over him.

They’d already done the take three times that night but something kept going wrong with the car or the lighting wasn’t exactly how the director wanted it, so they shot it again. And here they were again… just in case this take would be better. Jared was hunched up in the back, knees bent and arm cradled against his side—Dean’s leather jacket strewn over his prone form. His bandaged hand rested over the seat as he acted like he was sleeping.

Jensen was driving the Impala, reciting Dean’s dialogue for the scene—a stream of constant chatter to soothe his brother to sleep and assure him that Dean was still there beside him. Jared wasn’t really sure what happened next, but he’d later blame Jensen’s soothing voice, the soft hum and drone from the Impala and the smell of Dean’s leather jacket for why he actually fell asleep while filming. He remembered being woken up by a gentle shake of his shoulder and Jensen’s low voice called his name—amused but kind.

“Jay? Wake up.” He felt the soft press of Jensen’s lips to his temple and the whispered breath against his forehead. “Jared, come on, time to wake up.”

Jared groaned and took in his surroundings. His cheeks turned red with embarrassment as he realized what had happened.

“Oh shit.” Jared ducked his head. “I can’t believe I fell asleep.” Jensen snickered against Jared’s hair.

“You were pretty tired and the pain meds have to be kicking in by now. ‘Sides Sam was supposed to be knocked out back there.” Jensen shrugged with an amused glint in his eye. “It adds a little realism to the scene.”

“You’re not really helping.”

“Do you hear anyone else complaining? Bitching you out for falling asleep? No.” Jensen brushed Jared’s hair out of his face, fingers brushing over the white bandage that was supposed to be another one of Sam’s hurts from the hunt. Jared leaned into the touch. “We’re done for today, so how ‘bout we get rid of Dean and Sam and head on home?”

Jared grabbed Jensen’s hand and pressed a kiss to his palm with a nod. “Let’s go home.”

[andrea-deer.livejournal.com]

RPS, Colin/Jensen, One underage wincest too much and Colin has a crush on Jensen

(It may be totally innocent crush... Actually I'd probably prefer some teen, platonic crush or something.....)

[red-handed.livejournal.com]

Okay, so I wrote this prompt. Colin has a crush on Jensen and Jensen kind of likes it but he's an adult and not a creep so... well, there is a kiss, as in Jensen lets Colin kiss him. It's a very G rated kiss, no tongue or nothing. If you don't think that will squick you out then here is the link since it's 1,448 words.

Crazy Kind Of Crush On You (http://red-handed.livejournal.com/142525.html)

[cyphersushi.livejournal.com]

Criminal Minds/Big Bang Theory, Reid/Sheldon, Playing strip Star Trek Trivia

[flariariia.livejournal.com]

errrr, this turned out to be the prequel, so less sex and more snark. I'll have to think about the actual act for a while longer.

"You know, the allure of strip poker has always escaped me," Sheldon commented as they left the bachelor party.

"The human sex drive gives birth to many social conventions," Spencer answered absently and concentrated on driving. The geek never drives, but amongst the two of them Sheldon won that award.

"But couldn't people just skip the poker, if they want to see each other naked?"

"It creates a situation where people can do it without being in relationships. Also, there is the added excitement of poker, with some skills and luck, you can stay clothed while others have to embarrass themselves."

"Huh. I still don't see the appeal."

"Sheldon, you're sex drive is a little... lacking."

"Is not!"

"Remember what I do for work?"

"Yes, of course, I remember... oh right. Sarcasm."

"Four seconds. Not bad."

"You're evading. I do have a sex drive and I find your insinuations a tad insulting. You have had the proof after all."

Spencer blushes just a little, and Sheldon smirks.

"Well," Spencer says and this time he truly is evading, "If strip poker doesn't make sense to you, what about... strip Star Trek trivia?"

Sheldon's eyes light up. "I see your point, Dr. Reid."

"Want to try some time?"

"As long as it's just the two of us. I do not need to see Wallowitz's underwear."

"Agreed."

"I will see your ass," Sheldon declares after a preoccupied silence.

"We'll see about that."