Flash Fiction Fills (Take 27) Part One
Jan. 28th, 2012 08:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: Ah, Real Life, how it intrudes upon that which is actually fun. lol. Only two flash fics today as that's all I've managed to get done. Hopefully, I can get up three tomorrow. Enjoy!
For dellessa
Prompt: Jazz/Starscream, rattled
Fandom: Transformers G1. Warnings for light bondage, tense situation, crossfactional, completely blaming this on too much time spent surfing the kinkmeme
For truebluefool516
Prompt: BatFlash, cupcakes and evidence
Fandom: Justice League. Warnings for implied slash and lotsa, lotsa crack
a/n: I'm not entirely sure where my muses/brain was when I wrote these but eh, ya get what ya get. lol. The first one kept wanting to grow plot, the second wanted to get crackier. lol
Feedback is wonderful.
For dellessa
Prompt: Jazz/Starscream, rattled
Fandom: Transformers G1. Warnings for light bondage, tense situation, crossfactional, completely blaming this on too much time spent surfing the kinkmeme
Like all warriors, Seekers, and Decepticons, the first systems to boot upon onlining are battle systems, closely followed by peer recognition sensors, and then audials, optics, and higher processor functioning. So when Starscream first onlines and registers enemy in close proximity, his first instinct is to attack now and identify later.
He jerks, every intention of rolling off his berth, springing into an attack stance and aiming his null ray at the enemy's spark. However, the loud clang of his wrists and ankles being restrained by stasis cuffs immediately put those actions into a halt. Then the rest of his systems online and he finds himself staring up at an Autobot.
And not just any Autobot, but their favorite smart-afted assassin, who's made a perch of Starscream's hips and seems quite comfortable to be seated there, an amused smirk on his lips as he casually aims a vibroblade at Starscream's armored spark chamber.
Well. This is certainly unexpected.
“Can I...” Starscream pauses, glossa sliding over his lips, and performs a systems check. “Can I help you?”
Jazz chuckles, something dangerous, unholy, and altogether arousing in his tone. “Depends,” he says, and shifts a bit on top of Starscream, their plating sliding together with a delicious burr of friction. “ Do ya got what I need?”
“I don't know,” Starscream replies, and gives another token tug to his restraints. They don't budge which is only to be expected. “Do I?”
The Autobot taps the end of his blade on Starscream's armor and then withdraws it with an elegant flip, said blade vanishing into subspace. “Wouldn't be here if ya didn't. I've got a proposal fer ya, Screamer.”
There's a moment of furious irritation that Starscream quickly recognizes as bait. So he swallows down the impulse to snap vitriol at the smart-aft Autobot and completely ignores the mangling of his name. “And thanks to your skilled attempt at bondage, I have no choice but to listen to it.”
Jazz laughs, and slaggitall to the Pit but an Autobot's laugh shouldn't be so arousing. “I knew there was a reason I picked ya over Sounders.” He leans closer, a gleam in his visor, one hand planted on Starscream's cockpit and teasingly scraping the glass. “What if I told ya I know how ta end th' war and give ya old Buckethead on a silver platter?”
There's no concealing the surge of interest that sparks Starscream's circuitry. “I'd be more inclined to believe you chained me up for a quick frag,” he challenges.
Jazz chuckles again, speaking this time with a tangible purr. “Oh, we'll be gettin' ta that soon enough.” His fingers scrape again over Starscream's cockpit. “Interested?”
He shouldn't be but oh frag yes, he is. “Tell me,” Starscream says, and smirks. “Or better yet, show me.”
He jerks, every intention of rolling off his berth, springing into an attack stance and aiming his null ray at the enemy's spark. However, the loud clang of his wrists and ankles being restrained by stasis cuffs immediately put those actions into a halt. Then the rest of his systems online and he finds himself staring up at an Autobot.
And not just any Autobot, but their favorite smart-afted assassin, who's made a perch of Starscream's hips and seems quite comfortable to be seated there, an amused smirk on his lips as he casually aims a vibroblade at Starscream's armored spark chamber.
Well. This is certainly unexpected.
“Can I...” Starscream pauses, glossa sliding over his lips, and performs a systems check. “Can I help you?”
Jazz chuckles, something dangerous, unholy, and altogether arousing in his tone. “Depends,” he says, and shifts a bit on top of Starscream, their plating sliding together with a delicious burr of friction. “ Do ya got what I need?”
“I don't know,” Starscream replies, and gives another token tug to his restraints. They don't budge which is only to be expected. “Do I?”
The Autobot taps the end of his blade on Starscream's armor and then withdraws it with an elegant flip, said blade vanishing into subspace. “Wouldn't be here if ya didn't. I've got a proposal fer ya, Screamer.”
There's a moment of furious irritation that Starscream quickly recognizes as bait. So he swallows down the impulse to snap vitriol at the smart-aft Autobot and completely ignores the mangling of his name. “And thanks to your skilled attempt at bondage, I have no choice but to listen to it.”
Jazz laughs, and slaggitall to the Pit but an Autobot's laugh shouldn't be so arousing. “I knew there was a reason I picked ya over Sounders.” He leans closer, a gleam in his visor, one hand planted on Starscream's cockpit and teasingly scraping the glass. “What if I told ya I know how ta end th' war and give ya old Buckethead on a silver platter?”
There's no concealing the surge of interest that sparks Starscream's circuitry. “I'd be more inclined to believe you chained me up for a quick frag,” he challenges.
Jazz chuckles again, speaking this time with a tangible purr. “Oh, we'll be gettin' ta that soon enough.” His fingers scrape again over Starscream's cockpit. “Interested?”
He shouldn't be but oh frag yes, he is. “Tell me,” Starscream says, and smirks. “Or better yet, show me.”
For truebluefool516
Prompt: BatFlash, cupcakes and evidence
Fandom: Justice League. Warnings for implied slash and lotsa, lotsa crack
In the end, it's not really hard to find Flash. All Batman has to do is follow the trail of abandoned cupcake wrappers as they lead from the mess, down the hall, into the stairwell, up two flights, down another corridor, and stop directly in front of Flash's private quarters.
If there's one thing that Flash has yet to perfect, or even manage to be passable with, it's subterfuge. Diana's on a warpath over the fact her entire assortment of cupcakes had been consumed, and the first place Flash thinks to hide is his room?
Shaking his head, Batman raises a hand to knock but the door slides open before his knuckles so much as rap across the metal. Hmm. Interesting.
He steps into Flash's dimmed quarters, hearing more cupcake wrappers crinkle beneath his boots, and the door slides shut behind him. There's a three-toned beep indicating that it's been locked. Not that the door could ever stop a determined, furious Diana.
There's a lump on Flash's bed. A moaning, piteous lump.
“You just couldn't help yourself,” Batman says flatly, navigating around the minefield of cupcake detritus toward Flash's bed. “You had to eat them all. What happened to your lightning-fast metabolism?”
A wretched groan arises from the bed as Batman arrives at his destination.
Flash looks up at him, or Wally rather as he's pushed back his facemask to reveal rumpled red hair, miserable brown eyes, and the flecks of vanilla icing on the corners of his mouth. A part of Batman is amused and annoyed by this. Another, much crazier, part of him wants to lean over and help himself to that scrap of icing.
“I've been beaten by cupcakes!” Flash cries, overdramatic, and flops out over his bed, thrusting more cupcake wrappers to the floor in the process.
Despite himself, Batman's lips twitch. “A consequence of your own gluttony.”
Flash wriggles about on the bed, until he can look up at Batman with a pleading expression. “You'll avenge me, won't you, Bats?”
Leaning over, Batman ever so slowly swipes the speck of icing from the corner of Flash's mouth, and idly laps it from the tip of his gloved finger. “Sweet,” he says thoughtfully.
Flash stares up at him, eyes wide with shock. “Did you just...?” He gulps loudly. “That was the... oh hell yeah, I'm healed.” He bolts upright, like a spring. “Again.”
Batman leans closer, with every intention of complying.
Too bad for Flash, that's the exact moment Diana breaks down his door.
If there's one thing that Flash has yet to perfect, or even manage to be passable with, it's subterfuge. Diana's on a warpath over the fact her entire assortment of cupcakes had been consumed, and the first place Flash thinks to hide is his room?
Shaking his head, Batman raises a hand to knock but the door slides open before his knuckles so much as rap across the metal. Hmm. Interesting.
He steps into Flash's dimmed quarters, hearing more cupcake wrappers crinkle beneath his boots, and the door slides shut behind him. There's a three-toned beep indicating that it's been locked. Not that the door could ever stop a determined, furious Diana.
There's a lump on Flash's bed. A moaning, piteous lump.
“You just couldn't help yourself,” Batman says flatly, navigating around the minefield of cupcake detritus toward Flash's bed. “You had to eat them all. What happened to your lightning-fast metabolism?”
A wretched groan arises from the bed as Batman arrives at his destination.
Flash looks up at him, or Wally rather as he's pushed back his facemask to reveal rumpled red hair, miserable brown eyes, and the flecks of vanilla icing on the corners of his mouth. A part of Batman is amused and annoyed by this. Another, much crazier, part of him wants to lean over and help himself to that scrap of icing.
“I've been beaten by cupcakes!” Flash cries, overdramatic, and flops out over his bed, thrusting more cupcake wrappers to the floor in the process.
Despite himself, Batman's lips twitch. “A consequence of your own gluttony.”
Flash wriggles about on the bed, until he can look up at Batman with a pleading expression. “You'll avenge me, won't you, Bats?”
Leaning over, Batman ever so slowly swipes the speck of icing from the corner of Flash's mouth, and idly laps it from the tip of his gloved finger. “Sweet,” he says thoughtfully.
Flash stares up at him, eyes wide with shock. “Did you just...?” He gulps loudly. “That was the... oh hell yeah, I'm healed.” He bolts upright, like a spring. “Again.”
Batman leans closer, with every intention of complying.
Too bad for Flash, that's the exact moment Diana breaks down his door.
a/n: I'm not entirely sure where my muses/brain was when I wrote these but eh, ya get what ya get. lol. The first one kept wanting to grow plot, the second wanted to get crackier. lol
Feedback is wonderful.
