Flash Fiction Fills (Take 35) Part One
Sep. 28th, 2012 11:18 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: I know I promised these yesterday but I got distracted by fic so instead here they are today. Two of the six flash fiction I owe from way back in August. Enjoy!
For truebluefool516
Prompt: BatFlash, “As the World Falls Down”
Fandom: Justice League. Warnings: None
For camfield
Prompt: Riku/Sora, "You're getting a little predictable... how about we make love instead of just fucking for once?"
Fandom: post-Kingdom Hearts II. Warnings: None.
a/n: Four more to come, two of which I need to get off my aft and write. *grins*
Got some TF fic to post, too. Once I get it nice and polished.
Feedback is welcome! Also, I've decided upon the date of the next FFF. October 19th. Mark it on your calendars. *grins*
For truebluefool516
Prompt: BatFlash, “As the World Falls Down”
Fandom: Justice League. Warnings: None
The years grow shorter, time passing with greater speed. And of them all, Bats is the only one getting older. Of course, none of them can really see it considering he wears that cowl all the time, but they can tell.
Wally's not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he's as quick on the uptake as he is on his feet.
Batman's reflexes are slowing, his punches losing some of their fierce flavor. His mind is as sharp as ever, but his body is betraying him. Aging as all mortals do.
Wally supposes he's lucky. His unique genetic configuration will extend his life span, longer probably than he wants to don the Flash costume. Most of the core Justice League is like that and Superman might outlive them all so he doesn't count. Then again, J'onn might surprise them. Who knows?
But Bats? He's the only real human out of all of them. He's got nothing but his wits and a body carefully honed and maintained for superhero work. But not even the most stubborn of workout routines can fight against time and age.
He's still handsome, at least in Wally's opinion. Even with that shock of grey hair, something that Wally half-suspects is caused by stress as much as it is age. But his body's getting weaker and Wally knows, he's going to have to hang up the Batsuit soon and Wally can't help but wonder if that, more than anything, is going to break Bruce.
He can't see himself beyond the suit anymore. Of all of them, Batman is the true face and Bruce the mask. Most can't see it. J'onn probably, but he can cheat. He can look right into Batman's psyche and see the truth of things. Wally's just lucky that Bruce has let him in, even if only a little.
Bruce lives to be Batman. Nothing else really matters to him.
Well, no. That isn't true. Bruce does treasure his friendships, the family he's crafted for himself out of other broken and lonely children of Gotham. But Bruce hasn't really looked to the future. He hasn't tried to imagine a life beyond the Batsuit and his relentless pursuit of Justice for his city.
Sometimes... well, all the time actually... Wally thinks that Bruce doesn't know how to be anything but Batman anymore. Like he's made himself into this image, this ideal, and there can't be anything outside of it anymore.
Which has made it nothing short of a miracle that Bruce has let Wally get as close as he is. That they've graduated from co-workers, to friends, and something a bit more, something that includes Wally crawling into bed beside Bruce some early mornings and getting wrapped in those brawny arms.
Wally's no slouch but even he has to admit that Bruce has crafted himself to be strong, that his physique shows that effort. Wally's whipcord lean and that suits him.
Bruce gets older, Wally hardly ages, and he still doesn't know what to think.
He stands in the Batcave, watches Bruce get up from his chair and there's a catch. A hitch in his motion. His hand goes to his lower back, only to quickly snap away when he sees that Wally's watching. But the damage is done.
Age – and a hefty dose of heavily sustained injuries over decades of going toe to toe with Gotham and Earth's criminal element – has taken it's toll.
Bruce scowls. Wally knows better than to offer his usual grin and poorly timed joke.
“Don't say a word,” Bruce says, his tone sharp and chastising, but Wally can detect the affection in it. Deep, deep beneath the surface, but it's there.
“I wasn't going to,” Wally replies honestly, and waits for Bruce to come to him. He doesn't offer an arm. Bruce isn't that old yet.
“I can see it on your face,” Bruce retorts, but it's missing most of the sharp edge. “Shouldn't you be out doing good deeds or something?”
“Or something. I'm off duty.”
Bruce snorts. In his opinion, there's no such thing as off duty. “You can't think you're going to spend the night, do you?”
Wally smiles. “Actually, I was. You've got the emperor sized bed and back home, I'd have to squeeze into that tiny twin. I miss the space.” He can't say what he actually means.
Bruce makes another dismissing noise but glances at the Batcomputer screen again. None of his sensors are screaming danger. The police scanners are silent. Tim's already back from patrol, Barbara's finishing up one final sweep, and Dick, well, they still aren't talking.
“Just don't break anything,” Bruce concedes and presses a button on the keyboard, putting the computer into Watch Mode so that he can bow to the demands of his body and rest.
From Bruce, that's practically an engagement.
Wally's smile softens from affection. Bruce is getting older, and maybe that's making him just a tad bit softer, but Wally loves him anyway.
Wally's not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he's as quick on the uptake as he is on his feet.
Batman's reflexes are slowing, his punches losing some of their fierce flavor. His mind is as sharp as ever, but his body is betraying him. Aging as all mortals do.
Wally supposes he's lucky. His unique genetic configuration will extend his life span, longer probably than he wants to don the Flash costume. Most of the core Justice League is like that and Superman might outlive them all so he doesn't count. Then again, J'onn might surprise them. Who knows?
But Bats? He's the only real human out of all of them. He's got nothing but his wits and a body carefully honed and maintained for superhero work. But not even the most stubborn of workout routines can fight against time and age.
He's still handsome, at least in Wally's opinion. Even with that shock of grey hair, something that Wally half-suspects is caused by stress as much as it is age. But his body's getting weaker and Wally knows, he's going to have to hang up the Batsuit soon and Wally can't help but wonder if that, more than anything, is going to break Bruce.
He can't see himself beyond the suit anymore. Of all of them, Batman is the true face and Bruce the mask. Most can't see it. J'onn probably, but he can cheat. He can look right into Batman's psyche and see the truth of things. Wally's just lucky that Bruce has let him in, even if only a little.
Bruce lives to be Batman. Nothing else really matters to him.
Well, no. That isn't true. Bruce does treasure his friendships, the family he's crafted for himself out of other broken and lonely children of Gotham. But Bruce hasn't really looked to the future. He hasn't tried to imagine a life beyond the Batsuit and his relentless pursuit of Justice for his city.
Sometimes... well, all the time actually... Wally thinks that Bruce doesn't know how to be anything but Batman anymore. Like he's made himself into this image, this ideal, and there can't be anything outside of it anymore.
Which has made it nothing short of a miracle that Bruce has let Wally get as close as he is. That they've graduated from co-workers, to friends, and something a bit more, something that includes Wally crawling into bed beside Bruce some early mornings and getting wrapped in those brawny arms.
Wally's no slouch but even he has to admit that Bruce has crafted himself to be strong, that his physique shows that effort. Wally's whipcord lean and that suits him.
Bruce gets older, Wally hardly ages, and he still doesn't know what to think.
He stands in the Batcave, watches Bruce get up from his chair and there's a catch. A hitch in his motion. His hand goes to his lower back, only to quickly snap away when he sees that Wally's watching. But the damage is done.
Age – and a hefty dose of heavily sustained injuries over decades of going toe to toe with Gotham and Earth's criminal element – has taken it's toll.
Bruce scowls. Wally knows better than to offer his usual grin and poorly timed joke.
“Don't say a word,” Bruce says, his tone sharp and chastising, but Wally can detect the affection in it. Deep, deep beneath the surface, but it's there.
“I wasn't going to,” Wally replies honestly, and waits for Bruce to come to him. He doesn't offer an arm. Bruce isn't that old yet.
“I can see it on your face,” Bruce retorts, but it's missing most of the sharp edge. “Shouldn't you be out doing good deeds or something?”
“Or something. I'm off duty.”
Bruce snorts. In his opinion, there's no such thing as off duty. “You can't think you're going to spend the night, do you?”
Wally smiles. “Actually, I was. You've got the emperor sized bed and back home, I'd have to squeeze into that tiny twin. I miss the space.” He can't say what he actually means.
Bruce makes another dismissing noise but glances at the Batcomputer screen again. None of his sensors are screaming danger. The police scanners are silent. Tim's already back from patrol, Barbara's finishing up one final sweep, and Dick, well, they still aren't talking.
“Just don't break anything,” Bruce concedes and presses a button on the keyboard, putting the computer into Watch Mode so that he can bow to the demands of his body and rest.
From Bruce, that's practically an engagement.
Wally's smile softens from affection. Bruce is getting older, and maybe that's making him just a tad bit softer, but Wally loves him anyway.
For camfield
Prompt: Riku/Sora, "You're getting a little predictable... how about we make love instead of just fucking for once?"
Fandom: post-Kingdom Hearts II. Warnings: None.
His back hits the wall with a solid thump and only Sora's hand keeps him from banging the back of his skull against the plaster, too. Riku has maybe a second before lips are covering his own, tongue thrusting inside, tasting of chocolate and soda. Like Sora needs the sugar.
Sora's warm body presses him up against the wall, knee eagerly pressing between Riku's, free hand already roaming, groping. Reaching for the buttons and zipper of Riku's jeans with motions so familiar, Sora doesn't even need to look anymore.
In fact, it all feels a bit familiar.
Riku's hands settle on Sora's hips, but that's as far as they get. He returns the kiss, but his thoughts are meanwhile in a whole different direction.
This is not only familiar, it's habit. Predictable. In fact, Riku wouldn't be surprised if he turned around and found an impression of his ass in the paint because he can't remember a week gone by where Sora hasn't thrown him up against this wall at least twice and fucked him silly.
Not that Riku didn't enjoy himself. He does, every time. The neighbors sure hear it well enough. But... it's losing some of it's flavor.
His pants hit the floor. Riku steps out of them automatically. One of Sora's feet sweeps it away with an offhand motion. Riku can tell, without looking, that said pants have slid within three feet of the hall closet.
Maybe it's time to shake things up a little? Just for a change of pace?
And then Sora gropes him and Riku is... ahem... not as far along as he might usually be.
Sora pulls away from the kiss, a cute frown pulling at his lips. “Riku? This is usually the part where you moan.”
See that right there? Sign number two hundred and fifty seven that they really have fallen into a monotonous routine.
Riku places his hands on Sora's shoulders, putting on his most serious expression. “Sora. We have to talk.”
He doesn't miss the flash of concern – and yes, perhaps a bit of panic – that appears in Sora's eyes. “Uh. Okay. About what?”
A sudden burst of mischief threatens to derail Riku's initial intentions. “This, right here, is just not working for me. I need a change of pace. Something new.”
Sora's lower lip wobbles. Now that just isn't fair. “New?”
Riku can't keep up the charade in the wake of that wobble. Damn it. And he had a whole teasing speech planned and everything.
He sighs. “Yes, new. As in, as much as I enjoy you pushing me against this wall all the time, I need some variety. Excitement.”
For a long moment, confusion creates a mess of emotions across Sora's face before realization dawns and his pout morphs into a scowl. “You jerk,” he says. “You made me think it was something else.”
“Did you honestly think I was going to break up with you?” Riku asks dryly, arching a brow.
Sora sniffs, looking away with fake petulance. “You have such a poker face, how was I supposed to know?”
Shaking his head, Riku drapes his arms over Sora's shoulders and pulls his lover closer against him. “Idiot.” He nuzzles against Sora's throat, tasting his pulse, and murmurs into Sora's ear. “Maybe we could use the bed, yes? And maybe you could make love to me instead.”
He feels, more than sees, Sora's breath hitch. “I don't have a problem with that,” Sora replies, tone husky.
Riku grins.
Sora's warm body presses him up against the wall, knee eagerly pressing between Riku's, free hand already roaming, groping. Reaching for the buttons and zipper of Riku's jeans with motions so familiar, Sora doesn't even need to look anymore.
In fact, it all feels a bit familiar.
Riku's hands settle on Sora's hips, but that's as far as they get. He returns the kiss, but his thoughts are meanwhile in a whole different direction.
This is not only familiar, it's habit. Predictable. In fact, Riku wouldn't be surprised if he turned around and found an impression of his ass in the paint because he can't remember a week gone by where Sora hasn't thrown him up against this wall at least twice and fucked him silly.
Not that Riku didn't enjoy himself. He does, every time. The neighbors sure hear it well enough. But... it's losing some of it's flavor.
His pants hit the floor. Riku steps out of them automatically. One of Sora's feet sweeps it away with an offhand motion. Riku can tell, without looking, that said pants have slid within three feet of the hall closet.
Maybe it's time to shake things up a little? Just for a change of pace?
And then Sora gropes him and Riku is... ahem... not as far along as he might usually be.
Sora pulls away from the kiss, a cute frown pulling at his lips. “Riku? This is usually the part where you moan.”
See that right there? Sign number two hundred and fifty seven that they really have fallen into a monotonous routine.
Riku places his hands on Sora's shoulders, putting on his most serious expression. “Sora. We have to talk.”
He doesn't miss the flash of concern – and yes, perhaps a bit of panic – that appears in Sora's eyes. “Uh. Okay. About what?”
A sudden burst of mischief threatens to derail Riku's initial intentions. “This, right here, is just not working for me. I need a change of pace. Something new.”
Sora's lower lip wobbles. Now that just isn't fair. “New?”
Riku can't keep up the charade in the wake of that wobble. Damn it. And he had a whole teasing speech planned and everything.
He sighs. “Yes, new. As in, as much as I enjoy you pushing me against this wall all the time, I need some variety. Excitement.”
For a long moment, confusion creates a mess of emotions across Sora's face before realization dawns and his pout morphs into a scowl. “You jerk,” he says. “You made me think it was something else.”
“Did you honestly think I was going to break up with you?” Riku asks dryly, arching a brow.
Sora sniffs, looking away with fake petulance. “You have such a poker face, how was I supposed to know?”
Shaking his head, Riku drapes his arms over Sora's shoulders and pulls his lover closer against him. “Idiot.” He nuzzles against Sora's throat, tasting his pulse, and murmurs into Sora's ear. “Maybe we could use the bed, yes? And maybe you could make love to me instead.”
He feels, more than sees, Sora's breath hitch. “I don't have a problem with that,” Sora replies, tone husky.
Riku grins.
a/n: Four more to come, two of which I need to get off my aft and write. *grins*
Got some TF fic to post, too. Once I get it nice and polished.
Feedback is welcome! Also, I've decided upon the date of the next FFF. October 19th. Mark it on your calendars. *grins*
