fic
Ive written a couple of little fics so imma post them - well two of them, one is slightly longer than the others, so that'll come in a post after this one. Instead of a summary, I'm going to put the prompt they were based on, because all these were written for the ladyloves! f/f ficathon
Title: The Tangle Of Webs
Fandom: The Avengers
Pairing: Natasha/Sif
Prompt: she's so sweet with her get-back stare
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
The Avengers - Natasha/Sif - The tangle of webs
When they first meet, though she is an ally, the darker haired woman has a stare that places her as an unbeatable enemy.
They mirror each others stances, it is a battle hardened stance on each, a cold armoured salute of scars - but it also keeps them away from each other, able to study each other.
They cannot come closer. Their eyes build an impregnable force field, so they move around each other, edging and testing. Their eyes, light and dark, pull and push each other away in a perfect, painful synergy. Their hearts were shields, yet both of their little lonely beaters ebbed and flowed like the sea, black to red and back again.
She comes back, that goddess of war, after the last battle, to a place that can never be her home, and her face is cut and bruised. Though she had survived the same as her, the red haired woman cannot look at her. This is because when she does, she is gripped with a childish icy fear that clutches at her with the stubby fingers of a mewling child. It is the fear that the Lady Sif is not the same anymore somehow. That Sif had grown, been somehow affected like a regular person, a human person, when Natasha had not. She wondered if her life had dehumanized her without her permission, like someone in your room whilst you slept.
Sif’s eyes had softened. She was full of sweetness and delicacy now - as if whatever had emboldened her before had been released with her wrath during the fighting, and so would begin anew, building until the next battle. Natasha hated this. She hated the fact Sif had taken her to a new impasse, with her sugary sweet whimpering doll eyes that had killed men. She wanted to get rid of the expression, replace it with the wary anger that came before it. She wanted to hit away the smallness, kiss it away with roughness and strength she knew lay behind it, buried somewhere.
She did. They pulled and clung in the cold night, with teeth and nails and hearts. Crushing against each other they swapped their own skins, strength and weakness, becoming intrinsically entwined underneath the cosmos that called one of them home.
Sif also found herself affected, unable to make any journey, except to her luring spider, whenever Natasha’s eyes met hers and said “come here.”
Title: The Unpure
Fandom: True Love
Pairing: Karen/Holly
Prompt: and though I'm her teacher I should see a preacher for the thoughts running through my head
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
True Love - Karen/Holly - The Unpure
Since that day in the kitchen, when her tear stained lips touched the small chapped girl lips of her paramour, it was like everything else around the girl was a blur, and for Holly, there then existed only her.
Her eyes dragged themselves to Karen by their own accord. Her fingers ached to reach for her. She wanted to stand up and shout at the formless figures that hemmed Karen in, away from her, trapping her in their writhing adolescent masses.
She bit her lip, and didn’t smile at her, or cry at her, at least not at school. On occasion she would allow her self the smallest mercy’s - a glance in the corridor, a subtle compliment and even once, when they were lucky, she was able to take hold of her hand in one of the inevitable crushing crowds that accompanied a hundred plus teens trying to get to the same place.
Because of course they could not be open or free as they wished for those torturous six hours of the school day. After an intimate night with her immaculate secret, Holly would arrive at the school and see her lover become as she was in the light, a child of sixteen who seemed to know as much and as little of the world as she did.
It was then she remembered she was supposed to prepare her for the world. Instead what the hell was she doing? Forcing her into it head first? It was like instead of throwing the girl a lifeline, she was telling her to wade into the waves of the sea they so often stared at together. It was wrong of her, she was her teacher, and she was putting Karen and herself into indescribable danger.
She was her teacher, but Karen held sway over her, and she was inescapable and forbidden. She hated the fact that she loved her, that the unassuming crystal eyed Karen could destroy her life with a touch at the wrong time. A touch any time, and yet that was all Holly wanted.
To be able to touch another person without persecution, what an adventure that would be! First a married man and now a school girl. Holly was a sinner, had she corrupted the others? The thoughts inside her she spread to other people, perhaps to Karen, and caught them in her lusty gaze.
But she couldn’t stop any of it. The need or the guilt. She couldn’t confess either side of her feelings. Instead she poured over Karen’s work, her words, hoping some were meant for her, hoping the tiny figures Karen painted were them, in the distance, away from this school, away from those that would damn them, away from a burning feeling of wrongness and resentment. Away from a world with rules that they should have followed devoutly, but broke in earnest night after night in Holly’s bed.
Neither of them turned out to be very devout, after all. They confessed themselves to each other in the dark. They needed no preacher on those nights, Karen was Holly’s biblical remedy, a constant presence, she had a holy kind of purity that faded and cracked as they descended together.
Title: The Tangle Of Webs
Fandom: The Avengers
Pairing: Natasha/Sif
Prompt: she's so sweet with her get-back stare
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
The Avengers - Natasha/Sif - The tangle of webs
When they first meet, though she is an ally, the darker haired woman has a stare that places her as an unbeatable enemy.
They mirror each others stances, it is a battle hardened stance on each, a cold armoured salute of scars - but it also keeps them away from each other, able to study each other.
They cannot come closer. Their eyes build an impregnable force field, so they move around each other, edging and testing. Their eyes, light and dark, pull and push each other away in a perfect, painful synergy. Their hearts were shields, yet both of their little lonely beaters ebbed and flowed like the sea, black to red and back again.
She comes back, that goddess of war, after the last battle, to a place that can never be her home, and her face is cut and bruised. Though she had survived the same as her, the red haired woman cannot look at her. This is because when she does, she is gripped with a childish icy fear that clutches at her with the stubby fingers of a mewling child. It is the fear that the Lady Sif is not the same anymore somehow. That Sif had grown, been somehow affected like a regular person, a human person, when Natasha had not. She wondered if her life had dehumanized her without her permission, like someone in your room whilst you slept.
Sif’s eyes had softened. She was full of sweetness and delicacy now - as if whatever had emboldened her before had been released with her wrath during the fighting, and so would begin anew, building until the next battle. Natasha hated this. She hated the fact Sif had taken her to a new impasse, with her sugary sweet whimpering doll eyes that had killed men. She wanted to get rid of the expression, replace it with the wary anger that came before it. She wanted to hit away the smallness, kiss it away with roughness and strength she knew lay behind it, buried somewhere.
She did. They pulled and clung in the cold night, with teeth and nails and hearts. Crushing against each other they swapped their own skins, strength and weakness, becoming intrinsically entwined underneath the cosmos that called one of them home.
Sif also found herself affected, unable to make any journey, except to her luring spider, whenever Natasha’s eyes met hers and said “come here.”
Title: The Unpure
Fandom: True Love
Pairing: Karen/Holly
Prompt: and though I'm her teacher I should see a preacher for the thoughts running through my head
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
True Love - Karen/Holly - The Unpure
Since that day in the kitchen, when her tear stained lips touched the small chapped girl lips of her paramour, it was like everything else around the girl was a blur, and for Holly, there then existed only her.
Her eyes dragged themselves to Karen by their own accord. Her fingers ached to reach for her. She wanted to stand up and shout at the formless figures that hemmed Karen in, away from her, trapping her in their writhing adolescent masses.
She bit her lip, and didn’t smile at her, or cry at her, at least not at school. On occasion she would allow her self the smallest mercy’s - a glance in the corridor, a subtle compliment and even once, when they were lucky, she was able to take hold of her hand in one of the inevitable crushing crowds that accompanied a hundred plus teens trying to get to the same place.
Because of course they could not be open or free as they wished for those torturous six hours of the school day. After an intimate night with her immaculate secret, Holly would arrive at the school and see her lover become as she was in the light, a child of sixteen who seemed to know as much and as little of the world as she did.
It was then she remembered she was supposed to prepare her for the world. Instead what the hell was she doing? Forcing her into it head first? It was like instead of throwing the girl a lifeline, she was telling her to wade into the waves of the sea they so often stared at together. It was wrong of her, she was her teacher, and she was putting Karen and herself into indescribable danger.
She was her teacher, but Karen held sway over her, and she was inescapable and forbidden. She hated the fact that she loved her, that the unassuming crystal eyed Karen could destroy her life with a touch at the wrong time. A touch any time, and yet that was all Holly wanted.
To be able to touch another person without persecution, what an adventure that would be! First a married man and now a school girl. Holly was a sinner, had she corrupted the others? The thoughts inside her she spread to other people, perhaps to Karen, and caught them in her lusty gaze.
But she couldn’t stop any of it. The need or the guilt. She couldn’t confess either side of her feelings. Instead she poured over Karen’s work, her words, hoping some were meant for her, hoping the tiny figures Karen painted were them, in the distance, away from this school, away from those that would damn them, away from a burning feeling of wrongness and resentment. Away from a world with rules that they should have followed devoutly, but broke in earnest night after night in Holly’s bed.
Neither of them turned out to be very devout, after all. They confessed themselves to each other in the dark. They needed no preacher on those nights, Karen was Holly’s biblical remedy, a constant presence, she had a holy kind of purity that faded and cracked as they descended together.