Fandom: Dragon Age
Archive Warning: Major (kinda) Character Death
Genre: Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Age Difference, Grief/Mourning
Pairing: Morrigan/Wynne
Rating: M
Chapters: 1/1
Summary:
**SPOILERS for Dragon Age: Asunder (and all of DA really but definitely Asunder)**
Morrigan leaned back in her chair and sighed. “I intend to set root in Orlais.”
Wynne had to stop herself from spitting her drink, an attempt that felt rather unbecoming, “Maker, for what reason?”
The witch responded to Wynne’s exclamation with a deep laugh. For the first time since their reunion, Wynne noted the maturation of Morrigan’s voice, as well as the crinkling at the edge of her eyes, the delicate lines framing her mouth, and a few subtle strands of silver emerging hesitantly from her temple. All told a story of the lessons learned throughout her thirty-odd years. Morrigan’s voice shook the old mage from the trance of which she was not cognizant. “Precisely,” she stated, matter-of-fact. “‘Tis the perfect place to hide in plain sight.”
It was a chilly autumn night, and you were walking home from work, exhausted. Today the manager made you stay overtime to finish some extra paperwork. A warm bath sounded very appealing right now, and you smiled at the thought.
Wanting to get home quicker you decided to take a short cut through the forest. You didn’t think much of it considering you just had to walk straight ahead for a few meters and you would be at the other side.
You started to whistle to yourself, softly before you heard the sound of crunching leaves. You stopped abruptly, looking around your surroundings. The sound stopped just was quickly as it came, and you continued walking, feeling just a bit paranoid.
All of a sudden you heard what sounded like someone stepping on dry leaves. Turning around you let out a bloodcurdling scream, seeing someone quickly approaching you int the darkness, you then ran with all your might, trying to reach the other side of the forest before the dark figure could catch you. Unfortunately you felt a hand grab onto your shoulder and you were pulled backwards, your back slammed into a tree. You were a sobbing mess. “D-dont kill me, Don’t k-kill me!!!”
“[name], calm down.”
You felt warm hands press onto your cheeks, wiping the tears away. You opened your eyes and came face to face with your friend, Shouto Todoroki.
“T-Todoroki...?” You hiccuped, calming down upon realizing it was only your friend, “what are you doing here? You almost made me pass out!” You slapped his hand away, glaring at the boy.
“Well, I was out for a stroll, then I saw you walking into the forest. I called out for you, but I guess you didn’t hear me so I just thought I would follow you to make sure you made it home safe.”
“Thanks for looking out for me, but did you really have to sneak up on me like that? I thought I was going to die!”
“I apologize for scaring you-“ Todoroki paused staring intently at you, “you’re bleeding.” He grabbed onto your shoulders and turned you around, parting your hair, he found a fresh scrape on your shoulder. Most likely from when he pushed you into the tree.
“Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt at all.” You didn’t hear any reply from Todoroki so you continued, “Listen, it’s getting late, and I’m exhausted from work, so I really want to get home. I appreciate you checking on me, but I think I can make it back home safe now.”
Todoroki was strangely silent. You began to turn around to face him, a bit worried. “Todo-ACK!” You we’re suddenly pushed harshly to the tree, the bark digging into your cheek. You could feel Todoroki pressing up against you, and he used one of his hands to restrain both your hands behind your back in a tight lock.
“What are you doing?! Todoroki...you’re hurting me!” You cried out, confused on why your friend was doing this. You felt his warm breathe near your shoulder, and he began to breath in a ragged pattern.
“You have no idea how good you smell right now [name]....” he dipped his head closer to your bloody wound, his tongue licking up the drops of blood from your shoulder.
You shivered in disgust, “Todoroki what’s wrong with you?!!! Let go of me!” You started to try and wiggle out of his grasp but it was no use.
“I’ve been waiting so long to have a taste of you...” he murmured, his head trailing towards your neck.
You didn’t understand what he meant by that until you felt two pointed teeth trail along your neck. “S-stop..!!”
He plunged his fangs into your neck, a few ribbons of red blood dribbled down from the wound, creating a path down your body. “So sweet..” he panted.
The skin on your neck where he bit you felt like liquid fire, and your mind started to get hazy. The shock overwhelming. “Todo....roki...” you weakly lifted up one of your arms, pushing against his chest but it was no use. Your consciousness fading as your eyes started to close, and your body fell limp against him. Todoroki slowly pulled his fangs from your flesh, taking a glance at your unconscious form. He quickly sobered up and tapped your cheek waiting to see for a response. Nothing. Todoroki face scrunched up in regret. “ i thought I had control over my urges... I’m sorry (name).” He picked you up and decided to take you back to his apartment. When he used his vampiric abilities to speed away he failed to notice another figure watching you both from the shadows.
Titled fanfic1 so you can find the next part easier using the tags!
Fandom: The Nanny
Genre: AU, Grace & Frankie AU, AU - Modern, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Comedy, Eventual Romance (it’s not sad forever; there are funny parts I promise)
Pairing: Fran Fine/C.C. Babcock, C.C. Babcock/Niles, Fran Fine/Maxwell Sheffield
Rating: T+
Chapters: 1/7
Word Count: 4,002 (Ch. 1)
Summary: Part of it—most of it, Fran was sure—was the grief. Who wanted to wash the dishes when their husband just died? Who had the energy to do laundry when their dead husband’s dirty clothes sat in the hamper, waiting to be acknowledged? Who noticed insignificant bits of trash when something so significant had turned their life upside down? Fran couldn’t. She had Niles to help her, and now C.C. had Fran. Which would be fine—wonderful, even—if C.C. would acknowledge Fran’s existence outside of expressions of contempt and jabs that echoed the sentiments of a 30-something-year-old C.C. who felt threated by the new nanny.
Author’s Note: After I started working on this fic, I saw a post on Tumblr about how Fran and C.C. are basically Grace and Frankie pre-show, and...yeah. So here you go. A Grace & Frankie AU, but instead of Niles and Max running off together, they've died, and Fran and C.C. are having to learn how to live together all over again. I've tried to strike a balance of inspiration from various Grace and Frankie plot points but still having this story be its own!
I'm hoping to update regularly, but I'm a full-time grad student, so I can't guarantee consistency. Please be patient, I'll try :')
Authors: @vidiabell (13pens), @laun-sina (babsbaby), and @ccfine (DoctorPiper)
Fandom: The Nanny
Genre: AU (Canon Divergence)/Humor/Romance/Fluff/Enemies to Lovers
Pairing: Fran Fine/C.C. Babcock
Rating: T+
Chapters: 4 (complete)
Word Count: 15,411
Summary: “Ms. Babcock is just a very misunderstood woman. She’s got a good heart,” Fran declared with the utmost sincerity.
“Hmm, yes, she keeps it on the mantel.”
* * *
Or,
A short rewrite of The Nanny by a bunch of fruits.
Author’s Note: Hello everyone! We hope you enjoy this fic that we put our individual brain cells together to create. Each of us played a different writing role for every "episode", but of course everything is a sum greater than its parts. Some things to know:
1. We kept C.C. being a divorcee, as was in the original pilot script, with some other changes with her backstory (hint: it's gayer)
2. Some plots are rewrites of existing episodes, and some we just came up with.
3. For the most part, season 1 happens the same way. Enjoy!!
Summary: C.C. has been called to jury duty, and Fran decides to come along, placing C.C. in a very uncomfortable position considering the feelings she has been harboring for the nanny the last four years. To make matters worse, there's only one room left in the hotel.
Word Count: 2,826
Author’s Note: My first fic in six years, folks! I am currently neck deep in The Nanny hyper fixation, Fran x C.C. in particular, and I was inspired by my lovely friends and fellow shippers to write my first fic in years and very first fic for this pairing! Boy, have I come a long way since my Fran/Maxwell fanfic on Quizilla.com when I was 14-years-old. Interwoven with canon from S04E17: Samson, He Denied Her. Please enjoy!
This fic can also be found here on AO3.
“What’s that?”
“That’s...the nanny.”
_______
C.C. rolled onto her stomach, burying her face into her pillow, and groaned, the coolness of her satin pillowcase warming to match her body temperature a bit too quickly for her liking. As she shifted, contemplating whether to get up or relegate herself to a day in bed, ignoring all responsibility and...other stressors, an orange-brown fluff next to her feet growled.
Damn dog.
In order to prevent the mongrel from biting at her ankles, C.C. slowly pulled her legs up towards her chest before gently removing the covers, pushing herself up into a seated position, and scooting to let her legs hang off the side of the bed. She sighed and looked at her alarm clock.
5:30 AM
She had one of those dreams again. She was rarely the type to dream, but somehow her subconscious had been invaded by the intrusive thoughts she routinely pushed away during her waking hours. Sparkling red, a hand on her waist, her own hand tangled in a large nest of brown hair, and the recalled scent of scratch-and-sniff magazine perfume flashed through her mind before she could prevent it. She groaned again--loudly--and a retort, almost indistinguishable from her own guttural sound, emitted from the ball of fluff.
C.C. let out one more sigh before standing with renewed intention to have a good, productive day. She would bury her nose--and her mind--in her work. No one could get in the way of her and her job. She was the C.C. Babcock. She made her way to the kitchen and started her coffee maker. While she waited, she opened an envelope that she had left sitting on the table and froze, defeated.
_______
C.C. barged into Maxwell Sheffield’s office, ignoring the skip in her chest when she caught the image of brown, black, red, and white in her peripheral, accompanied by that--against all odds--alluring scent.
“Maxwell, you are not gonna believe this. I have been summoned for jury duty! Well, that is the last time I vote.”
The blur came closer. “Ms. Babcock, maybe I’ll go be on that jury with you.”
C.C. covered her panic with a chuckle. “Nanny Fine, you can’t just go.” This was it. The perfect moment for a witty jab. That would help. “It’s not like Supercuts.”
“Are you kidding? I’ve got a drawer full of those things. Besides, there’s nothing keeping me here.” Fran glared at Maxwell, and C.C. silently stepped out of the office as she heard the man’s voice raise, only making out an exasperated, “Ms. Fine!”
_______
“Oh I’ve just gotta get on this jury!”
As Fran blabbed on, C.C. tried not to focus on how close together they were sitting and how she could still feel the heat from the nanny’s hand on her knee, even after she had removed it. As Fran handed her a book, C.C. was given another chance at a jab. She gasped theatrically.
“You know him?”
“No. You read?”
Fran snatched the book out of C.C.’s hand, and C.C. laughed, the awareness of her leaning closer to Fran escaping her.
_______
“What do you mean there’s just one room left?” C.C. growled at the hotel receptionist.
The receptionist looked at the tall, blond woman towering above them nervously. “I-uh I’m sorry, ma’am, there are no other rooms available. Just the one.”
“But we have two people--” Fran gently placed her hand on C.C.’s shoulder and stepped in between her and the distressed receptionist.
“Are there two beds?” she asked, smiling.
“Y-yes,” the receptionist said hesitantly and then, more assured after calming down, “Yes, there are two beds.”
“See Babs? No harm, no foul,” Fran said brightly, squeezing C.C.’s shoulder as she reached over the counter to take the room key. As they walked towards their room, Fran went on and on about the plot of the romance novel she had shoved in C.C.’s hands earlier. C.C. focused on her breathing, trying to remain calm. She could feel the heat creep up her neck the moment the kid at the desk said they only had one room available, and now she didn’t even have to look to know she had red blotches all over her chest and cheeks. She couldn’t distinguish between her anger and...fear? No. C.C. Babcock was never scared.
“So then when he pulls her in--” holding the book close to her chest, Fran twirled around to face C.C. as she continued walking down the hallway backwards. “Ms. Babcock? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” C.C. responded curtly.
“You’re not having an allergic reaction, are you?” Fran rushed up to her and lifted her hand to examine C.C.’s face as she spoke. “You gotta be careful with shellfish! You know, my cousin, Ernie, never had an allergic reaction in his life. One day, 40 years old, he ate one fried shrimp and BAM --”
C.C. slapped Fran’s hand away, “I’m fine.” Her heart was racing.
“Okay, okay, sorry Mrs. Hyde.” Fran threw her hands in the air, and C.C. could have sworn she gave a tiny pout as she turned around and continued towards their room. When she opened the door, she paused, pulled it back to her, and turned. “You know, Ms. Babcock, we should celebrate! How about a drink? A whiskey. Bourbon. On me.” She winked then stood up straight with a stern look on her face, “ Well. Not top shelf.”
“Nanny Fine,” C.C. uttered through gritted teeth, “I just want to--” she pushed past Fran and opened the door “--lie down.” She stopped in the doorway, still as if she had come face-to-face with Medusa herself.
One bed stood in the room.
_______
The first night was somewhat tolerable. Fran was very kind to C.C., ensuring she was comfortable and that she did not take up too much of her space. C.C. reciprocated by keeping her distance as well. Falling asleep was another story. C.C. was the first to lie down. Being on the side of the bed facing the bathroom, she saw the nanny walk out, wearing one of her bathrobes. God, I hope she has something under that. She could hear the shuffling of the fabric as Fran let the robe fall to the floor and felt the weight in the bed shift as the other woman settled in. Before she could make sense of what was happening, she felt two swift pats on her hip. “Goodnight, Ms. Babcock!”
“Hm,” was the only confirmation she could utter.
C.C. was hyper aware of Fran’s presence. She measured the woman’s breathing and could tell by the slower, deeper breaths when she fell asleep. It took her a while to close her eyes. Every time she did, she saw Fran’s hand on her knee…
Her shoulder…
Her hip…
C.C. jolted awake from a half-sleep. She sighed and stared at the wall in the dark. The blackout curtains weren’t closed all the way, and she could see a sliver of light flash on the wall every once in a while. She could hear sirens, car horns, distant yelling, and sometimes a drunken laugh. She didn’t know what time it was, but it felt like she had been drifting in and out of almost-sleep for hours, still aware of the body radiating heat and energy next to her. What is it about Fran Fine? was the last thought that crossed her mind before she drifted into a very, very light sleep.
_______
C.C.’s eyes traveled down Fran’s figure as she stood up when Vincenzo approached the stand, her expression a mixture of endearment and bewilderment. Why her?, a question echoing the sentiment from the night before repeating in her mind. The rest of the day in the courtroom was filled with typical annoyances, with the exception of a moment of outburst from Fran that left C.C. with the sting of an emotion she couldn’t quite place in the moment as she softly pulled Fran’s arm down.
_______
The next day, C.C. pinpointed the emotion as Fran spoke. “See, that is what happens when a man tells you that he loves you and then he takes it back.”
Jealousy.
C.C.’s face was still until she realized her arms were full of snacks that Fran had been piling onto her.
“What are you looking for?”
“My Dexatrim,” Fran responded.
C.C. rolled her eyes and stuffed the food back into Fran’s bag, the thought popping into her mind again. Why her?
_______
She was exhausted. Eight days, hardly any sleep, and “a horse is a horse, of course, of course” stuck in her head practically 24/7, C.C. wanted to explode when she read the words on the slip of paper, “And one ‘not guilty’…,” followed by Fran convincing another juror to vote “not guilty.” Every time she thought she was going to escape her personal hell, she was dragged back down. She was Sisyphus, and Nanny Fine was her boulder.
C.C. stood. “Could it be that you’re just a little sensitive to this shrew maid because you have some fantasy of ending up with your employer yourself?”
Sting.
“Let she who is without fantasy cast the first stone!”
Ohh, if only you knew, Nanny Fine!
The rest of the afternoon was full of more sting as Fran not-so-subtly talked about Maxwell and the children, but at least they were finally done. C.C. could go home and try to put this all behind her.
As they walked out of the courtroom, Fran hooked her arm through C.C.’s and cheerfully said, “I have a proposal.”
“And what would that be, Ms. Fine?”
“I propose we take one more night off. You know, eat, drink, relax, before heading back to work.”
“Nanny Fine, I really--”
“Pleeease Ms. Babcock?” Fran pleaded, stopping and tugging on her arm. C.C. looked into Fran’s eyes: earnest, gentle, kind.
That’s why her. “Well, alright.”
“You know, I really feel like this has been a good bonding experience for us.”
C.C. rolled her eyes...and couldn’t help but smile.
_______
She wasn’t drunk, but she did feel a little tipsy. A little more relaxed. She and Fran were making their way back to their room after a pleasant evening of food and a couple drinks each. The nanny really was good company, when C.C. let herself enjoy it. C.C. settled into what she had established as her side of the bed for the previous eight nights, lying on her back and staring at the ceiling. Her blond hair pooled on the feather pillow under her head. She could hear the sink faucet turn on. A couple of splashes. Off. The towel being pulled off the rack. C.C. tore her eyes from the ceiling to the bathroom door. Fran walked out and, as she walked around to her side of the bed, began to untie her robe. C.C. didn’t take her eyes off of her. Fran wasn’t wearing anything particularly risqué--why would she be--but the loose fitting, thin material that made up her pajamas hung on her perfectly. C.C. could feel her neck and cheeks getting warm again--a nightly routine for her body at this point--and she turned over to hide. Her head was reeling with the influx of emotions she had felt over the last week, a mental Rolodex: anxious, longing, annoyed, jealous, hopeful...hurt.
“Nanny Fine?” She wasn’t sure if Fran had fallen asleep.
“Yeah, Babs?”
Her heart skipped.
“Why…” she turned over to face the nanny. “Why do you put up with it?”
Fran had been facing the other way. She turned over. The bedside table lamp hadn’t been turned off yet. C.C. was able to look into the other woman’s eyes again.
“Put up with what?”
“Maxwell. He...well, obviously he isn’t willing to give you what you want. Why hold out hope?”
“Why do you?” Fran retorted with a hint of defensiveness.
C.C. was silent for a moment. “I think I’ve confused myself.” Oh god, how much did I have to drink? “I don’t think what I really desire is what...I thought I desired.” I don’t feel drunk.
Fran maintained eye contact. Silent. Almost as if she knew. C.C. cast her gaze down. She felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Why do you act so hard?” the woman said. The words were accusatory but the tone was soft and empathetic. Despite her attempts to keep them at bay, C.C. could feel the sting of tears and a lump in her throat. “Oh, Ms. Babcock,” Fran whispered, slowly rubbing the blond’s shoulder with her thumb. “You really are a wonderful, caring woman. You just won’t let others see it. Like you’re protecting yourself from something.” Earnest, gentle...kind.
That’s why her.
“You hurt others before they can hurt you.”
C.C. looked back into Fran’s eyes. Up to this point, she thought her jabs had all been in jest. “Have I hurt you?”
Fran laughed. “Oh, honey. It takes more than what you can throw to hurt me.” C.C. sniffled. “But listen. I was holding out hope for Mr. Sheffield because the other person I noticed--the strong, loyal, brilliant woman who crossed my path every day--didn’t treat me the way I deserve to be treated.” Before C.C. could interject, Fran continued. “Now, that’s not to say he’s a saint. Faaaar from it, missy. But you, Babs. I see a lot of potential in you, but you gotta soften up that thing you got in that chest of yours.”
“I...don’t--half the time, I don’t even know what I’m feeling,” the words started escaping from her lips, betraying every cell in her body, every natural inclination she had. At least what she thought up to this point was natural for her. “When I first saw you, four years ago, in that sparkling red dress...the way you moved, the way you talked, your confidence, god I felt so...so intensely jealous. But...four years later, and I can’t get that image of you out of my head. Just you. Not Maxwell.”
Fran lifted her hand to wipe a tear from C.C.’s face then back to her shoulder. She felt the woman’s hand travel from her shoulder down her arm…
Her waist…
Her hip…
Then she tugged.
C.C. placed her hand on the brunette’s waist as she was pulled in, the many inches between them closed. She gasped, and her breathing became uneven. She could feel the flush in her cheeks as she glanced down at Fran’s lips, which she now noticed were coming closer...and closer. She had kissed people before. Plenty of times. But Fran’s lips felt like home. They were soft and warm, moving in tandem with her own. The perfect fit. C.C. moved her hand up Fran’s side, taking note of every inch of her curvature, until she was able to tangle her hand in that nest of beautiful, brown hair. Every breath she took in between kisses was filled with that wonderfully intoxicating scratch-and-sniff perfume scent, and in the moments a soft, nasally moan escaped from the nanny’s lips, C.C.’s hips pushed forward and she moaned in return. Fran coaxed C.C. onto her back with a gentle but firm push and straddled her, not letting their lips part for more than a second. C.C. put both hands on each of Fran’s hips as Fran began to leave a trail of kisses down C.C.’s neck…
Her collarbone…
Her chest…
This is better than being drunk...
_______
C.C. finally got the rest she needed. She woke up from a deep sleep and could feel the tangling of sheets around her body. As she began to shift, she felt a heavy weight on her legs and her waist. A quiet, gravely moan emitted next to her ear. As C.C. rolled over, Fran shifted but didn’t move her leg or her arm. Instead, she tightened her grip and pulled the woman closer. C.C. caressed Fran’s face as her eyes fluttered open.
“Mornin’, Babs baby.”
“Morning, Fran,” C.C. said with a smile and placed a sweet kiss on the nanny’s lips.
_______
Hand-in-hand, C.C. and Fran walked up to the desk in the hotel lobby to check out. The receptionist from their first night was working that morning. Fran smiled and slid the key across the counter, while C.C. took out her credit card to pay for all the unexpected nights.
“Good morning, ladies! Hope you enjoyed your stay. Did the pull out couch work out alright?” the receptionist asked.
Fran and C.C. exchanged glances and both blurted, “The what?”
Fandom: The Nanny
Genre: AU, Grace & Frankie AU, AU - Modern, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Comedy, Eventual Romance (it’s not sad forever; there are funny parts I promise)
Pairing: Fran Fine/C.C. Babcock, C.C. Babcock/Niles, Fran Fine/Maxwell Sheffield
Rating: T+
Chapters: 3/7
Summary:
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” Fran locked the door and took C.C.’s arm again.
While they made their way toward the car, C.C. complained, “This isn’t like the time you dragged me to see Cats is it? Because I’m still trying to get the image of Dame Judi Dench as Old Deuteronomy out of my head.”
Fandom: The Nanny
Genre: AU, Grace & Frankie AU, AU - Modern, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Comedy, Eventual Romance (it’s not sad forever; there are funny parts I promise)
Pairing: Fran Fine/C.C. Babcock, C.C. Babcock/Niles, Fran Fine/Maxwell Sheffield
Rating: T+
Chapters: 2/7
Summary:
“Is that what you’re wearing?”
C.C.’s face contorted in confusion as she looked down at her own outfit. It was a tasteful, beige dress. “What?” She looked back up at Fran, arms outstretched.
“You look like you attempted to sew a cinched waist into a garment bag and cut out some arm holes. Have I taught you nothing? No, no, we’ll find you something out of my closet.” She continued to make her way toward C.C.
“Over my dead body,” C.C. started to take a step back as Fran made it to the landing and took her wrist.
“Well, at least the coroner won’t have to waste a body bag.”
