Flash Fiction (Take 20 - Final Part)
Sep. 26th, 2011 08:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: And here are the final four flash fiction. Please enjoy!
For hockeyiris
Prompt: “Soldier,” Goo Goo Dolls, RoyxEd
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist (manga). Warnings for angst, spoilers, slashy goodness
For tmelange
Prompt: Superman/Batman, “Losing my Religion,” REM
Fandom: Superman Returns, Justice League. Warnings: None, implied one-sided slash
For mandalee1013
Prompt: MalcolmxIonexGale, “Suddenly,” BT
Universe: Infinity's End AU. Warnings for slash, het, threesome
For azardarkstar
Prompt: “No Curtain Call,” Maroon 5, Sunstreaker/Prowl
Fandom: Transformers G1. Warning: None.
For hockeyiris
Prompt: “Soldier,” Goo Goo Dolls, RoyxEd
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist (manga). Warnings for angst, spoilers, slashy goodness
The nightmares come as they always do. Edward wishes he could claim that they are the same. But his past is full of too much pain and terror for his subconscious to settle on just one. The nightmares change on a daily basis.
Sometimes, he doesn't manage to save Alphonse. Sometimes, Roy dies in his arms. Sometimes, he's there when Hughes dies and he can only watch. Sometimes, he finds himself forced to kill his mother because they turned her into a demon.
Sometimes the nightmares are reality reborne; sometimes, they are just figments of could have beens, and thank god it didn'ts. Sometimes, Edward's subconscious feels as guilty as his conscience does, and sometimes, he can't escape.
His nights are tormented and often Edward thinks, it's nothing less than what he deserves. Peaceful rest would unbalance his karma. In the end, he managed to restore Alphonse. That is more than a failure like him deserves.
His only relief comes with the hands that gently coax him into waking. In opening his eyes to the sight of Roy's concerned face, the feel of Roy's warm hands on his cheeks, the understanding that casts a shadow in Roy's eyes.
Roy has nightmares, too. Those that are just as terrible, painful, and punishing as Edward's own. He suspects it's why they do so well together.
Roy doesn't even have to ask if Edward's suffered another nightmare; he knows. He just leans forward, presses their foreheads together, and strokes a thumb over Edward's cheek.
“Someday,” he says, and pauses, as though carefully choosing his words. Always careful, always the diplomat, ever the politician. “Someday, we'll be able to sleep through the night.”
Edward manages a dry chuckle, reaching up and sliding an arm around Roy's body, careful not to snag his automail on anything sensitive. “That day is not today.”
“Perhaps not. But it will come,” Roy insists, and leans down, letting their lips meet in a gentle kiss.
Hard to believe that the road long-traveled could lead Edward here. Again, this is something he doesn't deserve, but something he also refuses to surrender.
“Until then,” Edward says against Roy's lips. “I have an idea about what can make tonight better.” His fingers trace Roy's spine.
His lover shivers. “You read my mind.”
Sometimes, he doesn't manage to save Alphonse. Sometimes, Roy dies in his arms. Sometimes, he's there when Hughes dies and he can only watch. Sometimes, he finds himself forced to kill his mother because they turned her into a demon.
Sometimes the nightmares are reality reborne; sometimes, they are just figments of could have beens, and thank god it didn'ts. Sometimes, Edward's subconscious feels as guilty as his conscience does, and sometimes, he can't escape.
His nights are tormented and often Edward thinks, it's nothing less than what he deserves. Peaceful rest would unbalance his karma. In the end, he managed to restore Alphonse. That is more than a failure like him deserves.
His only relief comes with the hands that gently coax him into waking. In opening his eyes to the sight of Roy's concerned face, the feel of Roy's warm hands on his cheeks, the understanding that casts a shadow in Roy's eyes.
Roy has nightmares, too. Those that are just as terrible, painful, and punishing as Edward's own. He suspects it's why they do so well together.
Roy doesn't even have to ask if Edward's suffered another nightmare; he knows. He just leans forward, presses their foreheads together, and strokes a thumb over Edward's cheek.
“Someday,” he says, and pauses, as though carefully choosing his words. Always careful, always the diplomat, ever the politician. “Someday, we'll be able to sleep through the night.”
Edward manages a dry chuckle, reaching up and sliding an arm around Roy's body, careful not to snag his automail on anything sensitive. “That day is not today.”
“Perhaps not. But it will come,” Roy insists, and leans down, letting their lips meet in a gentle kiss.
Hard to believe that the road long-traveled could lead Edward here. Again, this is something he doesn't deserve, but something he also refuses to surrender.
“Until then,” Edward says against Roy's lips. “I have an idea about what can make tonight better.” His fingers trace Roy's spine.
His lover shivers. “You read my mind.”
For tmelange
Prompt: Superman/Batman, “Losing my Religion,” REM
Fandom: Superman Returns, Justice League. Warnings: None, implied one-sided slash
“What are you doing here?”
Batman sounds stiff and cold, anger buried deep. His shoulders are equally rigid, and he hasn't turned around. He's only barely acknowledged Superman.
“Shouldn't you be leaving now?”
Superman feels the urge to apologize, though he's done nothing wrong. “You've heard then.”
“Of course I have,” Batman says tightly and he still won't look at Superman. “I'm surprised you haven't already gone.”
He works his jaw, fights himself for patience, knows why Batman is lashing out. “I have to go.”
“I'm not asking you to stay.”
Oh, but he is. Just not with words.
“I understand,” Batman continues, still with that same dull tone. “It's Krypton. The home you've never known. I can see why you are compelled to go. That you are abandoning us is only a consequence.”
“Abandoning... is that the way you see it?” Superman is aghast.
Batman's twitch is imperceptible. He won't turn to look at Superman. His fingers are flying over the keyboard, but Superman doesn't believe he's accomplishing a thing. “Of course not.” Batman snorts, full of pretend offense and real hurt. “But that's the way it will be interpreted. What will we all do, I wonder, without Superman to save us?”
“The Justice League is very capable of protecting Earth. I'm not indispensable, Bruce.”
Apparently, that is the wrong thing to say, for Bruce stiffens visibly. “If that is true, then you'd best be on your way. No need to delay, Superman.”
It's a dismissal, clear as day. Superman turns to leave, knowing it's best. But he hesitates, unwilling to fly off without saying something, without some kind of reassurance. “I'll see you when I return. I am coming back.” He leaps into the air and heading out of the Batcave, his gut churning with conflicting feelings.
“I thought Boy Scouts weren't supposed to lie,” he hears Bruce say, using a volume no human would be able to hear, but Clark is not only human, and Bruce knows that.
Batman sounds stiff and cold, anger buried deep. His shoulders are equally rigid, and he hasn't turned around. He's only barely acknowledged Superman.
“Shouldn't you be leaving now?”
Superman feels the urge to apologize, though he's done nothing wrong. “You've heard then.”
“Of course I have,” Batman says tightly and he still won't look at Superman. “I'm surprised you haven't already gone.”
He works his jaw, fights himself for patience, knows why Batman is lashing out. “I have to go.”
“I'm not asking you to stay.”
Oh, but he is. Just not with words.
“I understand,” Batman continues, still with that same dull tone. “It's Krypton. The home you've never known. I can see why you are compelled to go. That you are abandoning us is only a consequence.”
“Abandoning... is that the way you see it?” Superman is aghast.
Batman's twitch is imperceptible. He won't turn to look at Superman. His fingers are flying over the keyboard, but Superman doesn't believe he's accomplishing a thing. “Of course not.” Batman snorts, full of pretend offense and real hurt. “But that's the way it will be interpreted. What will we all do, I wonder, without Superman to save us?”
“The Justice League is very capable of protecting Earth. I'm not indispensable, Bruce.”
Apparently, that is the wrong thing to say, for Bruce stiffens visibly. “If that is true, then you'd best be on your way. No need to delay, Superman.”
It's a dismissal, clear as day. Superman turns to leave, knowing it's best. But he hesitates, unwilling to fly off without saying something, without some kind of reassurance. “I'll see you when I return. I am coming back.” He leaps into the air and heading out of the Batcave, his gut churning with conflicting feelings.
“I thought Boy Scouts weren't supposed to lie,” he hears Bruce say, using a volume no human would be able to hear, but Clark is not only human, and Bruce knows that.
For mandalee1013
Prompt: MalcolmxIonexGale, “Suddenly,” BT
Universe: Infinity's End AU. Warnings for slash, het, threesome
He wakes to a foot in his face and an elbow digging into his spine. Gale blinks and promptly sneezes, causing the foot to twitch and seek shelter elsewhere. Much better.
He's also buried underneath the weight of two very naked bodies. Judging by the shape, that had been Ione's foot in his face, which means Malcolm's elbow is in his back. Though why Ione is sleeping upside down on the bed is anyone's guess. Gale honestly can't remember much of the night before. Too much Rozlin in too little time.
Behind him, Malcolm mutters and the elbow's gone. Gale breathes a sigh of relief. But it's short-lived as Malcolm flops over, throwing his arm over Gale's waist and snuggling against his back. Much softer and warmer, but the morning erection is present and accounted for as it prods against Gale's lower back.
Ione, too, chooses this moment to stir. Gale looks down, watches her head pop up from where it's been pillowed on Gale's calf, her hair sticking out in all directions. She's squinting in the morning light, a lovely imprint on her cheek.
“Whatsit?” she mumbles, and flops around on the narrow bed, pushing and pulling, flipping and twisting, until she's right side up and burrowing against Gale's front, one hand idly teasing across his chest. “Mornin'.”
“Mmmph,” Malcolm says.
“Good morning,” Gale replies, trying to ignore the dull throbbing behind his eyes.
“You sneezed on my foot,” Ione says with mischievous humor in her voice. Her finger continues to trace broader circles over his chest, teasing at his nipples.
“Your foot was in my face,” Gale reminds her.
The hand curved around Gale's waist takes on a life of it's own, drifting downward, teasing over Gale's half-wakened length. Someone is not as asleep as he is pretending to be. Especially noted when Gale feels lips press to the back of his neck, a tongue darting out to taste just at the top of his spine.
He fights back a sigh. “Do you two always have such a high libido?”
He feels more than sees Malcolm's grin. “Yes,” he says just as Ione chuckles and wriggles closer, saying “Yep!”
Gale reaches out, curving an arm around Ione's waist and dragging her nearer. “You two will be the death of me yet,” he murmurs, but he doesn't fight the shivers dancing down his spine, or the warm pleasure growing in his belly. He honestly doesn't mind.
He's also buried underneath the weight of two very naked bodies. Judging by the shape, that had been Ione's foot in his face, which means Malcolm's elbow is in his back. Though why Ione is sleeping upside down on the bed is anyone's guess. Gale honestly can't remember much of the night before. Too much Rozlin in too little time.
Behind him, Malcolm mutters and the elbow's gone. Gale breathes a sigh of relief. But it's short-lived as Malcolm flops over, throwing his arm over Gale's waist and snuggling against his back. Much softer and warmer, but the morning erection is present and accounted for as it prods against Gale's lower back.
Ione, too, chooses this moment to stir. Gale looks down, watches her head pop up from where it's been pillowed on Gale's calf, her hair sticking out in all directions. She's squinting in the morning light, a lovely imprint on her cheek.
“Whatsit?” she mumbles, and flops around on the narrow bed, pushing and pulling, flipping and twisting, until she's right side up and burrowing against Gale's front, one hand idly teasing across his chest. “Mornin'.”
“Mmmph,” Malcolm says.
“Good morning,” Gale replies, trying to ignore the dull throbbing behind his eyes.
“You sneezed on my foot,” Ione says with mischievous humor in her voice. Her finger continues to trace broader circles over his chest, teasing at his nipples.
“Your foot was in my face,” Gale reminds her.
The hand curved around Gale's waist takes on a life of it's own, drifting downward, teasing over Gale's half-wakened length. Someone is not as asleep as he is pretending to be. Especially noted when Gale feels lips press to the back of his neck, a tongue darting out to taste just at the top of his spine.
He fights back a sigh. “Do you two always have such a high libido?”
He feels more than sees Malcolm's grin. “Yes,” he says just as Ione chuckles and wriggles closer, saying “Yep!”
Gale reaches out, curving an arm around Ione's waist and dragging her nearer. “You two will be the death of me yet,” he murmurs, but he doesn't fight the shivers dancing down his spine, or the warm pleasure growing in his belly. He honestly doesn't mind.
For azardarkstar
Prompt: “No Curtain Call,” Maroon 5, Sunstreaker/Prowl
Fandom: Transformers G1. Warning: None.
A bright yellow Lamborghini stalks down the corridors of the Ark, meticulously polished, without a scratch on him, and the scowl on his face clear for all to see. Wisely, bots move out of his way. Even Cliffjumper decides it's in his best interest not to confront the yellow twin tonight. Hound wonders if perhaps they need to call Sidewsipe, to rein his brother in, but Jazz puts a servo on the Scout's arm.
He can already guess where Sunstreaker is going and he heartily approves. It's beyond time that someone has taken matters into servo.
Sunstreaker barely notices that his fellow Autobots are clearing a path for him. By the time he enters the lead corridor, he's a bit surprised that no one's stopped him. Surely Red Alert is fritzing by now.
His optics count doors until he finds the one he's looking for. He keys open the panel, practically punching the keys, and the door obeys without a single note of refusal.
Sunstreaker strides into the room without preamble, crosses the floor to the desk, and plants his servos down on it. “You're done,” he says succinctly. “Put the datapad down.”
Across from him, Prowl greets the demand coolly, his doorwings held high and alert, a sure sign of his aggravation. “I do not recall exchanging authority with you, Sunstreaker. Nor did I invite you into my office. Please leave.”
Oh Prowl, so polite. Even when Sunstreaker's about to drag him out of here by his audial.
Sunstreaker's optics dial down, a Cybertronian's version of a human's eye narrow. He leans further forward. “You've been here for an orn. You haven't recharged. You've somehow conned Bluestreak into bringing your energon. Enough.”
“You're repeating yourself, Sunstreaker,” Prowl says, and lowers his gaze to his datapad.
Sunstreaker does what no one else, not even Jazz, dares to do – he snatches the datapad from Prowl's servos and tosses it over his shoulder. “It's not your fault,” he says. “Recalculate in that logical processor of yours all you want, and the answer's going to be the same. You can't count for everything, Prowl. You're not perfect.” He pauses, lets the words sink in, and then softens his tone. “No one blames you. And locking yourself in your office isn't going to change things.”
For a moment, he thinks Prowl's stubbornness is going to win out. But then his doorwings droop ever so slightly. “What would you have me do?” he asks, sounding defeated.
“You can start by letting me help.” He holds out a servo, and when Prowl takes it, Sunstreaker can practically hear the rest of the Ark sighing in relief.
a/n: Ahhh. So much fun to write in these new fandoms. It's like having new toys to play with. *grins* Hope you enjoyed!He can already guess where Sunstreaker is going and he heartily approves. It's beyond time that someone has taken matters into servo.
Sunstreaker barely notices that his fellow Autobots are clearing a path for him. By the time he enters the lead corridor, he's a bit surprised that no one's stopped him. Surely Red Alert is fritzing by now.
His optics count doors until he finds the one he's looking for. He keys open the panel, practically punching the keys, and the door obeys without a single note of refusal.
Sunstreaker strides into the room without preamble, crosses the floor to the desk, and plants his servos down on it. “You're done,” he says succinctly. “Put the datapad down.”
Across from him, Prowl greets the demand coolly, his doorwings held high and alert, a sure sign of his aggravation. “I do not recall exchanging authority with you, Sunstreaker. Nor did I invite you into my office. Please leave.”
Oh Prowl, so polite. Even when Sunstreaker's about to drag him out of here by his audial.
Sunstreaker's optics dial down, a Cybertronian's version of a human's eye narrow. He leans further forward. “You've been here for an orn. You haven't recharged. You've somehow conned Bluestreak into bringing your energon. Enough.”
“You're repeating yourself, Sunstreaker,” Prowl says, and lowers his gaze to his datapad.
Sunstreaker does what no one else, not even Jazz, dares to do – he snatches the datapad from Prowl's servos and tosses it over his shoulder. “It's not your fault,” he says. “Recalculate in that logical processor of yours all you want, and the answer's going to be the same. You can't count for everything, Prowl. You're not perfect.” He pauses, lets the words sink in, and then softens his tone. “No one blames you. And locking yourself in your office isn't going to change things.”
For a moment, he thinks Prowl's stubbornness is going to win out. But then his doorwings droop ever so slightly. “What would you have me do?” he asks, sounding defeated.
“You can start by letting me help.” He holds out a servo, and when Prowl takes it, Sunstreaker can practically hear the rest of the Ark sighing in relief.
