Flash Fiction Friday (Take 17 - Part 2)
Aug. 2nd, 2011 02:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: Good afternoon! I bring to you more cracky, crossover fun! Enjoy!
For hockeyris
Prompt: Kyouya and Uryuu, good better best
Fandoms: Bleach and Ouran High School Host Club. Warnings for language.
For rionarch
Prompt: Ty Lee and Fuu, teahouse fun
Fandoms: Samurai Champloo and Avatar: the Last Airbender. Warnings: mild yuri, some groping, mild language.
For mandalee1013Prompt: Roy and Yoruichi, hot springs
Fandoms: Bleach and Fullmetal Alchemist. Warnings for nudity, implied het, language, NSFW
The steam rising from the heated water is an annoying cloak, hiding from Roy all the things he wishes to see. There are times when a breath of wind allows a glimpse, but it's simply not enough.
It's absolutely maddening to be this close to Yoruichi and yet not be able to touch.
“You look frustrated, Colonel,” the vixen purrs a him, eyes bright and golden, hair spilling in a wet, black curtain over her shoulders.
A whisper of wind and Roy catches a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage. His breath hitches. “Though I am well-known for my patience” A small white lie “I find myself eager to make use of the inspiring nature of our surroundings.”
“Oh?” Yoruichi says, and the water ripples as she lifts her arms in a stretch. “How so?”
For a minute, Roy's brain shorts out. He can't remember what smooth line he planned to say next. He's too busy watching water drip down her toned, tanned arms. Imagining tracing their path with his lips and tongue, pressing close to her in the heat of this water, caressing her lovely skin with his fingertips.
“Roy,” Yoruichi purrs, gathering his attention and making him blink out of his lusty thoughts. “You seem a bit distracted tonight.”
He swallows thickly, manages a light chuckle, gestures toward her as she braces her arms on the lip of the springs behind her. “Can you blame me?”
“Of course not. I am a stunning example of feminine beauty,” Yoruchi replies airily, but the sparkle in her eyes proves she is only teasing.
“I must agree,” Roy says, and he licks his lips, clenching and unclenching his fingers if only to occupy his hands. His hard as a rock right now, and if not for the steam of the springs, Yoruichi would probably be able to see her effect on him. Then again, knowing her, she is already aware of how aroused he is. “I can offer the description of charitable as well, if only you'd come a little closer.”
Yoruichi throws her head back and laughs, voice rich and mellifluous. “I'm quite comfortable where I am, thank you,” she says, and lowers her head, fixing him with a heated stare as one hand lifts, crooking a finger toward him. “Perhaps you could join me over here?”
Roy doesn't need more than a second's thought to obey as he moves through the heated water and approaches her, feeling like prey daring to come within hairsbreadth of predator. But if she's going to eat him alive, Roy's damn well going to enjoy it.
a/n: Four more to come! I do hope you enjoyed!
For hockeyris
Prompt: Kyouya and Uryuu, good better best
Fandoms: Bleach and Ouran High School Host Club. Warnings for language.
“What the hell is he doing?” Ichigo demands of Renji, who looks equally perplexed.
The redhead grunts. “How the hell should know?”
Ichigo huffs. Renji is being no help. But then, Ishida isn't either. He's just standing there, staring at the bespectacled kid across from him. He hasn't drawn his bow or anything.
Behind the other guy – who had introduced himself earlier as Ootori Kyouya, second in command of the Host Club, whatever the hell that is – are an array of similarly dressed teenagers looking just as baffled as Ichigo feels. Though the twins are whispering to each other as they glance at Renji, who doesn't seem to notice they've been ogling him for the last fifteen minutes.
Which is how long Ishida has been staring at Ootori. Ichigo's got the weirdest feeling that they are somehow duking things out on a mental battlefield. And that their polite words are really just euphemisms for the intent to rip out entrails and cause bloody mayhem.
“While your suggestion has its merits,” Ootori says with a cold tone, an inclination of his chin that proves how superior he thinks he is, “I fail to see how it benefits the host club.”
Ishida, too, lifts his chin, eyes flashing. Of course, that trick really doesn't work on Ootori because he has glasses, too, but old habits die hard. “If our enemies are indeed hiding themselves in your esteemed school, then it is in your best interest to have us around as protection. After all, you can't earn a profit if there's no one around to pay, now can you?”
Ootori looks momentarily thoughtful at this, consulting the notebook clutched in one arm. “Hmm,” he says. “You will have to be put to work.”
“As a matter of course,” Ishida says, tilting his head and gesturing over his shoulder to Renji and Ichigo. “See my brainless bodyguards? That's what they're here for.”
“Hey!” Ichigo replies, indignant, in the same moment that Renji bristles, “Oy!”
Ootori has the audacity to smirk as he glances past Ishida and looks over Ichigo and Renji from top to bottom, as though weighing and assessing their usefulness in a single glance. “They might prove some worth.”
Ichigo feels insulted, and judging by the way Renji vibrates with fury, so does he. Ishida, however, doesn't care. “Then we're agreed?”
Ootori snaps his book shut and nods sharply. “We're agreed.”
And somehow, Ichigo feels like they've just struck a deal with the devil.
The redhead grunts. “How the hell should know?”
Ichigo huffs. Renji is being no help. But then, Ishida isn't either. He's just standing there, staring at the bespectacled kid across from him. He hasn't drawn his bow or anything.
Behind the other guy – who had introduced himself earlier as Ootori Kyouya, second in command of the Host Club, whatever the hell that is – are an array of similarly dressed teenagers looking just as baffled as Ichigo feels. Though the twins are whispering to each other as they glance at Renji, who doesn't seem to notice they've been ogling him for the last fifteen minutes.
Which is how long Ishida has been staring at Ootori. Ichigo's got the weirdest feeling that they are somehow duking things out on a mental battlefield. And that their polite words are really just euphemisms for the intent to rip out entrails and cause bloody mayhem.
“While your suggestion has its merits,” Ootori says with a cold tone, an inclination of his chin that proves how superior he thinks he is, “I fail to see how it benefits the host club.”
Ishida, too, lifts his chin, eyes flashing. Of course, that trick really doesn't work on Ootori because he has glasses, too, but old habits die hard. “If our enemies are indeed hiding themselves in your esteemed school, then it is in your best interest to have us around as protection. After all, you can't earn a profit if there's no one around to pay, now can you?”
Ootori looks momentarily thoughtful at this, consulting the notebook clutched in one arm. “Hmm,” he says. “You will have to be put to work.”
“As a matter of course,” Ishida says, tilting his head and gesturing over his shoulder to Renji and Ichigo. “See my brainless bodyguards? That's what they're here for.”
“Hey!” Ichigo replies, indignant, in the same moment that Renji bristles, “Oy!”
Ootori has the audacity to smirk as he glances past Ishida and looks over Ichigo and Renji from top to bottom, as though weighing and assessing their usefulness in a single glance. “They might prove some worth.”
Ichigo feels insulted, and judging by the way Renji vibrates with fury, so does he. Ishida, however, doesn't care. “Then we're agreed?”
Ootori snaps his book shut and nods sharply. “We're agreed.”
And somehow, Ichigo feels like they've just struck a deal with the devil.
Prompt: Ty Lee and Fuu, teahouse fun
Fandoms: Samurai Champloo and Avatar: the Last Airbender. Warnings: mild yuri, some groping, mild language.
In all the weeks spent serving tea, Fuu can honestly say this is the first time she's found herself sprawled across a young lady's lap, tea spilled all over the floor, and ceramic dishes in a shattered mess.
Oh, she's dealt with the everyday lechers with grubby hands and toothless leers. They are usually the ones to blame and Fuu bears it with her usual grace and patience. But Fuu's never found herself the focus of flirtation from a giggling young woman in pink, while her dour-faced friends watch with a mixture of curiosity and apathy.
“Umm,” Fuu says, ever intelligible, as she tries to wriggle herself free from her ungainly sprawl in Pink Girl's lap. “I'm sorry about that. I'll get you a fresh pot on the house.” Though, Fuu's pretty sure she'd only fallen because she'd been purposefully tripped. Fuu's too graceful to stumble on thin air.
Fuu tries to get up and the girl in pink helps by letting her hands roam over inappropriate places. Fuu blushes, but at least her first reaction isn't to strike out and break her customer's nose. That sort of thing is bad for business.
“Come on, Ty Lee,” one of the friends say in a bored tone, giving name to face, “let our waitress go. I'm thirsty.”
Ty Lee giggles again but lifts her hands, holding them up in the air and wriggling her fingers. “I'm not doing anything,” she says with sing-song innocence that Fuu doesn't believe for a single moment.
And judging by the eye roll, neither does Ty Lee's friend. “We don't have time for your usual flirtations,” she continues as Fuu manages to scramble to her feet, only to crouch and attend to picking up the dropped tray and dishware. Incisive brown eyes glance at Fuu. “Even if you are finally showing some taste.”
The third woman, looking increasingly bored, starts toying with a throwing knife. “It depends on your definition of taste,” she drawls.
Ty Lee pouts cheerfully, if such a thing were even possible. “You guys are no fun at all,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest.
Fuu decides that now is the time to wisely make her departure, pretending that she hadn't heard their conversation, fighting the heat that's staining her cheeks. She scoops up broken pottery, and clutches her tray to her chest.
“I'll be back with a new pot and a mop,” Fuu says, giving them a polite bow before hurriedly scurrying away, aware of three pairs of eyes watching her go. Geez, Mugen and Jin aren't going to believe this.
Oh, she's dealt with the everyday lechers with grubby hands and toothless leers. They are usually the ones to blame and Fuu bears it with her usual grace and patience. But Fuu's never found herself the focus of flirtation from a giggling young woman in pink, while her dour-faced friends watch with a mixture of curiosity and apathy.
“Umm,” Fuu says, ever intelligible, as she tries to wriggle herself free from her ungainly sprawl in Pink Girl's lap. “I'm sorry about that. I'll get you a fresh pot on the house.” Though, Fuu's pretty sure she'd only fallen because she'd been purposefully tripped. Fuu's too graceful to stumble on thin air.
Fuu tries to get up and the girl in pink helps by letting her hands roam over inappropriate places. Fuu blushes, but at least her first reaction isn't to strike out and break her customer's nose. That sort of thing is bad for business.
“Come on, Ty Lee,” one of the friends say in a bored tone, giving name to face, “let our waitress go. I'm thirsty.”
Ty Lee giggles again but lifts her hands, holding them up in the air and wriggling her fingers. “I'm not doing anything,” she says with sing-song innocence that Fuu doesn't believe for a single moment.
And judging by the eye roll, neither does Ty Lee's friend. “We don't have time for your usual flirtations,” she continues as Fuu manages to scramble to her feet, only to crouch and attend to picking up the dropped tray and dishware. Incisive brown eyes glance at Fuu. “Even if you are finally showing some taste.”
The third woman, looking increasingly bored, starts toying with a throwing knife. “It depends on your definition of taste,” she drawls.
Ty Lee pouts cheerfully, if such a thing were even possible. “You guys are no fun at all,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest.
Fuu decides that now is the time to wisely make her departure, pretending that she hadn't heard their conversation, fighting the heat that's staining her cheeks. She scoops up broken pottery, and clutches her tray to her chest.
“I'll be back with a new pot and a mop,” Fuu says, giving them a polite bow before hurriedly scurrying away, aware of three pairs of eyes watching her go. Geez, Mugen and Jin aren't going to believe this.
For mandalee1013
Fandoms: Bleach and Fullmetal Alchemist. Warnings for nudity, implied het, language, NSFW
The steam rising from the heated water is an annoying cloak, hiding from Roy all the things he wishes to see. There are times when a breath of wind allows a glimpse, but it's simply not enough.
It's absolutely maddening to be this close to Yoruichi and yet not be able to touch.
“You look frustrated, Colonel,” the vixen purrs a him, eyes bright and golden, hair spilling in a wet, black curtain over her shoulders.
A whisper of wind and Roy catches a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage. His breath hitches. “Though I am well-known for my patience” A small white lie “I find myself eager to make use of the inspiring nature of our surroundings.”
“Oh?” Yoruichi says, and the water ripples as she lifts her arms in a stretch. “How so?”
For a minute, Roy's brain shorts out. He can't remember what smooth line he planned to say next. He's too busy watching water drip down her toned, tanned arms. Imagining tracing their path with his lips and tongue, pressing close to her in the heat of this water, caressing her lovely skin with his fingertips.
“Roy,” Yoruichi purrs, gathering his attention and making him blink out of his lusty thoughts. “You seem a bit distracted tonight.”
He swallows thickly, manages a light chuckle, gestures toward her as she braces her arms on the lip of the springs behind her. “Can you blame me?”
“Of course not. I am a stunning example of feminine beauty,” Yoruchi replies airily, but the sparkle in her eyes proves she is only teasing.
“I must agree,” Roy says, and he licks his lips, clenching and unclenching his fingers if only to occupy his hands. His hard as a rock right now, and if not for the steam of the springs, Yoruichi would probably be able to see her effect on him. Then again, knowing her, she is already aware of how aroused he is. “I can offer the description of charitable as well, if only you'd come a little closer.”
Yoruichi throws her head back and laughs, voice rich and mellifluous. “I'm quite comfortable where I am, thank you,” she says, and lowers her head, fixing him with a heated stare as one hand lifts, crooking a finger toward him. “Perhaps you could join me over here?”
Roy doesn't need more than a second's thought to obey as he moves through the heated water and approaches her, feeling like prey daring to come within hairsbreadth of predator. But if she's going to eat him alive, Roy's damn well going to enjoy it.
a/n: Four more to come! I do hope you enjoyed!
