Flash Fiction Fills (Take 27) Final
Jan. 30th, 2012 06:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: Last four flash fiction tonight. Please enjoy~!
For ancientlybroken
Prompt: KH2, Axel, Is it possible?
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts 2. Warnings: Nudity. Speculation (as I've not played any of the other games)
For hockeyiris
Prompt: RoyEd, “how the years go by”
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist. Warnings for slash, crackiness, cursing
For mistress_pirate
Prompt: ErebusxAsclepius, are you done yet
Universe: War of the Animum, pre-Darkness Descends. Warnings: light het.
For firegirl0
Prompt: Bleach or Kyouya/Tamaki, opportunistic
Fandom: Ouran High School Host Club. Warnings: nudity, slightly evil!Kyouya, light slash
a/n: Well, that's the last of them. Feedback is always welcome.
Let's see. This week we'll see an update to Event Horizon and Seireitei Monogatari. I'll also be doing an Epic Fic Rec post one of these days. And I'll update Break of Day.
For ancientlybroken
Prompt: KH2, Axel, Is it possible?
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts 2. Warnings: Nudity. Speculation (as I've not played any of the other games)
Could it really be true?
He stood naked in the quarters Xemnas assigned him. His skin had warm tones in the torchlight.
He was breathing. He was thinking. Last night, he dreamed. This morning his eyes were gummy from the tears he'd shed in his sleep. Earlier today, Xigbar pissed him off over something arguably trivial.
Axel's fingers dragged across his collarbone and down over his chest. His skin was warm.
Did he really have no heart?
He had a pulse. He couldn't be dead. He bled, hot and bright blood. It hurt when something cut him. It hurt when Xigbar punched him.
Goosebumps broke out over his skin as a chill wind crept in through his open window. He could sense changes in temperature. All the details spoke of a different story than the one Xemnas had given him.
All except one.
Axel. Xemnas had kept calling him Axel but he couldn't be certain that was his name. There were glimpses, snatches of a past that was. Eerie shadows on the wall.
Nobody. He was nobody. A nothing without a heart.
Axel looked in the mirror again, his image distorted by a crack in the glass. Distorted, yes. That described how he felt at the moment.
How did someone live without a heart? Disbelief. Was that not an emotion, too? Or was it just mimicry? Did some part of him remember a before? When he'd had a heart. Was there a before or had he always been Axel?
He couldn't remember. Somehow, that felt wrong. He didn't want to be forgotten. He never wanted to be forgotten. Was that a desire for now? Or a desire from before?
He closed his eyes, his appearance as unfamiliar to him as this drafty castle, his new companions, and his name. If he concentrated, he could feel his own heart beating. If he drew a blade across his skin, he could watch himself bleed. Tonight, he would probably dream of screams and pain and regret and tragedy.
But Xemnas said he didn't have a heart. What else could Axel do but believe him?
He stood naked in the quarters Xemnas assigned him. His skin had warm tones in the torchlight.
He was breathing. He was thinking. Last night, he dreamed. This morning his eyes were gummy from the tears he'd shed in his sleep. Earlier today, Xigbar pissed him off over something arguably trivial.
Axel's fingers dragged across his collarbone and down over his chest. His skin was warm.
Did he really have no heart?
He had a pulse. He couldn't be dead. He bled, hot and bright blood. It hurt when something cut him. It hurt when Xigbar punched him.
Goosebumps broke out over his skin as a chill wind crept in through his open window. He could sense changes in temperature. All the details spoke of a different story than the one Xemnas had given him.
All except one.
Axel. Xemnas had kept calling him Axel but he couldn't be certain that was his name. There were glimpses, snatches of a past that was. Eerie shadows on the wall.
Nobody. He was nobody. A nothing without a heart.
Axel looked in the mirror again, his image distorted by a crack in the glass. Distorted, yes. That described how he felt at the moment.
How did someone live without a heart? Disbelief. Was that not an emotion, too? Or was it just mimicry? Did some part of him remember a before? When he'd had a heart. Was there a before or had he always been Axel?
He couldn't remember. Somehow, that felt wrong. He didn't want to be forgotten. He never wanted to be forgotten. Was that a desire for now? Or a desire from before?
He closed his eyes, his appearance as unfamiliar to him as this drafty castle, his new companions, and his name. If he concentrated, he could feel his own heart beating. If he drew a blade across his skin, he could watch himself bleed. Tonight, he would probably dream of screams and pain and regret and tragedy.
But Xemnas said he didn't have a heart. What else could Axel do but believe him?
For hockeyiris
Prompt: RoyEd, “how the years go by”
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist. Warnings for slash, crackiness, cursing
“Goddamn it!”
Roy blinked as the vulgar shout echoed out of the bathroom, down the hall, and into the bedroom. Setting aside his book, he took off his reading glasses. “Ed?”
“Nothing!” Came the all too hasty reply. “Just... nothing!” His voice cracked on the end.
Roy's eyebrow quirked and he slid his feet into his well-worn fuzzy slippers, rising from the bed with a crackle-pop of old joints. “Nothing made you curse like that?”
“Exactly. Stay in bed! I'll be there in a minute!”
Hear Ed sounding frantic. Hear Ed trying to hide something. See Roy investigate for the sake of his sanity. He left the bedroom, turned toward the bathroom, and pushed open the door, all without making a sound. Only to pause and blink as he caught sight of his husband, the love of his life, the most intelligent man he had ever known... with his face micrometers from the mirror and giving said glass the stink eye. Roy knew that look. He'd seen Ed stare down vicious opponents twice his size (though given that Ed erred on the short side this wasn't a huge surprise) with that look.
“What are you doing?” Roy asked.
Ed leapt about three feet in the air, turning with a surprisingly spry movement for a man his age, to point an offending finger in Roy's direction. “This is all your fault!” he accused, voice near approaching a shriek.
“What's all my fault?” Roy looked around, but couldn't see anything broken. Nor any reason for Ed to be acting so... well, then again, this was Ed-like behavior.
Ed paused, as though remembering what he was accusing Roy of. “Nothing!”
That was when Roy noticed he was clutching something. “What's in your hand?”
“Nothing!”
Too much denial. Roy lunged; Ed was not as quick as he used to be. A scuffle ensued, and in the end, Roy was the larger and the stronger and the bathroom only so large. Roy forced Ed's fingers open and found nestled in his palm a single grey hair.
Roy, who had aged with grace and dignity (and much cursing at the heavens), guffawed. Ed turned red as a tomato, cursed him quite colorfully, and strode from the bathroom with none of his dignity intact. Roy, however, kept the grey hair as a souvenir. And resolved to tease Ed as often as possible, as Ed had so kindly done to him half a decade earlier.
Roy blinked as the vulgar shout echoed out of the bathroom, down the hall, and into the bedroom. Setting aside his book, he took off his reading glasses. “Ed?”
“Nothing!” Came the all too hasty reply. “Just... nothing!” His voice cracked on the end.
Roy's eyebrow quirked and he slid his feet into his well-worn fuzzy slippers, rising from the bed with a crackle-pop of old joints. “Nothing made you curse like that?”
“Exactly. Stay in bed! I'll be there in a minute!”
Hear Ed sounding frantic. Hear Ed trying to hide something. See Roy investigate for the sake of his sanity. He left the bedroom, turned toward the bathroom, and pushed open the door, all without making a sound. Only to pause and blink as he caught sight of his husband, the love of his life, the most intelligent man he had ever known... with his face micrometers from the mirror and giving said glass the stink eye. Roy knew that look. He'd seen Ed stare down vicious opponents twice his size (though given that Ed erred on the short side this wasn't a huge surprise) with that look.
“What are you doing?” Roy asked.
Ed leapt about three feet in the air, turning with a surprisingly spry movement for a man his age, to point an offending finger in Roy's direction. “This is all your fault!” he accused, voice near approaching a shriek.
“What's all my fault?” Roy looked around, but couldn't see anything broken. Nor any reason for Ed to be acting so... well, then again, this was Ed-like behavior.
Ed paused, as though remembering what he was accusing Roy of. “Nothing!”
That was when Roy noticed he was clutching something. “What's in your hand?”
“Nothing!”
Too much denial. Roy lunged; Ed was not as quick as he used to be. A scuffle ensued, and in the end, Roy was the larger and the stronger and the bathroom only so large. Roy forced Ed's fingers open and found nestled in his palm a single grey hair.
Roy, who had aged with grace and dignity (and much cursing at the heavens), guffawed. Ed turned red as a tomato, cursed him quite colorfully, and strode from the bathroom with none of his dignity intact. Roy, however, kept the grey hair as a souvenir. And resolved to tease Ed as often as possible, as Ed had so kindly done to him half a decade earlier.
For mistress_pirate
Prompt: ErebusxAsclepius, are you done yet
Universe: War of the Animum, pre-Darkness Descends. Warnings: light het.
“Are you done yet?”
“No.”
“How about now?”
“No.”
“You're taking forever!”
“Clearly, you have no concept of time.” Erebus pauses, glaring at his companion out of the corner of his eyes. “Also, I would be working faster if you weren't trying your hardest to distract me.”
Asclepius leans closer, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Oh? Is it working?” she asks, her natural, floral scent floating to his nose.
Feeling a heat steal into his cheeks, Erebus stubbornly turns his attention back to his paperwork. “No,” he replies. “At least, not the way you think it does.”
“I think you're lying,” Asclepius all but purrs, leaning on his desk and pressing up against him, exuding heat in palpable waves. “I think you don't want me to know just how distracting I am.”
Erebus has read over the same page three times, he's certain of it. He tries to ignore Asclepius, but with her magical energy buzzing at the edge of his senses, it's impossible to do so. Part of him wishes with all his might that Orthrus would come get his errant daughter. Another part of him is glad for her company. Though he doesn't dare say anything aloud.
“Erebus?” Asclepius murmurs, right next to his ear. “Surely that's not more interesting than I am, right?” One finger prods at his cheek, a ticklish touch.
His grip tightens on his quill. “Asclepius,” he starts, and then pauses, realizing how very much his voice has taken on the tone of begging. “You know that I have to get this done.”
“I'm not stopping you,” she says brightly, and inches that much closer, until he can feel her breath on his sensitive ear. “I'm just waiting. Patiently. Quietly.”
He wants to scoff at her commentary, but his concentration has just flown out the figurative window. He sets down his quill. “Then it's a good thing I'm done for the day.”
Asclepius' resounding cheer makes the lecture he'll be getting from his father worth it.
“No.”
“How about now?”
“No.”
“You're taking forever!”
“Clearly, you have no concept of time.” Erebus pauses, glaring at his companion out of the corner of his eyes. “Also, I would be working faster if you weren't trying your hardest to distract me.”
Asclepius leans closer, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Oh? Is it working?” she asks, her natural, floral scent floating to his nose.
Feeling a heat steal into his cheeks, Erebus stubbornly turns his attention back to his paperwork. “No,” he replies. “At least, not the way you think it does.”
“I think you're lying,” Asclepius all but purrs, leaning on his desk and pressing up against him, exuding heat in palpable waves. “I think you don't want me to know just how distracting I am.”
Erebus has read over the same page three times, he's certain of it. He tries to ignore Asclepius, but with her magical energy buzzing at the edge of his senses, it's impossible to do so. Part of him wishes with all his might that Orthrus would come get his errant daughter. Another part of him is glad for her company. Though he doesn't dare say anything aloud.
“Erebus?” Asclepius murmurs, right next to his ear. “Surely that's not more interesting than I am, right?” One finger prods at his cheek, a ticklish touch.
His grip tightens on his quill. “Asclepius,” he starts, and then pauses, realizing how very much his voice has taken on the tone of begging. “You know that I have to get this done.”
“I'm not stopping you,” she says brightly, and inches that much closer, until he can feel her breath on his sensitive ear. “I'm just waiting. Patiently. Quietly.”
He wants to scoff at her commentary, but his concentration has just flown out the figurative window. He sets down his quill. “Then it's a good thing I'm done for the day.”
Asclepius' resounding cheer makes the lecture he'll be getting from his father worth it.
For firegirl0
Prompt: Bleach or Kyouya/Tamaki, opportunistic
Fandom: Ouran High School Host Club. Warnings: nudity, slightly evil!Kyouya, light slash
“It hurts,” Tamaki whines.
“Well, what do you expect?” Kyouya asks, a bit stiffly, but not because he's annoyed. Oh no. It's because he's tempted. So very tempted. “Prancing around out doors in nothing but a pair of swim trunks with your lily white skin.”
Tamaki turns watery, near-violet eyes up at him, the very picture of misery. “You were supposed to remind me about sunscreen. You always remind me!”
Kyouya, soothing aloe vera lotion in hand, eyes Tamaki's back with the lookof someone who has already memorized every dip and curve and freckle. “Am I supposed to keep track of something for someone who has assured me on countless occasions that he is a grown man who can take care of himself?”
Mouth opening and closing as he considers Kyouya's argument, Tamaki finally harrumphs and drops his chin back onto his folded hand. “Point,” he grudgingly concedes.
Grinning where Tamaki can't see him, Kyouya pours a generous amount of lotion and ever so gently starts to spread it over Tamaki's reddened back and shoulders. Oh, sure, it is probably a bit sadistic of him, but really, any reason to put his hands on Tamaki is a good reason in Kyouya's book. Even if he has to obtain it by slighty skewed means.
“I'm going to peel,” Tamaki grumbles.
“Yes, you are,” Kyouya replies, and concentrates on keeping his touch light and careful, so as not to cause undue pain. His hands sweeping across the planes of Tamaki's back, feeling the heat radiating from burned skin.
His shoulders are, by far, the worst. Tamaki hisses as Kyouya carefully applies aloe vera there as well. He reminds himself that he'll have to do this several more times today. And probably tonight. Tomorrow morning. All day tomorrow even.
Well, at least one useful thing has come out of this trip. He'll have to invite Tamaki to his private beach more often.
For purely generous reasons of course. And not because he likes to see Tamaki splashing around in the ocean in those swim trunks. Or because he likes to apply sunscreen and/or aloe vera. Either is good in Kyouya's opinion.
“I still maintain that this is your fault,” Tamaki says with a huff.
Kyouya squeezes out more of the soothing lotion. “So you said, it must be true,” he replies, and grins to himself. The blame is surely his, but he's not repentant in the least.
“Well, what do you expect?” Kyouya asks, a bit stiffly, but not because he's annoyed. Oh no. It's because he's tempted. So very tempted. “Prancing around out doors in nothing but a pair of swim trunks with your lily white skin.”
Tamaki turns watery, near-violet eyes up at him, the very picture of misery. “You were supposed to remind me about sunscreen. You always remind me!”
Kyouya, soothing aloe vera lotion in hand, eyes Tamaki's back with the lookof someone who has already memorized every dip and curve and freckle. “Am I supposed to keep track of something for someone who has assured me on countless occasions that he is a grown man who can take care of himself?”
Mouth opening and closing as he considers Kyouya's argument, Tamaki finally harrumphs and drops his chin back onto his folded hand. “Point,” he grudgingly concedes.
Grinning where Tamaki can't see him, Kyouya pours a generous amount of lotion and ever so gently starts to spread it over Tamaki's reddened back and shoulders. Oh, sure, it is probably a bit sadistic of him, but really, any reason to put his hands on Tamaki is a good reason in Kyouya's book. Even if he has to obtain it by slighty skewed means.
“I'm going to peel,” Tamaki grumbles.
“Yes, you are,” Kyouya replies, and concentrates on keeping his touch light and careful, so as not to cause undue pain. His hands sweeping across the planes of Tamaki's back, feeling the heat radiating from burned skin.
His shoulders are, by far, the worst. Tamaki hisses as Kyouya carefully applies aloe vera there as well. He reminds himself that he'll have to do this several more times today. And probably tonight. Tomorrow morning. All day tomorrow even.
Well, at least one useful thing has come out of this trip. He'll have to invite Tamaki to his private beach more often.
For purely generous reasons of course. And not because he likes to see Tamaki splashing around in the ocean in those swim trunks. Or because he likes to apply sunscreen and/or aloe vera. Either is good in Kyouya's opinion.
“I still maintain that this is your fault,” Tamaki says with a huff.
Kyouya squeezes out more of the soothing lotion. “So you said, it must be true,” he replies, and grins to himself. The blame is surely his, but he's not repentant in the least.
a/n: Well, that's the last of them. Feedback is always welcome.
Let's see. This week we'll see an update to Event Horizon and Seireitei Monogatari. I'll also be doing an Epic Fic Rec post one of these days. And I'll update Break of Day.
