Flash Fiction Fills Take 44 (Second Half)
Sep. 30th, 2013 03:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: and here are the last two for your reading enjoyment! :)
For mistress_pirate
Prompt: Poison Ivy/Batman, “One More Night,” Maroon 5
Fandom: Batman the Animated Series. Warnings: questionable ethics, unhealthy relationship, prelude to porn...
For jalaperilo
Prompt: TFP, Knock Out/Breakdown, fluff
Fandom: Transformers Prime Season 1. Warnings: failed attempt at fluff. Language?
a/n: These two flash fics were also quite fun to write. All the prompts this time around were so fun and challenging!
Next FFF is going to be October 18th so keep that in mind! Hope you enjoyed!
For mistress_pirate
Prompt: Poison Ivy/Batman, “One More Night,” Maroon 5
Fandom: Batman the Animated Series. Warnings: questionable ethics, unhealthy relationship, prelude to porn...
Every move is a calculation. It is a rare occasion that he has to react on instinct, though he has trained that to respond as well. There is always a plan, a knowledge running in the back of his mind. There are few that can take him by surprise.
What is this weakness he seems to carry for the female members of Gotham's supervillain underground?
In the shadows of the botanical gardens, every step is one step closer to her domain. From the moment he sets foot on the path, he knows he is under her surveillance. He keeps to the dark, but the plants don't need eyes. They can trace his footsteps.
He, too, knows they are there. He knows they are watching. She is watching.
There is an antidote in his belt, carefully concocted to adapt to whatever new blend of plant toxins Ivy has constructed this time. He reminds himself of his presence only to be reassured that is there. Whether he has any intention of using it is a different matter.
It depends entirely on which blend paints the supervillainess's lips this time around. Poison or seduction? The choice is hers.
There is a rustle of leaves not caused by the wind. Batman's hackles raise and he's sure an attack is imminent. Ivy is not the sort to directly take a swing at him. No, her efforts are always more subtle.
Which will it be, the poison or the seduction?
Every move is a calculation, even the half-step into the light that makes him briefly visible. He hears the slither of vines, sees them twitch from the corner of his eyes, and leaps to avoid their attack, to the left.
They strike from the right, however, as he suspected, and his limbs are immediately entangled in the thick, ropey tendrils. More genetic manipulation, he assumes, as the vines are thicker around than his own arms, smelling strongly of pine and pea-blossom.
He is jerked up, off his boots, until he is dangling a good five feet off the ground. Adrenaline pumps through his body, anticipation of different flavors coursing through him. A growl rumbles in his chest as familiar laughter rings through the night.
“You fall for that every time,” Poison Ivy murmurs, stepping into the moonlight, one hand rising to stroke the quivering leaves of one of her vines.
It will only take a twitch of his fingers to draw a batarang, but he holds off for now. The question remains, the one he cannot answer, poison or seduction?
“I knew if I made threats against Gordon you'd come running,” Ivy continues, stepping onto a broader vine which lifts her upward, until they are eye to eye with only inches of free space between them. “And even faster than I'd imagined.”
“Is this another doomed attempt to kill me?” Batman says, the words grating from his throat.
Ivy laughs, leaning closer to him, her sweet perfume invading his nose. “Killing you would take all the fun out of it.” Her tongue slides across her lips, wetting them, highlighting the bright-red shade. The color tells him nothing.
“Then this is another game,” Batman says.
She leans against him, one hand braced on his shoulder, barely tangible thanks to the weight of the Kevlar. “You can call it that if you want,” Ivy purrs. “Which means it is time to up the stakes.”
Her exhales puff against his jaw, her cheek sliding against his, and then her lips land on his own. Her perfume is intoxicating, and his lips part, allowing her tongue to slip inside, as sweet as her scent. His lips tingle and flush with heat, a heat that spreads from his mouth to the rest of the body.
Ah. Seduction it is.
The batarang slips back into its hiding place for now. One last time, he promises himself. One last time.
What is this weakness he seems to carry for the female members of Gotham's supervillain underground?
In the shadows of the botanical gardens, every step is one step closer to her domain. From the moment he sets foot on the path, he knows he is under her surveillance. He keeps to the dark, but the plants don't need eyes. They can trace his footsteps.
He, too, knows they are there. He knows they are watching. She is watching.
There is an antidote in his belt, carefully concocted to adapt to whatever new blend of plant toxins Ivy has constructed this time. He reminds himself of his presence only to be reassured that is there. Whether he has any intention of using it is a different matter.
It depends entirely on which blend paints the supervillainess's lips this time around. Poison or seduction? The choice is hers.
There is a rustle of leaves not caused by the wind. Batman's hackles raise and he's sure an attack is imminent. Ivy is not the sort to directly take a swing at him. No, her efforts are always more subtle.
Which will it be, the poison or the seduction?
Every move is a calculation, even the half-step into the light that makes him briefly visible. He hears the slither of vines, sees them twitch from the corner of his eyes, and leaps to avoid their attack, to the left.
They strike from the right, however, as he suspected, and his limbs are immediately entangled in the thick, ropey tendrils. More genetic manipulation, he assumes, as the vines are thicker around than his own arms, smelling strongly of pine and pea-blossom.
He is jerked up, off his boots, until he is dangling a good five feet off the ground. Adrenaline pumps through his body, anticipation of different flavors coursing through him. A growl rumbles in his chest as familiar laughter rings through the night.
“You fall for that every time,” Poison Ivy murmurs, stepping into the moonlight, one hand rising to stroke the quivering leaves of one of her vines.
It will only take a twitch of his fingers to draw a batarang, but he holds off for now. The question remains, the one he cannot answer, poison or seduction?
“I knew if I made threats against Gordon you'd come running,” Ivy continues, stepping onto a broader vine which lifts her upward, until they are eye to eye with only inches of free space between them. “And even faster than I'd imagined.”
“Is this another doomed attempt to kill me?” Batman says, the words grating from his throat.
Ivy laughs, leaning closer to him, her sweet perfume invading his nose. “Killing you would take all the fun out of it.” Her tongue slides across her lips, wetting them, highlighting the bright-red shade. The color tells him nothing.
“Then this is another game,” Batman says.
She leans against him, one hand braced on his shoulder, barely tangible thanks to the weight of the Kevlar. “You can call it that if you want,” Ivy purrs. “Which means it is time to up the stakes.”
Her exhales puff against his jaw, her cheek sliding against his, and then her lips land on his own. Her perfume is intoxicating, and his lips part, allowing her tongue to slip inside, as sweet as her scent. His lips tingle and flush with heat, a heat that spreads from his mouth to the rest of the body.
Ah. Seduction it is.
The batarang slips back into its hiding place for now. One last time, he promises himself. One last time.
For jalaperilo
Prompt: TFP, Knock Out/Breakdown, fluff
Fandom: Transformers Prime Season 1. Warnings: failed attempt at fluff. Language?
“I fragging hate Autobots!” Knock Out snarls, throwing both hands into the air as he paces back and forth in the medbay, knocking down anything in his path.
The noisy clomp-clomp of Breakdown following him around seems to punctuate his mood perfectly.
“Hah. Don't we all?” Breakdown says and attacks his backplate with a buffer the very moment Knock Out pauses when he catches sight of his finish in the mirror.
It is atrocious! It is marred! It is imperfection! How dare they?
Another snarl builds up volume. His engine races with a growling, high-performance thrum. If he could only get off this ship and put metal to the petal, perhaps he could work off this ire.
“Those barbarians!” Knock Out rails, whirling on a pede and stomping back across the floor, kicking at a spare piece of plating that had come loose from his thigh. Fragging Optimus Prime! “With their scraped up paint and their dull finish and their sloppy weld-jobs. Disgusting!”
“They got lucky,” Breakdown says and snags Knock Out's right arm, applying the buffer to it as well. “Next time, I'm gonna smash Bulkhead's face in.”
“Hah. You keep saying that but I haven't seen it happen yet.” Knock Out sniffs and looks down at himself, scowling at the deep gouge in his chestplate. “You see this? It's going to take hours to fix this!”
“Hold still.”
Knock Out huffs but subsides. He does want to get fixed after all. He can't leave the medbay looking like a cheap piece of scrap. He has a reputation to maintain.
This is all Starscream's fault. He should have known better. Robbing from the miserable humans is like extending an open invitation to the Autobots!
“Harumph,” Knock Out says and twitches again.
“Don't let your finish slide either,” Knock Out says, turning his helm to berate his assistant. “I'll not have you walking around looking like some Autobot.”
“Whatever you say, Knock Out,” Breakdown replies, with the audacity to sound amused.
Knock Out rolls his optics and hunches his shoulders. “Don't take that tone with me. And don't miss a spot either!”
“Yes, yes. I heard you the first time.”
Well, at least one thing from today would work out.
The noisy clomp-clomp of Breakdown following him around seems to punctuate his mood perfectly.
“Hah. Don't we all?” Breakdown says and attacks his backplate with a buffer the very moment Knock Out pauses when he catches sight of his finish in the mirror.
It is atrocious! It is marred! It is imperfection! How dare they?
Another snarl builds up volume. His engine races with a growling, high-performance thrum. If he could only get off this ship and put metal to the petal, perhaps he could work off this ire.
“Those barbarians!” Knock Out rails, whirling on a pede and stomping back across the floor, kicking at a spare piece of plating that had come loose from his thigh. Fragging Optimus Prime! “With their scraped up paint and their dull finish and their sloppy weld-jobs. Disgusting!”
“They got lucky,” Breakdown says and snags Knock Out's right arm, applying the buffer to it as well. “Next time, I'm gonna smash Bulkhead's face in.”
“Hah. You keep saying that but I haven't seen it happen yet.” Knock Out sniffs and looks down at himself, scowling at the deep gouge in his chestplate. “You see this? It's going to take hours to fix this!”
“Hold still.”
Knock Out huffs but subsides. He does want to get fixed after all. He can't leave the medbay looking like a cheap piece of scrap. He has a reputation to maintain.
This is all Starscream's fault. He should have known better. Robbing from the miserable humans is like extending an open invitation to the Autobots!
“Harumph,” Knock Out says and twitches again.
“Don't let your finish slide either,” Knock Out says, turning his helm to berate his assistant. “I'll not have you walking around looking like some Autobot.”
“Whatever you say, Knock Out,” Breakdown replies, with the audacity to sound amused.
Knock Out rolls his optics and hunches his shoulders. “Don't take that tone with me. And don't miss a spot either!”
“Yes, yes. I heard you the first time.”
Well, at least one thing from today would work out.
a/n: These two flash fics were also quite fun to write. All the prompts this time around were so fun and challenging!
Next FFF is going to be October 18th so keep that in mind! Hope you enjoyed!
