Friday Free-For-All

[monica-catch22.livejournal.com]

Hey, everyone! This is the Monchichi here, posting for havenward since the internet is down in her area. Hopefully she'll be around tomorrow.

So, today is Friday, which means - FREE FOR ALL! Post any prompt that your li'l hearts desire as long as you stick to the following rules:


No spoilers in your prompts for at least one week after publication/air date.  This is very important since we are hitting premiere season and all the shows we know and love are coming back on the air. 

If there are spoilers in your story, you must warn in bold and leave at least 3 spaces.

No more than 5 prompts in a row, and no more than 3 prompts per fandom. If one of your prompts is answered, you can prompt again.


Respect our code monkeys, and follow the standard format with your prompts. Such as:


Leverage, Nate/Eliot, Cooking 101 

Firefly/Eureka, Nathan/Jack, "Take me out to the black." 


If you don't really want to leave a prompt, or even just want something else to write, we have our lovely lonely prompts here waiting for homes. 

PLUS! This weekend is a CONTEST WEEKEND, starting tomorrow at 00:00 PST and ending at 24:59 PST on September 13.  Get ready to adopt lonely prompts for lovely prizes, the likes of which will be described in tomorrow's post. 

So, get ready... set... PROMPT! 

ETA: Apparently I accidentally hit the option where the comments were screened *facepalm*  It's fixed now, ladies and gents. 

Comments

[monica-catch22.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Nate/Eliot, Cooking 101

Cooking 101, Leverage, Nate/Eliot

[entropynchaos.livejournal.com]

I had two ideas for this. I might post the other as well, in which Eliot runs a cooking class. But this idea came first, and I think I like it better.




Eliot moves around the kitchen like every movement comes naturally to him, like he knows where everything is. Which he does, even considering it's Nate's kitchen and not Eliot's own place.

Still - he knows where the knives are and the pans and boards and everything else, hands moving quickly and surely to find everything he needs. Eliot moves perhaps a little slower than he might if he were cooking alone because Nate's eyes are fixed on him - on Eliot's hands and on his fingers curved around the handle of the knife in his hand and the way he's holding the vegetables as he slices through them.

Eliot smirks a little to himself, his head ducked down and his hair covering his amusement, and he picks a freshly-sliced carrot stick and rounds the counter, crowding up near to Nate where the older man's sitting on his chair.

"Open," Eliot orders, and Nate looks up at him, humour somewhere behind that damned almost-inscrutable gaze, and he opens his mouth for the food, closes his lips around the carrot stick and...

...And sucks at it. Eliot growls a little - can't help himself, not when Nate's looking up at him like that - and he reaches to pull Nate up and out of the chair.

"Screw the cooking lessons," he mutters, and Nate laughs low and pleased when Eliot drags him up the stairs to the bedroom.

[monica-catch22.livejournal.com]

Firefly/Eureka, Nathan/Jack, "Take me out to the black."

[pesha.livejournal.com]

*Question: By "Nathan" do you mean you want RPS with Nathan Fillion or were you thinking of Captain Malcolm Reynolds which is the character Nate plays? <3

[monica-catch22.livejournal.com]

SGA, Sheppard/Dex, "license my roving hands"

[rubygirl29.livejournal.com]

Authors Note: Apologies to John Donne, but thank you for the wonderful prompt!

Poetic License

The only light in the room came from the soft focus of John's reading lamp, and the only sounds were the hush of the waves on the pier below his window and the soft sigh of Ronon's breath. John had pulled the pillows off the bed and sat with a book open in his hands and Ronon's head cushioned on his lap. They were warm, comfortable, easy in the silence.

Ronon tilted his head and squinted at the spine of the book. “Who's John Donne?”

“Poet. English. 17th Century. You want me to read you something?”

“Umm. No.”

“I thought you liked poetry?”

“I liked The Iliad.”

“I figured you would.” “There are other kinds of poetry than stories about battles and blood.” John set the book aside and his voice took on a husky timbre. His fingers brushed lightly over the curls at Ronon's temples, ridiculously soft in contrast with the rough dreadlocks and far more intriguing.

Ronon tilted his head, wondering if this were some new sort of Earth game, or if Sheppard was looking for more. Ronon decided he wanted more. He leaned in for a kiss. “Read to me.”

'Full nakedness !  All joys are due to thee ; As souls unbodied, bodies unclothed must be.'” A he whispered against Ronon lips, he gathered the hem of Ronon's shirt and tugged it over his shoulders, gently freeing his hair. He moved his palms lazily across the muscles of his chest, pressing a bit against the firm muscles. Kissing his way down, he tongued Ronon's nipples, then blew softly across them, making Ronon quiver. “Lie down.”

When Ronon complied, he slowly pulled down the loose sleep pants he wore. He looked down at his naked lover. He caressed thighs, hips, groin. “'Licence my roving hands, and let them go Before, behind, between, above, below.'” He touched Ronon intimately, brushing his knuckles lightly down Ronon's cock, marveling at the softness of the skin and the hard heated flesh beneath it. He bent his head to taste the bead of moisture welling there, and it was sweet on his lips.

Ronon gripped Sheppard's black tee shirt and stripped it off. “Your turn.” John's lips curved into a smile. He stood and stepped out of his sweatpants. He was beautiful; lean and lithe, all hard muscles and soft shadows. He let Ronon study him, felt a heated flush rising in his chest and throat.

Ronon saw the slow rise of color, saw the light shift in Sheppard's bright eyes. He held out his hand and pulled John down to straddle him; their bodies in perfect alignment. He set his palm on the nape of John's neck, drawing him closer for a kiss. Sheppard's silky, thick hair sifted through his fingers “Is there more?' he whispered.

John's eyes darkened. “'To teach thee, I am naked first. What needst thou have more covering than a man?'” He kissed Ronon hard, tenderness with an edge of suppressed violence and hunger. Ronon yielded and Sheppard felt the leap of his heart against his palm. He broke the kiss. “'To enter in these bonds, is to be free; Then, where my hand is set, my soul shall be.'”

Ronon arched up as Sheppard breached his body, his heart and soul. John's hand covered his mouth as he cried out in his climax, then gave him his breath and life back in a kiss. John fumbled for the edge of the blanket and pulled it over their shaking bodies. Ronon gathered him closer to the hollow of his body, and John turned his head.

“Tomorrow's lesson. Beowulf. I think we've 'Donne' enough.” Ronon's laugh rumbled in his chest, comforting and strong. John closed his eyes and listened to the waves and his lover's heartbeat.

The End

[milleniumrex.livejournal.com]

DC Comics, Jaime Reyes/Kara Zor-El, petsitting

[partofthequeue2.livejournal.com]

Merlin, Merlin/Arthur, Magic Wand

[amathela.livejournal.com]

Wizards Of Waverly Place, Justin/Alex, we're all we've got

[morlockiness.livejournal.com]

Alex was holed up in her room, shrunk into a desperate heap on the floor, hiding behind her bed, shaking and muttering to herself. She was breaking out in a sweat, headache setting in. A small zip-up satchel sat on the rug next to her, empty dime bags, an unused syringe and tourniquet. She was out of heroin and knew she was deeper than she ever intended to be. She knew she should have stayed away from it, should never have tried it.

Her entire arm wobbling, she held her wand, attempting a spell, "I cannot handle this affliction, release me from this drug addiction." She was too weak for it to work. Her eyes burned with frustrated tears, knowing she needed a fix soon. She dialed the phone number of her dealer, Lizzie, a girl at school with a meth addict mom.

"Alex, baby, it's been a while," her voice thrummed through the phone. Alex swallowed hard.

"I need some. I have money. Can we meet up?"

[mickey-sixx.livejournal.com]

The Covenant, Pogue Parry/Tyler Simms, hair

Something to Hold On To, NC17

[smilesoftnsweet.livejournal.com]

Tyler has him on his hands and knees, fingers tangled tight in Pogue’s hair as he continues thrusting his hips. Pogue bites back on a sharp cry, dropping his forehead forward but Tyler isn’t having any of that. He clenches his fingers and pulls back on Pogue’s sweat-soaked dirty blonde hair in clear demand. Pogue curses and hisses, fights the pull of hair even as his dick jerks in Tyler’s left hand.

“Ty—” he grits out, throat raw.

Tyler’s fingers don’t let up, thrusts rough and demanding. Pogue’s fingers scrabble along the surface of rumpled sheets as his throat is bared—head tilted to the side and back, back as far as Tyler wants, neck arched in invitation.

“Stay just like that.” Tyler orders.

Pogue breathes out on a grunt of pain but he can’t deny how much he wants it… Tyler using him… pulling his hair… fucking him—relentless and sure… just taking. Pogue arches on a particularly hard thrust and Tyler drags him back with the hand in his hair, left hand closed at the base of Pogue’s cock to ease him down.

“Ah. Ah fuck. Harder. Go harder... won’t break, you teasing bastard.” Tyler chuckles—low and dirty—and the sound spears right through Pogue’s chest.

Tyler lets go of his cock and Pogue whimpers. “Take over for me. Come on, Pogue. You want me to go harder you got to jerk yourself off for me. I can’t just do everything for you now, can I?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Pogue stutters out as Tyler draws back deliberately slow before vigorously pushing back in. Tyler watches with lust-filled eyes as Pogue takes his dick in hand, breathy moan following the clumsy contact. Tyler grips Pogue’s hip with his left hand, right hand still tangled tight in Pogue’s hair as he balances his attention between pulling at Pogue’s unruly hair and maneuvering Pogue’s hips with every thrust.

Pogue slaps his free hand against the cool wall above the headboard as Tyler continues to manipulate his body with practiced ease. And Tyler relishes the high whine that emits from deep within Pogue’s throat, knows he’s that much closer to breaking. The rhythmic slap, slap, slap of skin against skin echoes in his ears, thrums through his veins as he moves Pogue every which way he wants him.

“You feel so fuckin’ good, Pogue.” He breathes against Pogue’s neck, hips already faltering and losing their rhythm... hard, jerky thrusts that leave Pogue breathless yet still begging for more. Tyler tries to stay focused but the haze of lust and pleasure clouds his brain. Pogue’s relentless with every stroke of his cock, face red with exertion, and lips parted with every breathy moan. Tyler licks his lips, leans forward before sucking ruthlessly at the pulse point of his neck. Pogue shouts out a curse, ass clenching tight around Tyler’s cock as his own dick jerks in his hand before sticky white come hits the pillow and headboard. Tyler keeps moving inside him, seeking his own release even as Pogue pants for air. His hips jerk forward, one thrust after another, grinding firmly against Pogue’s ass before he’s gasping out Pogue’s name against his sweat-slick neck and coming inside him.

“Damn—” Tyler adds finally, face planting into Pogue’s sweaty back... his hand now cradling and running softly through Pogue’s hair as he finally eases out, petting Pogue’s hipbone when he hisses in pain.

“Easy.”

“Sorry,” he apologizes, dropping a soft kiss on Pogue’s lips that Pogue greedily accepts.

Tyler’s letting the post-coital haze drift over him, settling in beside Pogue’s equally sated body when Pogue’s voice breaks through the shared silence. “Great. I’ve got a fuckin’ crick in my neck now, asshole.” And Tyler grins because that is just so Pogue.

[partofthequeue2.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Dean/Castiel, wings

[sagaluthien.livejournal.com]

OBS Not betad
---
NC-17

Dean stroked the feathers of Castiel's wings. Nothing went up to the real thing. Dean had soon learned that he had a fetish for feathers. Just only thinking of Castiel and his wings, made him hard. Lying in the bed with him, recently made love and now stroking the wings Dean was ready again.

Castiel took hold of Dean, moved him to lie above him. Castiel kissed Dean, long and deep. He let his wings cover them, caress Dean's back. Loving the reaction his lover gave him. It was only Dean he let touch his wings, or even be visible when he soon had learned what they got Dean into.

Dean assaulted his nipples, grinding towards Castiel's cock and if the Angel would allow him, Dean would take him. He didn't care that he was raw from the night of lovemaking, just for Castiel he would continue until he passed out, and yet he was no where near. Having Castiel's nipples hard Dean licked his way up to the mouth again for more kissing.

Knowing what Dean wanted Castiel kept Dean in a leash. It would award him. Award them both. A moment before Dean would go over to frustration Castiel opened up his legs to give the allowance once more for Dean to enter him. Slowly he let his wing be spread out on the bed, carefully avoiding them to touch anything that could be broken. He would let them disappear when they reached the very peak.

Making love with Castiel was the best thing after being alive and away from hell. Dean pushed in, drawing out to the tip of his cock and then pushed in again. He quickened up the speed and there would not take long before he came again. All he concentrated on was their lovemaking and nothing else could find the way into the world.

When Dean came it was a song for Castiel, different from the angels he was used to but never the less as beautiful. He let go of his cum. Feeling like they was one for a moment. One day he would do more for his love. For fill some wishes.

[cyphersushi.livejournal.com]

RPS, JDM/RDJ, Breathing hard and hardly breathing...

trainers will kill you, RPS, JDM/RDJ, breathing hard and hardly breathing

[pesha.livejournal.com]

Brad wanted him running, said it would help keep him "lean", and so he was running or jogging, whatever. It was like a hundred thousand degrees in LA and he was outside doing the best he could to be running at the beach track. Who the fuck wanted to run in hundred-degree weather anyway?

Fucking trainers. It was one thing to run when a man was twenty-five and quite a different story when the same guy was over forty-five. Why was he playing an action hero again? Seriously. Who thought that was a good idea?

He slowed down to take a drink of ridiculously warm water from his canteen and had a momentary flash of himself standing beneath a cool waterfall.

"Fucking trainers," he huffed, heart pumping too fast in his chest and air coming in too slow to fill his starving lungs.

A low laugh resounded behind him on the path, making him turn to stare up at the guy whose run he'd interrupted by stopping in the middle of the track like an idiot. The guy was tall and built better than his trainer. He'd already passed Robert twice before but Robert hadn't seen his face until now.

"Sorry. I'll move. I'm just---wow, it's hot, you know?" Robert forced a laugh.

"Yeah. I hear you, man. Trainers can kill you."

Robert did laugh then, "Oh yeah? You sure look like yours is killing you."

That was true too. Robert could barely breathe and this guy had lapped him twice while barely breaking a sweat. He had a feeling this guy didn't get forced into taking a run; this guy took a run because he liked it. Masochistic bastard.

The guy laughed in a self-deprecating way that was too charming to be fake. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with a towel he'd tucked into his waist. Yeah, he was prepared and everything, a real exercising boy scout.

"Well, you know, I do what I can. When you're our age, it's a good idea to keep in shape. Plus. I do most of my running with my dogs. I like to keep 'em happy or they pee on my shoes. Sorry, I'm Jeff," he smiled, offered a big hand for Robert to shake.

Great. Now, he recognized him.

"Shit. I knew you looked familiar. You're The Comedian, right? From Watchmen? I fail at names maybe the drugs or the booze or I'm talking too much. I do that. Sometimes I do that."

Jeff nodded, friendly smile still in place as if Robert wasn't currently playing the part of a deranged former crack addict.

"And you're Iron Man. Now that we're all introduced, you want to maybe jog a bit with me? Slower pace, better company, and I promise to buy you a beer after?"

With that smile, who was going to say no to the guy? Certainly not him.

"Absolutely! That sounds, sounds great, actually. Robert. That's me, I mean, Robert or Bob. I answer to both."

Jeff eyed him, gave him an actual once over that made him flush more than the sweltering heat had, "Bob, huh? Well, if you say so, Iron Man. Laps first, drinks after."

Jogging wasn't as bad as running and he really didn't mind keeping time with Jeff even if the guy was likely just humoring him but Robert was really, really looking forward to that drink.

They made a few more laps before stopping then Jeff motioned towards one of the condo towers.

"I'm up there."

"Oh. Right, yeah. I can get home, shower, meet you wherever for that drink," Robert laughed it off, kept smiling because that only made sense. Sure Jeff'd want to get cleaned up before going out.

Jeff quirked a brow, smirked a little, "Or you could come up with me. Shower. Get out of the heat for a bit and I do have a full bar. I can still get you that drink I promised. Up for it, Iron Man?"

"I think-" Robert thought it was a profoundly stupid idea for him to go up to a guy's place but he thought he would be even more profoundly stupid if he didn't when that guy smiled half so sweet as Jeff did- "Sure. Iron Man's always up for a drink, right?"

"I imagine Iron Man's always up for a lot of things. How 'bout you and I talk a little about that when we get that shower?"

Oh yes. Absolutely.

"I think that can be arranged," Robert agreed, thinking he could get used to being called Iron Man if that was how Jeff wanted to see him.

[partofthequeue2.livejournal.com]

Band of Brothers, Roe/author's choice, bi-lingual

[cyphersushi.livejournal.com]

Leverage RPS, Tim Hutton/Chris Kane, First day of not filming

[monjinator.livejournal.com]

NCIS, Gibbs/Tony/Abby, twosome into threesome

[daria234.livejournal.com]

Tony had thought long about how he might ask Abby. He and Gibbs needed to have a strategy session to talk about how they might bring it up to Abs. She might be into it, but Tony was wondering if there were really a good way to ask a girl this kind of thing. Not to mention that with Abby there, if she even agreed ... everything could change.

After work, Tony, Abby, and Gibbs were lingering in the bullpen, and Tony gestured with his eyes to Gibbs that maybe they should start a conversation.

But Abs was making some point that Tony wasn't listening to really and she smacked him playfully in the ass.

"Easy, Abs, don't touch my stuff without permission," Gibbs said with a smile.

Abby's eyes grew wide. "Then you two are really -- the two of you --- seriously???"

Gibbs nodded, barely, eyes crinkling with his smile.

"I knew it! Finally! It's about time!" Abby said, and did a little celebration dance.

Okay, thought Tony, first part of the conversation was a lot easier than I expected.

"Enough, Abby, Tony and I have to get home," Gibbs said.

Abby grinned. "Oh I BET you do. Man, would I like to be a fly on that wall."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Well, you can, Abby. If you want."

Abby looked stunned. Then she squealed and jumped into Gibbs' arms. "Best. Boss. Ever." she exclaimed.

As they headed toward the garage, Abby skipping happily in front, Tony leaned over to Gibbs and whispered, "Nice, Gibbs. But seriously. Have you ever found anything difficult ever?"

"Yeah," Gibbs answered with a smile as he pulled his first lover close in a reassuring but assertive hug. "It took me years to get you, didn't it?"

Tony smiled then. Of course this was going to work out fine. Gibbs always had a plan.

[cyphersushi.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Eliot/Nate, Daddy

[me-ya-ri.livejournal.com]

A/N: Follows on my sub!Eliot fic Exploring the Limits (http://me-ya-ri.livejournal.com/261504.html) since it's trying to bloom into its own 'verse and you people aren't helping with these prompts!

"So is he your 'Daddy'?" the bartender asked, pushing over a pair of beers to Eliot. He jerked his chin at Nate who was laying claim to a pool table.

"No," Eliot growled, glaring at the man. He didn't spill the beers when he grabbed them but it was close.

"Sorry," the bartender said, shrugging. "You said you get into that sort of thing so I assumed…"

"He's not my Sir," Eliot said, his voice low and angry. "He's my lover. Two separate people, not that it's any of your business."

Eliot left the bar, not giving the bartender a tip the way he normally would, and returned to Nate's side. Nate noted the anger, raising an eyebrow. Eliot shook his head no, passing Nate his beer and taking a pool cue in exchange. He didn't want to talk about it. He would never talk about that. Didn't matter that he learned to sub literally at his Daddy's knee, he didn't have a Daddy now and he never would. He didn't need that dynamic to find his subspace, thank everything holy that he stopped believing in years ago. He isn't sure he could deal with himself if he did need it.

They played; drank their beers. Nate won the first game and the second. They finished their beers but Eliot was still wound tight, still fighting old battles in his head. Nate noted it. He always noticed it. Eliot was grateful for Nate's ability to see inside of his head. Nate's hand on his shoulder pulled him out of spiraling memories and rising anger that no longer has a target.

"Want to head out?" Nate asked. "Thought we might go visit Alec, see what he's doing."

"Yeah," Eliot said, shuddering at the offer of some peace. "Sounds good. Let's get the hell out of here. Hopefully Alec isn't too busy gaming or whatever it is he does on Friday nights."

"He's there for you when you need him," Nate said, low and much more confident than Eliot expected. "So am I."

[cyphersushi.livejournal.com]

Firefly, Mal/Jayne, Penance

[daria234.livejournal.com]

Jayne felt the rush of damage as his chest landed hard against the metal headboard. As Mal's hand pushed Jayne's neck so he was bent over even further, Jayne did his best to comply.

Soon Mal was kicking Jayne's feet wide apart and then soon after Jayne could feel the press of Mal against him, not bothering to prepare or lubricate or any of those things that you do for someone when you care if you hurt them.

Jayne hears the Cap'n with others sometimes. With the pretty doctor, he's soft and gentle, like a pretty song. With Wash it's playful, like a game.

With Jayne, it's never like this. It's always like Jayne has no choice. It's always hurt and roughness.

It's always Jayne, struggling to do penance. And Mal deciding he hasn't quite done enough.

[cyphersushi.livejournal.com]

RPS/SPN, priest!JDM/evil!John, Payment in ruby drops

[samueljames]

Without A Trace, Danny/Martin, Saturday mornings are the best

Best Day of the Week, WaT, Danny/Martin

[beautybecks.livejournal.com]

Best Day of the Week

Martin never was a fan of sleeping in. Ever since he was a child he always had it drummed into him to be productive, to be pro-active. Martin always has been highly strung. Not anymore.

Danny's still asleep, naked and vulnerable yet with his arms around Martin like he's protecting him. It makes Martin smile.

He doesn't want to get up, not even to pee, not yet anyway.

Not with Danny fast asleep, murmuring the occasional Spanish phrase, which Martin tries to remember, but he knows he'll forget. Danny never believes Martin that he talks in his sleep, it's one of the things they bicker about, friendly banter.

Martin can't stop smiling.

He should get up and get coffee, especially for Danny. Danny can't function without coffee. He's sleepy and pouty and just a little cranky and Martin sighs as he realises how adorable he finds that. He's not going to get any coffee soon.

He's still amazed by how happy this still makes him. You'd think after time it would fade or disappear entirely but not this. Danny is so easy to love. Danny is so loving.

Martin yawns, realising he doesn't have to wake up. It's the first time in forever where they both don't have work. He drifts back to sleep, content to spend Saturday morning safe with Danny curled round him in their bed.

[tigriswolf]

Supernatural, Winchesters, “you gave away the things you love, and one of those things was me” (Carly Simon)

[tigriswolf]

Supernatural/Holes, author’s choice, Dean and Sam go investigate the Camp Green Lake haunting

[tigriswolf]

Star Trek reboot, either Bones/Jim or Spock/Jim, “I am tired, Beloved, of chafing my heart against the want of you” (Amy Lowell)

[tigriswolf]

Pirates of the Caribbean, author’s choice, Will never became captain of the Dutchman

King Of The Sea

[sagaluthien.livejournal.com]

Obs Unbetad
Warning: Character death
---

Elisabeth turned around. First she didn't see anything, as all got black. It was like in slow motion that she noticed what was happening around her. The sight came back first, then the sound and last the smell.

She register that Will was down, laying towards the gunwale, looking sick. She knew he was covered in sweat and salt water from the fight and storm, but there were something else that didn't fit. His clothes was in rags, though even that would be expected from what they been doing. What she finally saw was the sword sticking out from his chest.

A sword in his chest.

No.

Seeing what was wrong with the picture Elisabeth started to take in everything faster.

Davy Jones stood between them, laughing. His tentacles seemed to laugh too. Only a few meters away Jack Sparrow held Davy's chest in one hand and his heart in the other. On the deck the fights between the crews continue, everyone wanted to win.

When the sound returned Elisabeth heard herself shouting over all the other noises; NO. Almost as piercing was Davy's laugh.

The seconds it took for her to see all went over and as the smells assaulted her she could move again.

She was able to run over to Will's side, falling down on her knees to examine where sword was hit she could not stop screaming and sobbing. Learning that the sword was pierced right into his heart infuriated her.

Before Will actually had drawn his last breath Elisabeth had get up on her legs and was at Jack's side.

The ship silenced.

Everyone turned to Elisabeth.

Jack dropped the chest and formed his mouth to an O.

Davy Jones never said one more word.

Will draw his last breath.

Bill Turner came forward telling that the Dutchman had to have a Captain.

Elisabeth ignored everyone. She had revenged Davy for killing her love. She went back to Will's side. Claps his body to her. Carefully taking the sword out from his chest and let her tears run free.

No one other than Jack and Bill dared to approach her. They looked at each other and in a mutual silent they know what to do. With combined effort they showed a sword into Elisabeth and as soon she was unconscious Bill carved out her heart with the knife she had put in Davy's for then be put in the chest.

The Dutchman had a new Captain. A woman that become a King. A Lady that until this day sailing the seas and missing her love.


~*~*~THE END ~*~*~

[rhiannon-wing.livejournal.com]

Star Trek: Reboot, Sulu/Chekov, Everyone sees a kid, they don't see that he's far more dangerous than anyone knows.

[secret-weapon.livejournal.com]

Hello, I stumbled upon this comm somehow and this prompt just cried out to me. I tried to keep it short but it grew out of hand.

When I grow up I'll be a monster (http://secret-weapon.livejournal.com/31165.html) (Sulu/Chekov, Hard R/NC-17)

Excerpt:
That night he dreams of blood and steel. He sees Chekov with his curls drenched in blood, it drips down the side of his face and he licks at it and smiles at him. He kisses Sulu with sticky blood-stained lips and takes Sulu’s hands that are gripping his katana. Their hands run red.

‘What’s it like to kill someone?’ Chekov whispers, in his dream.

Sulu wakes up sweating, heart pounding in his chest. Chekov – his own, sweet, real Chekov – is there to lull him back to sleep with kisses and the warm comfort of his arms and by the time he falls asleep again Sulu can’t remember what the dream was about

[tigriswolf]

Dark Angel/X-Men, Ben/Alec, Ben and Alec escape from Manticore together and go to Xavier’s Institute

Man Made ; Dark Angel/X-Men, Ben/Alec, Ben and Alec escape from Manticore together and go to Xavier

[hunters-retreat.livejournal.com]

“So, they aren’t really mutants.”

The Professor sighed as he looked out the window at the two young boys who were walking across the yard; one guarded and quiet, the other animated and excited.

“No, I’m afraid they are something far different from a biological mutation.”

“What are they?”

Charles Xavier looked at Jean Grey and shook his head, returning his gaze. Two boys with barcodes across the back of the necks. They would be hard; what with one being unstable from years of emotional neglect and borderline physical abuse and the other who seemed to think of himself only as a number.

“ Alec and Ben will need our very special attention. You are right that they aren’t like us, but I’m afraid they’ll need us more than the others.”

“Why?”

“Because my dear Jean, they were man made.”

oh god someone please fill this, i need comfort porn.

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

Torchwood/Heroes, Jack/absolutely anyone, "Has anyone ever told you that you're far too good-looking to be human?"

A bit on the cracky side, and rather PWP - hope that's cool

[daria234.livejournal.com]

The man had rescued them from Danko's men. But he had been shot in the chest while they were escaping.

He was fine.

Mohinder was the first to raise the issue, and he did so with wit, saying "Has anyone ever told you that you're far too good-looking to be human?"

"I'm Jack Harkness. And you're perceptive. And gorgeous."

"I'm Peter. Mohinder's _boyfriend_," Peter added, pointedly and with a hint of jealousy.

Jack just grinned and said, "More the merrier," causing Peter and Mohinder to give each other silent nods and smiles.

Nathan rolled his eyes. It was just like Pete to fall into an orgy wherever he went. He said, "I'm Nathan. And we appreciate your help, Jack, but we should all get out of here."

"How do you propose we do that?" Jack asked.

Nathan went and gave Jack what seemed like a big tightly-gripped bear hug, which made Jack say, "Mmmmm.." before he felt his stomach lurch at being launched and carried at sonic speeds. Peter followed, carrying Mohinder, until they were back at Peter's apartment.

Jack was just a little out of breath as they landed, but he certainly had enough wherewithal to cup Nathan's ass and say, "You know, I've always had a soft spot for bossy men who drag me around to far off places without asking."

"A bit of a flirt, isn't he?" Mohinder said to Peter, though his tone was impressed more than critical.

"Hey, come on," Peter said, turning on his emo-charm, "We could all be gone tomorrow."

"Speak for yourself," Jack said.

"No, I mean, we'll have to go back tomorrow to stop them from going forward with building that facility. And we might not come back. So tonight we should all just, you know... remind each other of all the things we're fighting for."

"Peter. Has that line ever worked on anyone?" Jack asked, amused.

"No," Nathan and Mohinder answered in unison.

Peter pouted briefly and then peeled off his shirt. "Fine," Peter said. "How about this? Who wants a blowjob? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Anyone?"

Nathan rolled his eyes again and started to leave, but Peter said, "No, come on Nathan, Jack's totally into you, you should stay."

"Pete-"

"Who thinks Nathan should stay? Show of hands?" Three hands went up.

Nathan answered, "Really? A vote? You know I mostly only pay lip service to democracy."

Jack responded, "Does lip service mean what I think it means?"

But Peter was working the puppydog sad eyes at Nathan and Nathan eventually gave in.

continued below

[just-imriel.livejournal.com]

Leverage/AtS, amnesiac!Eliot & Lindsey, A world of hurt.

::waves:: yoo hoo! maab_connor! See the pretty prompt????

[maab-connor.livejournal.com]

O.O who? me? do i see a pretty prompt that now i have to wait until lunch to type up?

[sivanshemesh.livejournal.com]

Leverage, Hardison/Eliot, Take me in the alley.

Part 1 since I got wordy

[me-ya-ri.livejournal.com]

A/N: Follows on this comment fic (http://community.livejournal.com/comment_fic/78648.html?thread=18075960#t18075960) because it was too hot leave alone and this prompt plays into it perfectly!

Alec pants as Eliot hauls him through the alley, back the way they came, back to safety. They're okay, they're fine, they're going to make it except that Alec's dying, his pants sticking to him and his body throbbing with the knowledge that Eliot knows exactly what he does to Alec every time he does the Superman routine. They reach the spot where they have to cross the street but the creeps that they're running from have brought friends and they're cut off. No going that way so Eliot shoves him back into the alley, cursing under his breath.

They're going to get caught, they're going to get killed. Alec's mind is in overdrive, ticking over all the ways they could die and counting all the guns in the thugs hands from that flash picture in his mind out the end of the alleyway. There's a side street, a little crooked half-width alley between buildings and more voices behind them. Alec stops, hauling back against Eliot's iron grip around his arm.

"Take me in the alley," Alec says low and fast and he can't believe he's saying this, that he's offering like this, in a place and a time like this.

"What?" Eliot says, disbelief blooming on his face.

"They're looking for one black man, El," Alec says, "a hacker, not a hooker. Alley, fuck me in the goddamn alley and they'll look right past us."

"That’s not what—" Eliot hisses, his fingers tightening into Alec's arm.

"Do it!" Alec whisper-shouts at him, frantic for getting his fantasy, for escaping, for Eliot, for the whole messy complicated thing to give him something golden.

Eliot growls but does as Alec orders. The alley is tiny, barely wide enough for Eliot to walk through. There's a fire escape on one building and they conspicuously don't hide behind it. Alec pushes his pants down, already hard again, panting to feel what Eliot can do to him. Eliot smirks in spite of himself, finding a condom and lube somewhere in his pocket. There's no time for prep, no time for anything but getting it on and then Eliot's got Alec in his arms, pressing his face up against the wet bricks of the building.

They're in plain sight of looking out of the windows but Eliot pushes into Alec like they've spent the last half hour fucking and decided to go again. He shoves hard, not giving Alec any warning. It burns. Alec gasps, clamping down and the relaxing deliberately. Eliot chuckles low and dirty in Alec's ear. He grabs Alec's wrists and (gently, surprisingly gently) pins him to the wall. When he starts moving it's fast and hard, as dirty and brutal as this little charade, as the alley they're in.

(Continued in a second comment since I got wordy)