Flash Fiction Fills Take 49 (Second Half)
Mar. 21st, 2014 10:59 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: The title is a bit misleading. One of these is a fill for flash fiction. The other is a short drabble I wrote in response to a prompt-fest a few weeks ago, but someone filled it before I could post it and theirs was much better, so I kept this one for myself. :) The last bit of flash fiction turned itself into a oneshot so I'll be posting that in a few days once I can edit it. That being said, please enjoy!
For starfire201
Prompt: JazzxStarscream, Bayverse, a little bit dangerous
Fandom: Bayverse, pre-films. Warnings: ooc maybe, fluff, bit o' angst
“You do know that he's going to kill you?”
His lover smirks, a touch too confident. “He will try,” Starscream says with a twitch of his wings. “He will not succeed.”
Jazz snorts, a sound he picked up from an organic on his last mission. He's found it oddly useful. He's picked up a few others, too: sighing, coughing, sneezing. The latter amuses Starscream greatly.
Some orn, when this war is through, maybe they'll go there together. As a vacation. By the time Jazz left, the organics had been fond of him. It would be a good planet for Cybertronians to visit. Right now, there aren't many like that left in the universe.
“I should go instead,” Jazz says as he returns to the task at hand, stripping Starscream of every last definable color on his armor. “I'd be more believable.”
“We are both suited,” Starscream replies. “But we also both know he doesn't need another one of your kind. He needs an Air Commander now that Dreadwing is incapacitated. Name one other who is more suited than myself.”
Ah, and there's the arrogance that Jazz knows so well. The confidence, too. Starscream is many things, but uncertain is not one of them.
“And if the rumors are true?” Jazz asks, circling around to get to Starscream's back, careful as always with the wings.
“You mean, if he's altering a mech's primary coding? Impossible. It can't be done,” says Starscream, playfully twitching a wing. “He'd have an army of dead soldiers, not willing warriors. You can't alter that kind of coding without causing a cascade effect.”
“But if he can...?”
“He cannot,” Starscream says, tone firm.
Jazz sighs a ventilation. “Then let me code your firewalls. You know mine are the best.”
Starscream chuckles, his field reaching for Jazz's and giving him a comforting stroke. “No. Prowl's are the best, and you and I both know it. He's already agreed to bolster what I have.”
“You're not programmed for long-term, deep cover,” Jazz argues because frag it, he's got a feeling. It's not rooted in logic, but something spark deep. This isn't going to work like they all want –need-- it to. Something's going to go wrong.
If Megatron were sane, if he operated on logic, then maybe, maybe this could work. But if that were true, then this whole war wouldn't exist in the first place.
“And this is not, precisely, a covert mission,” Starscram replies.
“Frag it, you have an answer for everything, don't you?”
“Not everything, but for your arguments, yes.” Starscream reaches behind himself with those oddly long arms and snags Jazz, distracting him from his paint-stripping.
He grumbles as he's pulled into his partner's arms, muttering about how much larger than him Starscream is. Though that's always been the case. Jazz is a ground-based form; Starscream is a flier. They are never going to be similar in stature.
Jazz huffs. “You're going to get yourself killed.”
“And you're going to have to trust that I know what I'm doing,” Starscream says, his red optics gleaming back at Jazz. “After all, I do the same after you've been sent on one of your little walks, haven't I?”
Jazz goes over several arguments in his helm before he squares his jaw and thumps his fist on Starscream's chestplate. “There's no winning with you,” he mutters.
Starscream doesn’t bother to conceal his smug grin. “No, there isn't. Which is why this is going to work. Megatron doesn't stand a chance.”
Jazz wants to believe that. But his instincts tell him otherwise. It's clear there's no convincing Starscream otherwise, however, so the best he can do is prepare his lover to the best of his abilities.
This has to work.
Prompt: Bluestreak/Megatron, courtship, gunkink, any method
Title: Taking the Leader
Fandom: Transformers G1. Warnings: implications of smut, dirty talk, flirtations
a/n: The last flash fiction response should be up in a couple of days, I promise. Next flash fiction day will actually be a Prompt Palooza day like I did last year since I had so much fun with that. It'll be on April 1st.
Feedback, as always, is welcome and appreciated. I hope you enjoyed!
For starfire201
Prompt: JazzxStarscream, Bayverse, a little bit dangerous
Fandom: Bayverse, pre-films. Warnings: ooc maybe, fluff, bit o' angst
“You do know that he's going to kill you?”
His lover smirks, a touch too confident. “He will try,” Starscream says with a twitch of his wings. “He will not succeed.”
Jazz snorts, a sound he picked up from an organic on his last mission. He's found it oddly useful. He's picked up a few others, too: sighing, coughing, sneezing. The latter amuses Starscream greatly.
Some orn, when this war is through, maybe they'll go there together. As a vacation. By the time Jazz left, the organics had been fond of him. It would be a good planet for Cybertronians to visit. Right now, there aren't many like that left in the universe.
“I should go instead,” Jazz says as he returns to the task at hand, stripping Starscream of every last definable color on his armor. “I'd be more believable.”
“We are both suited,” Starscream replies. “But we also both know he doesn't need another one of your kind. He needs an Air Commander now that Dreadwing is incapacitated. Name one other who is more suited than myself.”
Ah, and there's the arrogance that Jazz knows so well. The confidence, too. Starscream is many things, but uncertain is not one of them.
“And if the rumors are true?” Jazz asks, circling around to get to Starscream's back, careful as always with the wings.
“You mean, if he's altering a mech's primary coding? Impossible. It can't be done,” says Starscream, playfully twitching a wing. “He'd have an army of dead soldiers, not willing warriors. You can't alter that kind of coding without causing a cascade effect.”
“But if he can...?”
“He cannot,” Starscream says, tone firm.
Jazz sighs a ventilation. “Then let me code your firewalls. You know mine are the best.”
Starscream chuckles, his field reaching for Jazz's and giving him a comforting stroke. “No. Prowl's are the best, and you and I both know it. He's already agreed to bolster what I have.”
“You're not programmed for long-term, deep cover,” Jazz argues because frag it, he's got a feeling. It's not rooted in logic, but something spark deep. This isn't going to work like they all want –need-- it to. Something's going to go wrong.
If Megatron were sane, if he operated on logic, then maybe, maybe this could work. But if that were true, then this whole war wouldn't exist in the first place.
“And this is not, precisely, a covert mission,” Starscram replies.
“Frag it, you have an answer for everything, don't you?”
“Not everything, but for your arguments, yes.” Starscream reaches behind himself with those oddly long arms and snags Jazz, distracting him from his paint-stripping.
He grumbles as he's pulled into his partner's arms, muttering about how much larger than him Starscream is. Though that's always been the case. Jazz is a ground-based form; Starscream is a flier. They are never going to be similar in stature.
Jazz huffs. “You're going to get yourself killed.”
“And you're going to have to trust that I know what I'm doing,” Starscream says, his red optics gleaming back at Jazz. “After all, I do the same after you've been sent on one of your little walks, haven't I?”
Jazz goes over several arguments in his helm before he squares his jaw and thumps his fist on Starscream's chestplate. “There's no winning with you,” he mutters.
Starscream doesn’t bother to conceal his smug grin. “No, there isn't. Which is why this is going to work. Megatron doesn't stand a chance.”
Jazz wants to believe that. But his instincts tell him otherwise. It's clear there's no convincing Starscream otherwise, however, so the best he can do is prepare his lover to the best of his abilities.
This has to work.
Prompt: Bluestreak/Megatron, courtship, gunkink, any method
Title: Taking the Leader
Fandom: Transformers G1. Warnings: implications of smut, dirty talk, flirtations
The challenge had been laid but the only one more surprised by Bluestreak's victory was Bluestreak himself.
“Well,” he said, doorwings fluttering as he looked up at the massive Decepticon warlord, fingers twitching in remembrance. “I didn't see that coming.”
“I did!” Jazz announced, only to be tackled into silence by a half-dozen Autobots, all eager to see what happened next. A few Decepticons looked envious of the pile of heated frames, though until the victory was declared and consummated, they wouldn't be allowed to enjoy.
Megatron's lips curled with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction. “I should have guessed,” he said, rich vocal tones washing through Bluestreak's audials and making him shiver. “A near-perfect score.”
Bluestreak's internals squirmed with arousal. Pre-competition jitters had made his first shot off the mark, but once he'd become accustomed to the weight and power and – Primus, he pressurized just thinking about it – grip, it was smooth sailing.
“Well,” he said, again, with a smile. And was he flirting with Megatron? “I had the best weapon for the job.”
Yes, yes he was. Completely. But who wouldn't?
Megatron gave him a startled look, but then burst into laughter, field flush with pride and approval. “One you handled with utmost skill,” he said.
Bluestreak's field spiked, cooling fans bursting to life. Megatron was flirting with him in return. Megatron was flirting with him. It took all the self-control he had not to suddenly start pawing at the Decepticon warlord like a starved mech. Just the knowledge that he was soon going to be taking Megatron in front of Autobot and Decepticon alike was enough to make his spike throb behind his panel. He sent another override to keep it locked in place, though he was rapidly losing the battle.
“That's not all he's good at handling!” someone from the crowd shouted and Bluestreak knew that if he looked, Sideswipe would be there with a slag-eating grin.
Bluestreak's faceplate burned hotter.
“Is that so?” Megatron asked, field pulsing with intrigue.
Time to summon up all the gall Bluestreak had in storage. “Yes,” he said, and reached out, dragging a finger down the barrel of Megatron's fusion cannon, remembering all too well the power it contained. A sharp pulse of desire attacked him as static danced along the barrel. “And now I'm going to show you.”
“Well,” he said, doorwings fluttering as he looked up at the massive Decepticon warlord, fingers twitching in remembrance. “I didn't see that coming.”
“I did!” Jazz announced, only to be tackled into silence by a half-dozen Autobots, all eager to see what happened next. A few Decepticons looked envious of the pile of heated frames, though until the victory was declared and consummated, they wouldn't be allowed to enjoy.
Megatron's lips curled with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction. “I should have guessed,” he said, rich vocal tones washing through Bluestreak's audials and making him shiver. “A near-perfect score.”
Bluestreak's internals squirmed with arousal. Pre-competition jitters had made his first shot off the mark, but once he'd become accustomed to the weight and power and – Primus, he pressurized just thinking about it – grip, it was smooth sailing.
“Well,” he said, again, with a smile. And was he flirting with Megatron? “I had the best weapon for the job.”
Yes, yes he was. Completely. But who wouldn't?
Megatron gave him a startled look, but then burst into laughter, field flush with pride and approval. “One you handled with utmost skill,” he said.
Bluestreak's field spiked, cooling fans bursting to life. Megatron was flirting with him in return. Megatron was flirting with him. It took all the self-control he had not to suddenly start pawing at the Decepticon warlord like a starved mech. Just the knowledge that he was soon going to be taking Megatron in front of Autobot and Decepticon alike was enough to make his spike throb behind his panel. He sent another override to keep it locked in place, though he was rapidly losing the battle.
“That's not all he's good at handling!” someone from the crowd shouted and Bluestreak knew that if he looked, Sideswipe would be there with a slag-eating grin.
Bluestreak's faceplate burned hotter.
“Is that so?” Megatron asked, field pulsing with intrigue.
Time to summon up all the gall Bluestreak had in storage. “Yes,” he said, and reached out, dragging a finger down the barrel of Megatron's fusion cannon, remembering all too well the power it contained. A sharp pulse of desire attacked him as static danced along the barrel. “And now I'm going to show you.”
a/n: The last flash fiction response should be up in a couple of days, I promise. Next flash fiction day will actually be a Prompt Palooza day like I did last year since I had so much fun with that. It'll be on April 1st.
Feedback, as always, is welcome and appreciated. I hope you enjoyed!
