#as i said hawkeye continues to have a type

[remyfire]

[brrahbrrahcharacterimagines]

Mission Gone Right (Clint Barton/Hawkeye x Reader)

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Clint Barton/Hawkeye Reader

Word Count: 6482

Warnings: SMUT 18+ Minors DNI!, Sexual themes, one bed trope, brief weapon mention, dirty talk, masturbation (fem), oral (fem and male receiving), nipple talk, kissing, pining, cum, p in v (wrap it before you tap it!)... let me know if I missed something :)

Request: Hello there! :) I really enjoy and love your writing, it's really good! I like the Steve Rogers: not so pure, and I was wondering if you could write something like that, but with Clint Barton/Hawkeye x reader? Thank you kindly and have a wonderful day! :) - Anon

Summary: You and Clint had been partners, and somewhat friends, for a long time. When you have to pretend to be a wedded couple in love to escape a tense mission, what could happen when the hotel room ends up with only one bed?

A/N: I decided to place this request in the OG Avengers era, I hope that's alright! Also, he's single in this universe because I don't want to write in cheating or give him a sad end to his marriage :(

As a hero without true "superpowers," you oftentimes got paired on missions with Hawkeye. This never bothered you, but it did seem odd that they would place you both together instead of having you each team up with a powered hero.

Not to say that you weren't strong in your own right; your skill with shuriken was near unmatched. Between your use of shuriken and your partner's use of bow and arrow, you were a fearsome duo.

"(L/n), Barton." Greeted Fury as you entered the briefing room. "Thank you for coming quickly."

"With all due respect sir," you said, "what else would we be doing?"

Fury sighed at your sarcasm, ignoring it as he continued.

"I have a mission for the two of you."

"What do you need, sir?" Asked Clint. Fury seemed to pause for a moment, as if he didn't want to reveal the details of the mission. Nevertheless, he began speaking again.

"We have a high profile target who we need some more information on."

"Uh, why the need for the pause then?" You asked. Fury would have rolled his eye had he not been so used to your bratty antics.

"Maybe, you should let me finish," he stated slowly. "We received intel alerting us that said target will be at a gala this evening, which is where the two of you will find him."

Reading between the lines, paired with your knowledge of the different types of missions offered by SHIELD, your eyes narrowed at Fury.

"You're sending us, who may I remind you are Avengers, on an undercover mission?" You asked incredulously. You knew that the two of you, along with maybe Nat, were the least recognizable of the group. Steve or Tony tended to get recognized the most, at least when Bruce wasn't in Hulk-mode. But still, it was like a slap in the face to assume nobody would recognize you at said event.

"The target may be at a gala, but he is incredibly dangerous. I don't trust our typical undercover agents with this mission."

You thought on Fury's words for a moment, mulling them over. Deciding that your ego was enough appeased, you nodded.

"So what do we need to know?"

Another agent spent time briefing you and Clint on the target; what he looked like along with any other pertinent information. The agent also explained to you that while you would be able to hide a few shuriken on yourself, Clint would have to go in bow-and-arrow-less. It's a pretty difficult weapon to conceal. Even with your shuriken being small, you knew you wouldn't be able to hide too many under whatever outfit SHIELD provided. You were beginning to understand why the mission was considered as dangerous as it was.

"There's one more thing you should know," said the agent. "To help conceal your identities, you are to pose as partners."

Clint coughed, seeming to choke on his own saliva. You just looked blankly at the agent.

"Are we not already?"

"I think they mean-" said Clint, rising his eyebrows as he motioned his head, trying to indicate to you his meaning without putting words to it. Suddenly understanding what he meant, you let out a small 'oh,' feeling your face heat. You have to admit the thought has crossed your mind before. Clint was an attractive man, and your line of work did tend to involve getting to look at him in a sleeveless outfit flexing his muscles all day. You never let it go further than that though, just thoughts.

Once all of the information had been provided, you and Clint were released back to each of your quarters to prepare for that evening.

"You know, Fury didn't mean it as an insult." Said Clint as the two of you walked together. You sighed.

"I know, it's just that I'm tired of being passed over."

At your words, Clint looked at you with something you couldn't quite place. Knowing your time to get ready was limited, you decided it wasn't worth thinking too much about it.

"Well, see you soon, hubby," you said with a fake salute, entering your room. Closing the door behind you, you missed the look on Clint's face at his new nickname.

Now alone in your room, you noticed the outfit SHIELD had arranged for you.

"You've got to be kidding me." You muttered as you grabbed the, admittedly little amount of, clothing. It was a dress, deep purple in color with just the right amount of shine to it. Even before putting it on, you knew it would leave little to the imagination. They were right when they said I wouldn't be able to bring many shuriken.

With hair done and makeup (if preferred) finished, it finally came time to put the dress on. It slipped on easier than you expected, and for as tight as it looked on the hanger it was rather flattering now that it was on you. It hugged your curves in a way that made just standing there look sensual. You were thankful to have been able to hide a few shuriken in a holster on one of your upper thighs, but a high slit up your other leg made hiding any others impossible.

You had to admit, you felt sexy. This was outside of your usual wardrobe, but whoever picks the undercover mission outfits should get a bonus.

A knock on your door tore you from your thoughts. You opened it, revealing a, rather attractive-looking, Clint Barton. Although he didn't have his arms exposed as usual, something about his change in attire was enticing. Again, whoever picks the outfits should get a bonus. The suit was fitted to Clint perfectly, somehow showing off his muscular physique while keeping him entirely covered.

Unbeknownst to you, Clint couldn't help but check you out as you did the same to him. The gentle curve of your hips, your exposed leg to your thigh, and your cleavage looking as it could spill right over the cups of the dress. Hell, he almost wanted them to.

"You look good," you tell your partner, trying to hide the fact that you had just ogled all over him. Thankfully, he was a bit too busy to notice.

"You too," he said, suddenly cocking a smile, "Wifey." You gave him a puzzled look. "What? You called me Hubby."

Forgot about that, you thought. I need to keep my head on straight if this mission is going to go well.

"Well," you said, jokingly looping your arm with his. "You lead the way."

Clint chuckled at your antics, but he did as you asked. He led you outside to the limousine SHIELD had prepared for the both of you. You got in, careful not to expose more than you wanted as you arranged your body into the vehicle. Clint followed, and despite the amount of room inside, he slid onto the bench seat next to you.

"I'm a method actor," he said with a wink. "And you're going to be my wife in about 30 minutes."

Rolling your eyes at your partner, you knew in your mind he was just being an ass. Yet, your mind began to wander against your will. You realize the night will not just mean looking good and standing in the same vicinity as each other. You had to convince a room of dangerous people that Clint and yourself were married. That meant physical contact, and plenty of it.

It wasn't an entirely unpleasant thought, leaning against his muscular chest or feeling his strong arm around your lower back. The thought made your body heat, and as pleasant as it was it also made you incredibly nervous. You had never had trouble working with Clint, but something about the way your mind kept wandering worried you that you weren't at the top of your game. You needed to stay focused.

The 30 min ride began to feel much longer. A bit on edge, you began rhythmically drumming your fingers on your thigh as you waited. Suddenly the drumming stopped, as you felt Clint's hand grab your own.

"You're driving me crazy," he said, irritation lacing his tone. "It's like clicking a pen."

Despite the anger in his tone, he didn't let go of your hand. He simply adjusted so he was holding more than grabbing. You didn't mind, you had to get into character too.

Finally arriving, Clint got out of the limo first before extending his hand back towards you to help you get out gracefully. Instead of letting go once you were standing, he instead interlocked your fingers.

"Let's go get this guy," he said with a raise of his eyebrows, "Babe."

Although you knew he was teasing because of the mission, you couldn't help the smile that rose to your face. Is this really all it took for you to lose your mind? Your colleague, and friend for that matter, just had to wear a suit and you lost it? Maybe you'd just been single too long, but that was something to deal with after this mission was over.

You and Clint made your way into the gala, staying close to each other. Not seeing the target yet, you decided to grab a drink and mingle.

"So, how did the two of you meet?" Asked the women who had struck up a conversation with the two of you.

"At work," replied Clint, taking the moment to smile down at you. You tried to suppress the flutter of your heart at his soft expression. "She just caught my eye." He was smart, using the truth as a way to embellish your cover. Clint wrapped his arm around your waist, gently pulling you closer to him. You smiled back at him, batting your eyelashes.

"He's being modest, he's the one who caught my eye." You were laying it on thick, but you didn't really care. You had just spotted the target heading your way. You placed a hand on Clint's chest. This time, you didn't miss the way his expression faltered for a moment as his eyes flicked down to your movements. You pulled away, worried you had gone too far and made him uncomfortable. "I mean, just look at him."

As you finished your act, you noticed the target walk just past the two of you.

"Could you excuse us?" Asked Clint, politely exiting the conversation so the two of you could tail the man. You followed him from afar until he went through a doorway, disappearing behind it.

"Damn it." You whispered. Turning around, you found an unusual amount of eyes on you. Guards stationed around the room looked at the pair of you, and you noticed a few begin walking your way. "Clint, we've got trouble."

The two of you began making your way back through the crowd, trying to blend in. Regardless of your efforts, guards continued to slink your way.

"We've got to go," said Clint lowly. His hand made it's way to your waist, helping guide you through the crowd of people and towards the front door. Thankfully, your limo returned quickly so you could make your exit.

Clint helped you in, moving to join you. Before he could, a large, gloved hand grasped his arm.

"Where are you two off to?" Asked a gruff voice.

Shit.

Thinking quickly, you decided to use your given roles to your advantage.

"Excuse me?" You squealed. "Unhand my husband." The man's grip loosened, but he didn't fully let go. "What's going on?"

"Ma'am, what's go you both leaving in such as rush?" His eyes narrowed, not fully believing either of you. You did the only thing you could think of to get him off your back.

"What are you, a pervert?" You asked, playing up the bratty whininess in your voice. You used his moment of surprise to pull Clint towards you while the man's grip was weakened. "We're going somewhere more, private." You purred seductively, lathering it on thick as you gave Clint your best bedroom eyes. You ran a hand up his thigh as he took a seat next to you. "Right, Baby?"

Clint's voice was noticeably lower as he responded, "uh, yeah." Smooth, Barton.

You leaned in towards Clint, nuzzling your nose into the crook of his neck. Damn he smelled good. Almost instinctively, his hands made their way to your hips. You couldn't deny it felt good. You peppered soft, open-mouthed kisses down his neck, hoping the guard would get the message and fall for the ploy.

"What, are you going to watch?" You asked sarcastically, the momentary pause of your actions allowing you to realize how tight Clint was gripping you, and how heavy his breaths were. Your words had the intended effect, with the guard seeming embarrassed as he let the door close. As soon as it did, the driver hit the gas.

You pulled back from Clint, the embarrassment hitting you. You felt your face heat up.

"Sorry," you said awkwardly, trying to chuckle to ease the tension. "It's all I could think of."

"It's okay." He replied, his words short. "It worked."

Great, you thought, now he's uncomfortable. No wonder, after all that.

The two of you sat in uncomfortable silence, still seated close. You did your best to give him the space you could, but your exposed leg still sat touching his. You may not have paid it much mind, but if you had dared to look his way you would have seen Clint's eyes glued.

A sudden ring stunned you both, and Clint answered the phone.

"Detective Fury?" He asked. He listened for a moment to whatever Fury was telling him, nodding slowly. "Well, uh," his eyes flipped to you then quickly away. "We had to play into our cover. Y/n may have told them we were..." He coughed. "Headed somewhere 'more private'."

Your embarrassment only heightened. Not only did you make Clint uncomfortable, but now your boss knows.

"Yes sir, I understand." Said Clint. Hanging up, he looked back to you. "We're being followed."

"Shit!" You exclaimed. One guard may have fallen for your trick, but the target must have sent someone after you to be sure.

"So," said Clint slowly. "Fury has booked us a hotel room. We're headed there now."

Your mouth fell open, eyes wide.

"What do you-"

"Not to do that!" Exclaimed Clint, his own eyes going wide. "Just so when they follow our car, it looks like we were telling the truth."

Your suddenly racing heartrate slows again.

"Oh, okay." Your breathing slows as well, calming back down. You rode the rest of the way to the hotel in continued silence, thankful Fury had found one nearby.

Arriving and getting out of the vehicle yet again, you were surprised when Clint pulled you to him.

"We've got to be believable," he whispered, hands on your hips pulling them dangerously close to his own. One hand trailed further down, resting on your ass. "Is that alright?"

Of course, even in a dire situation Clint would ask a question like that. You nod, tilting your head to give him access to your neck. You bit your lip as his own lips made contact with your neck, holding back a moan that threatened to come out. While you may have been pretending, it didn't mean his lips didn't feel excruciatingly good.

Too quickly for your liking, he pulled back. There was a darkness in his eyes looking down at you. He must be a great actor. You let him lead you along, grabbing the room key from the front desk. The group of men entering the building after you did not go unnoticed. You grabbed ahold of Clint's tie, using it to pull his face close enough to yours that you could whisper without being hear. Close enough too that if you wanted, you could put your lips on his.

"They're staking out the lobby," you whispered. "I think we'll really have to stay here."

You made your way up to the room, footsteps following the two of you. As you reached for the door handle, you felt strong hands grab you and press you next to the door instead. Clint's body was pressed close to your own, making your breaths shallow and your body heat up.

"Clint-" You whispered.

"Do you trust me?" He said lowly so that only you could hear. You nodded. Before you knew it, you felt soft lips press to yours. You let your hands wander, making their way to his hair. You let yourself kiss him back, with a feverishness that nearly shocked you. He may have been your friend, but all your mind flooded with now was the need to be close to him. Feel his body pressed to yours, lips staying locked together.

You barely registered the sound of footsteps trailing to the other side of you, passing convinced that you were really there for the reason you claimed. Once they finally passed, Clint reached behind you, unlocking and opening the door without letting his lips leave your mouth. He didn't pull away until the door shut behind you both, hearing the latch click.

When he did pull away, both breathing hard, you felt as if your lips became cold. You wanted him back on you.

"Sorry," he muttered huskily, doing little to quell the heat in your body. "I thought that might get them off our backs a little." You nodded in response, taking into account the hotel room. There was a moderate-sized bathroom, a small closet and a dresser complete with TV on top. And, there was one queen bed facing it.

"You can take the bed." Said Clint. "I don't mind sleeping on the floor, as long at you let me have a pillow."

You rolled your eyes, pushing down the sexual tension you felt. Clearly he must not be feeling it too, as he switched back to humor quickly.

"Don't be silly. We're both adults, and it's hardly a crime to sleep in the same bed. It doesn't mean we have to do more than that."

Though your words didn't come across quite as you hoped, worried it sounded like there was an option of doing more than sleeping, Clint did take a seat on the bed. You did the same on the opposite side. After a moment of comfortable silence, Clint stood back up.

"Is it okay with you if I hop in the shower?"

You gave him a puzzled look, "am I okay if you practice good hygiene? Let me think." You pretended to think really hard, making him chuckle.

"Point made."

As you heard the water turn on, you laid back on the bed. Your mind began to wander again, full of both want and worry. After one evening, and one mission gone slightly awry, your usually tame thoughts about your partner were running wild. What had you gotten yourself into? Hearing the shower run, you couldn't stop yourself from imagining what could be on the other side of the wall. Your partner, your friend, taking off that beautiful suit to reveal what was underneath. The water running over his body, his muscles...

The water suddenly stopping jolted you from your thoughts. You tried to minimize the blush that was sure to be present on your face, grateful that he seemed to take his time drying off.

Opening the bathroom door, you stared as Clint walked out in just the suit's dress pants. Despite his best efforts to dry off, water droplets remained in his hair as they seemed to make him sparkle. Your eyes didn't remain at his hair, trailing lower to his exposed chest. The soft curves of his pecs, down to his abs, the beginning of a 'V' shape that dared you to follow it...

"So," he said. "We don't have luggage."

Shit, I hadn't even thought about that yet.

"As you know, I'm such a gentleman." He said playfully. "I don't want you to sleep in that dress, there's no way it would be comfortable." Your mind raced with a million thoughts of all the other options. "I propose you get my t-shirt from under the suit, and I sleep in the dress pants."

You nod at him, trying not to think about what he was suggesting. He wanted to sleep shirtless, and let you wear his clothes. Was it too late to tell him to sleep on the floor?

Not able to come up with a better option, you took the shirt he was offering and made your way to the bathroom to shower. Peeling the dress off your body, you decided to ignore the situation you were in and simply let yourself relax. Stepping into the warm water of the shower, you let it run down your head and shoulders. Closing your eyes to try and relax, it had the opposite effect.

Every time you shut your eyes, all you could think about was Clint. His hands, his lips, his body. How all three of those things would feel on you. To make matters worse, as you got more hot and bothered you pictured him even with your eyes open. Turning the water cooler, you hoped a cold shower would fix the problem.

It didn't.

Huffing, you washed your body and figured your thoughts weren't going away any time soon. The more you tried to stop them, the more they invaded your senses. As you scrubbed the soap across your body, you couldn't help but imagine someone else's hand.

Visions of Clint's hands running down your body played through your mind as your own hands trailed the same path. Ghosting lightly across your nipples, you bit your lip to stop the gasp in your throat. You imagined how his fingertips, calloused from years of notching arrows, would feel in place of your own.

Keeping one hand firmly at your breast, your other traveled lower and lower. A soft whimper escaped your throat before you could do anything to suppress it as your fingers made contact with your clit. Hearing nothing from the other side of the wall, you assumed Clint couldn't hear you over the sound of the shower water.

Your fingers continued circular motions at your entrance, feeling just how wet you had become. Soft moans fell from your lips, thinking the noise would be covered by the running water and bathroom fan that had been turned on to help ventilate humidity.

Besides, everyone knew hotel walls were never described as thin... right?

-Clint's POV-

He dropped to the bed with a deep sigh as soon as the door shut to the bathroom with you inside. He rubbed a hand over his face. What the Hell had he gotten himself into?

Sure, he had always found you rather attractive. And sure, that may have developed into something a bit deeper over the time he had gotten to know you. And maybe, he had been a little too excited when he heard about the details of the mission.

He thought he would be able to handle himself. Yet, here he was; grown man acting like a teenage boy unable to control his hormones and keep his hands to himself.

Listening to the shower water run, he tried to relax. Instead of remembering the way your hands grasped at his chest when he had kissed your neck. Not thinking about the way your lips moved against his in the hallway, how sweet they tasted. Pretending he didn't know what it was like to have your body pinned to his, having you whisper his name.

It had become the ghost of a mantra in is head. Your whisper from the hallway repeating again and again in his head.

Clint, Clint, Clint...

He couldn't help but imagine how else you could say his name. His mind bombarded him with a cacophony of sound. Could he make you moan his name? Scream it?

Feeling his dick twitch in his pants, he was playing a dangerous game. When you got out of the shower and exited the bathroom, he knew he couldn't be thinking this way. Just seeing you, twinkling with water droplets in your hair, his shirt adorning your body, would be enough to get him going again. He needed to calm back down.

He focused in to the sound of running water, trying to zone out. It had even begun to work. That was, until he heard it.

It was faint, and at first he thought it was his imagination again. But the noise persisted, to the point he stood and began slowly slinking towards the bathroom wall. As he got closer, there was no ignoring what he heard. You were moaning, and it was the most delectable sound he had ever heard. So much for calming down.

He staggered back to the bed, laying on his back and focusing in on your sounds instead of the water. There was no way to relax, that was sure. What could you be doing in there? He could only come up with one answer, and it drove him crazy. How he wanted to be with you, his hands feeling you up, his mouth capturing all of those beautiful noises.

Too soon for his liking, he heard the knob twist to and the water shut off. Adjusting himself in his pants, he hoped covering with the blanket would hide his arousal.

-Your POV-

You were frustrated, sexually and otherwise. Despite how you felt as if you were more turned on than you've ever been, you were left chasing your high. Realizing you had been in the shower for much too long, you had to get out. You didn't want Clint to worry and think something was wrong.

Getting out of the shower, you toweled off best you could. Pulling Clint's shirt over your head, you were glad you had worn nicer underwear under your dress that evening. His shirt may have laid big on you, but it still left the bottom halves of your butt cheeks exposed. You did the best you could to make yourself as presentable as possible.

With your best efforts, it still left the tops of your thighs and the gentle curve of your butt exposed. You had not needed to wear a bra with your earlier dress thanks to built-in cups, which you now regretted as your nipples lay pebbled under the t-shirt's material.

You crossed your arms in front of you as casually as you could as you twisted the doorknob and left the bathroom.

Thankfully, Clint had already laid in bed. He didn't turn to look at you which you were grateful for. You walked around the room preparing it for sleep, turning the AC to a comfortable temperature and making sure the door was secure.

Unbeknownst to you, Clint was following your every move as you turned around. He didn't know if he were lucky to get to see you, or unlucky as he was sure to picture you like this for the rest of his life. To be so close and not be with you was like torture. Your thighs teased him, t-shirt barely covering them and leaving your underwear-clad bottom within view. Your breasts were not constrained under the thin material, leaving little to his imagination as your nipples seemed to call to him. Everything about you looked to soft, and it took all of his self-restraint to stop himself from reaching out to touch you.

Laying beside Clint, you were oblivious to the show you had just put on for him. His breathing was strained, which you attributed to the uncomfortably close quarters. You were not touching, but the bed forced you close enough to feel the heat emanating from his body. You knew that snuggling close to him would be like heaven, his warmth and his strong arms engulfing you.

Closing your eyes, you were glad for the stress of the evening. That stress left your mind tired, able to ignore your arousal for just long enough to lull yourself to sleep.

Clint was not so lucky. He laid awake, dress pants uncomfortably tight against his lower half. Noticing your sleeping state, he made a decision he hoped he would not regret. Moving slowly as not to disturb you, he inched the uncomfortable garment off his legs. Left in just his boxers, he was only moderately more comfortable. His length still remained uncomfortably contained.

Clint did his best to ignore you beside him, but you were making that incredibly difficult. In your sleep you had turned away from him, but moved ever closer. There was nothing he could think to do, and before he could come up with an idea he felt the plush of your ass up against his bare thigh. Of course, this did nothing to help his situation.

He tried to think of anything else he could. A previous mission, perhaps with dangerous details to remember as a way to lesson his mood. No matter the nature of the old missions, his memories always ended the same. You, smiling up at him with sparkling eyes as you completed the objective.

Another noise pulled Clint from his thoughts. It came from your direction. He felt your leg twitch against him, and he realized you must be dreaming.

A noise came from you again, and Clint was intrigued. The sound was muffled, and he couldn't tell if it was positive or negative. He had a preference, sure, but you could have been having a nightmare for all he knew.

Feeling your hips press you backside further into his leg as you made another sound, this time clearly a small moan, it was clearly no nightmare.

Clint's body was tense. His cock felt as if it grew impossibly harder as a result of your movements. There was nothing he could do, waking you up would only reveal that he had removed his dress pants and make him look like a perv. Instead, he took in the moment as he knew he may never get to hear your noises again.

Soft moans and whimpers fell from your lips, hips grinding back towards his body. He wanted to reach out and touch you, but he restrained. At least, until he heard something that made him snap.

"Clint," you moaned with voice tantalizingly soft and sweet. He couldn't help the groan that escaped him in response. Last ounce of restraint now gone, he reached toward you. His hand found your hip, soft under his callouses. The two of you were practically spooning, and he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. His lips moved to kiss up your nape, and he relished in how your moans followed his actions.

Looking up at your face, he was startled to see your wide eyes meeting his. Your pupils were blown wide with lust.

"Please don't stop."

Your whisper only urged him further, allowing his hand to slip higher under your shirt, his shirt, to grab your breast. Your moans only continued to spur him on, grinding his bulge into your backside. It both offered relief, and made him want even more.

You felt his hands across your body, even better than you had imagined. You pushed your ass backwards into him, matching his motions and feeling just how hard he was.

His strong hands suddenly flipped you to your back, Clint hovering above you. His lips found yours feverishly. You kissed him back as if you were starved, taking as much as he would give you. Moan after moan fell from your lips to his as he pressed his hardness against your cunt.

"Can feel how fucking wet you are," he groaned. "You been thinking about me?"

You nodded in return, but that wasn't enough for Clint. He wanted to hear you.

"What was that sweetheart?"

"Fuck, Clint," you sighed. "You're all I could think about all night."

His pride, and other things, swelled. His mouth trailed down to your chest, tongue finding a nipple as he swirled his tongue around it. His motions were rough, but his pace was slow. He pulled away as an involuntary whimper left your throat.

You felt his lips trail downward, oh too slowly. He pressed soft kisses across your inner thighs, making you curl your hips towards him in hopes he would quell the burning in the pit of your stomach.

He yanked your panties down only to replace them with his warm mouth. The initial contact almost made your scream as his hot breath fanned across the slick that had gathered between your legs. Cockily, Clint looked up to catch your eyes. With a wink, he held high contact while licking a slow stripe up where you were most sensitive. You moaned loudly, throwing your head back as he began picking up the pace. Every flick of his tongue sent shivers down your spine and moans to fall from your lips. He ate at you greedily. It's as if he was a man starved, but that was of no complaint to you. You don't think there was any way he could touch you that would make you complain.

Heat continued pooling in your core, building with every motion Clint made. Even so, your orgasm caught you by surprise when he moved his hands to your breasts, lightly pinching your nipples with his tongue continuing to swirl around your clit.

"Fuck, oh fuck, oh Clint," you moaned as you came, thighs squeezing on his head and hands in his hair. If this is how he died, he would be a happy man. As you came down from your high, Clint slowed and pulled away. He crawled back up to face you, kissing you harshly. You could feel your own juices on his tongue and along his stubble.

"On your knees," he muttered. His look was dark, and you obeyed. As you kneeled, you looped your fingers around the waistband of his boxers to pull them down with you. He groaned, grabbing a fistful of your hair in his hand.

You couldn't keep your eyes off his cock as it sprung free. Precum glistened the tip.

Tentatively, you leaned forward to lick the underside. Clint's groan emboldened you, taking the head into your mouth and swirling your head across the tip. Clint bucked his hips into your mouth, guiding you with his hand on the back of your head yet careful not to push you too far. You fell into a rhythm, bobbing your head on his cock as he groaned. Moaning around his cock, you felt his legs tense and dick twitch as the vibrations rang through him.

"Look at me," he demanded. "Want to see your eyes while I fuck your pretty little mouth."

You did as he asked, not knowing Clint had those words in him.

"There you go," he said quietly, "good girl." The words made you moan again around his cock.

That's new, you thought.

"Gonna fucking ruin you." He pulled out of your mouth, leaving your mouth open following his action. "Love the way you suck my cock baby. Your mouth feels so fucking good honey but now you're gonna give me your dripping pussy, alright?"

He flipped you over to your stomach, grabbing your hips to pull them into the air. You arched your back for him, and he paused to take in the sight.

"Damn baby, you're fucking soaked for me." You shivered as a finger ran along your folds. You pushed your hips back towards the feeling, needing more. "You like this baby? Want me to touch you like this?"

"Want, more," you whimpered.

"What do you want?" He asked sensually, lazily pushing a finger in and out of your entrance. "Tell me what you want me to do baby."

"Want you to fuck me, Clint." You whined. "Please fuck me. Want to feel you so fucking far inside me." Something about the usually mild-mannered, sweet Clint talking so dirty to you had something waking in yourself as well.

He wasted no time at your words, lining up with your entrance and slowly pressing into you. Your gummy walls welcomed him, tight and warm and clenching as he eased in.

"Fuck," he mumbled, feeling how tight you were just halfway in. "You feel so fucking good around my cock baby. Almost there." Giving you time to adjust to his size, he waited until he felt you squirming to move further again.

Whimpering as you pressed back against him, your mind felt like exploding. His dick stretched you so deliciously. You knew what was about to happen would ruin you for any other man, not wanting to ever feel anything but the man you had now.

Clint's pace picked up, leaving you a mess underneath him. You could barely think straight, only able to focus on the sliding of his cock in and out of your squelching cunt. You were thankful for his hands gripping your hips, legs turning to jelly.

You murmured a string of something resembling words, unable to do much more than moan and enjoy what Clint was doing to him. Grunts fell from his mouth, beautiful sounds as they layered with the wet slapping sounds echoing throughout the room.

"Take my cock so well," he grunted. Suddenly pulling out, you whimpered at the rapid lack of contact. Before you could react more, he flipped you over and pressed back in. Filling you up again made you scream at the overwhelming pleasure. "Who knew he had this in him? "Want to see your pretty face when I cum inside your pussy, hm?"

Just the thought made your head fall back with another moan as he continued to fuck you. Your breasts bounced with each thrust, mesmerizing to Clint unable to take his eyes off of you.

" 'M so close baby," he groaned. You wrapped your legs around his torso, pulling him close and looking up into his eyes.

That was the last push he needed, thrusts faltering as his seed shot into you. His grunts turned to moans, needy as he continued to thrust deep into you as he came. Staying inside, he leaned down to kiss you deeply.

"Fuck," he whispered, resting his forehead against your own.

"Yea," you replied breathlessly. He pulled back, dazed smile matching your own.

After cleaning you both up, he laid back in bed to allow you to snuggle close to him.

"I think that's the most I've heard you swear," you giggled, "maybe ever."

He chuckled in response, squeezing him closer to you.

"It's not my fault you feel so fucking good then."

Drifting off to sleep again, you wouldn't think about how the mission debrief would go until morning. After all, you're sure this is far from the last time you and Clint would end up like this.

[abstractmouse]

Alright, so I finished all the story branches from the FMA mobile Valentine's event, and I've compiled a summary/translation. Now let me preface with this: I do not know Japanese. I can read katakana, hiragana, and a handful of kanji, and I know basic sentence structure. So 99% of this is from Google Translate, and it may not be 100% accurate. It is long. I included some screenshots. With that being said, the summary is under the cut.

Chapter 1

It seems to be a dream sequence. There's this novel called Two Phantom Thieves that has become a sensation across Amestris, and everyone, including Roy Mustang, is reading it. He falls asleep while doing paperwork and imagines himself and Hawkeye as the titular thieves. It seems they have a rivalry, always hunting the same treasure. On their latest heist, they are caught in a trap set by Detective Hughes (with Havoc and Breda on his squad), and instead of fighting for the treasure, they have to work together to escape.

After escaping, Phantom Thief M (Roy) asks Phantom Thief H (Riza) to look at the moon with him and chat for awhile. She expresses her gratitude that their combined effort allowed her to escape. Roy says something along the lines of "We work well together. If we joined up, we could steal any treasure in the world." Riza is not keen on the idea. Apparently, she steals for the poor, while Roy steals for the wealth and fame. He says he has higher goals than wealth and fame and wants to change things from the top. Riza is surprised at the idealism and asks if he really thinks he can do it. He says he would tell her all about it, but the police are coming. Riza remarks that he seems different than usual, but regardless, next time the treasure is hers. She leaves and Roy has a moment where he reflects on her true identity and decides to have some fun with it.

The next scene shows that the Phantom Thieves have day jobs as reporters for the very same newspaper (return of glasses!Riza here). Their boss wants them to cover an event featuring the Eternal Chocolate Heart, but the viewing is only open to couples. Their assignment is to pose as lovers in order to write an article about the treasure. There is also something about alchemical research being revealed at the party and a competition for the alchemists to win the heart or something like that. Set up for the fighting portion of the event. It’s said that whoever touches the heart will be blessed with eternal love. Roy thinks to himself that this will be his next treasure hunt as Phantom Thief M.

Chapter 2

Reporters Mustang and Hawkeye arrive at the party, which is being hosted by Alex and Catherine at the Armstrong mansion. Hawkeye is holding Mustang’s arm stiffly, going over the type of information that they need for their article. Mustang says something like, “I know we’re just acting, but if you don’t seem a little more natural, they’ll find out we’re not a couple.” She ignores that and continues observing the situation.

Detectives Havoc and Breda are there, chatting with Catherine. Detective Hughes is also present with Gracia and Elycia. Hughes wants to get the Eternal Chocolate Heart for his daughter.

Armstrong gathers everyone and reveals the Eternal Chocolate Heart on a small table in the middle of the room, explaining that it has been imbued with alchemy. It’s divided into 4 pieces, and he says whoever eats one will be granted some kind of power, which works best when shared between two people. For that reason, they’ll be giving it as a prize to one of the couples tonight.

On the table, Armstrong is shocked to find that there are two envelopes: a pink one with the letter H and a blue one with the letter M. Notices from the Phantom Thieves. Armstrong then announces that if the thieves are here, stealing isn’t necessary. He invites them to join the competition as well. Mustang thinks to himself that it may be better to just do it fair and square.

Then the chocolate at the center of the table… disappears? Idk this part is a little unclear. Regardless, it was a decoy. The real chocolate is hidden in a labyrinth under the mansion. The winner will be whichever couple successfully recovers the chocolate.

Riza pretends to be dizzy, presumably so she can get away from Mustang and transform into the Phantom Thief. Roy also dons his disguise during this time. 

In the fight sequence, the Phantom Thieves have appeared again, and Detective Hughes and his squad are all over the place. They agree to join up again and manage to lose them.

Chapter 3

Another couple at the party, Bard and Emma, have progressed a little further and are in the gardens, but there’s a puzzle they can’t solve. They hide and try to let someone else figure out the mechanism instead.

Roy shows up and notices Riza has escaped to the same place as him. Annoyed, she says she was just about to stop him with her bullet. Roy flirts and says something like “I wish I had the time to celebrate our reunion.” Riza says she’s got some information to share: they’ll have to solve the mystery together to progress, but “We’re only working together for now! The chocolate is still mine.” Roy notes that the chocolate is in four pieces, and they could just share it. But Riza says that only half of the chocolate isn’t worth as much, and she needs to help as many poor people as she can. Roy agrees, and the matter is dropped as they solve the puzzles.

They notice Bard and Emma are following them. The story branches slightly here depending on player choice:

3A: Pursue Emma and Bard

This leads to a small fight sequence. Emma wants to get the treasure before the Phantom Thieves to ridicule them. After they run away, Riza looks pensive. Roy asks what’s bothering her. She says, “Nothing, I was just wondering if I could use them to get one up on you somehow.” Roy says “Well I’ll just continue to keep my guard up…”

3B: Ignore Them

Nothing really happens during this option. They get through the puzzle and Riza makes some remark about getting the treasure before Roy.

The different paths lead to slightly different versions of chapter 4.

Chapter 4-1 (Choose option 3A)

Mustang and Hawkeye are getting closer to the center of the labyrinth. They seem to be the first ones to get this far. Bard and Emma come up on them again. Mustang asks if Hawkeye is going to launch a surprise attack on him after helping her solve the mystery (?? I think. This could be directed at Bard and Emma). She says “I’ll watch your back. You focus on solving the puzzle.”

Roy goes through the puzzle (following a rabbit through the right flowers). Bard and Emma followed again. Now Bard wants to fight, but they are overwhelmed by the Phantom Thieves' synergy. Bard decides to fight another time and runs. 

Chapter 4-2 (Choose option 3B)

Bard and Emma have reached this point of the labyrinth before Roy and Riza. They are apparently not very good at puzzles and are lost again. They decide to hide again and let someone else figure it out. Roy and Riza arrive on the scene and chase the rabbit together this time. They arrive at the center of the labyrinth and note that it is eerily quiet and that it shouldn’t have been this easy. 

Bard and Emma launch a surprise attack. Roy says, “They seem to be quite skilled. Can I trust you with my back?” Riza says “It’s an honor to have your trust. Let’s win this.” Bard and Emma are overwhelmed by their synergy and run to fight another time.

In either path, the chapter ends by cutting to Detective Hughes with his family. They hear the fighting, so Hughes goes ahead of them to secure the path. He wants to catch the Phantom Thieves and get the chocolate for Elycia.

Chapter 5

Ngl this bit was a little confusing, so idk how accurate this is.

Hughes, Havoc, and Breda are blocking the next section. As they try to get through, Mustang tells Hawkeye that their only goal is the chocolate, so she should go on ahead. It seems the fight can’t be avoided, so they fight together. Roy remarks that it would do the detectives better to just solve the puzzles rather than try to chase them. Riza points out that Hughes’s family seems to have disappeared. The traps in this next section have tiles that make you teleport to another location.

They agree to truce and work together here. Roy doesn’t like the idea of a small child being all alone. 

Chapter 6

Gracia and Elycia were teleported just outside the labyrinth.

Cut to the group inside. The puzzle has a bunch of tiles that all need to be activated. They have to work together. Hughes wishes his family were here to solve it with him. He hears Elycia encourage him from outside the maze somehow??? Riza remarks that she’s just happy his family is safe.

Now that the tiles have been activated, all that’s left are for the 6 remaining tiles to be stepped on at the same time. However, they only have 5 people present. Emma comes out from hiding, saying Bard left because he was sick of losing. Now they have 6. They step on the tiles, and some creatures come out, guarding the chocolate heart that appears in the middle. They all have to fight to reach the treasure.

The ending is determined by which character you let grab the heart.

6-A: Riza gets the heart

Phantom Thief H reaches the heart first, announcing her victory, but Phantom Thief M pulls some trick and manages to snatch it. He says it’s not over yet. They can still catch him as he escapes from the labyrinth.

6-B: Roy gets the heart

Roy says, “The treasure is mine, Phantom Thief H. With this, I can reach the top.” He starts posturing, announcing to everyone that he got the heart. He says it’s not over yet. They can still catch him as he escapes from the labyrinth.

6-C: Any other character gets the heart

Exactly the same as 6-A, but replace Phantom Thief H with Hughes, Havoc, Breda, or Emma.

On a high balcony, Alex and Catherine are watching. Catherine says it’s finally her turn.

The story’s final ending is determined by your choice in this chapter.

Chapter 7

Roy is running away, noting that the party started at night, but it’s already dawn. As he is escaping, he falls into Bard’s trap, where he was waiting for the winner. He releases poison gas, disabling Roy. The fight sequence is against multiple Hugheses, caused by Roy’s confusion from the poisoning. 

Riza runs onto the scene and says she can’t let her partner lose to such cowardly tricks and helps him. Roy asks why she doesn’t just take the chocolate and run. She says she doesn’t want to win with dirty tactics and wants to beat him fair and square.

Catherine appears and determines that the bond between them is real (???) and leads them to the exit. Alex declares the Phantom Thieves as the winners as they emerge, but Roy is still affected by the poison, being supported by Riza. He mentions that the chocolate has the power of healing as well.

Riza lays Roy across her lap on a bench as she feeds him the chocolate.

Havoc, Breda, and Hughes wonder what they were fighting for to begin with or something and says they all worked together to solve the mystery.

Catherine and Alex talk about their intention with the chocolate. Apparently it was designed to make people work together, which is why she held the tournament.

Meanwhile, the chocolate seems to have worked. Mustang says “I feel a lot better. Thank you for your help, Phantom Thief H… or should I say, my colleague, Ms. Hawkeye?” Hawkeye grits her teeth but doesn’t say anything. He asks again if she will be his partner. He says if they work together, they can change the world. “After challenging the labyrinth with you and being rescued so many times, I’m convinced.” Hawkeye still doesn’t give an answer. He says not to rush. She can give him the answer soon.

Cut to Catherine and Alex again. She says the effects of the chocolate are maximized between two people with a particularly strong bond, which was proven by the Phantom Thieves. Alex says something like, “Too bad it only lasts 15 minutes…” lol. Hughes snaps out of it and shouts, “What the hell am I doing?!”

Back in reality, Mustang is woken up at his desk by Lieutenant Hawkeye. She says he must have been dreaming, since he was stirring and making noise in his sleep.

Roy tells her about the dream he had.

Chapter 7-1 (Choose option 6-A)

He says, at the end of the dream, they were able to escape from their pursuers after a fierce battle. It cuts back to the dream sequence.

Phantom Thief M and Phantom Thief H are overlooking the grounds where the chocolate was. Mustang remarks that the chocolate makes people want to join hands together. He says he wants to give Hawkeye the rest of the chocolate. She is a bit skeptical. He says it’s so that he can “join hands with her” and he asks for her to be his partner again. She says that they were only allies temporarily for the competition, and their rivalry stands. She says instead of relying on chocolate to steal her heart, he should try stealing it with his own hands. Roy says he seems to have decided his next target.

Cut back to the real world. (biiiiig question mark about all of this:) Hawkeye remarks that she can’t believe he gave away all the chocolate in the end, but that sounds like him after all. Roy says that his rival was one step ahead a few times (?????), and a woman’s heart is deeper than the sea. Hawkeye says, “Even so, I’m intrigued by the novel that inspired that dream. I might find time to read it.”

Chapter 7-2 (Choose option 6-B)

He says, at the end of the dream, they were able to escape from their pursuers after a fierce battle. It cuts back to the dream sequence.

Phantom Thief M gives Phantom Thief H part of the chocolate. She asks why he would give her some when he was the one who won. He says, “If it’s mine, then half is yours, since you’re my partner.” She says she never gave him an answer. He replies, “But you’re here now. Can I still expect to see you by the beautiful moon?” (not 100% on that translation either) They hold hands in the moonlight.

Cut back to the real world. Hawkeye says that they have to continue to work hard to reach their goal, and she will continue to watch Mustang’s back. “Even so, I’m intrigued by the novel that inspired that dream. I might find time to read it.”

Chapter 7-3 (Choose option 6-C)

He says, at the end of the dream, Hawkeye escaped under the cover of heavy rain, but he was caught by Detective Hughes, who was chasing him. It cuts back to the dream sequence.

Mustang is being apprehended by Hughes while Hawkeye looks on from atop a tall building. She says that even though he may be a perfect phantom thief, his only weakness is water. All this heavy rain was just bad luck. She then says, “It’s sad that there’s no one left to compete with, but I’ll make your dreams come true some day.”

Cut back to the real world. Hawkeye says, “Even in your dreams, you’re useless on rainy days. What a shame.” Mustang says, “Don’t look at me with such pity, Lieutenant…” Hawkeye then says, “Even so, I’m intrigued by the novel that inspired that dream. I might find time to read it.”

END

[sarking]

Hey hey. Asking you those fanfic writer asks cause I'm also bored. 6,17, and 18.

Questions from I’m Bored and Anxious So I Slapped Together a List of Fan Fic Writer Asks!

6. Are there any fics from others you reread all the time?

There are in fact a few I get fairly regular hankerings to reread:

Wanted by surreallis, SVU, EO, wild west AU. "If it had been you they'd have hanged me," bounces around my head like a pingpong ball every few weeks.

A Collision on the Road by cgb, Oz, Beecher/Keller, roadtrip fic with a twist. It's got a vibe that's both cozy and free, right up until it rips your heart out with the inevitable in the end.

Novus by SheFoundHerself, SVU, Kathleen Stabler. I love how this explores and expands Kathleen's character.

a girl wild and unwished for by raven, MASH, Hawkeye & Margaret, post-war. Continuing the theme of mentally ill main characters who are loved! But also just the absolute best post-war world building I've read in almost 30 years in this fandom.

Internal Affairs by Telanu, The Closer, Brenda/Sharon/Fritz. Rewrote my brain chemistry, I am not the same person I was before I read this.

17. What’s something you’ve learned about while doing research for a fic?

Just... way more than I ever really wanted to know about the LAPD. Things people donate. Community activities they're involved in. Seating arrangements at certain types of meetings. I spent like a month obsessing over some detail on the chief's hat that I couldn't find a clear image of? If I came across it and it looked like something vaguely related to Sharon's job or to the chief's job, I read it, in case it would be useful.

18. What’s one of your favorite lines you’ve written in a fic?

I'm never not going to be way too pleased with myself over this one:

"Daddy, it's early," she whines, which is also what she said to Sharon twenty-five minutes ago. Minus the daddy, of course.

Thanks for asking!

[iamthemain-character]

hello another kazi request !! could you do a normal/civilian reader (they/them pronouns?) and kazi meeting for the first time? maybe during a heist lol

thanks for requesting! i’m sorry this took so long, university has been killing me lol. i hope you enjoy! :)

Twist of Fate

kazi kazimierczak x reader

gender neutral pronouns

TW: mild crime, mentions of weapons

a/n: this is set before the events of Hawkeye, when I kind of headcanon Kazi doing small crime type of stuff

a/n: part two: i kind of have an idea for another part, let me know if that would be something you wanted to see!

marvel masterlist

It was a simple job: a small jewelry shop tucked into an alleyway full of expensive stuff. It was the final stop of a long night of thievery, and while the first tendrils of light were stretching into the sky, Kazi was sure that he could get in and out before sunrise.

Slipping into the back, Kazi made quick work of the simple lock on the door. A narrow hallway led to the back work area of the shop, and Kazi slowed his steps as he saw there was a light on. At first glance, the work room seemed empty. The source of light was a lamp on the table, shining down on an assortment of tools and a necklace that seemed to be under repairs.

Just as Kazi stepped another foot into the room, a person came walking in from the door leading to the storefront. Kazi froze and the person shrieked, jumping back as they saw the former standing there. As Kazi reached for the gun hidden in his coat, he was taken aback when he heard laughter,

“I’m so sorry, I hope I didn’t scare you.” The person breathily laughed, continuing their path to the table Kazi had just been looking at. “You must be the new hire, Amanda said you would be stopping by this morning to learn the ropes.”

Kazi remained frozen in place, mind blanking as he tried to decide what to do. He could still rob the store, after all there was only this one person and he had weapons. Yet something twinged in Kazi’s heart when he thought of that; this person seemed so sweet, and there was something wholesome and genuine in their smile. No matter how much his head reasoned, Kazi couldn’t find it within himself to hold this person hostage.

“I’m Y/n by the way; remind me of your name again?” They turned to Kazi, hand outstretched.

“Kazi.” Immediately Kazi mentally cursed himself; giving out his real name was the dumbest thing he could have done. Still, he took Y/n’s outstretched hand and shook it.

“Okay, so Amanda said you had some experience with jewelry repair, right?”

“Uh, it’s been a while.” Kazi fumbled, unsure why he continued to stay and talk to this person. Still, he followed Y/n’s gesture to sit down next to them.

“Don’t worry, I’ll show you the ropes.” Y/n said with smile that elicited butterflies in Kazi’s stomach.

For the next couple hours, Y/n carefully showed Kazi how to fix a simple gold chain. Their hands guided his as they removed broken links and attached new ones. Slowly Kazi got used to using the soldering tool to close up the rings permanently. Finally, after lots of mistakes and hard work, the chain was completely finished.

Y/n beamed at Kazi, clearly proud of the work he had accomplished. The latter felt surprisingly proud of himself, amazed that he was able to fix something that seemed so delicate.

“You did amazing Kazi, you’re basically a pro now.”

Kazi laughed, “I wouldn’t say that, but I did do pretty okay.”

The clock on the wall chimed, signaling the time. Y/n glanced up at it and hurriedly got up from the chair. “I’m so sorry, but I’m afraid that is all we can work on today. We have a private viewing, so we’ll have to continue your training another day. I have your phone number on file, so I’ll send you a picture of your schedule.”

Sadness struck Kazi’s heart as he realized that the little act he had been playing was up. He should have been relieved that his true intentions weren’t found out, but instead he found himself longing to spend more time with Y/n.

Kazi moved to grab his jacket, but Y/n stopped him. Carefully they picked up the chain and undid the clasp, bringing their arms over Kazi’s head to place the chain around his neck. His heartbeat quickened as his felt Y/n’s fingers brush the back of his neck as they closed the clasp. He tried not to focus on how much he loved the pressure, nor the disappointment that came from when Y/n’s hands left his neck.

“There, you keep that. You worked so hard so I think you deserve it.” A rattle could be heard at the front door, and Y/n looked at Kazi apologetically. “It was great to meet you Kazi; I look forward to working together again. Enjoy your day!”

As Kazi watched Y/n’s retreating figure, he knew they wouldn’t be working together again. But as he went to leave, he realized that he wouldn’t be able to just not see them again. No matter what it took, Kazi would find a way to see the cheery, smiling Y/n again.

[youngpettyqueen]

NO GFA ANON I HOPE UR AWAKE CAUSE I FINALLY FINISHED. THE SICKFIC

I no longer have the message in my inbox RIP but here it is at last your requested Hunnihawk sickfic I sincerely hope you enjoy this and im so sorry it took me so long to do

“There,” Hawkeye sits back on the cot, satisfied with the job he’s done of tucking BJ in, “You comfy?” 

“No,” BJ replies, miserable and unhelpful, “But thanks.”

Hawkeye gives his shoulder a sympathetic pat. “Believe me, I’d rather keep you in a comfy post-OP bed,” He tells him, letting his hand linger on his shoulder, “But we’re almost full in there, and Radar said we’re expecting more to come in tomorrow, so you’ll have to make do with the roaches and rats in here.” 

BJ leans back against his pillows, settling a bit more into his cot. “How dare they come and take our beds,” He mutters, “Don’t they know I’m dying?” He asks, with a playfulness to his voice that makes it clear he’s not being serious. 

“How could they?” Hawkeye asks in return, matching BJ’s playful tone, “You’re such a strong, silent type that nobody would ever know you’re sick.” This is, of course, a bold-faced lie. BJ’s been down with this fever for a few days, and he’s been, to put it kindly, a nightmare. Thought with affection. Kind of. 

Doctors always make the worst patients. This is law, a truth universally known and acknowledged. Hawkeye knows he’s a pain in the ass to deal with as a patient, he pities whoever has to deal with him whenever he’s sick or injured enough to need any sort of care. He’s a goddamn nightmare.

BJ still manages to be on a whole different level, though. 

He starts off stubborn. Insisting on carrying on, dodging all attempts to doctor him, that sort of thing. And then, when it catches up to him enough and gets his ass put in bed, he gets sneaky. So far someone- usually Hawkeyes- has had to go and hunt him down and put him back to bed five different times.

It’s only been two days. 

“You sure you don’t need any help?” BJ asks quietly. He brings a hand up, loops it around Hawkeye’s wrist.

“Not from you,” Hawkeye replies. He reaches over with his other hand, places it against BJ’s forehead to check his temperature, “Not until this fever of yours decides to break. You’re so hot I could fry an egg on your forehead right now.” He remarks. 

BJ musters another weak grin. “You’re not so bad yourself.” He rasps. It’s a line that would be much more effective if he didn’t sound like he ate a dirt road for breakfast. 

Hawkeye rolls his eyes. “Real cute,” He deadpans, taking his hand back and folding it in his lap, “I should get back to OR,” He continues with a sigh, “Make sure everything’s ready for tomorrow.” He’s dreading tomorrow. He’s already exhausted, he’s coming off a double shift and he’s looking at another long day tomorrow once the next batch of wounded comes in. That’d be enough on its own, but without BJ…

“Do you have to?” BJ asks, with a look that borders on a pout.

He doesn’t have to, is the thing. He doesn’t even want to. “I should.” He replies. 

“But do you have to?” BJ asks again.

Hawkeye raises a brow at him. “Where are you going with this, Beej?” 

BJ tugs on his wrist. “C’mere.” He says.

Ah. “No,” Hawkeye replies, trying to take his hand back. BJ tightens his grip, “No, you’re a one-man sauna and I want no part of it,” He tugs on his hand a bit more insistently, to no avail. Damn BJ’s stupid strength, “BJ.” 

“Hawkeye.” Stupid fucking smirk on his face.

“Let-“ He doesn’t get to finish that sentence. BJ grabs his arm with his other hand, and yanks. Hawkeye yelps, tumbling over directly on top of BJ, who wraps both arms around him and holds fast.

“Hi.” BJ grins, probably thinking he’s really cute.

Hawkeye scowls up at him. “Release me, villain.”

“No.” BJ’s grin doesn’t so much as falter.

“If you get me sick, I’m killing you,” Hawkeye informs him, “I mean it. I’m killing you with my own two hands. I’m a surgeon, I know how to do that in creative ways.”

“Enlighten me.” BJ invites, making no move to let him go.

“I’ll start by putting swapping your kidneys,” Hawkeye threatens, “And then I’m gonna put your stomach where your heart oughta be. And then I’ll get really creative.”

BJ chuckles, low and warm. “Will you, now.” 

“I have not yet begun to threaten,” Hawkeye proclaims, “Just wait till I get my hands on your spine.” 

“I’m terrified,” BJ says, not looking nor sounding terrified in the slightest, “Quaking in my boots.” 

If looks could kill, Hawkeye would currently be killing BJ with his glare. “I hate you.” He tells him, with no real heat at all.

“Love you, too, sweetheart.” BJ replies, knowing him all too well.

Hawkeye sighs. Long and loud. This is really comfortable, is the thing. BJ is a bit too warm for his liking, but he can suck it up. He’s exhausted. He isn’t actually required to be in OR right now. Getting as much rest as possible before tomorrow is ideal, honestly. He’s got no actual good reason to fight back against this.

“You’re a goddamn pain in my ass.” He tells BJ anyways, the closest he’ll get to admitting defeat. 

“I know.” BJ says, looking way too pleased about it. 

[thebreakfastgenie]

For M*A*S*H

1, 3, 7, 8, 17, 25? 😌

1. the character everyone gets wrong

I'm going out on a ledge here but Hawkeye. Specifically, I think certain aspects of Hawkeye get flanderized a lot. Hawkeye does have a lot of sex with multiple partners and he is very sex positive (as is the show). But he doesn't really dress slutty (look at him he literally dresses normal) or flaunt his body in public. I think people try to fit him into some sort of slut archetype and that's not him! The one time he does get naked publicly it's for a bet that no one will notice and when people do he quickly tries to cover up. In later episodes, he'll try to cover up if he's stranded without his robe in the shower. Trapper and Oliver are casually shirtless much more than Hawkeye is.

3. screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr

I saw these tags one time about the alleged dynamic between BJ, Hawkeye, and Margaret that said BJ and Margaret could continue their parts with other people but Hawkeye couldn't?? It was like "what's he supposed to do, pretend he wasn't in love?" and like literally yes? Or acknowledge that he was and just. Move on? Get over it? People literally do it all the time? Hawkeye was left by the love of his life (Carlye) twice and he literally moved on and had relationships with other people. Like what on earth.

7. what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how how the fandom acts about them?

So I've mentioned BJ before and I figured I should explain why I hate fanon BJ. I limited my exposure to fandom before I finished the show, but deliberately chose to have some because I didn't want fandom participation to coincide with running out of new episodes to watch. So, I was aware of fanon BJ and since everyone posts about it like it's canon, I kept waiting for him to start acting like that. He never did. So I felt pretty misled, lol. It's not necessarily that I would dislike fanon BJ if he were canon, it's just that he's not. I was also really taken aback by his popularity, because he's the character I find least interesting. I also didn't realize people thought he was attractive for a long time lol I'm a lesbo. And the fanon BJ characterization kind of interferes with other things; like "you can't trust what he says" to me describes Hawkeye, because he Just Says Stuff and some of it is literal and meant to be taken at face value and some of it isn't. But because "you can't trust a word he says" was assigned to BJ, no one really discusses it with regards to Hawkeye. And I can't even make semi joking headcanon posts about Hawkeye exchanging regular letters with Trapper and just not mentioning without people saying "that's BJ behavior." This inaccurate characterization about a character I don't feel strongly about is inescapable. I don't hate (canon) BJ, but every time I get accused of hating him I'm like maybe I should lol.

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

Sidney being a hardcore Freudian. He references Freud and obviously studied him, but there is no indiction he's a particularly close follower. I can't remember if it's in the final episode or just the script, but there was a reference in Dear Sigmund to the exercise of formatting his diary as a letter to Freud being something he started doing as a student. Freud is also, whatever your opinion on him, a famous and massively influential figure in Sidney's field. If Hawkeye wrote a fictional letter to Hippocrates or Halstead (famous surgeon) I don't think people would take that as evidence that he was a huge fanboy. He also makes jokes about Freud/Freudian psychology. I think canon points to Freud being one of several influences on Sidney's practice of psychiatry, not to Sidney being a devotee. Sidney is also clearly not strict follower of any theory or of theory in general and learns a lot from hands-on experience.

17. there should be more of this type of fic/art

Can I say gen fic again lol. I think I would like to see more canon divergence! I don't usually care for full on AUs, but there are so many fun opportunities with canon divergence! I'm also really fond of Hawkeye/OC (usually OFC but I like both) fics, but not ones where the OC is basically a reader insert.

As for art, I like silly little comics.

25. common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

"Stop making everything about Trapper vs BJ" especially when it's in response to things that were not even Trapper vs BJ. I mean, Trapper vs BJ comparisons are unavoidable anyway, and comparisons don't have to be inherently divisive. I too am weary of the ones that are, especially because they're usually really about a ship war I'm not invested in. But it's also become a way of shutting other things down. There was a really good post about how the early seasons don't get enough credit for having the most pointed political episodes because BJ wasn't there that got a very defensive reblog about how "it's not about Trapper vs BJ." And, like, it wasn't! OP didn't mention Trapper. The point was that BJ is a popular fandom fave and therefore the fandom doesn't give enough attention to the seasons he's not in.

[hawkwidows]

hawkeye being on disney+ means there’s no concrete reason for a strict run time, meaning I’ll never understand how you could delete FIVE MINUTES worth of the title character’s backstory when we’ve never seen any of it before, or even told it.

“the hawkeye series will dive into clint’s past.” you mean ‘past’ being something that happened less than five years ago for the character? not any other pivotal moment in his life for example THIS??

they really go so hard on this family that he has, who does nothing for his story, without ever diving into where he actually came from, or what he came from. which was almost nothing - and that is so important and completely parallels kate’s story! hello!!!!!

it doesn’t help that one of the directors flat out said that they weren’t touching on SHIELD because they, for whatever reason, thought it wasn’t ‘relevant’ but how can anything be irrelevant for a character when you know nothing about them yet? absolutely everything is relevant at this point.

clint barton was born to a young mother, who likely fled with him from harold who was an abusive father, and explains why barney hasn’t been brought up in the mcu while ALSO giving more reason to why clint is more of a quiet loner type in the mcu. he’s been on his own for a long while but still kept his heart.

he was forced to grow up and be tough, he’s been making different calls since the beginning. took his own mother’s words and used them even if it meant giving her up, because he listens to his heart and he knows what’s right deep down. this is all so important and I love clint more just with these five minutes.

YOU NEVER MISS!!!!! MY GOD EDITH!!!!!

I would so much rather see more of this part of clint’s life and how he came to be in SHIELD, than continue on with a farm and 4 people that are obviously tied to him so you don’t need screen time to show it, there have always been and will always be more important things in clint’s life to show on screen than them.

I’m so sorry that your backstory was given up for bad child acting and some dialogue about a watch, clint. hope everyone still enjoys it here until it officially comes out.

[theliteraryluggage]

"Is it often like this?" Hawkeye's voice was so soft, Ed almost didn't hear it through the static clouding his head. He took a moment to breathe. "Not often", he finally said. "This storm's a bad one, but usually I could just take it easy for the day. Get some rest. It passes. Just—" He cut himself off with a sigh. "Just …?", Hawkeye prompted after a moment when he didn't continue. Edward grimaced. "Well, the shitheads who have it out for me rudely don't give a fuck if I'm having a bad day or not. Really we should make them sign up on a schedule. Attempted murder on fair days only, please." -- Edward knows not to push himself too much when the rain makes his scars ache and the strain of the automail on his body unbearable. Really, he does. It's just … sometimes he's not given a choice.

T+ | Gen | 11K | Canon Compliant | Angst and Hurt/Comfort

I'm really nervous about posting this one, I hope there'll be some folks who like it... 🙈

[justaradioguy]

His fatal flaw in this moment is being still unable to lie to them. He at least takes the offer to sit, letting it buy him a few more seconds to think of what to reply with.

The mattress they have is a bit more comfortable than the one he's stuck with in the medical ward, but both of them are far more comfortable than wilderness, so he discards that note from his mind and sets his aid off to the side still within arm's reach. His eyes follow Chicken as the bird continues his search, but his mind is still definitely on the question he's been asked.

Hawkeye's speaking of Wonderland. If there's any real reason Kain's not able to sleep, it's Fotset. Wonderland is very much a calmer option minus any sign of a bandersnatch, but they seem to either not realize he'd been on the front lines rather than at a cozy HQ or not realize that he's bothered by the fight with Aerugo like he has.

He's not sure which of those is more offensive, but they've never meant any harm and it's probably reasonable for them to think Wonderland is more bothersome for him than it is.

Besides, Ishval was worse, so being this torn up over Fotset is probably ridiculous anyway.

Finally, he sighs, knowing he can't avoid the truth forever.

Hawkeye has always had a way of getting him to crack. Whether it's their rank or how they carry themself, he's not sure, but it's never failed before and it certainly won't now. He'd have an easier time trying to lie to their superior.

And that sucks, because he'd come in here to check on them, not the other way around. The best he can hope for is that they won't read between the lines, but they're far too smart for him to depend on that.

"If I'm being honest, Wonderland's not all that bad. I don't have to play soldier here, and like you said, people here are nice. Nights are just... bad, and you seem like the type to be awake at stupid hours. I can leave, if you want."

He can't, but he doesn't expect them to make him.

He really shouldn't be standing. That was the first thought that crossed their mind as he came in, his Chocobo in tow. They really were cute birds, especially at this size, and it was enough to bring a brief smile to their face. Chocobos grew to be quite large, didn't they? Keeping one in an apartment wouldn't be ideal then if they wanted one someday.

Not that they could bring Chocobos back to Amestris. How would they explain them? Chimeras? Maybe. That was Brigadier General Leota's expertise. The Lieutenant was just a soldier.

Fuery's question led them to tilt their head to their right. Was it weird? They paused before they shook their head, a hand patting the mattress to indicate that he could sit. He didn't have to stand on their behalf anymore. Besides, they could use the company since they weren't going to sleep---not anytime soon. The shadows looked too much like Pride.

"I don't think it's weird, no. I'm still not used to this place." To conserve room, and perhaps for comfort, they tucked their legs close to their chest. "I can't say I like it much. White Cloud and the others are nice, but everything else is... off-putting is the only way I know how to explain it. Is it like that for you?"

[dmwrites]

Here’s the thing. Scar felt… weird. And not like illness or a restless mind. He built, he built a lot, but something inside him was swirling and bubbling constantly. It was weird.

Here’s the thing. Scar wasn’t a killer. He really wasn't. More of the practical joke and overall silliness type. He had his newest bit, the “Hawkeye!” bit where he tried to hit hermits with his bow when flying past. It was fun, harmless. Okay, maybe Pearl had died but she hadn’t been wearing any armor! Hardly his fault!

Here’s the thing. Scar needed to kill. He couldn’t hold a bow without aiming it at someone. He itched for a battle axe like Impulse’s. How many of his fellow hermits had he killed so far this season? Pearl’s death to his bow had been sweeter then any cookie. He’d smiled and talked his way into killing Joe where he stood, and the trophy of Joe’s head hung over his bed for at least a month.

If it wasn’t so deep and all-encompassing, maybe he could laugh it off. Death could be brushed off here on Hermitcraft; they’d all killed each other so many times throughout the years. But this was a deep itching, where he kept finding himself with bow in his hands, pointed straight at someone else. And it disturbed him.

He ended up in front of Cleo’s snake, in a weird turn of events. He hated that damn snake. But, of all the people he knew, Cleo knew death on a personal level. They’d played on the same field twice now, and if anyone knew about something like this, it would be her.

Cleo walked out on the serpent’s tongue and looked down at him.

“You said it was urgent. It better well be, Scar. I’m busy.”

“Oh, can we please just take a walk? That snake, it…” Scar shivered, maybe a little dramatically. Cleo rolled her eyes, but hopped down and they strode very slowly together along the riverside.

“What’s this about, Scar? You aren’t usually one to be serious.” Cleo looked at him curiously.

“Cleo, I don’t quite know how to do this with any real eloquence, so I guess I’ll just say it.” Scar paused, tucking some of his long hair behind his ear. “I want to kill.”

Cleo didn’t roll her eyes, to his surprise. She just nodded and gave him a grim look. “I know.”

“You know?” Scar whispered. “How?”

“Oh Scar, you are many wonderful things, but subtle you are not. Every person you pass catches your eye and suddenly there’s a weapon in your hand. Your way of greeting people is to shoot them. You’ve always been one to wear your emotions on your sleeve, and this bloodlust is no different.”

“Then why is it happening, Cleo? I feel feverish, like it’ll never end, like the world is in rose tinted sunglasses but it’s blood instead of roses!” Scar could have dropped to his knees to emphasize, but Cleo looped his arm with her own, and they continued their slow walk down the peaceful river.

“I have a theory. Well, okay, Joe had a theory and I’m taking it for my own, because I helped think it through. You remember Last Life, don’t you?” Scar nodded. “Well, and forgive me if I’m misremembering, but you were intertwined with illness during it, right?” Scar nodded again. “You had many lives, and it didn’t matter because you sunk to death so fast, it was almost painful to witness. You were alone. I didn’t really know you all too well in there, but I remember hearing about a wizard alone on a mountain, buying friendships with crystals and sly contracts. All brought to a halt by a random arrow in a random fight. And we were all too busy fighting to really remember you. And then we came back to Hermitcraft and there was the moon and everything was insane and there was no time for any other thought. I think the bloodlust never got spent out as it should have. The Scar who wasted away on that mountain lives within you, festering and calling for blood.”

Scar was quiet. The two sat down on a bench and watched the sun begin to set.

“But how do I fix it?” Scar asked eventually. “It’s all-encompassing. I just want to kill everyone in sight.”

Cleo sighed. “I don’t know, honestly, Scar.”

She still had her arm looped through his, and she patted it softly. Scar could feel her crude stitches against his skin. “Maybe we just need another death arena. They say three is a magic number.”

[sarcastic-soulmate]

Within the Chaos, Magic is Found

Read on AO3...

@michi-hawkeye @911reversebang

Maddie sits down on her bed in her room, knees pulled up against her chest, and her chin resting on them solemnly. She blinks, eyes not yet damp with tears from missing Taylor but the room gives off an air of solitude that isn't exactly welcome at the moment. 

Royal life isn't all it's cracked up to be. Sure, she has admirers and suitors after her hand, but they don't want her. They want the image her parents have created for her, the one they force her to continue by parading her around in fancy clothes and performing royal duties. 

What does balancing a book on your head have to do with real life? 

She's never gotten a clear answer to that question.

A wistful smile appears on her face when the image of red hair whipping in the wind and a bright smile directed at her enters her mind. Besides her little brother, Taylor is the only one who truly sees her as who she is and not who she's supposed to be. The first time she noticed it, she felt exposed and vulnerable to this unfamiliar terrain, but it was something she liked getting used to.

They'd met when Maddie escaped the castle one night, thanks to her favorite bodyguard, Athena, who'd turned away and pretended not to see her when she snuck out, the hood of her cloak pulled over her head. As if that getup isn't suspicious at all. 

She'd ended up at a café, sitting in the back of the room, the same hood covering her despite how warm the room was. Taylor had been typing away at her laptop, and Maddie found herself intrigued by her, how in the zone she looked at whatever she was doing, and at that moment, Maddie had wondered if she could ever be that passionate about something. 

What she didn't realize, and what Taylor had told her later was that she was watching her pretty intently too, from the moment she'd walked in, really.

Maddie looks out the window at the pretty view, trees floating around in the cool air of the night. Her gaze follows the closest tree to her as it sways back and forth, and it embarrassingly takes her more than a minute to figure out why that tree looks so much more interesting than usual. Her eyes catch on a flash of red, and Maddie swears that she imagined it until she sees the flash again.

"That cannot be a part of the tree," Maddie whispers, pulse quickening in excitement.

Her theory is confirmed when she sees a hand pushing hair out of the way and she wonders how no one else can see this. Maddie shakes her head at how ridiculously endearing it is.

She pulls a pink coat around her body, deciding to forego the cloak this time. She'll probably end up paying for that later when someone recognizes her, but whatever. Normal people don't walk around wearing hooded capes all the time, no matter how powerful they make her feel.

She grabs her things and heads for the bookcase, pushing the wooden structure aside to reveal the secret pathway. Walking down the long corridor, her steps are dainty to avoid noise. She's lived in the castle her whole life but she isn't certain there aren't other entrances to this area or cameras watching her or guards looking around waiting to pounce. 

"Are you crazy?" Maddie whispers loudly when she finally gets outside. The usual guards that are there aren't. Maddie doesn't question it.

"Only for you," Taylor replies, scrambling down from the tree. It's become a habit of hers, saying cheesy pick-up lines just to make her roll her eyes.

"That has to be your worst one yet," she tells her. 

Taylor gasps, feigning offense. "I'll have you know that I have said way worse." 

Maddie ignores that comment and pulls Taylor in for a hug. They hadn't seen each other for a week. Taylor got tied up with work and Maddie couldn't find a good time to get out of the castle, all the guards breathing down her neck like they don't have anything better to do.

When they separate, Taylor leans in for something more intimate, colliding their lips together. Maddie easily reciprocates, and her heart thumps happily in her chest where they are pressed together. They separate just in time for Maddie to catch her breath. 

"So what brings you—" Maddie's question is interrupted when Taylor swiftly grabs her hand, pulling her to the side so their backs are pressed against the thick trunk of the tree. 

"Tay—" She stops when she sees what Taylor sees, a guard walking out of the same exit Maddie had just used, whistling a happy tune. Her theory was correct, but that doesn't make her feel any better. 

Maddie presses herself closer to Taylor under the guise of keeping herself hidden. Taylor probably knows her real motive but doesn't say a word, but that may have more to do with their current situation. 

They're quiet against the tree for what feels like hours when Taylor tugs on her hand. Maddie spares a fearful, wide-eyed look back at the guard to see him smoking a cigarette and staring up at the sky, clearly distracted. She turns her head back and follows Taylor. 

They peer around the tree, and Maddie doesn't expect the second guard that appears, her least favorite guard too. They lock eyes and Maddie grips Taylor's hand tighter. 

This is not the time to stay frozen. "Run," Maddie whispers. 

"What?" 

"Run! Let's go!" She almost yells it this time, and she and Taylor dash off toward the gardens, Maddie's heart pumping adrenaline throughout her body as the guard is yelling for them to stop, footsteps loud and fast and swiftly approaching. 

Her eyes zero in on the extravagant blue shed across the garden and it's a long shot, but if she zig-zags left and right to throw him off, she might be able to lose the guard and hide in there. Her feet travel to one side and then the other to test her hypothesis, but it feels like someone else is moving them; this can't be her. 

She's halfway to the shed when a hand pulls her down, and she yelps, panting like a dog and clutching her pulsating chest.

"Shh!" Taylor says. She sits down against a tall plant. Her mother really does like them. The pastel blue ceramic pot is nearly as tall as Maddie is.

The force of Taylor's yank sends her into a heap next to her, the upper half of her body sprawled in Taylor's lap, a strand of dark hair stuck in her mouth. Maddie tries to spit it out but fails, and she musters up the energy to reach a hand up toward her face and pull it away. 

Maddie pulls herself back up and settles for leaning her head against Taylor's shoulder. 

"Is it safe to move?" Maddie asks, mumbling into Taylor's clothed arm. 

Taylor cranes her head up and around the potted plant. "He's headed for the shed. He looks pissed." 

Serves him right. Frank pisses her off too. Always sucking up to her parents, angling to get a promotion. He always has that stupid scowl on his face whenever her mother and father aren't watching. 

She's hated him ever since he called her then 6-year-old brother a brat for trying to jump out of the castle window and causing him to cry. 

"He can deal with it," she says, twisting her head to the side opposite Taylor's to see if she can get a better view. 

"He's in the shed! Let's go!" 

Taylor and Maddie jump up simultaneously, taking long steps to avoid making noise, almost like they're running in slow motion. 

The door to the shed creaks back open and Maddie ducks behind another, similarly-sized plant. She moves her head as much as she can without being seen in the limited space she has, eyes scanning her surroundings, swallowing a thick gulp when she can't see Taylor anywhere. Her stomach drops, a ball of twisting anxiety developing in her gut. 

Maddie wipes her sweaty, shaking hands on her pant-covered thighs, resisting the urge to run those same hands through her hair. 

Did Frank get Taylor?

He can't possibly have because she can still hear his footsteps thumping against the neatly-trimmed grass, searching. 

When she can't hear him anymore, she twists her torso as much as she can so she can see if he's still watching. His back is facing her, and she can so perfectly picture the snarl on his face as he scans the area. 

How stupid can a man be?

Pretty stupid, apparently.

Maddie worries her bottom lip through her teeth, giving the world around her a once-over. She steps on her tip-toes as if she were a ballet dancer and sets her foot on the top of the pot. She pulls her other foot along with her and keeps her knees bent into a squat as she sits within the obnoxiously large leaves. They resemble the tall, thick stalks of an aloe vera plant but Maddie can't be sure what exactly it is, only knowing that her mother would kill her if she found her sitting inside her prized possession. 

Her stomach swoops further when she remembers that she still doesn't know how to go about finding Taylor. 

She closes her eyes, visualizing the garden around her, where Taylor could have run off without her knowing. She wouldn't have abandoned her, Maddie thinks slightly hopefully. Another moment of pondering has her certain of that. 

"Maddie?" 

Maddie's eyes snap open quickly and then shut again, deciding that it's the wind playing tricks on her. 

That's a thing, right?

"Maddie!" She opens her eyes again. It's louder this time, like a whisper-yell, and the voice sounds suspiciously familiar. 

She bites her lip, wondering if she should answer. "Yes?" She whispers loudly, matching the voice's volume and grimacing. 

"Where are you?" 

Maddie looks around, and Frank is nowhere to be found. Maybe he's given up. Or he went to notify her parents. Or maybe Athena talked some sense into him. Who knows?

"In a plant. You?" 

"I'm in a tree." 

Maddie's eyebrows pull together confusedly, hating herself for wanting to laugh at a time like this. 

"Which tree?"

Her question goes unanswered.

"Can you see me?" Maddie squints through the dark at the nearby trees as she had done earlier in her bedroom. She scans each tree thoroughly, establishing that Taylor is not in any of those while the leaves dance to the beat of the wind.

She's almost given up when she squints just a little bit further and sees what looks like a hand waving around erratically. She's taking a big risk here; Frank could still be lurking. He most likely is.

"I see you! I'm coming." 

Maddie extends one leg in front of her, scooting her bottom to the edge of the pot and sticking the same leg out under herself, trying to locate the ground. 

"I am way too short for this," Maddie mutters when she steals a glance and notices her foot still dangling in the air below her, not quite reaching the soil.

She pushes herself further off the plant, her other leg quickly following the first, and she tries to hold herself up against it with her bent arms, purse hanging loosely on her upper arm, and it works for a few moments until the dampness of her sweaty hands skids against the ceramic and she lands in a thud on the ground, her arms aching. 

She pulls the hood of her incredibly conspicuous pink jacket (of all colors, why did she have to pick that one) over her head as if that would help matters any and runs across the too-big garden, stopping in front of the trunk of the tree she presumes Taylor is in. 

She looks up to see Taylor's feet scrambling down the branches, reaching out a hand for Maddie to help her down. 

Maddie grabs the hand as quickly as it is thrust in front of her and grips it tightly so Taylor doesn't lose her balance and fall. Just like she did a moment before, she thinks dryly.

"Thank you," Taylor says sincerely when she steps in front of her. 

Maddie shakes her head slowly, not quite believing what they had just been through. "How the hell did you get into a tree?" She has to ask.

"I don't know! All I saw was him coming out of the shed and you running like Usain Bolt, so I knew you'd be okay and I just…" She trails off. 

"Bolted?" Maddie jokes. 

"Yes, bolted." She sighs. "And when I made it up the tree, you were gone. That was worrying." 

"I hid inside a plant," Maddie admits, gaze flicking to the ground and then back to Taylor. "It's not as cool as it sounds. And then I fell, which I have decided is not my fault because no one in their right mind needs a plant that big."

"Maybe you're just short," Taylor says, looking down at her with a glint in her eyes. 

"Hush." 

"Fine." Taylor pulls Maddie into her arms and holds her tightly, Maddie smiling into her shoulder at the fact that they've now reunited after that. 

Crack. 

"Did you hear that?" Maddie whispers, pulling away, her eyes wide and her stomach starting to return to its previously anxious, knotted-up state.

"Hear what?" 

Snap.

"That!" It sounds just like a twig breaking in half. Like someone is still looking for them. Like they need to get the hell out of here right fucking now.

Looks like Frank hasn't given up yet. 

"Let's go!" She tells Taylor, and they run out of the gardens, ducking behind the obscenely large fountain, their clothes and hair dampening just a tad before they agree it's safe to leave again. They run past the buildings and the structures, and in a blur, they're out of the castle and in the real world, where people walk down sidewalks and go to stores and let their hair down and talk to each other without ever having to worry about the example they're setting, the best way to sneak out, or what rich family their parents are planning on marrying them off to. 

Maddie looks over her shoulder, her mouth falling open because she can't quite believe it, and if she had a little more courage, she would simply leave and never return. But she can't. 

The reasons why are so few these days, but she can't. 

Burnt red leaves blow in the wind as Maddie and Taylor take slow, steady steps across the sidewalk, no destination in mind. Her right hand is clasped in Taylor's left as they stroll.

"Our usual spot?" Maddie asks as they approach the café, Maddie letting go of Taylor's hand so she can push her purse up higher on her shoulder, trying not to blush at the way Taylor simply grabs her free hand instead. It's a bit of an awkward position but not at all unwelcome. 

Taylor hums in a reassuring agreement as she lets go of where they're joined together and opens the door for Maddie. 

"After you, Princess." 

"Shut up," she says as they walk in together. The moment they set foot in the bakery and the door behind them closes, Maddie is met with warm, comforting air and the smell of freshly-made cookies, a direct contrast to the biting air of the outdoors and the sharp scent indicating that it's going to rain soon. 

Taylor had mentioned once before that this is the place where she does her work when she doesn't want to be bothered, the noise of people bustling around her oddly comforting. Maddie smiles when she imagines Taylor the same way she was when they had first met, her hair up and behind her while she furiously types away at her laptop. 

"What are you thinking about?" Taylor asks, blue eyes wide with curiosity. 

"You," Maddie quips because it's true. 

"Is that so?" She raises an eyebrow, looking into her eyes and Maddie stares right back at her, not being one to back down from a challenge, even a non-existent one. 

Their staring contest is interrupted by Bobby. He's the owner of the café but he likes to be upfront, talking to people and giving them their orders. 

"You guys are here really late," Bobby tells them as if that's not the case every single time they're here. 

Taylor rolls her eyes. "What a newsflash, I'll write an article about it." 

Maddie turns her head to keep from laughing and her muscles tense up when she notices a man across the room looking at her with his head tilted as if she looks familiar and he's trying to place her. Maddie ducks her head and catches a concerned glance of Bobby's before his eyes melt into what she hopes is understanding because she doesn't think she could handle it if it were anything else. 

"Your usual?" He asks Taylor. 

"Of course!" She replies and lets Maddie lead her to their table. She chooses one in the back corner where Taylor can sit across from her and block her from everyone's vision. 

She glances back at the man and he's back to drinking whatever is in his coffee cup, having given up on trying to figure out who she is. That, or he has and he just doesn't care. Either way, Maddie is grateful. 

When Bobby comes to bring them their orders, Taylor's cocoa and Maddie's latte, they find themselves staring at each other again silently as they sip their drinks. Maddie tries to fix this by looking away shyly, and Taylor occasionally looks down in her cup as if the sight of the pale milk swirling around against the brown chocolate is the most interesting thing in the world, but they always end up looking back at each other again. It's not an uncomfortable silence, but Maddie wishes they had something to talk about, that she could pull a topic out of the air like magic.

"Maddie?" Taylor asks, her voice filled with a hesitance Maddie hasn't heard many times before. Taylor usually acts so confidently, so it's jarring to notice a time when she isn't.

Her eyelids shrink into a concerned squint as she looks at Taylor and she grips her cup tightly, her knuckles turning white as she does. 

She lifts the cup to take a long sip and holds in a pleased hum at the wonderful taste and the sensation of the warm liquid sliding down her throat.

Liquid courage, she thinks, though she's sure that term usually applies to alcohol. Coffee is the next best thing, she thinks.

"Do you ever think about—" Taylor looks around nervously, and Maddie follows her gaze, noticing Bobby across the room happily taking a young woman's order. There aren't too many people in the shop anymore. Statistically, fewer people in the room equal fewer people recognizing her. 

"About?" Maddie tries to look at her softly with a smile on her face, hoping that would relax her into asking what she wants to ask. 

"About maybe—" 

For a journalist, she sure is secretive, Maddie thinks dryly when Taylor glances around their surroundings again.

"Going public?" Her face looks hopeful now. What does hers look like? She's not sure except for the shock that runs through her, the way her heart twists with excitement at the mere possibility, and the way her mouth falls open slightly in surprise. 

Taylor must have taken her silence as rejection because her face falls and she tries to stammer out an apology. Maddie rests a hand on hers to stop her. 

"I think about it a lot, actually," she says softly, and internally pats herself on the back for the way Taylor's smile returns to her face. 

"You do?" 

"Yeah. I'm just… not sure how." 

They'd agreed not to go public not just for the sake of Maddie, but for the both of them. Taylor didn't want it getting out that they were together because she wasn't sure that kind of attention would be good for her career, and Maddie didn't think it was a good idea to go public given her parents' rigid ways of doing things. 

They've been together almost a year now, and not many things have changed, but Maddie's main worry was if she were exiled, she'd never see her brother again, but he's rapidly approaching adulthood so maybe they can leave together. Someday. 

Someday, we'll all get the hell out of here. 

It's a lot to hope for, but it's all that keeps her going right now. That and Taylor. 

"I don't know either," Taylor admits, and Maddie's eyes flick back to hers. 

"What about your career?" 

All that negative attention? Maddie doesn't say that, but she's sure they're both thinking it by the way Taylor's face turns thoughtful. 

Taylor exhales through her mouth in a loud sigh. "Maybe I can write a tell-all article," she jokes, "That way the attention it brings won't be bad, you know?" 

Maddie chuckles. "That's not such a bad idea." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah. That way everything's public and I get to show you off." The corners of Maddie's mouth lift into a flirty smile that usually Taylor is wearing on her face, but now it seems that the tables have turned.

But of course, Taylor being Taylor has to outdo her. 

"No way, if we're going public, I'll be showing you off, Princess." 

Maddie rolls her eyes. "You drive a hard bargain." 

"Think you can take it, Buckley?" 

"I know I can." 

"Sure." Taylor drags out the sound of the word as if she doesn't believe her.

"Shut up." 

"A royal telling someone to shut up?" Taylor gasps dramatically. 

"There's your million-dollar article," Maddie comments. 

"Exiled princess does have a nice ring to it." 

"I agree." 

They fall into another silence that this time Maddie doesn't feel the need to fill with unnecessary chit-chat. She sips her coffee and stares at the bare nails of her left hand, looking away when she finds that Taylor's face is a lot more interesting. 

She's reading some pamphlet about baking that just happened to be on the table, and the way her eyes scan back and forth across the words on the page is far more satisfying than any of the sights of the coffee shop. 

No offense, Bobby.

At some point, Taylor clears her throat and fixes her eyes on Maddie expectantly, more than a ghost of a smirk on her face. 

"See something you like?" And Maddie isn't about to admit to anything, so she takes the bait. 

"Yeah," she breathes, "The wallpaper is super interesting here." She tries (and succeeds) in her attempt not to laugh, and Taylor's eyes narrow. 

"Really?" She asks, her voice tinged with disbelief. "That wallpaper?" Taylor gestures next to her to where Maddie had just adjusted her gaze— to the plain white color of the wall just beside them. 

Maddie pokes her tongue in her cheek and decides to take it a step further. "Yeah, it's got kind of a minimalist quality to it, don't you think?" She ends her statement with a split-second raise of her eyebrows as if daring her to disagree. 

Taylor stares at her blankly for more than a moment before the smirk returns to her face.

"You know what I think, Buckley?" 

"Hmm? No, what's that?" 

"I think you're lying." 

"Oh, you do?" Taylor's eyes narrow further at the challenge, and she purses her lips. 

"I do. That wall can't be more interesting than me." She crosses her arms defiantly, and Maddie rolls her eyes. 

"You sure do think a lot of yourself, don't you?" 

Taylor responds to that by huffing. A loud rumbling emits from Maddie's stomach, and Taylor laughs. 

"Would you believe me if I said that wasn't me?" 

Taylor's face scrunches in thought as if she's seriously considering her answer to that question. Her features relax into their precious expression, and she says, "No, I'm not sure I will."

The rest of the coffee date goes by quickly. Taylor orders Maddie a bagel with cream cheese when her stomach starts to loudly rumble again, and Maddie tries not to look away shyly when she helps her wipe off cream cheese from her bottom lip.

They talk about everything and nothing at the same time, the sound of the door opening and closing with people coming and going merely background noise, not drawing the least bit of Maddie's attention. 

It's like a bubble has formed around them, a bubble that only pops when Bobby shows up once again at their table. 

"You do realize we're closing now, right?" He asks, and Maddie lets herself chuckle at the way Taylor rolls her eyes at him again. 

"Hush," is all Taylor says in response, taking a few steps so she's standing behind Maddie's chair, helping her back into the pink coat she had abandoned earlier in the date.

"Have a nice night!" Bobby says and Maddie greets him a happy, polite goodbye in return while Taylor only lifts her hand above her head and gives him a thumbs-up, her other hand resting comfortably on the small of Maddie's back. 

"Do you have to do that every time?" Maddie asks amusedly with an unimpressed look on her face. 

"Yes, it's our thing. He gets it." She nods, emphasizing her point, and Maddie huffs out a laugh before she lets it go. 

They're walking down the sidewalk once again, the darkness of the night slightly lighter than before. Taylor shivers and Maddie takes her hand, softly caressing it to help warm her up. 

Taylor shoots her an appreciative look and they continue walking, autumn leaves blowing around aimlessly in the air before landing softly on the ground.

Again, softly, not at all reminiscent of the ungraceful way Maddie had fallen from that plant just a few hours ago. 

And speaking of that plant… 

"So how are you sneaking me back into the castle?" Maddie asks her. There's a bench planted into the cement of the sidewalk, so Maddie takes refuge there, pulling Taylor's hand down with her so she follows. 

"That's a good question." 

Taylor doesn't say anything after that and only responds when Maddie's eyes shift back and forth at their surroundings before coming back to look at her expectantly. 

"Depends on if Frank is still lurking." 

"He probably is, he has no life," Maddie muses, eyes locked on their hands joined together just above Maddie's right knee. 

"How much trouble do you think you'll be in?" 

"Depends on whether Athena said anything or not. He reports to her. My parents might not have any idea I'm gone." 

Maddie's tone is neutral, not quite giving away what she's feeling, and Taylor must pick up on that given what she says next. 

"Is that… good or bad?" 

Maddie blinks. "A little of both, I guess." She leans her head on Taylor's shoulder, looking up at the gray clouds that slowly cover the stars of the night sky. It was supposed to rain, but it hasn't yet, it seems. 

"Good because them not paying attention means I get to spend time with you," she says sweetly, gripping Taylor's hand tighter. 

"And bad because as parents, they should be paying attention," Taylor finishes for her, and Maddie nods without looking at her. 

"Being royal is more important to them." Maddie's statement is wistful like she knows it shouldn't be that way but that's just how it is, how it's been ever since Daniel died. 

They were happier then. They were busy a lot but still made time for their children. They played and danced and laughed. She and Daniel would drive their parents crazy by running through the castle and making them look for them. Hide-and-seek is so much more fun when there are near-infinite spaces to hide in. After he died, they lost interest entirely. Or maybe they just pretended they did so it would hurt less. 

Maybe there's some method to their madness. 

"We should probably head back," Maddie says, her tone soft and regretful like that's the last thing she wants to do. Taylor seems to share the same sentiment by the way she hums a sound of agreement but doesn't make any effort to move from where they are. 

"Probably," Taylor says after at least a minute of silence. Maddie scrunches her face in confusion until she remembers what she had previously said. 

It's at least another few minutes until Maddie shifts where she's leaning against Taylor, cheek pressing further into her shoulder.

"Are you ready to go?" Maddie asks, her voice slightly distorted due to her position. 

"No. But let's go anyway." Taylor gets up and Maddie holds her tightly around her upper arm, trying to savor these last moments with her because she may not see her again for a while. 

Once or twice they've been able to visit a few days in a row, but those circumstances are rare. They usually get to see each other in some way about once a week, except for that one time they didn't get to go out for almost a month, and if that situation repeats itself, Maddie doesn't know what she'd do to cope. Maybe she'll write long, dramatic Victorian love letters.

The sun is just starting to come up over the horizon now, so they know they need to hurry, but Maddie can't bring herself to make her steps any faster than the slow pace they are currently at. 

Especially when the light of the early morning sun hits Taylor just right and Maddie wants to take a moment to stop and look and savor it, but she can't. 

She has to get back home, but Maddie isn't sure if the palace is really home anymore, or if it ever truly was.

Maybe home isn't supposed to be a place.

"Maybe we'll have another adventure trying to sneak you back in," Taylor muses, and Maddie lets out an exhale that's supposed to be a laugh but took a wrong turn somewhere and became a sad sigh. 

When the palace starts to come into view, they walk toward the gardens, the ones that hold a whole new meaning in her eyes now. Maddie gazes at the tall plant that had betrayed her earlier with an amused light in her eyes and nothing more. 

"I don't see Frank anywhere," Maddie says. 

"There's hope for us yet." 

Maddie laughs, this time a little harder than she probably should. She's savoring these moments because they can come so few and far in between and it's so much better to remember them as happy and full of laughter. 

"You can just leave me here," Maddie says, voice low so only they will hear, "It won't look weird for me to be in the garden." 

Something in Taylor's face looks a little pained, but Maddie doesn't comment on it. 

"Are you sure?" 

"Yeah, I am." 

Maddie opens her arms and lets Taylor sink into them. When Taylor's hands grip the middle of her back, Maddie adjusts her own to sit around Taylor's neck, brushing against her soft hair and stroking it gently.

When Maddie pulls back, she catches the eye of Athena standing by one of the many entrances, and Taylor follows her gaze. 

"I guess that's my cue to leave," she says, and Maddie nods sadly. 

"I love you!" Maddie calls after her softly, too softly for her to hear. 

Or so she thinks. 

Taylor turns around and jogs back to her, throwing her arms around her this time. 

"I love you too," she whispers in her ear, and Maddie giggles.

***

She really shouldn't have worried. Maddie wakes up in the middle of the night three days later to a sharp knocking at her door.

Maddie groggily sits up in bed, pushing the covers out from over her and climbing out, stumbling to her bedroom door and swinging it open with an unexpected yawn.

When her blurry vision starts to fade into something that makes sense, Athena comes into view. 

"Are you okay?" She asks her. 

Athena nods. "Just thought you should be informed that you-know-who is outside in a tree and you should probably go get her before she falls and kills herself." 

"Oh my God." She thanks Athena and the woman walks off with a kind nod and quiet footsteps down the long hallway. She moves like a cat. It's terrifying. 

Maddie throws her things into a bag and runs a brush through her unruly hair, slowly pulling back the extravagant curtains in front of her window and gazing at the trees. 

She can't quite make out Taylor, but the image of her scrambling up a tree and holding on for dear life is both amusing and worrying, Maddie thinks. 

She takes quick, loud steps through the not-so-secret entrance because Athena kind of has a point about that whole Taylor falling-and-dying thing, and that wouldn't be ideal.

[thebreakfastgenie]

AT LUNCH WITH: Alan Alda Hawkeye Turns Mean, Sensitively

By Elizabeth Kolbert May 18, 1994

THE first thing Alan Alda wants to know when he arrives is whether everything is O.K. He has chosen the restaurant, Orso; he hopes that's O.K. He has asked for a table outside, on the patio. Is that O.K.?

In Hollywood, it isn't easy to get a reputation as a nice guy, but somehow Mr. Alda has managed. Perhaps it is because he spent so much time playing Hawkeye Pierce, that superficially snide but deep-down-lovable scamp. Or maybe it is because he has been married to the same woman for more than three decades and campaigned for the equal rights amendment years before the sensitive guy was even invented.

Or maybe it's just because he's the kind of star who, when he arrives for an interview, seems genuinely concerned that things are O.K.

Whatever the reasons, Mr. Alda has had enough. Over the last few years, he has set about refashioning himself, on screen at least, into something of a jerk. First, in the Woody Allen film "Crimes and Misdemeanors," he played a vain television producer whispering his brilliant insights into a pocket tape recorder. Then, in "And the Band Played On," he portrayed Dr. Robert Gallo as an egomaniacal character more interested in getting credit for discovering the AIDS virus than in curing it.

Now, in "White Mile," which will have its premiere on Saturday on HBO, Mr. Alda is Dan Cutler, a hard-charging advertising executive whose reckless enthusiasm for male bonding results in the deaths of five men.

He made the shift to beat what he calls the "type thing" but has found that he quite enjoys villainy. "The reason that actors like to play bad guys is that you get to do things they won't let you do in real life," he said. "You have people fired, you hit on women, you tell people off, you have them killed. It's very nice to have people killed and not have to go to jail for it."

For lunch, Mr. Alda was wearing a silky maroon shirt, a blue sport jacket with a faint white check and a pair of steel-gray pants. At 58, he is still as lanky and trim as in his "M*A*S*H" days, but his hair, once black, is now completely gray. To read a menu, he now puts on a pair of round-framed bifocals.

Although on television and in movies Mr. Alda tends toward the wry -- whether he's playing nice or not so nice -- in person there are few quips and not a lot of irony. It's not that he is sincere, exactly, but he seems to want to be. "I tried not to come in today with a line of talk," he said. "I tried not to come in to sell you some idea. I'm bored with that."

"I'm not trying to look like I'm a certain type of person, or trying to sell you on 'White Mile,' " he continued. "If you like it, you like it; if you don't, you don't."

"White Mile" follows a team of advertising executives who embark on a rafting trip with their clients as a kind of high-stakes adventure. The head of the agency, played by Mr. Alda, does not want anything to interfere with the bonding experience, so all the men end up piling into one raft, with dreadful results. After five men have drowned, Mr. Alda's character is unrepentant: "I didn't motivate them enough" is the closest he comes to blaming himself for the disaster.

To film "White Mile," which is based on a true story, Mr. Alda and the rest of the cast, including Peter Gallagher and Robert Loggia, spent most of December on the American River in northern California. Mr. Alda described the work -- flailing around while being swept down the river -- as not only strenuous, but also frigid.

But unlike his character, he was not given to machismo in the face of danger. "In every meeting we had," he said, "I asked them how many river people we were going to have. I think they got the message. Everywhere you turned, there was somebody to pull you out of the water."

Mr. Alda has been acting for almost half a century now, ever since his late father, Robert, the original Sky Masterson in "Guys and Dolls" on Broadway, started to use him in vaudeville routines in the 1940's. He credits all the hours he spent hanging around his father and his father's friends with giving him a sense of how much serious work it takes to be entertaining.

"When my father was in vaudeville, I would stand in the wings and watch the magician," he recalled over a plate of penne with vegetables. "I could see how he made the audience think there was nothing in the box. I was seeing him from the side; I'd see how he'd reach under the table and put the pigeons in the box.

"Standing on the side -- watching and hearing the reaction of the audience and seeing the performers five feet away, reading their thoughts, watching them time their performance -- is an education that you can't get from the other side of the footlights. You can watch actors create their illusions, but if you don't see where they get the pigeons from, you don't really know how they're doing it."

Over the years, Mr. Alda has performed just about every role in show business. He has written, directed and starred in four films, the first of which, "The Four Seasons," was a commercial success and the last of which, "Betsy's Wedding," was a flop. He has acted on Broadway, most recently in the Neil Simon play "Jake's Women," tried his hand at writing sitcoms and appeared in commercials. But as he has grown older, he has become pickier about the projects he takes on, and as a result, his schedule these days is . . . let's just say pretty loose.

In a few months, he will be seen as an inept President who orders the invasion of Canada in a new movie from Michael Moore, the director of "Roger and Me." But beyond that, he said, he has not been offered any roles he felt compelled to take. "It's an interesting problem I have," he said. "I want to be able to use the years I have left to have the richest kind of fun I can have."

Ever since "M*A*S*H," Mr. Alda has split his time between the East Coast, where he has houses in the Hamptons and Leonia, N.J., and the West, where he owns a house in the Bel Air section of Los Angeles. He and his wife, Arlene, a photographer, plan to pass this summer on Long Island, spending time with their three daughters and three grandchildren.

Mr. Alda, who in the 1970's became feminism's poster boy -- or should it be poster man? -- no longer spends much time on politics. "I think I put in my time," he said of his days campaigning, unsuccessfully, for the equal rights amendment. "I just got tired of making speeches."

Perhaps. But when he gets going on the subject of women's rights, his voice changes timbre and he comes perilously close to speechifying.

"I don't think we've gotten as far as we can go," he said. "But I think we've gotten much, much farther than anybody imagined we would. I mean, I just read yesterday that the Navy -- it wasn't big news -- that the Navy was going to start making more space for women with increased combat responsibilities.

"That was the main argument for not passing the equal rights amendment: that women would have to be in combat. Well, it turns out they didn't need the equal rights amendment to have the Navy do that, and it's not even big news. So the mind-set has changed enormously, and it has plenty to go."

It was "M*A*S*H" that made Alan Alda a household name -- and an enormously rich man -- and with reruns of the show broadcast practically continuously, it is "M*A*S*H" that in many ways continues to define his public image. The show, which ran for 11 years, is still regarded as the gold standard in the world of sitcom production, and its last episode, on Feb. 28, 1983, was one of the highest-rated entertainment programs ever. But Mr. Alda said the series, which he does not watch in syndication, seemed very distant to him now.

"I'm very happy that I've done something that gives people pleasure still after all these years," he said. "Not that they remember: that they still see it. But for me, as a personal experience for me, it's as though it happened to somebody else."

As for the fame that went with "M*A*S*H" and has been slowly dissipating since then, he maintained that he was just as happy to see it go. At lunch passers-by seemed to notice him, and occasionally paused to greet him, but they did not surround him or even seem particularly impressed by his presence.

"I never was comfortable being as famous as I was," he said. He recalled one evening during the heyday of "M*A*S*H" when a woman who saw him at a restaurant was so overcome that she started to sob. To this day, he said, he regretted not having gone over to comfort her.

All of which again presents the question of being a nice guy. Mr. Alda insisted that it was the press that defined him that way.

"I never was as wonderful a person as everybody said I was," he said. "It occurred to me a couple of days ago that it's too bad that I'm not as wonderful a person as people say I am, because the world could use a few good people like that."

[blakelysco-pilot]

Birds of A Feather- Need You Tonight

The third part of Birds of A Feather. Clint finally works up the courage to ask Blair out after a handful of derailed attempts and encouragement from Natasha. The only problem is that he doesn't know where to take her, and when they eventually get there, it's not what he had hoped for. Happy reading; feedback is always appreciated. Also posted on AO3.

“I know it’s more than a crush, Clint.” Natasha ground out as he landed a blow to her ribs. 

“Tasha, less talking. More punching.” 

The pair were currently occupying the training room; having no trouble throwing each other around like rag dolls for the sake of working out. 

“Im just saying,” Natasha ducked an oncoming kick and managed to sweep Clint’s feet out from under him, sending the archer onto his back. Natasha took the opportunity to look down at him. “If you don’t ask her to the Christmas Gala, you’ll miss your window.”

“I’ve been trying to ask her for a drink for weeks, and that keeps blowing up in my face.”

“Clint, don’t make me ask her for you.”

Just as Clint was about to respond, pushing himself up off the mat, Natasha was on him again, pinning him down. 

“Ask her, Barton.”

Leaving him where she had taken him down, Natasha strode from the training room, towel over her shoulder, and a smirk on her lips. 

“Fuck…” Clint scrubbed a hand down his face, thinking of what Nat had just said to him. 

He knew she was right, because to him, Blair was the type of woman who couldn't possibly stay on the market long. Clint had to make a move before it was too late. 

“Damnit Tasha, why are you always right…” he grumbled, moving to exit the room and head for his level of the tower for a hot shower and a pot of coffee. 

As he waited for the elevator, he considered just how he might ask her. This was bigger than asking her for a few drinks after work; and doing just that had proven difficult for Clint. Every time he seemed to get close to doing so, something got in the way. A mission, or too much paperwork on her desk, or a migraine brought on by said paperwork. 

He was able to breeze through conversation with her if he kept it light, humorous, and kept her on her toes. It’s why he tended to poke his head out of the air duct that lead to her office; no matter how many times she jumped out of her skin when he did it, the smile on her face when she looked up at him and scolded him, mirth in her eyes….yea, it was totally worth it as far as Clint was concerned. 

The elevator doors opening snapped him out of his daydream, and stepping inside, he noticed quickly that he wasn’t alone. Blair was on her way up to the office to start her day. 

“Morning, Hawkeye.” 

She turned to face him, hip braced against the side of the elevator, coffee cup in one hand, and a few folders in the other, tucked against her chest. 

“Well this is awkward…” he grinned, deflecting with humor right off the cuff. 

“Oh?” She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Do superheroes not say good morning?”

“Oh no, we do, but  usually you’re already at your desk and I’m hanging upside down when we say good morning…”

“Should I take it back? Save it for later maybe?” 

The elevator stopped on the Avengers floor before he had a chance to respond, and they exited together. Blair stepping off to the right and Clint moving towards the left. 

“I’ve got to shower,” He spoke by way of saying goodbye. “Tasha beat me up good this morning.”

“I’m not surprised,” Blair grinned. “See you later?”

“Oh, there’s a very good possibility.” Clint winked. 

“Let me rephrase,” Blair chuckled. “Will I see you or the top of your head?”

“That has yet to be determined, honey.”

Laughing, Blair turned to head down the hallway, calling back to Clint without turning around. 

“I’d rather the former, not the latter, Barton!”

Clint turned, watching Blair walk down the hallway with a dazed look in his eyes, his mind wandering back to the conversation he had with Natasha in the gym just moments ago. 

“I’ll be damned…” he whispered, a smile on his face as he turned to continue his journey to his quarters so he could shower and make his way to see Blair. 

It took Clint longer than he wanted to before he was able to get to Blair’s office. After showering and running things over in his head a thousand times, he had begun his initial journey to see her, and was sidetracked the first time by Steve. The soldier had stopped him to remind him he had three mission reports due by the end of the week; Clint had brushed him off with a polite nod and a promise to get them turned in soon. The second distraction came in the form of Natasha, who stopped him to make sure he was going to do what she told him to do earlier. He had yes’d her to death while trying to get out from under her thumb. He had to remind himself that she was his best friend and meant well. 

Walking down the hall to her office, he silently hoped that she wasn’t on the phone or swamped with work; either of those would end up sending his plan in a downward spiral. Shaking himself out of his daydream, he straightened his shirt and poked his head around the doorframe. She was focused on the screen of her computer and mumbling something that he couldn’t quite pick up. When she pushed the papers in front of her out of the way and sighed, Clint took the momentary break in her work to knock twice on the door and grab her attention. 

“Am I interrupting?” He asked. 

“Would it make a difference either way?” Blair smiled, and he could see any previous frustration drain from her face. 

“Nah, not really,” he smiled. “You know me.”

“I do…” she nodded. “I know the door might be a little foreign to you but, you can come in you know.”

Clint pushed off the doorframe and entered her office, choosing to walk past the two chairs on the opposite side of her desk and perch himself on the windowsill just behind her chair. Now he was closer, and as she turned her chair to face him, Clint could just see a glimpse of what was stressing her out. Tony’s latest interview where he had shot an arc reactor blast from his newest piece of tech straight through the wall of The Today Show at NBC studio. Complete accident, naturally. 

“So…” she grinned up at him. “Nice to see your face and not just the top of your head today.”

“I aim to please.” He chuckled, the archery joke not lost on her. 

“Of course.”

The pair sat quietly, only the sound of the music playing surrounding them, before Clint spoke up again. He hoped she couldn’t sense how nervous he really was. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure,” she relaxed further back into her chair, gaze focused completely on him. “What’s on your mind?”

“Are you…are you uh, free?” He asked, and specified further when he noticed Blair looking at him questioningly. “Tomorrow night?”

“I am, yes…” the smile blossomed on her face as she realized what he had just asked her. “Are you asking me on a date, Clint?”

“If you want it to be a date… no pressure, it can just be two friends having drinks.”

“And if I want it to be a date?” 

“Then I want it to be a date, too.”

“Then it’s a date.” She smiled. 

Clint let go of the breath he was holding, and he hoped that she couldn’t see just how relieved he was that she had said yes. Now, all he had to do was figure out where to take her. 

He had spent the remainder of that day, and half of the next wracking his brain for ideas. Dinner and a movie was cliche and he didn’t want to come off as not trying. It was the holidays and the city was already overflowing with tourists and shoppers; he wanted to stay somewhere a little more discrete. By lunchtime the day of, Clint had come to terms with needing help, and so, he found himself in the lab with Tony and Bruce. 

“I’m telling you, it’s the holidays, you can’t go wrong with a rooftop bar.” 

Clint stood in the lab while Tony continued to mess around with his latest project, the billionaire not even looking up. 

“It’s December, Tony.” Bruce chastised from the other side of the room. 

“I’m with The Doc on this one,” Clint nodded, offering Bruce a thankful smile. “It’s December.”

“They have heaters and you can get an excellent view of the skyline while you eat, and drink, before you take her home and warm her up.”

“Tony!” Bruce warned. “Blair is a nice woman….not that she wouldn’t want to, with Clint…sorry Barton, you know what I mean.”

“I wasn’t thinking about that, but you just had to make it weird, Stark.” Clint laughed. 

“Hey, what am I good for if not lewd suggestions to break the tension.” He grinned. 

“You know a good place then?” Clint was relenting, and only because it was the eleventh hour, the day of the date, and he hadn’t decided where to take her. 

“JARVIS, can you make a reservation for Agent Barton and Blair at mine and Pep’s favorite rooftop lounge?”

“Of course, Sir.” The AI responded. “I will send the details to Agent Barton’s phone.”

“Thanks J,” he turned then, facing Clint. “Done; now, all you have to do is have fun.”

“Easier said than done, but, hey, you never know.” Clint called as he exited the lab. 

He needed to make a quick pit stop at Blair’s office, before making his way to his own quarters to change before getting in a quick spar with Natasha. And, because he was a gentleman deep down, he wanted to pick her up at home, not just leave straight from work. 

“Knock knock…”

“Is that Clint Barton at my door? Or am I seeing things?”

“Very funny.” He grinned. 

“You can come in.” Blair gestured to the empty office, a smile on her face. 

“I can’t stay, Tasha wants to spar.”

“Well, I’d suggest going easy on her but…” 

“But she’ll just hurt me if she knows I’m pulling my punches.” Clint finished. 

“Exactly,” She replied. “But I would like to see your face later.”

“Ten-four, ma‘am,” he saluted. “Oh and before I forget, I came here because I need your address.”

“Oh! Are we not going straight from here?”

“Is it alright that I pick you up?”

“Absolutely alright,” she beamed, grabbing a post-it off her desk and scribbling down her details. “What time should I be ready?”

“7:30?”

“Do I get a hint at where we’re going?”

“Nope,” he gave her a cheeky smile, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “But I’ve heard the word ‘chic’ might help you figure it out.”

“Ooh, mysterious. I like it.” 

“See you tonight, Darlin.”

The subtle insertion of the nickname threw her a bit, and before she could reply, Clint was out the door and on his way to the training center. If Blair spent the rest of the day with her head in the clouds, dreaming of Clint, well, that would be her little secret. 

Clint broke out into a jog as he checked his watch; it was 7:40 and he was ten minutes late picking up Blair for their date. Cursing, he skidded to a stop in front of her building, taking only a moment to catch his breath before taking the stairs two at a time. Pressing the buzzer with her last name on it, he waited only a moment before her voice filled the air. 

“Clint?”

“Hey Darlin!” He called back. 

The sound of the door unlocking told him that maybe he wasn’t so late, if she was letting him upstairs instead of meeting him downstairs. 

Clint was about to ascend the stairs to the fifth floor, when he heard the telltale sound of an elevator arriving, and a quick glance over his shoulder saw an older woman exiting, eyeing him suspiciously, before he gave her a smile and stepped into the lift. 

Pressing Blair’s floor, he let out a breath as the doors closed and the quick journey up allowed him a moment to collect himself. It was just that, a quick journey, and the doors were open again and suddenly he was in front of Blair’s door, fist raised to knock gently. 

When the door opened, there was Blair, dressed for a night out, a radiant smile on her face. 

Hi!” She beamed, stepping aside to let him in her apartment. “Sorry, I  just need two minutes, the train was delayed coming home, so…”

“Don’t rush, take your time.” He replied, taking a moment to look around at her home. 

Modest one bedroom (he assumed) with a clean kitchen, large living room; clean but somehow decorated in a way that emulated her style. He could faintly hear music coming from her bedroom, and smiled when he realized it was Duran Duran. 

“I don’t want to make us late,” she called from her room. “My luck, I’ll end up costing us the reservation.”

Before he could reply, the sound of a pair of shoes falling to the wood floor rang out. 

“We have plenty of time, please don’t rush.” 

She came around the corner at that moment, heels clicking on the floor, and Clint could swear he felt himself wanting to memorize everything about the way she looked. 

She was wearing a pair of high waisted, dark wash jeans, a deep green off the shoulder blouse that was tucked in, and a pair of suede camel boots that reached just over her knees. He thought she was gorgeous every day he saw her at the tower, dressed for work, but she was gorgeous like this too, and he wouldn’t fail to let her know. 

“You look beautiful,” he smiled, and she couldn’t help but smile back at him. “I’m a lucky sonuvabitch to get to take you out tonight.”

“Clint…” his name fell from her lips softly, a light blush working its way up her neck to her cheeks. “Thank you, you sure know how to boost my confidence.”

“Well, I’ll do it for as long as you’ll let me.”

Reaching forward, Blair gave his hand a gentle squeeze, before stepping away to grab her coat and purse. 

“So, where are we going on this mysterious date?”

“Don’t laugh,” he started. “But I thought we could have drinks and a bite to eat, and see the tree.

“That sounds like a great idea, what are we doing first?”

“This is the part you can’t laugh at, but Tony made the reservation for us so…”

“Am I underdressed?”

“No, no, it’s a rooftop lounge with a view of the tree, he said he and Pepper love it, so…”

“So it’s ultra fancy I’m guessing?” 

“Couldn’t say,” Clint laughed, holding his arm out for her. “But I’m up for an adventure if you are?”

“Lead the way!” She grinned, pulling her coat on and allowing Clint to lead her out of the apartment. 

“Wow…” 

Blair looked around once her and Clint had been seated in a cozy booth, the Manhattan rooftop bar was decorated from top to bottom in what she might describe as ‘Christmas Chic’ and she could tell why Tony and Pepper liked it so much here. It was cozy, the numerous heaters and tall plexiglass enclosure kept the heat in and the wind out, while providing an incredible view of the skyline. Directly below them was the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree. A pillar of the holiday in New York City and a huge tourist attraction. 

“I can see why they like it here so much,” Clint peered over the edge, down to the tree, eyes watching intently. 

“Are you assessing potential threats, or watching the ice skaters?” Blair teased, leaning forward towards him. 

“The skaters, definitely,” he chuckled. “That guy just ate it, hard.”

Blair leaned closer, her hand falling over Clint’s as she turned to see the skaters below them, her chuckle falling short as she felt Clint turn his palm up to capture her hand in his. 

“You’re right…” she grinned softly, turning her gaze on him. “He did eat it.”

“Told ya…” Clint grinned, his gaze on the woman next to him, the moment theirs to enjoy. 

Until the waitress popped their bubble of intimacy with her arrival, shrewd and rough around the edges. 

“Hi! Can I start you both with a drink?”

Clint inwardly sighed, and only straightened when he felt Blair give his fingers a gentle squeeze, her smile turning on the waitress. 

“Can we have another minute to look over the menu?” She directed herself at the waitress, not missing the way the other woman was eyeing Clint. 

“Sure! Let me know whenever you’re ready…” she was speaking pointedly at Clint, ignoring Blair directly beside him. 

She turned and walked away with what one could only describe as an exaggerated sway to her hips and a bounce in her step. 

“Okay, she’s rude.” Clint grumbled. 

“I think she has a crush on you,” Blair chuckled, facing him once more. “And she definitely knows who you are.”

“Which means everyone here will know.”

“Clint, it’s okay… that doesn’t really bother me.”

“It’s frustrating,” he sighed. “I wanted to spend time with you, not taking selfies or signing autographs. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not all bad but…”

He broke off on a sigh, and Blair took no time at all in making a split second decision.

“You trust me?” 

Clint’s head snapped up to look at her, a twinkle in her eye that told him she was planning something. 

“Yea,” he nodded, a smile forming. “Yea, I do.”

“Get your coat, come on.”

Standing, she shrugged her own coat on, and grabbed her purse from the booth before sliding out and holding her hand out for him to take. As soon as his own coat was on, he slipped his hand into hers and allowed her to lead him from the rooftop, and if she noticed the waitress staring after them in annoyance, she didn’t show it. It wasn’t until they had taken the elevator back down, exited the building, and were waiting for a car did Clint finally speak up. 

“You do have a plan, right?”

“Call it a long standing contingency plan.” She spoke against the wind, throwing her arm out as another yellow cab made its way towards them. When the car stopped, both were quick to get in, Blair rattling off an address in Brooklyn. 

“Brooklyn?”

“Yes,” she settled in her seat, and pushed some of her hair away from her face before facing him. “I used to live there, but, working in the city, this is just a little more convenient.”

“So, your long standing contingency plan is…”

“I won’t lie, it’s a complete dive. A real hole in the wall kind of place, but it'll give us the privacy we both want. And they have a decent juke box.”

Clint was silent a moment before he began laughing, head back against the seat, eyes crinkled at the corners. Blair found him even more handsome if at all possible. 

“I should have just let you plan our date.”

“Well, at least this way we saw the tree.” She winked. 

“Because you know Tony; he’ll ask-“

“Pester.” She cut him off. 

Clint laughed again, nodding his agreement with the pretty brunette sitting opposite him. He vaguely caught the cab driver making eyes at her through the rear view mirror, and Clint subtly scooted closer to Blair, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her into his side. Worried he may have been too forward, he chanced a glance down at her, and when she gave him a smile that reached her eyes, he only gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. 

They remained that way, silently watching the city lights fly by from the cab’s window, until they pulled up to a bar in Brooklyn. Clint threw a few bills at the driver to cover the ride and a tip, helped Blair from the car, and shut the door behind him. As the car peeled away into traffic, Clint allowed Blair to lead him into the dimly lit bar, just catching a sign that wasn’t even lit that read ‘The Hideout’. 

“Your contingency plan is….an actual dive…”

“When dates go sour, or I feel like watching a ball game without someone hitting on me or quizzing me on whether I can name five players on the Yankees, I come here.”

“Old reliable.” Clint grinned, following her as she walked all the way to the end of the bar, pulling out two stools for them. 

“Charlie’s an old friend, and even if he knows who you are, he won’t advertise it.”

“That’s good to know.”

“It’s nothing fancy… so, I hope that’s okay.”

“More than,” he slid onto the stool next to her, watching as she hung her coat from the back of the chair and placed her bag next to her. 

A man in his forties approached them, he was bald and had a myriad of tattoos ranging from Freddy Krueger to the logo for 3-1-1 and offered Blair a smile. 

“Bad day?”

“Quite the opposite,” she smiled. “Charlie, this is Clint.”

Charlie appraised him briefly, his eyes giving a flash of recognition before he held his hand out, offering the archer a friendly grin. 

“Welcome to this shit hole,” Charlie laughed. “Happy to have you, Clint.”

“You got a great place, man, I love these kinds of bars.”

“Well, it’s been a slow night so, you two should be safe to play the jukebox and whatever you had planned.”

“Thanks man,” Clint nodded his appreciation, his gaze falling on Blair. “What are you drinking, Darlin?”

Blair hadn’t had a chance to answer before Charlie had a short rocks glass in front of her, and Blair shook her head at him. 

“What if I wanted something else,” she laughed. “You always jump the gun.”

“And you always order the same thing,” Charlie rolled his eyes, mocking her. “Tequila and club with lime juice, chilled.”

“I knew you were a tequila girl!” Clint exclaimed, calling back to their first night hanging out at the tower, where she had helped him polish off the last of the margaritas. 

“Shh, Natasha didn’t need to know that.” Blair winked. “Now, what are you drinking?”

Clint looked over the beers on tap before settling on one, Charlie quickly pouring it and leaving the two to tend to his other customers. 

“Cheers,” Clint held up his glass, Blair carefully lifting her own to meet his. “To your contingency plan.”

“To sharing my contingency plan with someone special.” She smiled at him, bringing her glass up to her lips. 

Clint took a sip of his beer, nodding appreciatively at the taste. His eyes fell on a group of twenty somethings who had just walked in and gathered at the other end of the bar, and it was almost like he was waiting to be noticed. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Blair turned in her seat so she was sitting sideways, and facing him, urging him to do the same. 

“Sorry, it’s second nature to be on guard when I’m out.”

“Understandable. Do you want to switch seats? I’ll sit facing the door?”

“No, also better if I can see who’s walking in.”

“You live up to your name, Hawkeye.” 

“A blessing and a curse.” He agreed. 

He caught one of the patrons telling his buddy to put something in the jukebox, and thinking on his feet, he pulled out his wallet and handed Blair a ten dollar bill. 

“Make good choices.” He winked, gesturing to the jukebox over his shoulder. 

She grinned excitedly, snatching up the money and hopping off her stool to make it to the bright touch screen jukebox before someone else, using the ten dollars from Clint plus five of her own to make sure all her songs played on priority. 

It was some time later, the jukebox still playing Blair’s songs, that she and Clint were laughing like teenagers at the bar. The younger crowd had been annoyed at the song choices she had made, grumbling and complaining to Charlie who had told them to suck it up or find another bar for the night. Some of them had taken him up on that offer. 

The song changed, and Clint threw his hand up in victory as the opening blasted through the bar. 

“Big INXS fan?”

“Not really but I love this song in particular…”

Blair couldn’t help the smile, it seemed no matter what, she couldn’t make her face do anything except smile while she was around him. It wasn’t the alcohol, or the vibe of the bar; it was the man she was with, wrapped up in buttery leather and jeans, the crinkles at the corner of his eyes as he smiled at her and continued to sing along to the song, body moving with the beat of the music. 

As the chorus kicked in, Blair sang along with him, taking his hands in her own and moving closer, their noses touching as they made their own fun, in their own little corner of the world. 

“I’ve got to let you know, I’ve got to let you know…” Blair whispered so only he could hear. 

“You’re one of my kind.” Clint finished with a grin, moving to press his lips to hers quickly, surprise coloring his face when after he pulled away, Blair chased him for another. 

“Hi…” He smiled, faces still close together. 

“Hi…” 

“Do you want to go to the Stark Christmas gala with me?”

“Yea,” Blair grinned. “Yea, I do.”

Tags: @rowdy-redhead @mizzzpink

[nikkoliferous]

Phase One: Avengers (Part Two)

Apparently I had so much to comment on this crappy book that I had to break this up into two parts (you can read part one here). No, I have nothing to say for myself. Lol

Let’s continue.

Clint Barton and Loki’s hand-picked strike team were in a stolen Quinjet with a faked S.H.I.E.L.D. call sign, 26-Bravo. That got them close enough that by the time the air-traffic officer on the Helicarrier knew something was wrong, it was already too late.

Whoa whoa whoa. I thought you said Loki didn’t care about the details. I thought you said such things were beneath him. Make up your mind.

With a last heave and twist, she freed herself from the fallen beam and ran. At that moment, the Hulk turned and saw her. She vaulted up a stairway and onto the next level. The Hulk swiped at the stairway and shredded it into scrap metal. Loki had gotten what he wanted. He must have been trying to time it so he could manipulate Bruce into becoming the Hulk right as his soldiers came to attack the Helicarrier. The Hulk would do at least as much damage from the inside as the rogue Quinjet could do from the outside.

Yes. Yes, he did. Lol

Natasha kept running, and the Hulk came right behind her. For a moment, she thought she’d lost him, but then he came at her out of the shadows, roaring. He was like walking rage, a single-minded engine of destruction. She shot a hole in the pipe over his head. Steam shot out of it into the Hulk’s eyes, stopping him for just the moment she needed to get a head start. She ran as fast as she could, but she knew she wasn’t going to stay away from him for long. He came after her, smashing through bulkheads and doorways like they weren’t even there and roaring the whole time.

Mood, though.

Steve got to the edge of the turbine mount about the same time as Tony. “I’m here!” he called out.

“Good,” Tony said, dropping into view and hovering in the Iron Man armor to survey the wreckage. He had the suit on, and Steve could hear his voice through the earbud microphone all S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel wore. At least that channel was still intact; if they lost communications, they’d be done for.

Convenient. Clint would absolutely know this, which means either 1) he's incompetent, 2) he's not as mind-controlled as we think, or 3) Loki allowed/arranged for his own team's semi-failure.Take your pick.

“What’s it look like in there?” Tony asked.

“It seems to run on some form of electricity,” Steve said.

Tony was shoving loose huge pieces of debris that prevented the turbine blades from rotating. “Well, you’re not wrong,” he said.

Steve fumed. He wasn’t here for technical support. But that was all he could do at the moment.

Ironic for Steve to call out Tony for being useless without his suit when Steve is apparently useless at anything other than beating people up. Lol

Tony stood inside the turbine housing, looking at the blades. He’d cleared most of the debris jamming the rotors. “Even if I clear the rotors,” he said, “this thing won’t reengage without a jump. I’m going to have to get in there and push.”

“If that thing gets up to speed, you’ll get shredded,” Steve said.

Hey hey hey now, I thought Tony wasn't the type of guy to sacrifice himself??

The Hulk stomped around the flight deck, roaring. He saw Thor and swung a fist twice the size of Thor’s head. Thor caught it in both hands, straining to hold both the Hulk’s arm and his attention. “We are not your enemies, Banner,” he grunted. “Try to think!”

Now, where have I heard that before...?

In answer, the Hulk punched him through the wall.

Jealous.

Thor got up and watched the Hulk coming after him. Now this was a fight! He held out a hand, waiting for Mjolnir to return to him. Mjolnir smashed through another wall and reached Thor’s hand just as the charging Hulk came within striking distance.

What's a little bloodlust between friends, amirite?

The Hulk caught the hammer, and a fierce grin spread over his face… then he toppled backward and Mjolnir pinned him to the floor of the hangar.

None but I can lift Mjolnir, Thor thought. Not even this giant.

Yes, yes. You're very special, Thor. We're all super impressed, promise.

“You like this?” Coulson asked, meaning the gun. “We started working on the prototype after you sent the Destroyer. Even I don’t know what it does.” He powered it up, and rings along its barrel glowed bright orange. “Want to find out?”

But Loki wasn’t there in front of him. Thor saw it too late to do anything. That Loki was an illusion… and the real Loki was behind Coulson.

Lokiception.

“You lack conviction,” Coulson said. He did not move from where he sat against the wall. Blood trickled at the corner of his mouth, and the enormous gun lay uselessly across his lap.

Of all the things Coulson might have said, this was perhaps the one Loki expected least. I have moved worlds out of conviction, he thought. Made bargains with beings who snuff out planets as an afterthought. “I don’t think I…”

"bargains"

“Tasha,” he said. “How many agents did I—?”

“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t do that to yourself, Clint. This is Loki. This is monsters and magic and nothing we were ever trained for.” Better than maybe anyone on the Helicarrier, Natasha Romanoff knew you couldn’t blame yourself for things you did while you were brainwashed. All you could do was try to heal and get things right the next time.

OH? DO TELL.

“Yeah, takes us a while to get any traction, I’ll give you that one,” Tony said. “But let’s do a head count here. Your brother the demigod, a Super-Soldier, a living legend who kind of lives up to the legend, a man with breathtaking anger-management issues, a couple of master assassins… and you, big fella, you’ve managed to piss off every single one of them.”

“That was the plan,” Loki said with a grin.

“Not a great plan,” Tony said.

YOU'RE RIGHT, TONY. IT'S AN OBJECTIVELY TERRIBLE PLAN. NOW ASK YOURSELF WHY HE WOULD DO THAT ON PURPOSE.

“You’re missing the point!” he said, and his tone got sharper. “There’s no throne, there is no version of this where you come out on top. Maybe your army comes and maybe it’s too much for us… but it’s all on you. Because if we can’t protect the Earth, you can be sure we’ll avenge it.”

Weeeeeell...

With those last words, he tapped Tony on the chest with his scepter, just has he had Hawkeye and Dr. Selvig. Nothing happened. The Arc Reactor in Tony’s chest countered the scepter’s effect.

Loki tried it again. “This usually works.…”

“Well,” Tony said, “best-laid plans. You know the saying.”

Uncomfortable with mild swear words and dick jokes, I see. Lol

Look at this!” Thor shouted, holding Loki and forcing him to gaze out over the destruction in the city. “You think this madness will end with your rule?”

“It’s too late,” Loki said. Thor thought he was beginning to understand what he had done. “It’s too late to stop it.”

“No,” Thor said. “We can. Together.”

Loki looked him in the eye… and then betrayed Thor again, stabbing him in the side with a knife hidden in his sleeve. Thor dropped to the ground, clutching the wound. “Sentiment,” Loki said mockingly.

OH MY GOD. HE'S MOCKING HIMSELF, YOU ABSOLUTE KNUCKLEHEAD. I swear to god, this author sat down and went, "Hmm. How can I systematically erase any and all complexity this character possesses so he's as generic a villain as possible?"

CASE IN POINT:

On a bridge, Cap huddled behind a destroyed car with the Black Widow and Hawkeye. “Lots of civilians trapped up there,” Hawkeye said, indicating the nearby buildings. A flight of Chitauri went over, and Cap noticed something different about one of them.

“Loki,” he said. He was shooting at the civilians fleeing through the streets. “They’re fish in a barrel down there.”

It can be admittedly hard to tell because most shots of the Chitauri vehicles firing on people are from too far away to tell who's piloting... but I checked the clips from the Battle of NY and the only person Loki can definitively be seen firing at is Natasha. On another Chitauri whatever-you-call-them. Not even aiming for the street.

Thor was still watching the Chitauri zipping overhead. “I have unfinished business with Loki.”

“Yeah?” Hawkeye said. “Get in line.”

“Save it,” Steve said. “Loki’s going to keep this fight focused on us, and that’s what we need. Otherwise those things could run wild. We’ve got Stark up on top—”

Almost as if... according to plan...

Look, I have historically not bought into the full "Loki formed the Avengers so he could lose on purpose" theory because I feel that it contradicts the canon explanation that he was being influenced by the sceptre. But... you'd have to be an absolute moron to think he wasn't sabotaging himself, whether accidentally or on purpose. I suppose one could argue that just because it was amplifying his negative emotions, that doesn't necessarily mean it prevented him from working against his "allies". But if it wasn't affecting his actions at all, I don't know why they'd bother to confirm the theory as canon.

Also, like... according to this book, Loki is somehow targeting civilians and not targeting civilians at the same time ?? lmao

“Dr. Banner,” Steve said. “Now might be a really good time for you to get angry.”

Bruce was already walking toward the Leviathan. “That’s my secret, Captain,” he said over his shoulder. “I’m always angry.”

Same, tbh.

Thor reached the top of the Empire State Building and lifted Mjolnir. Storm clouds gathered and lightning struck down, hundreds of bolts reaching for Mjolnir. Thor turned the Empire State Building’s iconic spire into a lightning rod, gathering the force of the elements into it. Then he thrust Mjolnir in the direction of the portal. All the energy he had built up blazed out in a single forking bolt. It struck and destroyed every single Chitauri between the Empire State Building and the portal itself. Hundreds of them exploded and tumbled from the sky at once, including several of the Leviathans that tumbled down to smash into buildings below.

...so why didn't Thor just keep doing this for the rest of the battle? Too draining, or not exciting enough? Lol

Satisfied, Thor nodded and glanced over at the Hulk. Perhaps the scales were evened from their last fight against each other on the Helicarrier—

The Hulk shot out his left fist and smashed Thor all the way across the block-long gallery. Then it was his turn to look satisfied.

Jealous. Again.

Maybe that was just Loki, but Steve was starting to feel like the Chitauri were going to absorb every punch the Avengers could throw. They had to close that portal, or nothing was going to stop the invasion.

Well then. It sure is fortunate that Loki allowed Selvig to install a failsafe, huh?

Fury stood and listened to the World Security Council explain that they had decided to take the operation out of his hands. They were going to use a nuclear missile to destroy the Tesseract and close the portal—but at the cost of untold civilian lives. Fury protested as strongly as he could and one of the councilors cut him off. “Director Fury. The Council has made a decision.”

These crazy motherfuckers would have killed so many more people than Loki it's not even funny.

...and tbh, it probably wouldn't even have destroyed the Tesseract, so they would have killed them for literally no reason too.

The Hulk paused, confused.

“You are, all of you, beneath me!” Loki raged.

Not yet, sir, but I would very much like to be. 😏

She knelt next to him and said, “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know what you were doing.”

Selvig digested this for a moment and then said, “Actually I think I did. I built in a safety to cut the power source.”

Of note and as alluded to previously:

1) The mind control over Barton and Selvig was not absolute either; therefore, if they are not responsible for their actions over the course of this movie, Loki is not responsible for his either.

2) If The Other could hear everything Loki was up to, it's very likely that Loki could hear everything Barton and Selvig were up to as well. Meaning that, at a minimum, he knew about the failsafe and did nothing about it.

The missile had a lot of momentum built up, and Tony’s Mark 7 suit was not operating at full capacity after the amount of energy he’d expended in the battle already. It was no easy task to get the missile angled up sharply enough to clear the tallest buildings in Midtown—especially Stark Tower. That was where the missile seemed to want to go. So, Tony thought, the World Security Council is jealous of me, too.

Look, I get that he's mostly just being witty, but seriously... this dude is out here accusing Loki of being an egomaniac? Lol

He got underneath the missile and angled it upward, straining against its stabilizers, which tried to keep it on course. But slowly he forced it up, and once he got its warhead pointed at an angle, pushing it into a steeper climb got easier. A little.

Steve Rogers’s voice broke his concentration. “Stark, you know that’s a one-way trip?”

So... you're admitting you were wrong, then? 🙃

The Avengers looked up. On the roof of Stark Tower, Natasha said, “Come on, Stark.”

They saw the explosion through the portal, brilliant as a new sun. There was no way Tony could have survived that.

I was wrong about him, Steve thought. When the time came, he did make the sacrificial play.

Thanks, Steve. That's really all I wanted.

Loki had just gotten himself put back together enough to get out of the hole in the floor. Painfully he dragged himself toward the door. Never had a mortal damaged him as much as that green monster. He would be healing for a long time.

He's literally in better shape now than when he came through the portal. And the author made zero mention of his health there.

But heal he would, and then he would have his revenge. Even though the portal had collapsed and he had lost the Tesseract. Even though his Chitauri army was destroyed. Loki would show the so-called Avengers they never should have opposed him.

Raise your hand if you watched Avengers and thought Loki was thinking about revenge right after getting Hulk-smashed. Why aren't any of you raising your hands??

Seriously, there are two emotions I felt from Loki at the end of Avengers Assemble: relief and anxiety. I have no idea why Alex Irvine is so intent on turning him into a boring, one-dimensional villain, but it made this book absolutely insufferable to read.

Anyway, that's it! I hope you all found this as entertaining and cathartic as I did. Lol

↩️ Back to Part One

[high-functioning-lokipath]

Hurting Each Other - Part 1 - Loki x Reader

"So, any plans for the long weekend coming up?" Your coworker, Frances, asked as you unpacked boxes in the medbay storeroom.

"Oh I got big plans! I plan on getting real cozy with two fellas very near and dear to my heart. And my stomach," You joked. "Ben and Jerry."

"Oh come on, Y/N!" She groaned. "Don't tell me you still haven't worked up the courage to talk to one of them!"

"Frances!" You screeched. "You know I was assigned to this department because healing is the only ability of mine I have full control over and am confident in. You think things would go well if I tried to talk to one of the real heros?" You shook your head sadly and picked up some more bandages to put away. "I'd probably end up blubbering like an idiot and then knocking Captain America in the head with his own shield or something!"

"Now don't lie to me, I know that blond and buff isn't your type. I'd say tall, dark and mischievous, hm?"

"Frances, please stop. I already have half a mind to send half of these syringes flying straight at you."

"Please, I know you wouldn't. Is it really so hard to admit it to your best friend?"

"Fine," You relented. "I have a major crush on-"

"Help!" Someone yelled, bursting through the medbay doors. "Get help! Please!"

"Thor? What's he doing here?" Frances mumbled as you both rushed out of the storeroom.

"Brother, could you bear to be slightly less dramatic?" Loki groaned. He was clutching his side where his cape had been tightly wrapped.

"Thor, put him on the bed," You ordered. Thor nodded and quickly lifted his brother and plopped him down. Loki yelled loudly in what you assumed to be Old Norse and, judging by the look on Thor's face, it wasn't very nice. "Softly," You grumbled. You touched Loki's cape and teleported it off him. You gasped when you saw the deep gash in his side. "What happened?" You asked quickly.

"Well we were fighting them you see," Thor started. "Loki was fighting quite valiantly!"

"A little faster if you please!" Loki hissed.

"Yes of course! There was this one creature. At least 12 feet tall! Long fangs and glowing eyes-"

"Poisoned sword!" Loki yelled. "By father's beard, brother! Have you never learned how to tell a short story?"

"Alright," You said, biting back a chuckle. "Thor, would you mind waiting over there?" You said pointing to a chair a few yards away. You didn't want to ask him to leave but you did need him out of your way. He nodded and sat down. "Frances, some bandages and get me a syringe of antidote 289A." Loki looked at you oddly as you examined the wound in his side. "Actually, make that 289B, Frances."

"How do you know all this?" He asked you.

"Oh, I memorized all the medications for these types of injuries a long time ago. Too many accidental cuts," You admitted.

"Have you always been a nurse?" He asked. You stared at him for a moment, surprised he was actually carrying on a conversation with you.

"Uh, no. I-"

"Here it is," Frances interrupted, handing you what you needed.

"So what's your favorite food?"

"Why ask me that?"

"Oh, just wondering," You replied, discreetly getting the needle ready.

"That's quite an odd thing to ask at a time like-ow!" He exclaimed.

"Gotcha," You smiled. You finished healing the wound and put some bandages on it for good measure while he watched with a smile.

"Well, I must say I'm impressed. To trick the Trickster is no small task. I've seen you around but now you are even more intriguing. May I ask your name, darling?"

"Y/N," You replied, blushing brightly.

"How lovely," He replied. "Perhaps I can take you out for dinner tomorrow as thanks for your assistance today?"

"Uh, I-"

"Y/N!" Frances called out nervously. "I hate to interrupt but, can I get down please?" You looked up quickly and saw that you'd accidentally let your telekinesis go haywire again. Both Frances and Thor were floating midair as well as a handful of other objects around the room.

"Oh no!" You cried, everything instantly falling back to the floor. You were so embarrassed that you teleported yourself away to your room without another word.

"What happened?" Loki asked, back in medbay. Frances shook her head and walked over to him.

"I think it's best you talk to her yourself, ok? She gets nervous in certain situations and that happens. She'll probably get nervous again but anything you should know she needs to tell you herself." Loki nodded and sat up.

"Well then, if you'll excuse me," He said. "I think I know what I have to do."

~ About 3 weeks later ~

"And that is how we started dating. Loki did indeed come to my room to speak with me," You explained, smiling at your boyfriend brightly. "I didn't want to let him in at first, of course. I was afraid I would accidentally launch a book or something at his head."

"A hairdryer," He said, under his breath.

"What was that?" Bucky asked.

"She did get nervous," Loki said with a smirk. "And it was a hairdryer." Most everyone laughed and congratulated the two of you.

"Well, I for one am happy for you both actually," Tony said. "So, as a celebration of your new relationship and the rest of the team's safe return from their extended mission today, I ordered pizza. Now let's eat!"

Everyone got up and headed straight for the pizza boxes on the table. "Loki, can I talk to you for a second?" Hawkeye said, walking up to you both.

"Of course," Loki replied. He gave you a quick kiss on the cheek and followed the archer out to the balcony. You grabbed a drink for yourself and started to make your way to the pizza.

"Y/N, have I told you lately how proud I am of you?" Frances said, suddenly popping up behind you.

"Give a girl some warning!" You exclaimed, nearly dropping your cup.

"Seriously! I'm really proud of you for stepping out a bit!" She said giving you a big hug. "Although it's been pretty lonely in medbay lately!" You rolled your eyes and laughed.

"C'mon, Fran! I know you've got your eye on the one guy down there so you can't be that lonely. I think he likes you too, you know." Your best friend blushed and shook her head.

"So, changing the subject to more relevant matters," She said, wriggling her eyebrows. "How's training been going?"

"Good actually," You sighed. "I'm still kinda nervous but I'm getting better. I've worked out basically all the problems I've had with my teleportation and I've almost got a handle on near-field telekinesis. Long-range is still a struggle but I have to master the rest first. Loki's a great teacher. He doesn't get angry when I cry over not being able to do something or when I accidentally throw him against the wall."

"You've done that?" Frances gasped, almost choking on the pizza. You nodded, quite embarrassed. "Oh my goodness, that is amazing."

"Come again?"

"He must really love you! I'd have thrown you off the tower already."

"Nah, you wouldn't do that," You said.

"Eh, you're right. But I still say he loves you." You both laughed and continued eating. "What's taking him so long? He still out on the balcony with Bird Boy?"

"Probably. And don't let Hawkeye hear you say that! He'll kill you!"

"He's deaf anyway," She replied shrugging. Shaking your head you looked back to the glass doors trying to see what the two were up to.

"Look, Loki," Hawkeye said, closing the sliding glass door behind him. "I wanted to talk to you to make sure you knew what you were getting into."

"If this is about her past, she already told me, Barton," Loki replied cooley.

"I was part of the team that found her in Hydra's facility. If you'd have seen it I think even your stomach would have turned. Hydra had just finished their little experiment on her. They were about to start training, that's why she's not experienced with her powers yet. But the living conditions were revolting. She and the others we found were nothing but skin and bones. She was using her new abilities already though, trying to help the others. She actually saved a couple kids."

"She never mentioned there were others," Loki commented. Clint nodded sadly.

"Yeah, none of us talk about these missions a lot. Hydra was cruel. Trying to turn children practically into machines. She was the oldest there actually. What I'm trying to say is-"

"Look, I'm not going to treat her like some dangerous weapon. She's actually afraid of using her powers for fear of doing harm. That's why I'm training her. So yes, I know what I'm getting into." Loki turned on his heel and went to walk back in.

"That's not what I meant, witch," Clint snapped. Loki whipped back around and glared at him.

"Then explain yourself, Barton," Loki hissed. "And quickly, may I suggest."

"She's a delicate girl. She's not some toy for you to play with. She's fragile. After what she's been through, she can't afford to be hurt by some creature as you."

"What are you trying to tell me, Pigeon?"

"What I'm saying is you shouldn't have started anything with her but since you did you'd better watch it. If you make even one false move I will not hesitate to-" Clint looked up and saw someone coming to the balcony. He quickly put on a better face and shot one last glare at Loki. "You get the idea, now remember it."

Inside, you had had enough. Those two had been out there for forever. And, if you were being honest with yourself, it didn't look so good. "How's it going, boys?" You asked, walking out onto the balcony.

"Just fine, Y/N," Clint replied with a forced smile. "I'm going to head in and get some pizza." He brushed past you and hurried in. Loki seemed distressed about something and wouldn't make eye contact.

"Loki? What's wrong? Did Clint go off on something?" He tensed slightly but shook his head. Pulling you close to his side, he sighed softly.

"No, dear, I'm fine. Let's go enjoy the celebration, hm?" You nodded and he kissed your forehead, taking your hand and leading you inside.

~ One Month Later ~

"Ok, Y/N, I want to try something new with you today," Loki said, before you started training. "I'm going to throw some items at you and I want you to stop them and throw them away from you. You've learned well to react with your telekinesis but this will start training you for missions when you start going."

"Alright," you said. "Let's do this!" He started off easy enough, throwing tennis balls at you. But after about 10 minutes, he asked if you were ready for something harder. "Yeah!" You exclaimed. He immediately switched to throwing daggers. You gulped but kept at it. The knives were clanging loudly on the floor as you threw them aside.

"You're doing marvelously, darling," Loki grinned. You smiled and tried to hide the fact that you were getting tired. In a matter of minutes, however, it all fell apart. You missed a knife and it sliced your arm. You cried out loudly and grabbed at it, trying to heal it as fast as you could. Loki immediately rushed to your side, helping you sit on the nearest bench. "Y/N! Are you ok?" You nodded but he didn't see, he was looking down at the dagger he still held in his one hand. Tears started rolling down his cheeks. "I'm so sorry. I-I shouldn't have-" he stopped mid-sentence, voice shaking and hands trembling. "I hurt you. I could have-" he stopped again. He couldn't even look at you now and it worried you greatly. "He was right. I shouldn't-"

"Loki?"

"Is your arm healed now?" He asked, trying to keep his voice even.

"Yes, it wasn't that bad. It healed up quickly. See?" He nodded sharply, back towards you, refusing to turn his head.

"I should go now. I'm sorry I can't finish today's session."

"Loki, wait!" You protested. But before you could stop him, he was already out the door and gone.

"What the heck just happened," You asked yourself. Shaking your head you decided you clean up the training room and try to get him to talk to you in a few hours.

PART 2