Flash Fiction (Take Five - Part Two)
Jan. 16th, 2011 11:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: So... yeah. Today I have more flash fiction. Today I have more attempts to write new fandoms. Today I have more failed attempts to write new fandom. I do not know how to write British English. I fail at writing Sanzo. Utterly fail.
Still, I hope you find amusement nonetheless.
For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
gokuma
Prompt: beast, Hakkai/Remus or Sirius/Hakkai
Sirius Black is owned by J.K. Rowling and Sanzo's party, though not explicitly named, is from the anime/manga Saiyuki by Kazuya Minekura. There are kinda spoilers here, if you don't know of Sirius' fate and there's an abundance of OOC. Also, no Brit English was utilized in the writing of this fic, and... yeah, there's no actual pairing here. Consider it pre-slash. lol.
For: yamitoyoru
Prompt: Gojyo/Sanzo, “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails
Gojyo and Sanzo are characters from the anime/manga Saiyuki by Kazuya Minekura. This one is definitely NSFW and inspired entirely by the song. It's full of mansex. *grins* Also, beware the rampant OOC.
For mistress_pirate
Prompt: Mustang/Hawkeye, scorched earth
Riza Hawkeye and Roy Mustang are characters from the anime/manga Fullmetal Alchemist by Hiromu Arakawa. This fic is set in an inbetween canon consisting of both the 2003 animated series and the manga itself. Unfortunately, romance didn't make an appearance, but there's some nice Riza/Roy bonding!
Phew. Those were quite challenging. I hope you enjoyed them nonetheless!
Still, I hope you find amusement nonetheless.
For
gokuma Prompt: beast, Hakkai/Remus or Sirius/Hakkai
Sirius Black is owned by J.K. Rowling and Sanzo's party, though not explicitly named, is from the anime/manga Saiyuki by Kazuya Minekura. There are kinda spoilers here, if you don't know of Sirius' fate and there's an abundance of OOC. Also, no Brit English was utilized in the writing of this fic, and... yeah, there's no actual pairing here. Consider it pre-slash. lol.
“It seems we have ourselves in quite a quandary,” the man chuckles, his grin light, but shadowed by danger. Intelligence gleams darkly in his eyes, along with a keen killing instinct. Sirius is not so stupid that he doesn't recognize it.
“So it would seem,” he says, but never lowers his wand. He's fallen through the veil. He should be dead.
He should not be standing here in the middle of a dusty road in some foreign land facing down three odd men with various bits of medieval weaponry. Except for the girly guy in the robes. For some reason, the priest has a gun, and it is pointed at Sirius.
It's the bespectacled chap that's speaking to Sirius. The others keep muttering in a language Sirius knows isn't English, but he'll be damned if he understands it.
The little guy is laughing, bouncing from foot to foot, grin stretching ear to ear in genuine glee. And the red-haired fellow is calmly smoking a cigarette, hands tucked in his pockets. He seems content to leave the negotiations to his companions.
If Sirius could even call this tense situation a negotiation. Hell, his sudden appearance in the back of their jeep – which turned into a dragon by the way, what the fuck? – wasn't Sirius' fault. He is supposed to be dead. Not here, wherever here is.
“Are you, perhaps, an assassin sent by Gyumaoh?” the bespectacled chap asks.
Sirius blinks. “Are you one of the Dark Lord's loyal pets?” he counters, figuring that his question must be just as insulting as the one the other man must have asked. Though Sirius has no idea who this Gyumo must be.
“Hmm.” The man says something to his friends that makes the kid pout in disappointment and the red-head shrug. The girly priest sneers, but he lowers his gun.
Sirius, however, is not so easily convinced. His wand doesn't waver. “I still haven't gotten any answers!” he calls out.
Green eyes turn his direction – they really are a nice color, that green. Like James', only much darker, and Sirius isn't referring to the shade. “It seems to be a long story, stranger. Care to join us for dinner while we exchange tales?”
The invitation seems to come out of nowhere, but before Sirius thinks to protest, his stomach growls. He figures, what the hell. He's already dead. What more could they possibly do to him? So he shrugs and flashes them a fang-bearing grin.
“Sure. Why not?”
“So it would seem,” he says, but never lowers his wand. He's fallen through the veil. He should be dead.
He should not be standing here in the middle of a dusty road in some foreign land facing down three odd men with various bits of medieval weaponry. Except for the girly guy in the robes. For some reason, the priest has a gun, and it is pointed at Sirius.
It's the bespectacled chap that's speaking to Sirius. The others keep muttering in a language Sirius knows isn't English, but he'll be damned if he understands it.
The little guy is laughing, bouncing from foot to foot, grin stretching ear to ear in genuine glee. And the red-haired fellow is calmly smoking a cigarette, hands tucked in his pockets. He seems content to leave the negotiations to his companions.
If Sirius could even call this tense situation a negotiation. Hell, his sudden appearance in the back of their jeep – which turned into a dragon by the way, what the fuck? – wasn't Sirius' fault. He is supposed to be dead. Not here, wherever here is.
“Are you, perhaps, an assassin sent by Gyumaoh?” the bespectacled chap asks.
Sirius blinks. “Are you one of the Dark Lord's loyal pets?” he counters, figuring that his question must be just as insulting as the one the other man must have asked. Though Sirius has no idea who this Gyumo must be.
“Hmm.” The man says something to his friends that makes the kid pout in disappointment and the red-head shrug. The girly priest sneers, but he lowers his gun.
Sirius, however, is not so easily convinced. His wand doesn't waver. “I still haven't gotten any answers!” he calls out.
Green eyes turn his direction – they really are a nice color, that green. Like James', only much darker, and Sirius isn't referring to the shade. “It seems to be a long story, stranger. Care to join us for dinner while we exchange tales?”
The invitation seems to come out of nowhere, but before Sirius thinks to protest, his stomach growls. He figures, what the hell. He's already dead. What more could they possibly do to him? So he shrugs and flashes them a fang-bearing grin.
“Sure. Why not?”
yamitoyoru Prompt: Gojyo/Sanzo, “Closer” by Nine Inch Nails
Gojyo and Sanzo are characters from the anime/manga Saiyuki by Kazuya Minekura. This one is definitely NSFW and inspired entirely by the song. It's full of mansex. *grins* Also, beware the rampant OOC.
Calloused hands fist hair the color of a dying sunset. Not blood but a dying sunset. Fire streaking across a pale blue sky from a day soon to be swallowed by night.
Sweat paints pale skin, turning it slick. Large hands make a grab for him, and slide across the soaked flesh. There's a chuckle, dark and smoky, and Sanzo's insides twist a little more. The mattress beneath him creaks. He grits his teeth, shoves his body down, and feels his lover shudder, feels the hands make another grab for sweat-slick flesh.
There's a scent of something cool and fresh, like the spray of a waterfall or the chill of wintergreen. There's tobacco and aftershave. Sanzo inhales deeply and his head spins.
His skin is on fire, a fire to match the sunset, and he growls deep in his throat, feels the very same fire twist through his gut in a blaze. The hand that glides down his chest, across his abdomen, teases at his navel, is moving slowly. Too slowly for Sanzo's liking.
He snarls at that damn kappa to get on with it.
Gojyo smirks, a curl of his lips that Sanzo loves to hate. “I'll get to it when I'm ready,” he drawls, and dips his head, mouthing at an exposed collarbone.
Lips and teeth and tongue leave steaks of red in their wake. Sanzo's fought, time and time again, about those marks. But they're covered by his clothes anyway, what does it matter. No one will see them. No one will know if he sometimes drags his finger over his covered clavicle, where his skin itches and throbs hours after Gojyo's teeth marked him.
Sanzo pants, can't hardly draw a breath as those sinful lips travel lower, latching on a nipple and pulling hard. It should hurt, and maybe it does a little, but more than that is the pleasure that ripples through his body. It makes Sanzo's back arch, makes his thighs tense, and a cry catches in his throat. He grits his teeth again, sweat making his hair cling stickily to the back of his neck and the sides of his face.
He grips those crimson strands tighter, pulls at Gojyo's scalp, but of course the masochistic bastard doesn't even flinch. He just chuckles again and grabs Sanzo's hip, tight enough to leave bruises. He circles his hips, pushes into Sanzo with a slow motion, pulls back out again, thrusts again and again, until he's so full he can hardly breathe, but likes it that way anyway.
“Better hold on, Sanzo,” Gojyo says, letting go of his nipple with a wet pop that sounds all too lewd when it echoes in the room. “Because I'm aiming to break the bed this time.”
Sanzo snarls, his glare a match for Gojyo's perverted leer. “Go ahead and try,” he challenges, and when scarlet eyes darken, Sanzo's entire body shivers. It's about damn time that idiot kappa gets serious.
Sweat paints pale skin, turning it slick. Large hands make a grab for him, and slide across the soaked flesh. There's a chuckle, dark and smoky, and Sanzo's insides twist a little more. The mattress beneath him creaks. He grits his teeth, shoves his body down, and feels his lover shudder, feels the hands make another grab for sweat-slick flesh.
There's a scent of something cool and fresh, like the spray of a waterfall or the chill of wintergreen. There's tobacco and aftershave. Sanzo inhales deeply and his head spins.
His skin is on fire, a fire to match the sunset, and he growls deep in his throat, feels the very same fire twist through his gut in a blaze. The hand that glides down his chest, across his abdomen, teases at his navel, is moving slowly. Too slowly for Sanzo's liking.
He snarls at that damn kappa to get on with it.
Gojyo smirks, a curl of his lips that Sanzo loves to hate. “I'll get to it when I'm ready,” he drawls, and dips his head, mouthing at an exposed collarbone.
Lips and teeth and tongue leave steaks of red in their wake. Sanzo's fought, time and time again, about those marks. But they're covered by his clothes anyway, what does it matter. No one will see them. No one will know if he sometimes drags his finger over his covered clavicle, where his skin itches and throbs hours after Gojyo's teeth marked him.
Sanzo pants, can't hardly draw a breath as those sinful lips travel lower, latching on a nipple and pulling hard. It should hurt, and maybe it does a little, but more than that is the pleasure that ripples through his body. It makes Sanzo's back arch, makes his thighs tense, and a cry catches in his throat. He grits his teeth again, sweat making his hair cling stickily to the back of his neck and the sides of his face.
He grips those crimson strands tighter, pulls at Gojyo's scalp, but of course the masochistic bastard doesn't even flinch. He just chuckles again and grabs Sanzo's hip, tight enough to leave bruises. He circles his hips, pushes into Sanzo with a slow motion, pulls back out again, thrusts again and again, until he's so full he can hardly breathe, but likes it that way anyway.
“Better hold on, Sanzo,” Gojyo says, letting go of his nipple with a wet pop that sounds all too lewd when it echoes in the room. “Because I'm aiming to break the bed this time.”
Sanzo snarls, his glare a match for Gojyo's perverted leer. “Go ahead and try,” he challenges, and when scarlet eyes darken, Sanzo's entire body shivers. It's about damn time that idiot kappa gets serious.
mistress_pirate Prompt: Mustang/Hawkeye, scorched earth
Riza Hawkeye and Roy Mustang are characters from the anime/manga Fullmetal Alchemist by Hiromu Arakawa. This fic is set in an inbetween canon consisting of both the 2003 animated series and the manga itself. Unfortunately, romance didn't make an appearance, but there's some nice Riza/Roy bonding!
For now, all she can see is blackened soil and scorched earth. It stretches for miles in either direction, and even the wind itself lies dormant. Silent and still.
She can't hear anything either. Not a whisper, not a stirring.
Just the taste of ash on her tongue.
Once upon a time there was a city here. It wasn't a grand city. In fact, it was probably closer to a town. But there were people living here. They had homes and families and businesses. They had life.
Now there are the remains of a fire. If one could even call the ash-streaked stone and the lingering odor of burning flesh “remains.” There are echoes, if she strains her hearing, echoes of screams Riza hadn't been present to hear, but linger nonetheless. Or had the citizens even time to scream?
Behind her, she hears the crunch of booted feet on charred stone. She knows, without looking, who approaches. She can always feel Roy; Riza will always know him. From his gait to his very presence.
“Did they even have a chance?” she asks, her voice too loud in the silence, too harsh and irreverent.
Roy stops just behind her. She can see him from the corner of her eye, and she has worked with him too long not to be able to read his expression. He feels the same heavy sense of loss, and Riza is certain he's thinking of another time, another war. This has probably thrown him right back into Ishval once more.
“No,” he says, his voice much softer. “Not one.” His voice is thick, with the unvoiced, with the regret. With the lost chances.
Riza sighs softly. This is yet one more weight that will settle heavily on Edward's shoulders. It began as such an innocent quest, and yet, somehow the poor child had become a figure-point in a deadly struggle.
She turns, away from the stark sight, and catches her superior's eyes. “We have to find Edward,” Riza says firmly.
“I know,” Roy says, and he reaches out, just once, and squeezes her on the shoulder. It's a companionable touch, one that falls away seconds later. Roy turns away, his boots crunching again over the gravel, and Riza recognizes the soft touch for the promise it is.
Roy won't allow something like this to happen again.
She can't hear anything either. Not a whisper, not a stirring.
Just the taste of ash on her tongue.
Once upon a time there was a city here. It wasn't a grand city. In fact, it was probably closer to a town. But there were people living here. They had homes and families and businesses. They had life.
Now there are the remains of a fire. If one could even call the ash-streaked stone and the lingering odor of burning flesh “remains.” There are echoes, if she strains her hearing, echoes of screams Riza hadn't been present to hear, but linger nonetheless. Or had the citizens even time to scream?
Behind her, she hears the crunch of booted feet on charred stone. She knows, without looking, who approaches. She can always feel Roy; Riza will always know him. From his gait to his very presence.
“Did they even have a chance?” she asks, her voice too loud in the silence, too harsh and irreverent.
Roy stops just behind her. She can see him from the corner of her eye, and she has worked with him too long not to be able to read his expression. He feels the same heavy sense of loss, and Riza is certain he's thinking of another time, another war. This has probably thrown him right back into Ishval once more.
“No,” he says, his voice much softer. “Not one.” His voice is thick, with the unvoiced, with the regret. With the lost chances.
Riza sighs softly. This is yet one more weight that will settle heavily on Edward's shoulders. It began as such an innocent quest, and yet, somehow the poor child had become a figure-point in a deadly struggle.
She turns, away from the stark sight, and catches her superior's eyes. “We have to find Edward,” Riza says firmly.
“I know,” Roy says, and he reaches out, just once, and squeezes her on the shoulder. It's a companionable touch, one that falls away seconds later. Roy turns away, his boots crunching again over the gravel, and Riza recognizes the soft touch for the promise it is.
Roy won't allow something like this to happen again.
Phew. Those were quite challenging. I hope you enjoyed them nonetheless!
