2 commentfics (Avengers, Les Mis)
Fandom: Avengers
Characters: Clint, Natasha
Rating: PG
Prompt: any, any, women drivers, no survivors!
Clint whiteknuckled his bow as Natasha swerved around another tight corner, scraping the paint off the van's left side in the process.
"Want me to pull over and find a pukebag?" she asked, narrowly missing a pair of pedestrians, who dove out of the way just in time.
"Nah, I'm good."
Natasha glanced at the wing mirror, which was cracked but still attached. She rolled down the window. "They're gaining. Take the wheel."
"Tasha--" But she had pulled her handgun from its holster and was leaning out the car window. Biting back curses, Clint lunged over the gearshift and jerked on the wheel just in time to prevent them from running into a lamppost. There were three gunshots and then she slid back inside, looking pleased.
"No survivors," she reported calmly, holstering her gun as she retook control of the car. "Back to base."
*
Fandom: Les Misérables
Characters: Enjolras
Rating: PG
Prompt: Les Miserables, Enjolras, Some nights I wish that my lips could build a castle
Some nights I wish they'd just fall off
Sometimes when he speaks, the words soar. Beautiful words, perfect words, falling from his lips like a waterfall, crashing down on their heads and making them think. Sometimes he inspires and riles and when he closes his mouth people nod at each other and murmur yes, yes, that's right or when he closes his mouth it's because they're yelling, screaming, shrieking their outrage at the injustices done, ready to give all they have for his cause. His words build an army.
But sometimes his tongue is clumsy in his mouth, and every word he says is wrong. Not the meaning behind them, that is always the same, but the words themselves crash into each other, some too big and some too small, never fitting together like he wants them to. The people stare at him with blank faces, uncomprehending, uninspired. Some complain and throw things. Most simply wander away.
Those days, even his own belief in the cause starts to wane.
Characters: Clint, Natasha
Rating: PG
Prompt: any, any, women drivers, no survivors!
Clint whiteknuckled his bow as Natasha swerved around another tight corner, scraping the paint off the van's left side in the process.
"Want me to pull over and find a pukebag?" she asked, narrowly missing a pair of pedestrians, who dove out of the way just in time.
"Nah, I'm good."
Natasha glanced at the wing mirror, which was cracked but still attached. She rolled down the window. "They're gaining. Take the wheel."
"Tasha--" But she had pulled her handgun from its holster and was leaning out the car window. Biting back curses, Clint lunged over the gearshift and jerked on the wheel just in time to prevent them from running into a lamppost. There were three gunshots and then she slid back inside, looking pleased.
"No survivors," she reported calmly, holstering her gun as she retook control of the car. "Back to base."
*
Fandom: Les Misérables
Characters: Enjolras
Rating: PG
Prompt: Les Miserables, Enjolras, Some nights I wish that my lips could build a castle
Some nights I wish they'd just fall off
Sometimes when he speaks, the words soar. Beautiful words, perfect words, falling from his lips like a waterfall, crashing down on their heads and making them think. Sometimes he inspires and riles and when he closes his mouth people nod at each other and murmur yes, yes, that's right or when he closes his mouth it's because they're yelling, screaming, shrieking their outrage at the injustices done, ready to give all they have for his cause. His words build an army.
But sometimes his tongue is clumsy in his mouth, and every word he says is wrong. Not the meaning behind them, that is always the same, but the words themselves crash into each other, some too big and some too small, never fitting together like he wants them to. The people stare at him with blank faces, uncomprehending, uninspired. Some complain and throw things. Most simply wander away.
Those days, even his own belief in the cause starts to wane.