I'm bored enough.

[amand_r]

The first TEN people to comment in this post get to request ~something~ of any pairing/character of their choosing from me. In return, they have to post this in their journal. If you absolutely can't write, you can offer drawings or icons or something instead (meta? picspams? reasons why that character/pairing rocks/doesn't rock?).

They will be fics. They have to fit in the comments to this post, man. You don't have to repost to request. Any of my listed fandoms. Awwww yeah.

Comments

[siege-ofcahoots.livejournal.com]

Jack and Ianto. And pierogies. Oh yes.

[amand-r.livejournal.com]

"I should warn you, as a Welshman, I have a distinct suspicion of pocket food."

Jack looked in the bowl. "But you like pasties."

"That's bread filled with meat and veg. This is pasta filled with mashed potatoes."

Jack speared one of the things in his carton and held it out. "Can't you feel your arteries hardening?" he asked as he watched the butter drip off the end.

Ianto blinked. "Yes. Get it away."

Jack stuffed the whole pierogie in his mouth. "Your loss."

They sat on the bonnet of the car and Ianto watched Jack shovel the things in his mouth, every once in a while stopping to look at his watch. Jack wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sighed. "It's a shit date when one of you doesn't eat."

Ianto waved the scanner. "It's not a date."

Jack smiled.

"It's not a date. Dates have flowers and tablecloths, and a restaurant. Possibly a movie theatre. We do not date."

Jack gestured with the container. "Torchwood date."

Ianto cocked his head and watched two dogs fight over what might have been a rotten steak from a skip. "That would require exponentially more viscera." His hand scrolled in the air. "Viscera is not sexy."

Jack speared another pierogie. "I think your viscera is sexy." Ianto snapped his mouth shut as the butter coated pasta bumped up against them. Jack winked. "There's cheese in there."

Ianto rolled his eyes and opened his mouth.

***

[golden-d.livejournal.com]

Tosh, being awesome, and absolutely not involving a doomed romance. :D Yay!

[amand-r.livejournal.com]

Tosh was tired and her feet hurt. Jack want around for another pass, and she thought she could see the sheer terror in his eyes. That was not reassuring.

Ianto was face down on the other side of the room. He could have been dead. He could have been unconscious. He could have been faking.

Only Gwen was immune, and she was wasting her time turning around, showing off, and possibly doing the Hustle. She was a little young for that.

"Toshiko," Jack said as he passed her, "you have to get it this time, because I CAN'T KEEP DOING THIS!" His voice got louder as he sped past her and moved farther and farther away.

"I don't know why you can't do this," she groused. Her feet really hurt. She passed Ianto and thought about veering off and crashing into the side like he had. His arm twitched. Faker.

Jack pinwheeled his arms and almost ran into Owen, who, once he had gotten moving, was so intent on staying upright and mobile that he couldn't concentrate on anything else. Tosh thought to herself that this might very well be the most ludicrous—

"I'm going to hit it this time!" Gwen said, raising her arms and aiming. Tosh raised her gun and waited.

Gwen's gun sounded over the hideous ABBA song and the bullet embedded in the mirrored surface. It slowed. Tosh fired and took off the left side. Smoke poured out of the mirror ball and it stopped turning.

"Waterloo," sang the overhead speakers, couldn't escape iiiiifffff IIIII waaaanteeeeeedd tooooooooooooooooooooooo…"

Tosh watched the sparks fly from the DJ console and the mirror ball. Ianto lifted his head and glanced about. Faker.

Gwen skidded to a top expertly and Owen fell down where he was. Tosh watched Jack deliberately run into the sidewall and cling to the wooden ledge. She followed suit because it looked like the easiest way, but at the last minute she tried to use the rubber stoppers on the toes and she tripped and fell. Jack managed to half catch her, but her belly hit the wooden partition and the wind went out of her for a second.

"Toshiko, you roller disco queen," Jack drawled, his face painted with relief. He clutched her arm and they led each other to one of the round couches, where they collapsed. She still had the Vorgon gun in her hand. "That was possibly the worst thing we have ever had to do."

Tosh shook her head and stared at the mirror ball, still embedded with lasers designed to incinerate anyone who stopped skating in the rink. "I will never understand some people's ideas of fun."

Jack unlaced a boot. "I'll say." He glanced up at Ianto, still immobile in the corner. "GET UP, YOU WELSH FAKER."

Tosh smiled and lifted a foot. The wheels on the rollerskates turned absently. "I saved us all."

Jack smiled and waved at Gwen as she dragged Owen off the rink. "Yup, you did."

"Good. Unlace these things."

***

[huesiemama.livejournal.com]

Ianto. Hart. Hart's wardrobe. :o)

[dremiel.livejournal.com]

Your icon makes me want Hart/Ten!

[heddychaa.livejournal.com]

I LIKE THE CUT OF YOUR JIB

(what is a jib?)

[amand-r.livejournal.com]

There was nothing in the room but a wardrobe. Ianto sighed. Of course the address was a dud. Hart didn't want to be found. He would have to get this vortex manipulator working some other way, then.

"I could have paid you, Hart," he mumbled and kicked the wardrobe as he looked out the bare window to the street where two kids were removing the hubcaps from his car. "Shit."

There was a thumping and the wardrobe door opened, spilling Hart onto the floor. He'd obviously been asleep. His red coat hung on the lone hanger in the thing, and his boots sat on the shelving on the right hand side.

Ianto stepped backwards as Hart climbed to his knees from the floor and glanced up. "You were in the wardrobe."

Hart stared at him, and then the furniture and then back. "Uh. Yeah."

Ianto reached into his coat pocket and fingered the vortex manipulator. "Whatever for?"

Hart scowled. "Safety. Boredom. Narnia. You pick." He tugged his jacket from the hangar and popped his arms in, fists shooting through the red sleeves. "Were you about to offer me money?"

Ianto pulled the vortex manipulator from his pocket. "This needs to work."

Hart raised an eyebrow. "That's not Jack's, Eyecandy."

Ianto smiled. "No. No it's not. Fix it anyway."

***

[dremiel.livejournal.com]

No sex in the champagne room? Ha! Jack had sex in the champagne room.

You officially broke me with this prompt.

[amand-r.livejournal.com]

"I have to admit that this is unexpected," Jack said into her ear. "I was told that there was never to be any—"

She sank down onto him and smiled. "Chris Rock," she murmured. "Ho's gotta eat too."

Jack thought about how this was the best five hundred dollars he had ever spent. Champagne and strippers. Hart had always told him that was a fatal combination of smexy, but he hadn't listened. He didn't have to pay for it, so why should he?

Just because you could fix your own spaceship didn't mean that you couldn't still pay someone to do it for you.

"What's your name?" he asked, so he would know what to scream at the right moment.

She smiled. "I'm Candy."

Jack let her twirl around his lap, taking his cock with her when she moved. "Of course you are."

***

[cruentum.livejournal.com]

RPF, GDL/JOHN/SCOTT

[amand-r.livejournal.com]

When he asks Scott what he wants for his birthday and he says, 'A decent fuck', it doesn't occur to John that he doesn't mean him. Obviously John is a great fuck, or they are each other's ideas of fantastic shags, otherwise they might have moved on long before now. So he laughs and buys Scott a bunch of new shirts (the man never buys clothes), and a couple of those spy thrillers he likes, and a watch, because that's a classy gift and Scott breaks watches like they're disposable.

But Gareth finds out that he's to be canned the day before they're supposed to go out to dinner, and John can't help himself. He finds his mouth opening and him issuing an invitation to the house to get wasted before he even stops to think about it. They tell Eve, too, but she just looks from one to the other in horror as if they've suggested a three-way.

Maybe they did.

So they start when they get back from the set, which is pretty early, and Scott is out with some military buddies of his, and when he gets home the two of them and the dogs are on the floor in the lounge, making up passable song lyrics to a tune they're going to write together, called, 'I'm not gay I play one on TV'.

"Just because I kiss him on the lens, doesn't mean that we are more than friends," John sings, and Gareth spits beer on the rug.

"I will do a lot of things for beer, but I won't take it in the rear," Gareth adds in a completely different tune.

Scott sets his gym bag down on the sofa and stands there watching.

"You like girls, eat some cheese curls," John adds and they roll around on the carpet. Scott makes some noise and John realises that they haven't acknowledged him. "Hey baby," John croons. "Happy birthday!"

Gareth waves a hand and mumbles something about 'one to grow on' and Scott smiles. "You remembered," he says, and it take John another few seconds to realise that Scott is staring at Gareth, his t shirt rucked up and little belly exposed, toes kneading in the carpet. He has nice feet. Scott has a thing for feet.

"Now now, the boy is straight," John says, but in the back of his head he's wondering if they have any camera lenses to kiss in front of.

Gareth barks. "I go gay for paaaaaaaaaaay," he sings.

John wants to make a joke about getting his chequebook, but he doesn't even know where it is. And Scott's face is unreadable as he pours himself a tumbler of vodka. Gareth laughs and turns to him. "I could murder a pizza. Who do I have to blow to get a pizza?"

***

[paragraphs.livejournal.com]

Jenny from D for Defender, and and and and uh... um... whoever you want. Does not have to be porny or slashy, include the kid if you like. LOL. Heck that could be the pairing if you want.

I just love your Jenny in that story. She rocks.

[amand-r.livejournal.com]

Wait, you mean Ginny?

[amand-r.livejournal.com]

Ginny pulled the sheet over her a little bit and sighed. The arm next to her snaked under the cotton and traipsed across her breasts. Oh yes, hello there, and then down, to—oh lovely. That hasn't been used in a while, woo.

"So you have a son, but he's not from a previous marriage," Bertram said, his chin resting on her arm while his hand played under the covers.

Ginny smiled. "Precisely. His dad is queer as a footie bludger."

Bertram snorted. "And he—"

"Turkey baster."

"You are engineering."

Ginny stretched. "I'm extremely inventive."

Bertram kissed her arm. "I'm inventive too," he said softly and raised one eyebrow.

Ginny leant forward and licked his nose. "Show me."

***

[talulahk.livejournal.com]

jack/ianto post its.

please?

[amand-r.livejournal.com]

The post it note was pale yellow and stuck to the middle rung of the ladder when he awoke that morning. Ianto ripped it from the rung and stared at Jack's serial killer handwriting:

R

"Right, Ianto said to himself and went to shower in Jack's mini-bathroom.

Jack wasn't about the whole morning, but the post it notes were everywhere: C and Z and three different Ys. It was a race for Ianto to find them before Owen, mostly because the first time he'd picked one up he'd turned to Ianto with a wry smile on his lips.

"Please tell me this is some sort of sex game." He squinted at the post-it.

Ianto rolled his eyes and snatched the post it note away.

The thing was, as smart as Ianto was, he didn't dare admit that he sucked at anagrams. Seriously sucked. He wasn't even good at spelling out words from scrabble tiles. His eyes just didn't see it. So he stuck the post its on the glass wall of Jack's office and stared at them from time to time.

EAR AYE COZY YURT, was his best bet by the end of the morning.

Jack called early in the afternoon and asked him to stay late, something about filing, or something. Ianto wasn't listening because he was too busy trying to tell if Jack was giving him clues in secret code.

"Did you leave anything about the hub that requires my attention?" he asked as he watched Gwen stare at his post it notes. She rearranged a few of them and frowned.

RACY RAZE YET YOU.

CZAR ARTY EYE YOU.

ACT AZURE EYRY YO.

There was nothing for it. There had to be more letters, or, Jack was taking the piss. Or… A RACY ZEE YOU TRY.

Still.

Jack appeared later, after the others had gone home, arms full of take away. Ianto sat in the conference room and stared at the post it notes on the table.

"I got you those jilebi that you—hey you got them."

Ianto stared at him. "Yes, I found them. What the hell are they?"

Jack smiled. "Post-it notes."

Ianto pulled the Z from the table and waved it. "What do they spell?"

Jack reached over and pulled the post it's from the table, laying them out slowly, his mouth set in a grin. When he sat back, Ianto stared at the message and then back at him. "No sex for a month."

"You're really just punishing yourself," Jack told him, unpacking the take-away. Ianto considered that; he didn't like when Jack was right. He also hated being wrong. So he settled for stealing all the curry.

***

[easilymused1956.livejournal.com]

Methos doing any thing/body. Please?

Renee

[amand-r.livejournal.com]

The only thing Methos hated more than headhunting was being headhunted. It was a thing. It made a lot of sense actually, unless you were a freak (or MacLeod) but hey.

"Look…uhm, person," Methos said aloud to the air. It was quite difficult to tell where the person was. The house was huge, probably why they called it an estate when he called up and said, 'I'd like to rent that house.' He stilled, as if his own silence would better enable him to hear the other person. "We can come to some agreement, yeah? I'm sure that you don't want to do this."

"Oh I want to do this," the woman said. "I've wanted to do this for a long time."

Methos rolled his eyes and wracked his brain. "You have the wrong person," he said, inching along the hallway. His sword was in his room, with his gun. Great place for them, actually.

"I don't think so."

Mac had warned him that renting under an old alias would be bad, but Pierson had the good credit rating, dammit. Methos glanced about the drawing room for something he could use as a weapon: vase, no. Sofa, no. Degas reprint, maybe…no. Andirons—yes please. He selected the pointiest one—at least he could stab her and then make a run for it.

"There you are," the woman said from the doorway and Methos froze before whirling, andiron in hand. The woman raised her hands. "That's, uhm, it's a little early for a fire, don't you think?"

Methos stood stock-still as she crossed the room towards him. She held out a folded paper. "Take it."

He paused, lowering the poker. "What?"

One eyebrow raised. "Take the subpoena." She laughed. "I hope you don't think I was coming for your head." She gestured to her clothes. "In Prada. I don't think so." She saluted him with two fingers. "I'll see myself out, milord."

Methos unfolded the paper with two fingers and glanced at it. "The Council is SUING ME?"

The woman turned but kept walking backwards. "Whatever it says on the tin! I'm just the messenger."

***

[heddychaa.livejournal.com]

Ianto/John/Jack when John and Jack are still Time Agents mmmmyes.

[amand-r.livejournal.com]

"The only way this qualifies as a holiday is if I feel relaxed," [John] said as he lifted his head from the cock in front of him. "I don't feel relaxed. I feel energised."

[Jack] pushed his head back down. "With all the coffee he gave you, I'm amazed you're capable of speech."

The man behind John slapped his arse and smiled. "Most of it was decaf." He pumped his hips and John groaned around Jack's cock.

"You seem awfully okay about this for someone from the twenty-first century," Jack said with a wink. He smiled up at the man on the other side of John. He did have a cute nose.

The man, Yanta? Yantie? Yo-yo? flashed teeth and slowed for a moment, reaching around John's back to run his fingers down Jack's cheek. "I'm awfully okay with lot of things."

"To the left," John screeched, pulling away from Jack's cock. "To the ohhhhhh yeah."

Jack sighed and stretched a little bit. Earth holidays were the best.

[neifile7.livejournal.com]

Dang, too late! *settles back with popcorn*

[blue-fjords.livejournal.com]

As far as I can tell, I am NOT too late. I don't think everyone before me requested stuff. So if I'm not:

Misha Collins meets John Barrowman. They are wearing the same shirt.

[mrsalemp.livejournal.com]

Please don't let you be too late LOL

[opium-and-tea.livejournal.com]

Can't tell if I'm too late or not. If not Ianto/Jack, Ianto/Tosh, Jack/Ianto/Tosh, pretty please. Yes, I'm predictable. :P

[amand-r.livejournal.com]

When Tosh wakes up there's a foot in her face and someone is drooling on her shoulder. Sitting up cures both of those except now she has to get up, and that involves crawling over bodies that either don't want to move or want to grab her by the waist and cuddle, preferably with a hand lovingly pressed to her full bladder.

Finally untangling herself, she can sit on the toilet in the quiet room and close her eyes, but she's not even got the loo roll when the door opens and Jack stumbles in, yawning and scratching. Ianto follows him and makes a beeline for the shower, rubbing last night's drinking remnants from his skull with both palms.

Tosh rolls her eyes. They don't even notice she's there, brushing their teeth with toothpaste covered fingers and jumping into the shower, probably to use all the hot water. She ducks out of the bathroom and starts the coffee, then washes her face in the kitchen sink. They stumble out of the bathroom and into their clothes from the night before, like the always do—Tosh wonders why they don't just bring a change of clothes. Everyone knows where these nights go.

They have left her five minutes of hot water. Bless.

There's the passive aggressive fight over the bathroom mirror, where she takes the bottom half and Ianto takes the top half and Jack pokes his head in from the side and flicks his hair about, complaining about her hair gel. Then she draws on his face with eyeliner and he laughs until Ianto kicks him out of the room and they have a few seconds of peace.

When they get back to the kitchen, Jack has made them all toast and they have marmite and jam and butter and Ianto pours them all coffee in travel mugs so that they can go soon.

Tosh is putting a scandalous amount of milk into her coffee when Ianto bumps into her from behind, but Ianto doesn't bump into people by accident, so she isn't surprised when he turns her away from the counter and into Jack's front.

"Hey, where's the most beautiful girl in the world?" Jack says to Ianto over Tosh's head, his hands wrapping around them both.

Ianto's lips brush her temple and lay a soft kiss on the skin there. "Right here," he says. "Right here."

***

[alba17.livejournal.com]

Don't know if it's too late or not. Ianto/John, the coffee machine's broken. John shows Ianto how they make coffee on some other planet. Or other Ianto/John scenario of your choice.

[paragraphs.livejournal.com]

Awww I love your user pic!

[topgeargirl2.livejournal.com]

Jack/Ianto, bubblegum.

[amand-r.livejournal.com]

The snapping was possibly one of the most irritating things Ianto had ever done. He didn't blow bubbles or anything, just sat in the car and looked out the window, gum moving in his mouth and every once in a while—

SNAP. SNAP SNAP. SNAP (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5d9h6rlcGMY)

"You know what I think?"

SNAP.

"I think you're angry about the 'soul of an old man in a young person's body' line," Jack said, blinking. Ianto gave him a good view of the back of his head. The rain poured down outside. "Look, I could have been talking about myself."

SNAP.

"You're right, I was talking about you." Jack waved a hand. "Look three times in one night is perfectly respectable. You were tired, it was late, we ran out…of…what?"

Ianto had turned to glare at him, still chewing. SNAP. SNAP SNAP SNAP. SNAP.

"Okay so look, what do you want me to say, do you want me to apologise? I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

SNAP. SNAP SNAP.

"I just think you're being a wee bit un—"

"He's here," Ianto said suddenly, pulling his gun. Jack glanced out the window at their quarry, a very ugly blowfish with as bad habit of fencing valuable and stolen jewelry.

"Okay, we'll—"

Ianto fished the gum out of his mouth, slapped it on Jack's nose, picked up his umbrella and opened his door.

"Now who's an old man?" he said as he slammed the door in Jack's face.

All right then.

***