Flash Fiction Fills Take 48 (First Half)
Feb. 13th, 2014 10:26 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: Homestuck due to snow so what else can I do but write? Heh. I figure, if I'm not out earning money then I might as well be writing. So here's two flash fiction sooner than usual. Enjoy!
For dellessa
Prompt: TFP, MegatronxSmokescreen, not according to plan
Fandom: Transformers Prime, post-Predacons Rising. Warnings: canon-typical violence, some inappropriate yet humorous lust, implications of size kink
For ladydragon76
Prompt:IDW, BlurrxStarscream, fast as fast can be
Fandom: Transformers RiD. Warnings: potentially OOC
a/n: I hope you enjoyed! I do so love writing TFP Smokescreen and it was fun to dip my fingers for the first time into the IDW pool. I hope I did the characters justice. :)
Feedback is welcome and appreciated.
Stuck at home means lots of work on my end. I fnished WWE: Drift and am now plotting Sideswipe. Wahoo! I'm just about done with my last Flash Fiction. I've started my Challenge Fic for TF rare pairings. I've started the last in my Ratchet/Starscream Burning Bridges series. Wahoo! Stuff is getting done.
For dellessa
Prompt: TFP, MegatronxSmokescreen, not according to plan
Fandom: Transformers Prime, post-Predacons Rising. Warnings: canon-typical violence, some inappropriate yet humorous lust, implications of size kink
It was supposed to be a routine patrol, mapping the ruins of Cybertron, keeping his sensors primed for stray Decepticons unwilling to accept Megatron's dismissal and the end of the war.
The last thing Smokescreen expected to encounter was a lingering zombie predacon. Still, he could have handled it. He popped off a call to headquarters, primed his blaster and readied his phase shifter.
And then a second zombiecon shuffled out of the shadows and Smokescreen began to feel a little outnumbered.
Backup would arrive ASAP.
He could make it.
Until he lost an arm and with it, his signature move. Spurting energon, pain making his vision blurry, Smokescreen counted the seconds. One predacon moved in on him, unhinged jaw agape. The other swiped at him with surprisingly swift claws, wings splayed and bare of flat planes.
At least, Smokescreen thought, I'll go out in a blaze of glory.
Thank you, Wheeljack, for this one emergency grenade.
Smokescreen chucked it between the groaning, lumbering zombicons and just as he turned to run, a silver mass struck him out of nowhere.
Smokescreen tumbled across the ground, one doorwing slamming down with a loud snap. He groaned, kicking and flailing at whatever had attacked him, certain that a third predacon was trying to eat his brain module.
“Stop struggling!”
The growled command pierced Smokescreen's panic and he froze.
Oh, Primus.
He knew that voice. He knew that harsh click, the sharp whine of a fusion cannon powering up. And, in recollection, he knew that shade of silver paint.
He remembered the grenade.
“Wait!”
Too late.
Fusion cannon met grenade and resulted in a spectacular explosion that rattled the ground and lit up the sky. A cloud of metal shavings burst up and outward. Pieces of zombiecon flew every which way.
Megatron shielded Smokescreen with his own frame just as the blastwave hit them. Smokescreen struggled to keep conscious, but it was a battle lost.
He rebooted within seconds, half-expecting to find it all some strange recharge purge. Except that it wasn't because Megatron was still sprawled atop him. Big. And heavy. And spiky. And his frame expelled heat in thick bursts, metal ticking as it cooled, plating vibrating as his cooling fans spun.
He also wasn't moving.
Primus.
Well, Smokescreen thought as his interface protocols pinged online and his panel started to heat, this is awkward. His faceplates heated.
Did it have to be Megatron? Of all the big mechs on the planet, did it have to be their most fearsome enemy? Or former enemy. Or however that worked now.
At least the zombiecons were destroyed.
“Um.” Smokescreen squirmed, armor scraping against armor in an audible shriek. His doorwing ached. “Could you get off me?”
Megatron groaned and twitched.
“Not that I'm ungrateful,” Smokescreen hastened to add because Megatron had a legendary temper and Smokescreen liked his limbs intact, especially since he was already missing one. “But you're kind of...” --arousing-- “...squishing me.”
Megatron grunted and then, finally, pushed his upper frame up, optics regarding Smokescreen like he'd never seen the Autobot before. Or like he'd completely forgotten how he'd ended up in this particular position.
Smokescreen stared back because, yeah, awwwwwkward.
His cooling fans clicked on with a telling whirr.
Megatron tilted his helm, lips curling into an amused smirk, revealing those pointed denta.
Which was, of course, the perfect time for back up to arrive. In came the cavalry, blasters blazing, engines revving...
Optics staring.
Smokescreen tipped his helm back, offering Wheeljack, Ultra Magnus, and Bulkhead a thin smile.
“Um. It's not what it looks like?” he tried.
Megatron rolled his optics and then rolled to his pedes all in one smooth motion, ignoring the flattened Autobot beneath him.
“I don't have time for this,” he said, and took off into the air, transforming into alt-mode with a quick snap. He was gone in a flash-burn of his thrusters, leaving Smokescreen to deal with the awkward aftermath.
Slagging Decepticon. Smokescreen let his helm thunk against the ground. He wanted his arm back. He wanted his doorwing relocated. He wanted the heat to stop burning in his lines, and his processor to stop offering up images of what else Megatron could have been doing while pinning him to the ground.
He really wanted Ultra Magnus to stop staring at him like that.
Wheeljack cackled, weapon powering down. “Now this I have to hear.”
“Yes,” Ultra Magnus said. “I, too, would like an explanation.”
Bulkhead grimaced.
Smokescreen sighed.
Well, that hadn't gone according to plan at all.
The last thing Smokescreen expected to encounter was a lingering zombie predacon. Still, he could have handled it. He popped off a call to headquarters, primed his blaster and readied his phase shifter.
And then a second zombiecon shuffled out of the shadows and Smokescreen began to feel a little outnumbered.
Backup would arrive ASAP.
He could make it.
Until he lost an arm and with it, his signature move. Spurting energon, pain making his vision blurry, Smokescreen counted the seconds. One predacon moved in on him, unhinged jaw agape. The other swiped at him with surprisingly swift claws, wings splayed and bare of flat planes.
At least, Smokescreen thought, I'll go out in a blaze of glory.
Thank you, Wheeljack, for this one emergency grenade.
Smokescreen chucked it between the groaning, lumbering zombicons and just as he turned to run, a silver mass struck him out of nowhere.
Smokescreen tumbled across the ground, one doorwing slamming down with a loud snap. He groaned, kicking and flailing at whatever had attacked him, certain that a third predacon was trying to eat his brain module.
“Stop struggling!”
The growled command pierced Smokescreen's panic and he froze.
Oh, Primus.
He knew that voice. He knew that harsh click, the sharp whine of a fusion cannon powering up. And, in recollection, he knew that shade of silver paint.
He remembered the grenade.
“Wait!”
Too late.
Fusion cannon met grenade and resulted in a spectacular explosion that rattled the ground and lit up the sky. A cloud of metal shavings burst up and outward. Pieces of zombiecon flew every which way.
Megatron shielded Smokescreen with his own frame just as the blastwave hit them. Smokescreen struggled to keep conscious, but it was a battle lost.
He rebooted within seconds, half-expecting to find it all some strange recharge purge. Except that it wasn't because Megatron was still sprawled atop him. Big. And heavy. And spiky. And his frame expelled heat in thick bursts, metal ticking as it cooled, plating vibrating as his cooling fans spun.
He also wasn't moving.
Primus.
Well, Smokescreen thought as his interface protocols pinged online and his panel started to heat, this is awkward. His faceplates heated.
Did it have to be Megatron? Of all the big mechs on the planet, did it have to be their most fearsome enemy? Or former enemy. Or however that worked now.
At least the zombiecons were destroyed.
“Um.” Smokescreen squirmed, armor scraping against armor in an audible shriek. His doorwing ached. “Could you get off me?”
Megatron groaned and twitched.
“Not that I'm ungrateful,” Smokescreen hastened to add because Megatron had a legendary temper and Smokescreen liked his limbs intact, especially since he was already missing one. “But you're kind of...” --arousing-- “...squishing me.”
Megatron grunted and then, finally, pushed his upper frame up, optics regarding Smokescreen like he'd never seen the Autobot before. Or like he'd completely forgotten how he'd ended up in this particular position.
Smokescreen stared back because, yeah, awwwwwkward.
His cooling fans clicked on with a telling whirr.
Megatron tilted his helm, lips curling into an amused smirk, revealing those pointed denta.
Which was, of course, the perfect time for back up to arrive. In came the cavalry, blasters blazing, engines revving...
Optics staring.
Smokescreen tipped his helm back, offering Wheeljack, Ultra Magnus, and Bulkhead a thin smile.
“Um. It's not what it looks like?” he tried.
Megatron rolled his optics and then rolled to his pedes all in one smooth motion, ignoring the flattened Autobot beneath him.
“I don't have time for this,” he said, and took off into the air, transforming into alt-mode with a quick snap. He was gone in a flash-burn of his thrusters, leaving Smokescreen to deal with the awkward aftermath.
Slagging Decepticon. Smokescreen let his helm thunk against the ground. He wanted his arm back. He wanted his doorwing relocated. He wanted the heat to stop burning in his lines, and his processor to stop offering up images of what else Megatron could have been doing while pinning him to the ground.
He really wanted Ultra Magnus to stop staring at him like that.
Wheeljack cackled, weapon powering down. “Now this I have to hear.”
“Yes,” Ultra Magnus said. “I, too, would like an explanation.”
Bulkhead grimaced.
Smokescreen sighed.
Well, that hadn't gone according to plan at all.
For ladydragon76
Prompt:IDW, BlurrxStarscream, fast as fast can be
Fandom: Transformers RiD. Warnings: potentially OOC
“I have a proposition for you.”
Blurr didn't look up from swiping the cloth over the bar top. “Not interested,” he said in a flat tone.
Of course, when did one refusal ever work on a Seeker?
“You haven't heard me out yet,” Starscream said, leaning against the bar, wings arched and flared with the intent to entice.
“Because I'm not interested,” Blurr repeated and narrowed his optics at Starscream. “Never was.”
Starscream grinned. “Oh, I'm not so sure about that. Because if I'm right, we'll both come out on top.”
Blurr barked a laugh, flashing Starscream an old smirk, dredged up from his racing orns. “I'm always on top.”
“You see, that's what I like about you, Blurr. Your confidence,” Starscream replied with a flutter of his wings.
Blurr turned his back on the Seeker, plating itching between his shoulders as it always did when there was a Decepticon behind him. Especially this one. It didn't matter that the war was “over.” Certain suspicions wouldn't end that easily.
“Oh, is that all?” he asked.
His comm system pinged, the ident code registering Jazz. Did he need help? Hardly. Blurr pinged back reassurance. He had this. Still, it was nice to know he had back up.
“I could go on but it might be considered inappropriate for such a public setting.”
Blurr put down his rag and tilted his helm toward his other server, letting the mech know he was stepping out for a klik. He turned back to Starscream, heading for the swinging panel to exit the bar. He noticed that the Seeker matched him step for step.
“Since when do you care about propriety?” Blurr asked, well aware that they were attracting attention. Oh, the former Autobots and Decepticons scattered around his bar were being unobtrusive, but it was obvious they were looking.
“Since that DJ of yours can't keep his optics off me,” Starscream replied, tilting his helm toward Jazz on stage. Of course he would notice. Jazz wasn't exactly subtle.
Blurr stepped out of the bar, door swinging shut behind him, and leaned against the bar. Starscream moved closer, near-crowding him, but keeping his hands to himself at least. It was an intimidation tactic, not that Blurr was intimidated.
“It's not often that mechs as... popular as yourself come here,” Blurr said and folded his arms. “What do you want, Starscream?”
Starscream tilted forward, his ex-vents washing over Blurr's frame. “What I've always wanted, my dear racer,” he purred, less screechy and more seductive.
Blurr scoffed. “Power?”
“Peace.”
His huffed a ventilation. “I don't believe you.”
“Well,” Starscream drawled, helm tilting left and right. “First comes one, then comes the other. It's a process.”
He wondered if that coy manner ever worked on the Decepticons. It certainly wasn't working on Blurr.
He ground his denta. “What you want from me?”
Starscream's lips curled into a grin. “Your cooperation.”
“And?”
“Oh, we can discuss details later. And elsewhere.” Starscream gave him a sly look. “We are, after all, in public.”
Blurr was not impressed. Curious, but unimpressed. “I'm a busy mech, Starscream.”
“As am I.”
Sure he was, with his lofty plans of planet-wide domination and gaining leadership of a mostly defunct faction. Blurr barely kept himself from rolling his optics.
Starscream pulled back, but not before his field wafted a teasing caress. “I'll comm you the details at a later time, yes?”
“I'll try not to ignore it,” Blurr retorted, well aware that Jazz was watching them more intently now.
Starscream laughed. “And I'll make sure to build an offer you can't refuse.”
“We'll see.”
Starscream left. Blurr watched him go, his backstrut itching. A sudden urge to run and keep on running nagged at the back of his processor.
“Care to share?” Jazz asked, approaching from the shadows.
Blurr shook his helm. “I honestly don't know myself.”
“You gonna find out?”
His optics cycled down. “I might be just that curious.”
Jazz patted him on the shoulder. “Just watch yourself,” he warned. “That Seeker loves to sink his claws in deep.”
Blurr grinned. “He can try.” He turned back toward his bar, his pride and joy. “But he'd have to catch me first.”
Blurr didn't look up from swiping the cloth over the bar top. “Not interested,” he said in a flat tone.
Of course, when did one refusal ever work on a Seeker?
“You haven't heard me out yet,” Starscream said, leaning against the bar, wings arched and flared with the intent to entice.
“Because I'm not interested,” Blurr repeated and narrowed his optics at Starscream. “Never was.”
Starscream grinned. “Oh, I'm not so sure about that. Because if I'm right, we'll both come out on top.”
Blurr barked a laugh, flashing Starscream an old smirk, dredged up from his racing orns. “I'm always on top.”
“You see, that's what I like about you, Blurr. Your confidence,” Starscream replied with a flutter of his wings.
Blurr turned his back on the Seeker, plating itching between his shoulders as it always did when there was a Decepticon behind him. Especially this one. It didn't matter that the war was “over.” Certain suspicions wouldn't end that easily.
“Oh, is that all?” he asked.
His comm system pinged, the ident code registering Jazz. Did he need help? Hardly. Blurr pinged back reassurance. He had this. Still, it was nice to know he had back up.
“I could go on but it might be considered inappropriate for such a public setting.”
Blurr put down his rag and tilted his helm toward his other server, letting the mech know he was stepping out for a klik. He turned back to Starscream, heading for the swinging panel to exit the bar. He noticed that the Seeker matched him step for step.
“Since when do you care about propriety?” Blurr asked, well aware that they were attracting attention. Oh, the former Autobots and Decepticons scattered around his bar were being unobtrusive, but it was obvious they were looking.
“Since that DJ of yours can't keep his optics off me,” Starscream replied, tilting his helm toward Jazz on stage. Of course he would notice. Jazz wasn't exactly subtle.
Blurr stepped out of the bar, door swinging shut behind him, and leaned against the bar. Starscream moved closer, near-crowding him, but keeping his hands to himself at least. It was an intimidation tactic, not that Blurr was intimidated.
“It's not often that mechs as... popular as yourself come here,” Blurr said and folded his arms. “What do you want, Starscream?”
Starscream tilted forward, his ex-vents washing over Blurr's frame. “What I've always wanted, my dear racer,” he purred, less screechy and more seductive.
Blurr scoffed. “Power?”
“Peace.”
His huffed a ventilation. “I don't believe you.”
“Well,” Starscream drawled, helm tilting left and right. “First comes one, then comes the other. It's a process.”
He wondered if that coy manner ever worked on the Decepticons. It certainly wasn't working on Blurr.
He ground his denta. “What you want from me?”
Starscream's lips curled into a grin. “Your cooperation.”
“And?”
“Oh, we can discuss details later. And elsewhere.” Starscream gave him a sly look. “We are, after all, in public.”
Blurr was not impressed. Curious, but unimpressed. “I'm a busy mech, Starscream.”
“As am I.”
Sure he was, with his lofty plans of planet-wide domination and gaining leadership of a mostly defunct faction. Blurr barely kept himself from rolling his optics.
Starscream pulled back, but not before his field wafted a teasing caress. “I'll comm you the details at a later time, yes?”
“I'll try not to ignore it,” Blurr retorted, well aware that Jazz was watching them more intently now.
Starscream laughed. “And I'll make sure to build an offer you can't refuse.”
“We'll see.”
Starscream left. Blurr watched him go, his backstrut itching. A sudden urge to run and keep on running nagged at the back of his processor.
“Care to share?” Jazz asked, approaching from the shadows.
Blurr shook his helm. “I honestly don't know myself.”
“You gonna find out?”
His optics cycled down. “I might be just that curious.”
Jazz patted him on the shoulder. “Just watch yourself,” he warned. “That Seeker loves to sink his claws in deep.”
Blurr grinned. “He can try.” He turned back toward his bar, his pride and joy. “But he'd have to catch me first.”
a/n: I hope you enjoyed! I do so love writing TFP Smokescreen and it was fun to dip my fingers for the first time into the IDW pool. I hope I did the characters justice. :)
Feedback is welcome and appreciated.
Stuck at home means lots of work on my end. I fnished WWE: Drift and am now plotting Sideswipe. Wahoo! I'm just about done with my last Flash Fiction. I've started my Challenge Fic for TF rare pairings. I've started the last in my Ratchet/Starscream Burning Bridges series. Wahoo! Stuff is getting done.
