Flash Fiction Fills Take 44 (First Half)
Sep. 27th, 2013 10:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22For dellessa
Prompt: G1, Megatron/Bluestreak, brazen
Fandom: Transformers G1. Warnings: None.
For camfield
Prompt: Riku/Sora, don't say you love me, you don't even know me
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts, pre-game. Warnings: None
a/n: I had a bit too much fun writing these. :)
Two more flash fics to go! I also have another SuperBat (an update to the Numerology series) on its way and a Bluestreak/Jazz piece that I may or may not get done by Sunday. Hope you enjoyed!
Prompt: G1, Megatron/Bluestreak, brazen
Fandom: Transformers G1. Warnings: None.
It seemed impossible that so much violence could be leashed but here he was, the Slagmaker himself, bound and chained in the Autobot brig.
It was a temporary state of affairs, until a proper trade could be arranged. The Autobot's didn't have the resources to keep him contained for an extensive period and Prime wouldn't sanction an execution.
Which left an exchange.
Acquiring Megatron had been a stroke of luck, purely accidental. Or perhaps intentional. Either Megatron hadn't meant to get between Starscream and his target, or the treacherous Seeker had aimed for his leader in the first place.
In the end, Megatron had taken a null ray to the helm, fritzed his neural circuits, and collapsed in an ungainly heap.
Right at Prime's feet.
Starscream screeched a retreat, claiming that he was now the leader of the Decepticons, and Megatron's loyaler soldiers couldn't get past the combined forces of Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, and Cliffjumper to get to their fallen master.
Soundwave had, however, managed to snatch Ratchet in their abrupt escape. That had been a factor of Ratchet's inability to maintain his own safety when a patient's spark was on the line and his usual bodyguard being said patient.
So. An exchange was imminent.
For now, however, they had a caged beast glaring at them with baleful red optics and a growling, miner's engine. Megatron was draped in chains six ways from Moonbase but he looked no less dangerous, no less feral. Like he was ready to pounce should the opportunity arise and woe be unto the Autobot who stepped into his path. He was coiled, murderous intent, a predator waiting for a tasty snack to wander into his path.
Why the Decepticons would follow him was increasingly obvious. Megatron exuded power and confidence the same way Prime exuded virtue and truth. Megatron was a mech you feared; Prime was a mech you loved.
No wonder they hated each other.
Megatron's frame was scarred and pitted from countless battles. He wore those imperfections like badges of pride. Sunstreaker would shudder at the sight of them, but Megatron's plating was a landscape of stories, each mark a memory of survival.
He didn't move from where they'd left him, arms chained to the wall, his legs clamped in stasis cuffs. His vents were even, controlled, and his optics continued to glow with dangerous intent.
“What the frag are you staring at, little bot?” the Decepticon leader growled, his vocalizer a raspy purr from the dark.
Next to Bluestreak, Hound jumped, startled by the sudden vocalization.
Bluestreak, however, had been waiting for it. He bit back a smirk. “Is there harm in looking?” he asked.
“Bluestreak!” Hound hissed, chastising. They weren't supposed to talk to prisoners.
Megatron laughed, his amusement the sort that mocked rather than agreed. “Am I a sideshow attraction? Since when does Prime send his softer soldiers to serve as my guard?”
Softer? Hah. It would take more than that to offend Bluestreak. Yes, he'd gained a reputation for being cute and innocent. It was hilarious far from the truth. Except for the cute part. He was pretty slagging cute.
“Since I'm one of the few who can shoot you down in half an astrosecond without causing fatal damage,” Bluestreak said.
Hound hissed at him again, like he was two steps from contacting Red Alert just to make Bluestreak stop. But nope. He was having way too much fun.
Megatron scoffed. “Is that so? And that's why you're staring at me in fear? What makes you think you can do it, baby bot?”
Bluestreak's lips twitched. “You mistake fear for curiosity.” He stepped closer to the bars, that hummed at his proximity. “For instance, I can't help but wonder what I feels like to pull your trigger.”
Silence filled the brig. Hound gaped at him.
Bluestreak smirked.
Megatron's optics widened. “Y-you—!” He spluttered.
Inside, Bluestreak was laughing his aft off.
“I am a sniper, after all,” he said and made a pointed effort to look Megatron up and down. “And I've always liked big guns.”
“Th—this is an outrage!” Megatron roared and the chains rattled as he jerked in them. “I'll not be mocked by you! Is this how Autobots treat their prisoners? Get Prime down here right now!”
“Sorry, he's a bit busy right now,” Bluestreak said and turned back toward Hound, who was given him a look stuck between astonishment and amusement.
“I can't decide if you're brave or crazy,” he said.
Bluestreak chuckled. “Can't I be both?” he asked brightly as Megatron continued to howl his outrage.
It was a temporary state of affairs, until a proper trade could be arranged. The Autobot's didn't have the resources to keep him contained for an extensive period and Prime wouldn't sanction an execution.
Which left an exchange.
Acquiring Megatron had been a stroke of luck, purely accidental. Or perhaps intentional. Either Megatron hadn't meant to get between Starscream and his target, or the treacherous Seeker had aimed for his leader in the first place.
In the end, Megatron had taken a null ray to the helm, fritzed his neural circuits, and collapsed in an ungainly heap.
Right at Prime's feet.
Starscream screeched a retreat, claiming that he was now the leader of the Decepticons, and Megatron's loyaler soldiers couldn't get past the combined forces of Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, and Cliffjumper to get to their fallen master.
Soundwave had, however, managed to snatch Ratchet in their abrupt escape. That had been a factor of Ratchet's inability to maintain his own safety when a patient's spark was on the line and his usual bodyguard being said patient.
So. An exchange was imminent.
For now, however, they had a caged beast glaring at them with baleful red optics and a growling, miner's engine. Megatron was draped in chains six ways from Moonbase but he looked no less dangerous, no less feral. Like he was ready to pounce should the opportunity arise and woe be unto the Autobot who stepped into his path. He was coiled, murderous intent, a predator waiting for a tasty snack to wander into his path.
Why the Decepticons would follow him was increasingly obvious. Megatron exuded power and confidence the same way Prime exuded virtue and truth. Megatron was a mech you feared; Prime was a mech you loved.
No wonder they hated each other.
Megatron's frame was scarred and pitted from countless battles. He wore those imperfections like badges of pride. Sunstreaker would shudder at the sight of them, but Megatron's plating was a landscape of stories, each mark a memory of survival.
He didn't move from where they'd left him, arms chained to the wall, his legs clamped in stasis cuffs. His vents were even, controlled, and his optics continued to glow with dangerous intent.
“What the frag are you staring at, little bot?” the Decepticon leader growled, his vocalizer a raspy purr from the dark.
Next to Bluestreak, Hound jumped, startled by the sudden vocalization.
Bluestreak, however, had been waiting for it. He bit back a smirk. “Is there harm in looking?” he asked.
“Bluestreak!” Hound hissed, chastising. They weren't supposed to talk to prisoners.
Megatron laughed, his amusement the sort that mocked rather than agreed. “Am I a sideshow attraction? Since when does Prime send his softer soldiers to serve as my guard?”
Softer? Hah. It would take more than that to offend Bluestreak. Yes, he'd gained a reputation for being cute and innocent. It was hilarious far from the truth. Except for the cute part. He was pretty slagging cute.
“Since I'm one of the few who can shoot you down in half an astrosecond without causing fatal damage,” Bluestreak said.
Hound hissed at him again, like he was two steps from contacting Red Alert just to make Bluestreak stop. But nope. He was having way too much fun.
Megatron scoffed. “Is that so? And that's why you're staring at me in fear? What makes you think you can do it, baby bot?”
Bluestreak's lips twitched. “You mistake fear for curiosity.” He stepped closer to the bars, that hummed at his proximity. “For instance, I can't help but wonder what I feels like to pull your trigger.”
Silence filled the brig. Hound gaped at him.
Bluestreak smirked.
Megatron's optics widened. “Y-you—!” He spluttered.
Inside, Bluestreak was laughing his aft off.
“I am a sniper, after all,” he said and made a pointed effort to look Megatron up and down. “And I've always liked big guns.”
“Th—this is an outrage!” Megatron roared and the chains rattled as he jerked in them. “I'll not be mocked by you! Is this how Autobots treat their prisoners? Get Prime down here right now!”
“Sorry, he's a bit busy right now,” Bluestreak said and turned back toward Hound, who was given him a look stuck between astonishment and amusement.
“I can't decide if you're brave or crazy,” he said.
Bluestreak chuckled. “Can't I be both?” he asked brightly as Megatron continued to howl his outrage.
For camfield
Prompt: Riku/Sora, don't say you love me, you don't even know me
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts, pre-game. Warnings: None
Riku is the one who confesses, his fair skin painted pink to the tips of his ears, his shoulders hunched as though to make him look smaller, his gaze staring off the side, as though he can't bear to meet Sora's eyes. His hands ball into fists at his side, his voice shakes on a few syllables, and he's probably the most adorable thing Sora has ever seen.
“I like you,” he says, and then continues on, stammering all the while. “I mean, not just like friends. Well, I do like you as a friend, but I like you as more than a friend. I really like you. I want to do things like k-kiss you.” He takes in a deep, shaking breath, hunched shoulders rising before sinking again. “I know you probably think that's gross and I'm sorry, but I can't keep it to myself anymore.”
Sora knows why this confession has come out of nowhere. It's because of Kairi. It's because Sora thinks she's fascinating, she's a fun person, and he's spending time with her. Time he usually reserves for Riku. She could never replace Riku but from the outside, it might look like that anyway.
Sora's a bit disappointed that Riku doesn't have more faith in him. That he can confess his feelings in that stuttering, stumbling way, but he isn't aware enough to see that Sora's only been looking at him the entire time.
Sora smiles, puts a hand on his best friend's shoulder. “It's okay,” he says, when Riku swings a startled gaze toward him, eyes bright with fear and hope. “It's weird, but it's not gross. I like you, too. We're best friends, aren't we?”
He watches the hope die in Riku's eyes and he thinks, serves you right. Coming at Sora with that half-assed affection, claiming like when he knows nothing about the object in question.
He even wonders, for a moment, if Riku is going to cry, but no, his best friend gathers up a smile, lifts his shoulders, and tries to laugh it off. He rakes a hand over his hair, messing up the silver strands.
“Yeah,” he says with a fake laugh. “We are best friends.”
That's why you're not sincere, Sora thinks. You can't love me if you don't know me.
“Yep,” Sora agrees, and slides his arm across his best friend's shoulder, forcing Riku to stoop to accommodate his shorter height. “And that's all that matters. Wanna head out to the island ?”
Riku isn't looking at him now. His face is still that shade of pink and his body is all but trembling against Sora's side. “Sure, why not. Maybe Tidus is looking to get his ass kicked again.”
He doesn't notice that Sora never really gave him an answer. Maybe because he's afraid of what that answer would be. And if Riku feared rejection, it's even more obvious that he doesn't really know Sora at all.
Well, they have time, Sora thinks as they head for the island. They are still young, still children.
He'll just have to keep Riku closer, is all. Closer and closer until the truth wins out.
“I like you,” he says, and then continues on, stammering all the while. “I mean, not just like friends. Well, I do like you as a friend, but I like you as more than a friend. I really like you. I want to do things like k-kiss you.” He takes in a deep, shaking breath, hunched shoulders rising before sinking again. “I know you probably think that's gross and I'm sorry, but I can't keep it to myself anymore.”
Sora knows why this confession has come out of nowhere. It's because of Kairi. It's because Sora thinks she's fascinating, she's a fun person, and he's spending time with her. Time he usually reserves for Riku. She could never replace Riku but from the outside, it might look like that anyway.
Sora's a bit disappointed that Riku doesn't have more faith in him. That he can confess his feelings in that stuttering, stumbling way, but he isn't aware enough to see that Sora's only been looking at him the entire time.
Sora smiles, puts a hand on his best friend's shoulder. “It's okay,” he says, when Riku swings a startled gaze toward him, eyes bright with fear and hope. “It's weird, but it's not gross. I like you, too. We're best friends, aren't we?”
He watches the hope die in Riku's eyes and he thinks, serves you right. Coming at Sora with that half-assed affection, claiming like when he knows nothing about the object in question.
He even wonders, for a moment, if Riku is going to cry, but no, his best friend gathers up a smile, lifts his shoulders, and tries to laugh it off. He rakes a hand over his hair, messing up the silver strands.
“Yeah,” he says with a fake laugh. “We are best friends.”
That's why you're not sincere, Sora thinks. You can't love me if you don't know me.
“Yep,” Sora agrees, and slides his arm across his best friend's shoulder, forcing Riku to stoop to accommodate his shorter height. “And that's all that matters. Wanna head out to the island ?”
Riku isn't looking at him now. His face is still that shade of pink and his body is all but trembling against Sora's side. “Sure, why not. Maybe Tidus is looking to get his ass kicked again.”
He doesn't notice that Sora never really gave him an answer. Maybe because he's afraid of what that answer would be. And if Riku feared rejection, it's even more obvious that he doesn't really know Sora at all.
Well, they have time, Sora thinks as they head for the island. They are still young, still children.
He'll just have to keep Riku closer, is all. Closer and closer until the truth wins out.
a/n: I had a bit too much fun writing these. :)
Two more flash fics to go! I also have another SuperBat (an update to the Numerology series) on its way and a Bluestreak/Jazz piece that I may or may not get done by Sunday. Hope you enjoyed!
