stolen from Clairza

[fahye]

Fuckit. I'm not getting any work done tonight.

Reply with an icon, and I'll write you a ficlet about it.

ETA: My brain has pretty much shut down, but I will keep writing these tomorrow; if you want to request one then do feel free to leave a comment :)

Comments

[fahye.livejournal.com]

(I will be! Still taking requests, certainly :D)

And I love that icon. So, SO much.

[tropes.livejournal.com]

For great variety:

[fahye.livejournal.com]

He tells her fairy tales when she's half asleep, her nose buried in the pillow and her fingers twined through his. Muggle fairy tales are odd things. When Sunny is there (rarer; she's the Big Girl now and she takes that seriously, but has no qualms about leaping into bed with her parents when the occasional whim takes her) the stories are vividly coloured and woven with cheerful morality. Princesses marry princes, and animals speak wise words, and all paths lead you to exactly where you need to be.

When it's just them, though, just them and the soft kind of nighttime silence that can only happen between two people whose love is old enough to have the new creases ironed out, to be worn and comfortable - when it's just them, Bernard strips away the fairy dust and weaves the darker meanings into the tales. Not everyone gets a happy ending.

She shivers, and holds his fingers tighter, but she likes the stories. They're far too unreal, in the details, to be frightening. Frightening is: waking up sweating because she is suddenly certain that Anthony's cries are of pain, not just hunger. Frightening is: the sudden flash of green behind her eyes, sometimes, just before she sleeps. Frightening is: remembering why she goes to work every day, and why some of the desks around her are empty.

Bernard runs his hand over her arm, her shoulder, presses a kiss to her cheek and says your turn.

The fairy stories she tells him aren't stories at all, just little anecdotes about Red Caps and boggarts and the creatures of her world, but he listens carefully and looks as fascinated as he does when he's designing explosives. He likes her fairy tales better. She likes his. It works out fine. They don't need to know the path in advance, and that's what makes it interesting.

Sunny draws them pictures of little girls wearing capes, and she is about to praise the vivid red of the garment when she realises that there's a bit too much red there.

- That's charming, sweetheart.

- Bwud! Sunny declares firmly.

- So I gather.

Bernard just grins at her whilst she's trying to tell him off, and it's hopelessly distracting. She gives up. He slips an arm about her waist and whispers happy ending in her ear, and that's all she needs to hear.

[tropes.livejournal.com]

Gosh.

Gosh, that's beautiful. Thank you.