#however hawkeye does NOT know that in this particular fic

[impishtubist]

wednesday snippet

I was tagged by @strugglequill and @lynxindisguise in snippet games this week, but instead of a snippet, I bring you a lil ficlet (and I'm switching fandoms entirely, sorry not sorry).

@allcanonisrelative and I are fairly prolific coauthors, but our problem is that we cowrite a lot of things that go unfinished 😂 This is my portion of a fic that was supposed to be an AU for M*A*S*H after "Yessir, That's Our Baby". We never finished it, but we had a blast planning/writing it. And what the heck, the fandom can always use more Hawkeye + babies content.

CW for period-typical attitudes/thoughts/vocabulary re: queerness.

Tagging @allcanonisrelative @serpercival and any other MASHoles who see this and want to play along with the snippet game!

---

“She has your eyes.”

Hawkeye barely hears him, absorbed as he is in the tiny hand that’s wrapped around the tip of his finger. When the words sink in, he shoots BJ an unimpressed look.

“My eyes, huh?”

“Well, she certainly doesn’t have your nose.” 

“Ha, ha.”

They’re both sitting on Hawkeye’s cot, BJ pressed up against him so that he’s a single line of heat all along Hawkeye’s side. There’s no reason for him to be so close, but Hawkeye’s not about to question his good fortune. BJ leans over, crowding into Hawkeye’s space, and runs the tip of his finger down the baby’s tiny button nose. Hawkeye’s nostrils fill with the scent of clean soap and stale sweat, BJ’s sweat, and his mind stutters to a halt. BJ always does that, stops Hawk dead in his tracks with a touch or a glance or a smile, and then he carries on without pause, oblivious to the fact that Hawkeye’s entire world has been knocked off-kilter.  

The baby snuffles in her sleep, and suddenly she’s the only thing in Hawkeye’s world. He’s mesmerized by her round cheeks, by her tiny pink lips, by the dark wisps of hair on her head. He strokes a thumb over her silk-soft cheek and she doesn’t wake, merely snuggles closer to him. 

“She looks good on you,” BJ murmurs. His other hand is pressed against Hawkeye’s lower back, and for a moment, Hawkeye allows himself to indulge in the fantasy that this is real, that BJ’s touch is that of a lover instead of merely a friend, and that the baby--

It’s too outlandish. Too perverted. Men with his inclinations don’t have children, and the idea of having one with another man? Sidney Freedman would have him locked up faster than he could say please BJ I want to have your baby.

But because Hawkeye is, at his core, a selfish man, he whispers, “What should we name her?”

He keeps his voice pitched low, like it would break the spell if he said it any louder. He expects BJ to scoff, to move away, to laugh at his joke and tell him it’s time the baby went back to Margaret’s tent.

Instead, BJ murmurs, “Elizabeth.” 

“Elizabeth?” Hawkeye repeats, too startled for a witty rejoinder. He hadn’t expected an answer at all, much less for BJ to indulge him this fantasy.

“Mm. But we’ll call her Eliza for short.” 

We? Hawkeye can barely breathe, all the breath punched from his lungs by a single word. We. BJ says it so naturally, like it’s a foregone conclusion. We. Us. BJandHawkeye, HawkeyeandBJ.

“Beej,” Hawkeye whispers, the word cracked-open and aching and raw. 

BJ lifts his head, nose grazing Hawkeye’s cheek, and Hawkeye shivers. He turns--

The door to the Swamp opens, and Margaret breezes in. BJ pulls away from Hawkeye, swiftly putting several inches between them, and Hawkeye feels cold at the loss.

“It’s past her bedtime,” Margaret says sternly, holding out her arms for the baby. Hawkeye hands her over, too stunned to do anything else. What did BJ mean by we? Why had he played along? Had they been about to…

He won’t allow himself to think it. He can’t. 

And then suddenly Margaret and the baby are gone, and BJ crawling under his blanket on the other side of the tent, and Hawkeye is alone, his arms empty and aching.

[scavengerssuccotash]

This might get me in BIG trouble but I’m craving (possible) angst

Is there any form of Laura/farm fam in your headcanons?

Nah you’re good!

For my romantic Clintasha headcanon there IS a Laura Barton, though not in the way you might expect! (I’m also still operating under the assumption that Laura is not Mockingjay/Agent 19, nor a retired SHIELD agent. I found that reveal in Hawkeye series to be a rather lazy-hearted to import character development that was previously mishandled during the dreaded farm family introduction.)

Although I won’t spoil too much as it would interfere with future installments of my Sightline fic Universe. So all I can really say is that she is married to…Barney Barton! I have a backstory in mind for her and I’m really excited to explore her dynamic as it relates to Clint, Barney and Natasha.

(I have a very particular scene in mind in which Clint delivers his nephew/niece in the barn manger style with Natasha completely fascinated and disgusted at the birth, considering she herself is unable to have children. It spurs our lovebirds into conversations revolving around the idea of parenthood and Natasha lamenting her inability to provide that and Clint questioning if perhaps he does want a family someday. As of currently he emphatically does not, which ultimately caused the breakup between him and Barbara Morse/Mockingjay. So a nice bit of character development AND angst.)

As for the kiddos I’m transferring the parental ties from Clint to his brother Barney basically. It’s my way to have my cake and eat it too! I really have an entire backstory in mind for both Barney and Laura which will uncover dark secrets, a “from a certain perspective” Star Wars style plot twist involving Phil, and the introduction of Kate, and Kingpin. As of now, however, all I can reliably say is that this particular plot point is at least two installments from even getting started as I’m writing the Sightline Universe chronologically which covers Early SHIELD days/Pre-Avengers to Endgame.

(I’m fully aware that I’ll probably be in a nursing home ranting and raving about this fic universe until I’m dead 😭)

Once the Snap happens that dynamic and Laura’s role and relationship with Clint gets deliciously complicated, but alas I can’t say much. (Think telenovela level of drama, but the gist is that Natasha gets dusted, and Clint is all alone.)

Not a very satisfying answer to this ask in terms of romantically entangled Clintasha, so I apologize!

(If anyone knows of an MCU equivalent of this gif I’d be grateful! Lol)

[iukasylvie]

@watertribe-enya I can empathize with your feelings on how underappreciated Scar is. I remember talking with a friend of mine on Discord about how literal war criminals like Mustang and Hawkeye are far more popular than him because I saw him lose to Hawkeye one-to-one in a popularity poll by a wide margin. To elaborate on my mother and older sister's opinion, both of them think Scar is an immature idiot. My mother hates his self-righteous and stubborn attitude in particular and thinks I'm a weirdo because she's well aware of my history of taking a fancy to characters like Count Bleck from Super Paper Mario.

Even in Sons of the Desert, Scar's stubbornness shows early on as he refuses an offer from his old master to reclaim priesthood despite accepting a new chuva (a piece of priestly clothing in this case).

You called Scar a "thirty something" in your first reply, but I thought he looked rather young in flashbacks about the war of extermination.

Speaking of Sons of the Desert, why did you think the so-called "Dead Guy Junior" naming syndrome was prevalent in the fic? I thought Scar's sons, Mattas and Turyan, were the only one named in this fashion.

Because of the nature of English - it can't tell characters apart by the way they speak like Japanese - I wish the fanfic had been a Japanese doujinshi adorned with a beautiful cover art and illustrations like the Touhou Project fic Noapte Strigoiului by Hatsu Takashiro with art by Loalo Honda. It's the first doujinshi I've ever bought and I immensely enjoyed the tragic story of Remilia and Flandre Scarlet (named Frandor in the fic) as young daughters of Vlad III in the author's prose.

I have no idea why I could not read Sons of the Desert thoroughly from the start to the end like I did with the Moribito series (in particular Guardian of the Spirit, Guardian of the Darkness, and Guardian of the God), The Beast Player, and Noapte Strigoiului. In fact, I skipped several chapters without Scar. I seized an opportunity to read the fic when I and my family were on a trip for two days to two tourist attractions soon after revisiting Fullmetal Alchemist to heal myself from disappointment at the finale of a certain animated show.

You also noted the fic's portrayal of Scar's brother. While I don't remember much about it or the fic in general, I appreciate his note from Chapter 26 because the ending sentence is one of the few sources of comedy alongside Zulema in the entire fic as far as I know:

I was able to find the right people to help carry out my plan. If not, well, I guess we're all screwed and it doesn't really matter who is reading this. I'm giving my kid brother the most crucial notes in case I don't make it, and I hope he can figure them out. If something does happen to me, I hope Andakar doesn't go and do something stupid. I hope he just gets the job done. He's smart but just a little hot-headed and close-minded. He needs to watch that. He also seriously needs to get laid, but he may not take my word for it. I just hope Ishvala keeps an eye on him if I can't.

The fic goes further and Mattas the Elder's comment takes on a new light in Chapter 38:

When he was a priest, Scar would sometimes be called upon to counsel young people against giving in to desires of the flesh. He found this painfully awkward as well as slightly hypocritical on his part, considering that he had lost his own heart to a young maiden who was beyond his reach. He would tell these despondent, hormone-ridden children to pray for guidance. He figured if they were busy praying, they wouldn't have time for anything else. Even now, when his young maiden was all grown up and well within his reach, he didn't feel much more qualified to counsel anyone on affairs of the heart. Heartache, however, he was well acquainted with, and he knew that Vesya was looking for the way that would hurt less.

What are your thoughts on Scar from Fullmetal Alchemist (manga/Brotherhood)?

I have many thoughts on Scar, because I love him to pieces. Best character in both anime and manga

One thing that bothers me even among people who are staunchly pro "Scar did nothing wrong (except the one time when he was completely out of it due to immense trauma)" and "Scar should have been allowed to kill more people" , is that they completely overlook that Scar just doesn't enjoy killing people. He does it because he feels that those who denied his people the right to live would never face justice for their actions otherwise. And also because he's really, really mad at them of course. Actually the part about justice might be moreso the fandom's view of it, and Scar's desire for vengeance is his primary motivation(when you look at what he said while fleeing through the desert). So Scar feels he's doing what is necessary, but he doesn't usually take enjoyment out of it. The closest he came to show glee during a fight was when Mustang showed up to intervene in chapter 7/ episode 5. And that was more grim satisfaction than anything. He doesn't even show any joy when mangling Envy and Kimblee, who kickstarted the genocide and brutally murdered his family. Every action is trenched in anger, and that anger is born from tremendous pain and loss.

So Scar doesn't want to kill (or at least doesn't want his whole life to be centered arround it). He wants to protect. He wants to do something for his community, his people. But for the longest time he felt that he had lost the chance to do so forever. His immense relief at finding out how many Ishvalans had actually survived was wonderful to behold.

Now you might say "But he's doing the right thing by killing those unrependant war criminals! He shouldn't feel bad about it!" And while that's correct (at least from my perspective) you have to look at Scar's other circumstances too. It's not an enjoyable life if you spent your days solely focused on the people who brutalized you. And Scar is doing it all alone, with no help or support system. With no breaks from the struggle for survival and recurring death battles. It's good that he stopped killing (outside of the necessary battles), not because Edward and the other good guys kept whining at him, but for his own sake. Because he finally feels he's actually doing something for the people he loves again.

Anyhow, how painful is it that Scar who was afraid about his brother creating or turning into a human weapon via alchemy, became exactly that?

"Your brother may discover a way to gain enough power to face those state alchemists, and perhaps even enough to destroy their army. With power that far surpasses theirs, to retalitate against them with alchemy! Make them pay for their sins with blood!'

I'm crying.

Another great thing about Scar is that you can guilt trip this thirty something, hardened warrior with "You'll make your brother sad." And he has no proper reply for that.

To end this with my personal headcanon, Scar outlives all the remaining State Alchemists sans Edward, and dies aged 103 surrounded by his 20 grandchildren.

[ambivalent-anarchy]

Yo Momma

Masterlist

Gender: Female

Pairing: Peter Parker x avenger!reader

Warning: None

Was just randomly thinking about how each avenger would react to a yo momma joke, hence the name of the one-shot

There's like 0.2% of fluff in this really it's just an avengers crack fic

(Starts in the first Thor movie)

---------------------------------------

You first met Thor of Asgard when you were just nine years old.

Of course, you hadn't known who he was at first. No one did. He was just another new face at the little diner your mom loved until he smashed a mug on the floor while yelling, "This drink, I like it. ANOTHER!"

Your mom always taught you that it was rude to stare, but at this point the entire diner went quiet as everyone watched the man with long blond hair who, though he was wearing normal clothing, looked so out of place.

Even once the diner went back to normal, you couldn't keep your eyes off of him.

"Mom, that man's weird," you whispered as you watched the brown-haired woman in front of him attempt to explain why crashing a cup is wrong, which he was obviously not seeming to understand.

"Don't stare, [Y/N]," she said. "I don't know what his deal is but we're not trying to find out, okay?"

"Okay," you replied, still finding it hard to keep your eyes off of the strange man.

"Now I'm gonna go to the restroom, alright. While I'm gone, stay in your seat and mind your business," she ordered. "I don't need to come back having to rip you from the hands of a giant."

You nodded. "Yes ma'am."

The second she left, you looked back at where the man had thrown the mug to see that no-one had picked it up. Frowning, you walked over with your hands on your hips. "Excuse me," you said, tapping the man on the shoulder, gaining his table's attention.

The brown haired woman smiled. "Awww, hi sweetie!"

"Are you going to clean that up?," you asked, pointing towards the mess on the floor.

In return, he scoffed, pushing your hand off of his shoulder. "Go away, little girl."

"My momma says you look like a giant," you noted.

Another woman at the table, this one in glasses, snickered. "Well, she wasn't wrong about that."

The strange man rubbed his chin as he looked down on you. "Little girl," he called out with a small scowl. "Have you no mind of who I am?"

You tilted your head. "Uh, what?"

The brown haired woman laughed nervously. "I already told you, Thor, or whoever you think you are.. no one knows you here."

"Thor's a weird name." You crossed your arms and gave a childish glare. "And you have a weird voice," you added.

Thor rolled his eyes, somehow becoming as emotionally invested in the argument as you, a child, were. "You're a weird, tiny, little girl."

You stuck out your lips. "You're mom's a weird, tiny, little girl!," you yelled back before walking back to your booth. Once there, you turned your body around in your seat. "In fact, your momma's so ugly, she went into a haunted house and came out with a job application!"

"Oh, shit!" The brown haired girl and her friend laughed as they watched Thor's face turn red.

"You keep my mother's name out of your filthy mouth, you-"

Your mother walked out of the restroom and grabbed your hand to leave the diner. "Come on, [Y/N]. Ready to go?"

You shot a shit-eating grin back to Thor's table, having gotten away with your little bout of disobedience, before turning back to your mom. "Yes ma'am."

If only you knew that diner experience would come back to bite you in the butt much later...

~~

You were sixteen when you met Thor of Asgard, again.

"Don't be nervous, kid," Happy told you as you watched the elevator numbers go up. "They're not really that intimidating. Plus, we just got a new kid and he's your age, so you'll be fine if you just keep your head on straight."

"Okay," you mumbled, tapping your foot on the ground anxiously.

It wasn't long ago when Iron Man found you while he was flying through New York. He hadn't even noticed you at first, but the pure energy radiating from you was jamming J.A.R.V.I.S.'s system and well, normal people don't just have pure energy radiating from them.

You discovered your power when you were twelve years old. It was something you hid, until he found you and decided that you didn't need to hide it anymore. Where he would take you, you could actually be yourself, powers and all.

You were going to be meeting the Avengers. You were going to be an Avenger.

"Seriously," Happy groaned. "You're actually heating up the entire elevator. Calm down."

"Sorry," you said, only just then noticing your fingers were lighting up. You took in a deep breath, focusing on calming your nerves. But there was one thing that was just bugging you.

The day the Avengers first saved the world, it was broadcasts EVERYWHERE. Everyone knew who they were.

And it totally was more than just a simple shock to you when you recognized the face on your tv screen.

The guy literally bashing aliens to smithereens was the guy who was at the diner. The guy who'd saved the earth several times since then was that guy.

And you joked on his mom right to his face.

"Question."

"Shoot."

"Does Thor have good memory?"

Happy's brows drew together at the random question. "Uh, I dunno. Why exactly?"

You shook your head nervously. "No reason."

The doors of the elevator opened and you were met with the largest, more than likely most expensive living room you've ever seen (and will ever see) in your entire life.

Sitting on the couch was a teenage boy. A really cute teenage boy in a striped button up shirt. At the sound of the elevator opening, he turned his head from the tv screen to look over. His eyes lit up in recognition at seeing you and he immediately ran over.

"Um, hi!," he greeted. "My name's Peter. Mr. Stark told me to give you the tour when you get here." He held his hand out for you to shake.

The second your palms touched, he immediately pulled away, a yelp of pain coming from his lips. "You're hands are like- REALLY HOT!"

"Oh, sorry!," you said, giving an apologetic smile. "I'm just really nervous."

He held his hand carefully, holding it by his side. "So I take it you have fire powers or something?"

"Pure energy," you corrected. "I can manifest it from my body into these really big blasts and stuff."

"That's super cool!"

You blushed. "Thanks, but I'm still learning to control it. If I get too emotional, it gets pretty bad."

Peter smiled, placing his hand on your shoulder (which was covered up with clothing). "Well, that's what we're here for, [Y/N]. To get better."

He led you down the hall, showing you different rooms and all the places you were allowed to go in. You even had a room of your own. One you could customize however you wished. Needless, to say, you knew you'd enjoy your time there.

And on top of it all, Peter turned out to be just one big ball of perfection. He was sweet, he listened, and holy crap was he cute.

"So," you asked. "What's your power?"

Peter's mouth curved into a smile. "Follow me." You followed him to a room that wasn't too far from yours. You chuckled, noticing how giddy he was being as he unlocked the door.

He led you into the room and you gasped as the first thing you laid your eyes on was a big Spiderman graffitied onto the wall of the room.

"Holy cow, dude. You're Spiderman!"

"Yep," he answered with a smirk. "Oh! And now that you're one of us, that means you get to make a name and have a cool suit too! You're gonna love it here-"

"Parker, is that the new recruit?," a new voice broke in.

You noticed that Peter immediately stood up a bit straighter, so you followed suit as you looked at who the man was. "Uh, yes sir, this is [Y/N]."

Your eyes went wide. "You're Captain America!," you gasped.

He nodded in return. "Steve. Nice to meet you. Come on, come meet the rest of the team."

You gave a nervous chuckle as you walked forward, following wherever Steve was leading you.

"Hey," Peter said, nudging you in the arm. "Relax. They'll be really nice."

You nodded. "Mhmm. Hey, question." He turned, giving you a helpful smile. "Does Thor have a good memory?"

He chuckled. "That's an oddly specific question. Any particular reason you ask that?" Peter looked at you jokingly. "You didn't flip him off in the street or anything, did you?"

You shook your head. "Nah. Not exactly."

Peter gave you a questioning look as the two of you followed Cap into a large dining room.

You looked around and there you saw every single avenger you'd ever heard of. Hawkeye eating a turkey burger. The Winter Soldier and Falcon seemingly playfully arguing over some tv show. Tony frickin' Stark running his fingers through some little girl's hair. Black Widow sitting at the dinner table having a peaceful conversation with some guy with glasses that you couldn't recognize.

And of course, Thor sitting in a seat facing away from the door, nursing a mug in his hand.

Just like last time, you thought. You sucked in a breath. Fuckkkk. Please don't remember me.

"Hey," Peter whispered. "You're getting really hot right now. You should relax."

"Oh," you said, taking another deep breath. "Thanks."

Tony looked over from where he was sitting. "Well don't just stand there. Introduce yourself, [Y/N]!," he yelled.

And slowly they all turned towards you, even Thor. His eyes met yours and your eyes met his. His face lit up in recognition and immediately all of the words fell out of you as you found yourself running to him.

"I'm SO so sorry okay?!?!? Look, I know I KNOW- believe me I do- that I was SUCH A JERK b-but... you gotta UNDERSTAND okay???? I was only NINE and I was stupid and dumb and would say just about ANYTHING at that age - but I mean you gotta admit that youwerealsokindofajerktoo- BUT I MEAN THAT'S TOTALLY FINE OKAY??? IT HAPPENS. IT'S NATURAL!! But like please PLEASE DON'T SMITE ME Mr. Thor I'm SO SORRY I'll literally do ANYTHING!!"

You were breathless when you finished your frantic apology, staring desperately at the God of Thunder with large 'please don't kill me' eyes.

The rest of the room was silent, everyone either waiting expectantly for what was next to come or silently conversing with their eyes, all basically saying to each other 'what the heck was that'.

Thor stared back at you, his expression unclear.

"Thor, anything to say to that?," Tony called out, having no idea what had just happened but being extremely amused nonetheless.

The long, blond haired man furrowed his brow and slowly placed his mug down on the table in front of him. He looked back at you and smirked.

"Tell him the joke," he said, pointing at Tony.

"What joke?," Natasha asked.

Thor chuckled. "When she was a smaller human, this girl and I met at a diner. She spoke very rudely of my mother. It wasn't until Jane explained to me what a 'your mother joke' is that I fully came to appreciate it."

"Dude, you joked on Thor's mom?!," Peter exclaimed, half-shocked, half-amazed.

Thor looked back at you. "In retrospect, it was quite hilarious."

You stared back, jaw hanging in shock. "Y-you're not gonna kill me- I-i mean, you're not angry?"

He laughed as he pointed towards Tony again. "Do him!"

You looked to Tony who was sitting back in his chair, holding his arms up in a "bring it on" fashion. "Uh...um, your mom's so ugly..she-ah.. she went into a haunted house and came out with a job application..."

Peter gasped. "You said that to THOR?!"

You blushed. "Look, I'm not proud of it either okay?"

"Oh we're gonna get along nicely, kid," Falcon, who you would soon come to know as Sam, snickered.

"So do you actually do anything or are ya just a smartass?," Rhodes quipped, causing you to immediately mumble some choice words under your breath.

Tony nearly cackled. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"Nothing," you lied.

Peter coughed. "[Y/N], your eyes are kind of glowing."

Bucky looked to Bruce. "I think you're gonna have to work on anger with her or something, bud."

"No wait really, what'd you say?," Tony said, still laughing.

You shook your head, but everyone was staring at you again. Ugh, might as well.

"...your mom's so old I told her to act her age and she died..."

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: A Fight in the Shadows (3/16)

Summary: After her grandfather Grumman’s death in mysterious circumstances, private detective Riza Hawkeye receives a letter from him, instructed to be delivered to her after his demise. She is floored to discover he was the head of the Amestrian Intelligence Network, and the secrets he’s found out are deep and dangerous. He mentions a conspiracy within the military, and instructs her to gather together a group of individuals he trusts to assist her in continuing his work.

To say that they’re a rag-tag bunch is putting it kindly, but when they finally get their act together and delve into the mystery, they uncover something that will shake the very foundations of Amestris…

An espionage AU with some core canon elements.

Rated: T

==

A Fight in the Shadows

[One] [Two] [AO3]

Three

The Armstrongs

The next thing to do will be to get trustworthy insiders into the military and the state alchemists. Adding them in from the outside will be nigh on impossible given the lengths that people have to go to in order to be part of the ranks and Roy is too well-known outside the military to be able to infiltrate the state alchemists as an outsider. 

Riza had to snort at that line of Grumman’s letter. For all his protests and for all the good reasons he had given her yesterday, there was still a part of her that thought he was definitely the worst secret agent in the world. 

What will be best is to find someone already in position who will be sympathetic to our cause. I have already begun the process of sounding out potential candidates, and I believe that the Armstrong family will be able to help. They have been a career military family for generations, going back much further than Bradley’s Fuhrership, and I know that General Armstrong in particular is one of the maverick types who does not care much for following orders she does not agree with, and that she values ingenuity and independence in the soldiers under her command. Her brother, Major Armstrong, the Strongarm Alchemist (I know, I know, I don’t pick the names), is a highly impassioned individual whom I know to be uneasy about the situation in Ishval, and he will give you a link into the state alchemists. 

Riza sighed. She hoped that Grumman would be right about the Armstrongs, otherwise her investigation could be over before it began and three minutes after walking out of the Armstrong residence, she and Roy would be thrown in a maximum security military prison never to be seen again. 

She opened her blinds, and it took her a moment to recognise Breda hanging out on the corner opposite her apartment block. He looked completely casual, but she knew that he was watching out for anything untoward that might try to make its way in. Although she wasn’t sure how she felt about having a twenty-four hour bodyguard detail, she was comforted that Roy had thought of it and that he was concerned enough for her protection to ask Breda and Havoc to step in like that. 

Roy was due to meet her at the Armstrong family home in a couple of hours, and Riza grabbed Hayate’s lead, only half-hearing the excited barks and enthusiastic tail-wagging that resulted. After second-guessing herself several times, she strapped on her gun. Whilst she liked to think that no-one, human or not, would be stupid enough to try and attack her in broad daylight on crowded streets, the incident the previous evening had unnerved her enough to want that extra protection. Something was going on. She wondered if Grumman had got that far in his own investigation or if their enemies had now ramped things up. One thing was certain – whoever they were, they definitely knew that Riza and Roy were involved now. 

She didn’t see Breda again after she left the apartment, but she knew that he was there, sticking to Roy’s school of ‘never let them see you’ following. She wasn’t too worried – she was more worried about there being other people she wasn’t aware of following her. Still, Hayate’s walk went off without a hitch, and soon she found herself standing outside the gates of the Armstrong home waiting for Roy. 

Home was a bit of an understatement, she felt. She’d walked past this absolutely palatial estate with Hayate several times and had never given a thought to who owned it, assuming from its sheer ostentatiousness when compared with Central Command that it was owned by the military for some purpose or another, maybe housing one of the laboratories that the alchemists frequented. She’d never entertained the notion that people actually lived in it. And had done for generations, apparently. 

Riza was so distracted by awe at the ridiculous building that she didn’t notice Roy come up next to her until he spoke and made her jump out of her skin, so she reluctantly gave him a point in favour of not being the world’s worst secret agent. 

“Shall we go in?”

“I guess.” Riza looked at the locked gates. “I assume that you have some super-secret way of getting in that’s not just climbing the railings?”

“Of course. We secret agents are always equipped with the latest in gadgetry for cutting through wires and picking locks.”

Riza raised an eyebrow. “You’re making fun of me.”

“Maybe a little. It’s not your fault. The literary world has definitely glamorised the whole espionage thing. Honestly, the thing we do most is paperwork.”

He pressed the buzzer on the wall beside the gate, and Riza took a step back when she heard the sound of what seemed to be a full-on fight to the death going on in the background. Roy was unperturbed. 

“Mustang and Hawkeye to see General Armstrong.”

The gate buzzed open without a word and they entered the grounds. As they made their way up the driveway, the sound of the fight to the death that had come through the intercom made itself known in person, complete with smashed furniture, grunting and war cries, and someone begging someone else for mercy.

Riza was beginning to think that Grumman had made a terrible mistake, or that someone else had got to the Armstrongs before she and Roy could. 

“Do you think we ought to…” She trailed off as Roy shook his head and continued his leisurely pace up the drive. To be fair, none of the gardeners working in the grounds seemed to be at all concerned by the noise, so Riza accepted that this was an Armstrong thing and she probably shouldn’t worry. Old families had the reputation of being strange, after all. 

Both she and Roy were very much disturbed, however, when a grand piano flew out of some French doors and skidded to a stop in the driveway in front of them. 

“Oh good heavens, people!” 

Riza looked up from where she had thrown herself out of the piano’s path to find a girl of about fourteen or fifteen looking out of the French doors with a shocked expression on her face. She turned and waved back into the house frantically. “Alex! Olivier! There are people outside!”

The sounds of the fighting stopped, and the girl rushed out of the doors and down the drive towards them. 

“I do apologise about that,” she said, picking up one corner of the piano as if it weighed nothing and beginning to drag it back towards the house. “I had no idea that we were expecting visitors.”

Riza looked at Roy, who shrugged, and they both followed the girl and her piano up the drive towards the French doors, entering to find the person who could only have been General Olivier Armstrong straightening her uniform and giving no indication whatsoever of what had been going on in the room before a couple of strangers had joined them. Although, from the way her expression darkened when she saw Roy, Riza didn’t think that they were strangers after all. 

“Mustang,” the general muttered. “What do you want?”

“Alas, I’m here on strictly professional business, General.”

Riza looked from Roy to Olivier and back again. “Do you two know each other?”

Roy replied ‘yes’ at the same time Olivier replied ‘unfortunately’, and Riza sighed. Definitely the worst secret agent in the world. 

“And you are?” Olivier asked Riza. Riza had been on the receiving end of death glares before, but she thought that this one had to top them all.

“Riza Hawkeye, private investigator. I’m looking into the death of Charles Grumman. Roy is assisting me.”

“Ah, your spymaster, Mustang.” 

Absolutely the worst secret agent in the world.

Olivier shook her head. “I always thought that death was unnatural. I’m not sure how my brother and I can help with that. Alex will be along shortly. He’s putting a shirt on.”

Riza decided not to ask and followed Olivier out of the room, leaving her younger sister (at least, Riza assumed she was a younger sister) happily rearranging all of the antique furniture without a care in the world. They went into a large dining room, where a maid was setting out tea for four. 

“I take it from the fact that you’re here that you believe the military was involved somehow?” Olivier took a seat at the head of the table and gestured for Roy and Riza to join her. 

“It’s possible.” Riza wasn’t sure how much to trust this formidable woman. Roy seemed to trust her, although the feeling decidedly did not go both ways. She couldn’t help but think that getting anyone in the military, no matter how maverick they might be, involved was a good idea especially at this early stage when they didn’t even know what they were dealing with, but as her conscience had told her several times before, time was ticking. 

The dining room doors burst open and Major Alex Armstrong appeared. Riza would have been startled by him had she not been privy to so many other happenings during the course of her career and especially during the last few days, and she accepted his appearance with a nod. 

“Mr Mustang, the flame alchemist! It’s good to see you again!”

There was a moment of awkwardness as Riza glared at Roy and Olivier glared at Alex, until the major coughed awkwardly and took a seat beside his sister, looking down at the table abashed. 

“Well, like I said, I don’t know how much I’ll be able to assist,” Olivier said. “I’ve been stationed at Briggs Fortress for the last fifteen years and we keep ourselves to ourselves up there. As long as we keep Drachma out, the top brass of the military doesn’t tend to annoy us too much and leaves us to our own devices.”

“And that didn’t change after Bradley took charge?” Roy asked. His face was sharp and focussed now, and whatever feelings that Olivier might have held towards him, she seemed to acknowledge that. 

“No,” she said. “The Northern border policy hasn’t changed, but I know that the policies on all our other borders became offensive again, and of course the Ishval annexation started.” Her brow furrowed, lost in thought, and she turned to Alex. “I know there was talk of the state alchemists being mobilised to intervene in the Ishval rebellion. I assume nothing’s been done yet, but then sometimes news travels slowly in the snow.”

Alex shook his head. “Nothing yet, but the tension is there. We all know what we signed up for when we became state alchemists, but when rumours of extermination are running free, it does make one uneasy.”

“Hm.” Olivier turned back to Riza and Roy. “Do you suspect that Bradley is behind Grumman’s death, then?”

“Perhaps not directly, but we know that Grumman was looking into the top tiers of the military.”

“And you were hoping that, as a general, I would be able to weasel my way into whatever they’re planning?” Olivier scowled. “Spies are rats, Mustang. I’ve always held that view, and you know how we deal with Drachman spies in Briggs.”

“Yes. I’m well aware of your interrogation methods. They’re legendary in our world.”

There was a stalemate then, Roy and Olivier both looking at each other with equal steel. 

Roy was the first one to speak. 

“All your information on active Drachma agents to look out for comes from the Amestrian Intelligence Network,” he said levelly. “I’ll be the first to admit that there’s absolutely nothing honourable or worthy in what we do. We’re deceitful and underhanded, and we all have blood on our hands. It’s a filthy job, but it’s got to be done. The military would be nothing without the intelligence network.”

Olivier held his gaze.

“And now the intelligence network is turning against the military?”

“If the military is turning in the wrong direction, then we’re happy to course correct.”

The dining room fell into tense, heavy silence, and Riza wished that she was anywhere else but here. Moreover she wished that she knew what to say to fill the silence and bring everyone to an understanding. She met Alex’s eyes across the table and it was clear that he felt exactly the same way. 

Finally, Olivier spoke. 

“Two days after Grumman’s death was reported I was yanked out of Briggs and ordered back to Central,” she said. “Since then, although no-one has said anything, it does feel like I’ve been held hostage in a way.” She smiled, a grim smile with very little humour behind it. “If they’re hoping that Briggs will fall into disarray in my absence, they’ll be extremely disappointed.” There was a long pause. “Something’s definitely going on. Something that they want to keep a close eye on me for.”

“Who gave the order for you to come back?” Riza asked. 

“That would be General Raven. In fact he came up to Briggs personally to escort me back.” She snorted. “I’ve never liked him.”

“You’ve never liked anyone,” Alex retorted. “Ever.”

Olivier rolled her eyes. “I do not respect General Raven.” She gave a little sigh, and for the first time, Riza saw something human and emotional in her eyes, but only for a split second before the hard mask of years of determination in the bitter environment of Briggs fell back into place. 

“I suppose that if there’s one thing that the Intelligence network and I agree on, it’s that we will do anything to keep Amestris safe. If the danger is coming from within rather than the borders, then that’s the danger we must defend it against.” She turned to Alex. “I trust you know which of your fellow alchemists can be trusted?”

Alex nodded. “Of those that are still around, yes. We lost several good ones in the exodus. Crystal, Freezing, Whirlwind...” 

Olivier snorted again, making her opinion of those who had abandoned the military very clear and Alex tailed off with a small cough. 

“Yes. I can certainly make discreet enquiries.”

“And I’ll sound out the generals as to why I’m here and not in Briggs, since they haven’t seen fit to give my command to anyone else yet. I’m not concerned, the fortress can run itself without me. If it can’t then they don’t deserve to be there.”

If Riza found this bald statement alarming then she tried not to show it. Olivier Armstrong was definitely not a person to be messed with and she was very glad that she appeared to be on their side. Well, not exactly their side, but at least not the on the side of the military top brass who were potentially causing all the trouble. Riza had a lot more faith in Alex. For all he was twice the size of his sister in all directions, he was clearly cowed by her ferocity and Riza couldn’t blame him for it in the slightest. 

The talk turned to practical aspects then, and Riza was glad of Roy being able to seamlessly pick things up with his expertise. He’d brought along some listening bugs that he’d picked up from Fuery first thing, giving simple instructions on how to plant and activate them. Olivier didn’t look entirely comfortable with the idea of bugging the top brass – she might have agreed to listen in herself but this was entirely too much like the seedier side of espionage for her liking. 

Still, to her credit she said nothing even if her expression spoke volumes. Alex was far more at ease with the entire concept. From the comments he was making it felt like he definitely knew a few people who’d be more than happy to help him out and even go further than Roy needed them to. 

Whilst Roy plied his trade, Riza fell to thinking about the dissent in the ranks that had begun with the annexation of Ishval, and for the first time, she began to feel a tiny bit more confidence in what she and Roy were trying to do. As dangerous as the situation they were getting into was, the more they looked into it and the more they began to recruit others to their cause, it did seem like the military were on the back foot. That was a dangerous view in and of itself to take in a country that was a military dictatorship under any other name, but Riza had to wonder if Grumman had forced their hand and made them expose themselves before they were ready. If they were already dealing with the tricky situation in Ishval and everything that had happened as a result, and now Grumman had found out their secret agenda, whatever that might be, they might be racing to perform damage limitation. 

If she and Roy could stay one step ahead, then maybe they’d be able to get to the bottom of everything. The only trouble was that she didn’t know what they were trying to stay one step ahead of. Was the entire military involved or was it just a small breakaway cohort that included General Raven? The fact that everything seemed to start tying in neatly with Bradley’s Fuhrership seemed to point towards it being a much wider conspiracy that went all the way to the top, and that worried her. Although the common troops would have absolutely no knowledge of what was going on above them and were just following orders, the military was absolutely massive when it came down to it, and if she ended up as public enemy number one, then she didn’t stand a chance against the sheer force that could be thrown at her. 

“Riza?”

She startled out of her thoughts to find Roy rising to leave, Alex by the door ready to show them out. 

“Sorry. I was thinking.”

“Yeah, we’ve got a lot to think about, that’s for sure.”

They left the way they came in, through the open French doors, the youngest Armstrong giving them a cheerful wave, and Riza kept looking back over her shoulder at the imposing house as they made their way down the drive. 

“Are you sure that this is ok, and they’re trustworthy?” she asked. “I feel like we just stepped into the lion’s den and asked if we could clean its teeth.”

“Yes, Olivier has that effect on people.”

“Roy, I’m being serious.”

“I know. I have reservations myself. Olivier’s motto has always been survival of the fittest and I’m not sure how that’s going to affect her viewpoint down here in Central where the conditions are far less extreme than in Briggs. Up in the fortress they have to be tough as nails to survive and those that aren’t simply get left behind as they can’t afford to carry them. That kind of mentality doesn’t necessarily work in the middle of a city with a temperate climate. She rubs people up the wrong way; I think that’s the reason she was sent up to Briggs in the first place. I’m more concerned that the generals will think she’s too much trouble and send her back to be out of the way.”

Riza shook her head. “No, that’s the opposite of what I’m worried about. I think something’s going on in Briggs and they want her out of the way down here, and I’m not quite as confident as she is about the fortress being able to hold its own.”

“Something will go down, that’s for sure. But whether the casualties will be on the Briggs side or…”

Roy stopped dead in his tracks. 

“Roy?”

“I’ve had a horrible thought,” he said. “I need to go and see Falman. I’ll meet you at the embassy at three, don’t be late or they’ll scrap our appointment!”

He took off at a run towards the gates, leaving a dumbstruck Riza in the Armstrong driveway, wondering what on earth the horrible thought could have been.

[flourchildwrites]

(1/2) I'm sorry you've been experiencing difficult things in recent days. I'm glad you've been receiving so much support, and I'd like to add my voice to the chorus. You were one of the first and friendliest people who welcomed me to the Fullmetal Alchemist fandom and who followed me back on Tumblr. Your acts of kindness encouraged me and inspired me to act in similar ways toward others.

😭 THANK YOU!

Honestly, I didn’t think anyone from FMA remembered me after my fandom friends left, and this experience has proved me so very wrong.  Thank you for singing my praises, friend.  Your ask makes me feel like I belong again.  

I’m so glad you’ve carried your kindness forward.  It’s something to be talented or smart or popular.

It’s something greater to be kind, in my opinion.  I think kindness is often overlooked, but it is sorely needed.

The title of Carry that Weight is a Cowboy Bebop reference, and fitting for a masterpiece heavily inspired by music, Cowboy Bebop is, in turn, referencing a Beatles song of the same name.  There’s also another Beatles reference I enjoy in the show.  Spike’s love interest is named Julia which happens to be the title of yet another Beatles song.  I could go on and on for days about Cowboy Bebop, but I digress...

When I was naming (renaming, actually) Carry, I was rewatching Cowboy Bebop, and the lyrics of that particular endcard spoke to me.  In fact, the lyrics of the song really gave me royai vibes:

Boy, you're gonna carry that weight, Carry that weight a long time. Boy, you're gonna carry that weight, Carry that weight a long time.

I never give you my pillow, I only send you my invitations. And in the middle of the celebrations, I break down.

Boy, you're gonna carry that weight, Carry that weight a long time. Boy, you're gonna carry that weight, Carry that weight a long time.

And, that was that.  I called my young!royai fic Carry that Weight.

(It was originally titled Albatross, but the title never seemed to mesh with the message I was hoping to send.)

I’m so pleased to hear you like how I wrote the way Riza reveals her tattoo and Roy’s reaction to it.  I’m hesitant to admit it, but the original outline for Carry had the scene playing out quite differently.  It was only after I started writing the chapter that I realized Roy and Riza had such an age gap!

Their age gap is not something that’s highlighted in the anime series.  After all, the older we get, the longer seasons of life last.  In your teens and early twenties, it can be downright impossible to exist on a similar footing as someone four years older.  However, in your 30s and onward, four years can feel pretty insignificant.  Yet, whether by chance or choice Roy and Riza have a penchant for maintaining a power imbalance.

(I’ve gotten on my soapbox about it before.)

Why do they keep dancing around each other in this way?  It’s so obvious that Roy and Riza share a bond deeper than family, darker than a poorly timed romantic affair.

Carry posits that it goes back to Berthold and his desire to pass on flame alchemy.  Berthold knew flame alchemy was a terrible thing, but I think he saw flame alchemy as his legacy.  The monster within the man couldn't allow his genius to be extinguished, and he used every tool at his disposal, mainly people.

Now, we all seek a measure of immortality, most commonly achieved by leaving something of ourselves behind, a child.  But I picture Berthold Hawkeye as a bit of a narcissist.  For whatever reason (I don’t think it was lack of intelligence), his daughter does not pick up flame alchemy.  And this is the point where most parents would put the gloves away, but Berthold persists.  He ropes Riza into his plans, and (I think) casts her as a caretaker, a role she never quite shakes.

What’s more, Berthold knows he shouldn't give Roy flame alchemy, so he doesn’t.  Instead, he strikes a compromise to placate his conscience.  He gives the secrets to his young daughter (knowing that she will desperately want to share them with someone she trusts) and puts Roy (a person, perhaps one of the only people she does trust) directly in her path.  He arranges for Roy to wield the power and Riza to take responsibility for it.

Berthold gets to have his cake and eat it too.  Roy and Riza pay for both helpings with Ishvalan blood and spent the rest of their lives trying to atone.  They carry the weight of Berthold’s secrets and break the cycle of abuse like the badasses they are. 

I think about Carry often.  I want to come back to it. 

You’re a treasure too, friend.  Please keep kindly encouraging people!  This made my day.

[lumiolivier]

Fan Fiction Master Post (and Where to Find Them):

Hello, Internet.  It’s been about a year and a half since I last updated my master post and it’d be nice for you to pass this one around instead of the others.  And so much has happened since the last list!  I finally jumped on the Ao3 train!  This list has got everybody here.  If you got nothing better to do and need a little fic to put on the wounds life has dealt you (or if you’re a little bit of a masochist and want something that’ll tear your soul to shreds), then pick a link and indulge yourself, K?  Like last time, this list is organized alphabetically by fandom and chronologically, if there’s a series.  You’ll see what I mean.  Enjoy!

** indicates a story in progress as of the time of posting this list.

Attack on Titan:

Classified Files:  Ackerman, Levi

AU Crack! Hanji needs a favor from Levi, but there's no way Levi would be so willing. That's what she has Eren for! But...Well...Why can't Hanji's experiments ever go right?

Black Butler:

Just a Simple Interview, Right?

1 of 4.  What starts out as just an interview with 19 year old earl Ciel Phantomhive for the paper turns into a little more than that a young reporter bargains for when she meets his enigmatic, yet beautiful butler. (Mostly T rated with some lemon chapters)

His Strange Little Girl and Her Butler, the Enigma

2 of 4.  She had her interview, but gained a few new friends and one very, very special butler. Now, she has her beautiful demon husband for the rest of eternity. But when the honeymoon’s over…is it really over? Of course not. We can’t have anything simple, can we?  (Also T rated with a few lemon chapters.)

You, Me, and Cambion Makes Three

3 of 4.  The Michaelis family has grown by one. The young lord has finally married Lady Elizabeth. So, what comes next? A little catastrophe, perhaps?  (Yet again, T rated with a few lemon chapters.)

Her Butler, One Last Time

4 of 4.  So blissfully living as a magazine contributor in modern day New York City. Until she meets her new landlord…or her demon husband from a past life?

Peace, Love, Unity, Respect

(Mini-series) She’s graduated college. Her boyfriend dumps her. Her roommates find a way to cheer her up. But for whatever reason, she’s feeling a little desperate. Especially when the DJ keeps giving her looks. He feels like he’s seen her somewhere before…

Crossovers:

Trouble Comes in Threes

(Hetalia x Fruits Basket)  Francis, Gilbert, and Antonio could get anyone they want. They're beautiful, they're young, and the whole school knows it. But...They've had it all and grow bored. Even traveling outside city limits wouldn't prove to be any sort of challenge. But after a mess of a party, it appears Yao and Kiku's family tree is extending its roots when their cousins relocate. They couldn't stay at the Sohma house forever.

A New Hacker Has Entered the Chat**

(DRAMAtical Murder x Mystic Messenger) The RFA is usually pretty airtight when it comes to their information. Although, when their systems end up getting hacked, Seven and MC put their heads together to figure out who did it and why their source is coming from two different places. 

DRAMAtical Murder:

His Angel Bunny

When Angel goes into work on her day off, she just wants to throw her head against the wall. Until she sees a cute boy with a face full of metal and a heart full of sadness. She had to do something about it. Little did she know, that would lead to the greatest domino effect adventure of her life.

About Time

Just a quick one-shot of Koujaku doing a HUGE favor to humanity. Thank you, Koujaku, for your bravery and your services.

Death Note:

Lawliet

Ever wonder how L happened? The name? The person? The little boy behind it all…? (child!Lx parental!Reader going into the Kira investigation)

Fairy Tail:

The Princess and the Dragon  

(AU) She wants to be where the wizards are. However, her father has other plans for her. Stay out of the books, Lucy! You don’t need to practice magic! How do you expect to further the bloodline if you don’t meet anyone?

The Siren’s Song

(AU) Beware a frozen heart desperate for warmth...What a load of garbage...Right?

The Knight in Shining Armor (At the time of me posting this, the last chapter is going out this week)

(AU) Erza's flashbacks to the days before she joined the guild kept getting worse and worse. Master Makarov couldn't stand to see one of the strongest members of the guild falling apart like that, so a special job for a special S-Class wizard should be enough to snap her out of it. Especially when that job is for the Fiore royal family.

Fullmetal Alchemist:

Halfmetal Heart

Edward and Winry’s precocious daughter Tricia has picked up the family trade, but when she goes to apply for her state certification, something wonderful catches her eye…

Don’t Forget

Their house used to be a pile of ash, but now, it’s a home as Edward and Alphonse reflect on the day it burned.  One-shot

Happy Birthday, Sir

Today marks a very special day in Amestris. It’s the Fuhrer’s birthday! And his wife has a little something, something planned for him, but can Mustang let it be a surprise?  One-shot.  Partially goes off the Halfmetal Heart canon

The Spark and the Sparrow

Just some young Royai fluff about a thunderstorm that happened at Master Hawkeye’s house.  One-shot

Hetalia:

Candy From Strangers**

Amelia's boyfriend is a jerk. No matter how anyone looks at it, he's a straight up jerk. One night, things got a bit out of hand and...Well...He's her ex-boyfriend now. A broken plate to the cheek does that. But a kind hearted stranger in the park was more than ok with fixing up more than the deep cut on her cheek.

Draw a Circle

France stumbles on a mysterious naked woman and can't keep her to himself, so he consults his good friend Britain. Who is she? And where did she come from?

The Legend of Zelda:

Courageous Duality

Five years after the Kokiri Village has been burned by the Gerudo King’s newest apprentice, Link gathers the intestinal fortitude to go back and pay his respects to his old home. Until he finds his true destiny deep within the Lost Woods.  Takes place after Ocarina of Time

MCU:

Kilgrave’s Good Little Girl

Who better to bring in a murderous psychopath than a murderous psychopath?  (Reader)

Mystic Messenger:

Mistake Messenger

A one-shot collection of alternate routes for Mystic Messenger ranging from sweet and fluffy to naughty and depraved. MC x EVERYONE.

Man’s Best Intern

(AU) Poor Jaehee. Overworked. Underpaid. Under appreciated. Luckily, with the newest C&R intern, anything is possible. Although, when Mr. Han takes a particular shine to her, Jaehee’s workload may be doubled even more.

The Number Next Door**

(AU)  MC has finally gotten the opportunity to move into the apartment building of her dreams. After years of clawing her way up with her design blog, things have finally fallen into place for her. That is, until she learns her next door neighbor likes to blast meme music at 1AM.

Regularly Scheduled Programming

(One-shot) Saeran and MC indulge themselves with one night a week for garbage TV. Although, sometimes, we can't always get what we want.

Ouran High School Host Club:

Kiss, Kiss

1 of 3.  You’re starting at a new school and for any normal person, that’s difficult. For someone with your list of diagnoses, it’s even worse. Especially when all you want is to keep your head down and find a quiet place to study.

Back to Normal, I Guess

2 of 3.  After her summer in New York, Lana goes back to her school in London with her heavy heart full of the memories she made at Ouran Academy. But little does she know, the Ouran Host Club will always be there to welcome her back, no matter what time zone she’s in.

Our New Normal

3 of 3.  Lana misses Japan. Can we blame her? Unfortunately, she had to graduate from Ouran Academy sometime. But her new life in New York with Kyoya is only just beginning. College is an entirely different ballgame.

Switch**

Daddy's only looking out for his little girl and he wants what's best for her. She's not ready to take over the...uh..."family business" quite yet. She doesn't understand why she has to go so far just to go to school. But Daddy's word is law. Hey...Why does the angry guy in her homeroom seem familiar? And what's a host club?

Supernatural:

A Family Forged in Fire

1 of 2.  Lena was living in an orphanage. Constant rejection day in and day out. They were looking for a baby, not her. Little did she know that a case would bring a pair of brothers that would turn her life upside down.

When the Fire Goes Out

2 of 2.  After taking down the devil himself, a girl needs to get away, doesn’t she? Even though it puts her brothers in a worry and opens up a golden opportunity for someone new to slip into her life.

Yuri!!! On Ice:

Adopted

1 of 2.  AU: Victor and Violet adopted two precious little boys that they can’t help but love and became an unorthodox family. Even though the youngest can’t stand the oldest, but that’s the way siblings work. And things get even more troublesome when they both want to take up the very thing that brought Mommy and Daddy together.

Off the Rails

2 of 2.  After Junior Grand Prix, the Nikiforov family has moved to New York and began their training for next season, including Violet’s comeback. However, her comeback may be a bit more than she…or Victor…bargained for.

Not a Perfect Fairytale (But It’s Ours)

Fairytale AU.  Whoever decided the prince needed a princess has terrible foresight…

Surprise

Yurio is always a little paranoid, but for some strange reason, today, his radar was up even more than usual. Especially when Yakov doesn’t yell at him for missing a simple jump.  One-shot

Dr. Nikiforov Has a Ring To It

Getting sick sucks something awful on its own. Getting sick with no one else home but your overbearing roommate to take care of you? That’s a mess in itself.  One-shot

Pierced Through the Heart

(One-shot) Yurio and Otabek had been together a while now. Why couldn't they have something match like Victor and Yuri?

[fullmetalscullyy]

my inferno - chapter 1

summary:  singer riza hawkeye has the gig of a lifetime at a new high end bar that's recently opened up in central - a passion project of roy mustang's, the poster boy for central city records - which opens up a whole lot of new avenues for both their careers and personal lives

rated: t | words: 2781

an: yo so ya gal is back with another fic but this one will be pure happiness and fluff I SWEAR. i've been wanting to do one like this for aaaages (that's what "let you love me" was supposed to be lmao) so it's finally here. there's no ~royai relationship~ angst, but riza's backstory will get explored which will obvs have angst in it

read on ao3 or ffnet

The bar was busy tonight – a regular occurrence but still a constant worry in Roy Mustang’s mind. His newest venture was working out well, but he’d been in the game too long to let it get his hopes up. A good start was all well and good, but he’d need to retain these customers in order to maintain his success. This bar was a passion project of his and he didn’t want to ruin it.

Laughter and chatter filled the space. The bar itself was packed as people conversed and as others tried to buy their drinks. Every table was filled, all the seats taken, and people milled about in the free space in between, celebrating the end of the week with their friends and co-workers.

Seeing it with his own eyes and feeling the atmosphere of the place soothed his fears and he let loose a long breath, a smile spreading across his face.

He was so happy this was working out.

Ignis was a higher end bar in Central, the drinks a little more expensive than what the regular person would spend, however it was expected in the capital of the country. Roy himself wanted his bar to be open and attract everyone, but due to the location it wasn’t possible. Until it was well established, he would need to cater to a particular clientele, and in turn those rich kids would keep his dream alive. He was thankful, but until he could cater to all – not just the higher end of society – then Roy wouldn’t class this as a success.

Roy scanned the bar from the balcony outside his office. The décor was modern and minimalistic. Black tiled floors and white walls was the main theme of the bar. The ceiling was open, showing the pipes and lighting wires in the ceiling. The lights hung low over the black topped tables and matching chairs, the lampshades white but the bulbs inside were dulled at the moment, giving off a cosy feeling. They could change colour to whatever Roy wished them to, but for now the dull amber light was perfect – and his favourite. There were candles on every table as well but were unlit at this time of night. Tipsy customers and fire decidedly would not mix well, even if the name of the place was Latin for fire.

The bar itself had a black tiled front with a black marble top. It ran the length of the wall opposite the door and he watched as his staff effortlessly moved around one another to pour drinks and serve customers. They each laughed with those they were serving, and Roy felt a surge of pride inside him. He wanted to be known for having staff like that – those that would welcome anyone and act like a friend to those who entered.

“What’s up man?” a voice asked, clapping Roy on the back. Maes Hughes grinned at him from his right, setting his forearms on the chrome railing that surrounded the balcony to mirror Roy’s stance. He looked down on the space below.

“Hey, Maes.”

“How’s it going?”

Roy let out a breath. “Good,” he replied sincerely. “Really good. Everyone seems happy, the bar is busy, so… yeah. Good.”

“You are a natural born wordsmith, my friend.”

Roy raised an eyebrow. “I’ve been stuck in that office all day responding to emails and making phone calls. Excuse me if I’m not up to par on my conversational skills after talking for the last right hours.”

“I’m surprised. You seem to love the sound of your own voice I thought you’d be used to speaking for so long by now,” Maes joked, laughing loudly when Roy elbowed him in response.

“The live music is organised for tonight,” Maes revealed. He turned to face Roy, crossing his arms and popping his hip to rest it on the railing. “I managed to pull in a last-minute favour.”

“You’re the best, Maes, thank you.” His act for tonight had pulled out two hours ago and Roy’s bar was the only place in the city known for its live music every weekend – Friday to Sunday. He’d only been open a month and didn’t want that weekly tradition to be slipping already.

“Now, the act is… slightly different from your usual music, but I think you’ll like it.”

“That’s fine with me, I’m open to anything,” Roy revealed. “As long as the people like it, I’ll be happy.”

Maes grinned. “Excellent. I’ve been told she’s fantastic.”

“Does “she” have a name?” Roy asked, amused.

“Riza Hawkeye. No band, just one woman and a guitar. Not well known but I heard a sample of her material that the manager passed along and –” Maes whistled low showing his appreciation. “She is fucking good.”

“I’ll take your word for it. There’s a reason you’re the head of live music,” Roy grinned. “You’ve got a good ear for his stuff.”

“Thank you, thank you,” he bowed before laughing and leaning against the railing again. “I know,” he sighed, as if his “gift” was a burden. “It’s a tough life listening to good music all day.”

“I’ll bet,” Roy smiled wryly.

“I need to get going. I promised Gracia I’d be home before nine o’clock for once in my life and I intend to stick to it.”

“Go for it, man. I won’t keep you.” The poor guy had been a saint helping Roy with his opening and keeping the business afloat for the last month. It was about time he earned a break. “Take tomorrow and Sunday off too. I’ll be here anyway so there’s no point in both of us being in.”

Maes clapped him on the shoulder again, thanking him. “Have a good one, Roy.”

“You too, Maes. I’ll catch you later.”

After Maes left and after one last cursory glance over the busy bar, Roy returned to his office and shut down his computer. He’d spent too long looking at that damned screen all day and he wanted to get out there and enjoy the live music and the atmosphere of his own bar. Those remaining five emails that were calling to him could wait until tomorrow afternoon when he would be back in.

“Hey, Roy!” Jean Havoc called to him with a grin from behind the bar. He lifted a glass in greeting, bringing it down to fill it with a pint of beer for a customer in front of him. He said something to the man who grinned and laughed in response. Jean beamed at him, slinging his dishtowel across his shoulder across his shoulder while turning his attention to his boss. “What can I get you?”

“Kraken and coke,” Roy replied, entering behind the bar with the rest of his staff.

“Coming right up!” He effortlessly poured the drink, not wasting a drop of rum as he poured the shot then transferred it to a glass. The man was an artist with his ability to create drinks. His cocktails were part of what made the place kind of famous. The designs he could create even baffled Roy. He had no idea how Havoc did it.

He glanced at the clock, noting it was five minutes to nine. Roy stepped into the kitchen behind the bar and turned the music low, signalling tonight’s act would be starting soon. The murmur died down for a few moments before being replaced by a more excited aura.

Roy felt pride surge inside him once more. All his hard work had paid off and it had all led to moments like this. He was no stranger to success in his life, but seeing this idea finally come to fruition after years of hard work and delays was infinitely more satisfying than any of his previous success.

He retrieved his drink from Jean and at nine o’clock he turned the music off in the back completely. His skin prickled in excited anticipation as it always did once a new act came to perform at his bar. Normally he would listen to their stuff beforehand, but this had been way too last minute and if Maes Hughes – once one of the most prolific talent scouts in music – said the act was good, then the act was good. He hadn’t even said this Riza woman was good, he said she was fucking good and that put her way up in his estimation.

A woman stepped out from behind the black curtain behind the stage to the left of the bar. She had her acoustic guitar in tow, her long blonde hair falling in front of her face as she organised her set and made herself comfortable in the chair he offered the acts. The chatter had died down as some watched expectantly – Roy included.

*          *          *

“Where is this place again, Becca?” Riza asked as her oldest friend and manager ushered her rather quickly into her car. Apparently, Rebecca had found her a last-minute gig for the night, and it started in less than an hour. Riza lived on the outskirts of Central and they would have to book it across town to make in time. She was already bracing herself for a ride with her eyes closed. If she couldn’t see her friend’s manic driving in Friday night traffic, then her anxiety wouldn’t play up and she wouldn’t begin to fear for her life. Seriously, it was a wonder Rebecca Catalina hadn’t crashed her car yet.

“It’s called Ignis. The newest and hottest bar in Central right now,” Rebecca revealed with a pleased glint in her eye. “It’s very exclusive, and ya gal has just managed to book you in there,” she grinned.

At the word “exclusive” Riza’s stomach sunk. She faltered in her walk, only to have Rebecca place a hand on her back and firmly keep her moving towards the car. She didn’t want to play “exclusive”. That meant rich kids and stuck up assholes. They wouldn’t be interested in her kind of music. Riza’s palms begun to sweat.

“Wait, exclusive –?”

“It’s just what the papers say,” Rebecca cut her off, waving away her insecurities. “And nobody really pays attention to what they say. It’s just a ploy to get people to go there. It’s all advertising.” Rebecca opened the boot of her car and gestured for Riza to place her guitar case in there quickly and for her to get her butt in the car pronto.

“And what was it called. Ignite?”

“Ignis,” Rebecca rolled her eyes. “You’ve never heard of it?” Riza shook her head, strapping herself into the car. “It’s on Third Street.” Riza’s anxiety kicked back into gear. That was a high-end part of town. He didn’t get much time to dwell on it because Rebecca took off at a breakneck speed and Riza grabbed the handrail above her head for that little bit extra security. “Next to Lizzar’s.”

Riza cocked her head as she racked her brain for a moment. “Didn’t that used to be Velocity?”

“Riza,” Rebecca stated, tone condescending. “Velocity was replaced ten years ago. Since then it’s had two name changes.”

“Really?” she asked, surprised. This was news to her. “I… I thought it had always been Velocity…” She trailed off, realising just how much she was digging herself into a hole here. She loved Rebecca, and vice versa, but Riza new she got frustrated with her not-up-to-date-on-anything ways. All her friends did – not that there were many.

“Oh my god, you really do live under a rock,” Rebecca sighed in exasperation.

“I don’t,” Riza huffed, leaning her head on the car window and looking outside. “I’ve just got better things to do than sit and stare at my phone for every minute of every day.”

“Well me staring at my phone every minute of every day got you this job.”

Riza sighed. Rebecca was right. Her tone wasn’t clipped or irritated, just a friendly reminder for Riza that the world was moving on quickly and she needed to catch up. As per usual. Riza liked her lifestyle right now and was pleased she wasn’t a mindless zombie strapped to her phone. She got out into the world and appreciated it for what it was, rather than staring at it through a screen.

As they passed by the front of Ignis Riza felt her stomach sink. She was pleased to see there was a queue already forming outside the bar complete with two bouncers outside, but how many people were actually here to listen to her? She was last minute and not the typical music found at a trendy place like this. Her anxiety returned with a vengeance.

“Who owns this place?” she asked, taking in the black tile behind the silvery-white writing above the entrance. Tiny lights sparkled in the black tile, giving the impression the background was sparkling. It looked really nice, Riza noticed. Not what she expected, which was flashy and gaudy. This place looked classy, nothing like Lizzar’s they just passed next door.

“I don’t know. Some rich dude with glasses?” she shrugged. Rebecca rarely had time for the finer details which made Riza’s life slightly more difficult at times. For one thing, she liked to know the name of the person paying her before she turned up at the venue. That always led to awkward introductions and didn’t exactly leave a good impression.

Rebecca drove and parked around the back, jumping out before the engine was completely off and ushering Riza inside. She barely had time to grab her guitar before Rebecca almost ripped it out her hands and carried it herself. Riza held it protectively against her body and glared at her no-nonsense manager. God, the woman could be infuriating.

“Come on,” she rushed Riza, gesturing for her to hurry up towards the curtain backstage.

“Becca, I don’t think this is a good idea –”

“It will be fine.”

“But they’re not exactly the type for this –”

“Riza.”

“I really think I shouldn’t –”

“Riza,” Rebecca cut in. “We’re out of time. It’s nine o’clock and you’re due on,” Rebecca told her firmly. “We both need the money so get out there and knock ‘em dead. We both know you will.” She smiled encouragingly at Riza and it was needed.

Rebecca could be a pain and pushy at times, but she believed in Riza – more so than herself – and she often forgot that. Rebecca had never steered her wrong before and every gig had been a success so far – despite not being called back yet. She’d only started singing semi-professionally a year ago in between working in the coffee shop below her apartment. It paid the bills and it was what Riza loved. With Rebecca’s help, Riza had become successful. If she said there was nothing to worry about, then there was nothing to worry about.

Riza took a deep breath and steadied her nerves. “Right.”

Rebecca grinned at her, squeezing both her shoulders. “Go out there and show Ignis just how good Riza Hawkeye really it.” Riza rolled her eyes at her friend but passed through the curtain with a grin.

She organised herself on the small stage overlooking the bar. After a quick glance she saw there were already a few people looking at her expectantly. She angled her head so her hair fell in front of her, shielding herself from their gazes.

Steadying her slightly shaking hands, she repeated that she could do this over and over again in her head. Riza took her seat and strummed her guitar, finally looking up and meeting the gazes of the people staring at her. She took a deep breath and let it out in one go.

Her pre-gig ritual was complete.

“Hey everyone,” she greeted into the mic. She cringed at how loud she sounded. She’d always hated hearing herself back, but Riza blocked it out. She couldn’t help but smile as a few people whooped and shouted “yeah!” after her greeting. “It’s good to be here tonight,” she added, strumming her guitar a few more times and tuning it how she liked. “I hope you enjoy my stuff. If not, my manager has ear plugs just for this occasion.” The self-depreciating joke went over well, and more than a few people laughed. It was a lot more than she expected.

“I’ll ease you in slowly,” she told them, adjusting the earpiece so she could hear her guitar better with every strum. “This is a cover of a song that I’ve loved for years. It’s called Ships in the Night. I hope you like it.”

Riza opened her mouth and blocked everything else out, beginning her set of the night.

[myrhymesarepurer]

Rings and Cake and Forever

FMAB, Post-Promised Day

She so valiantly fought off silly thoughts of wedding dresses, and rings and cakes and forever. It was going well enough until-  “Have you ever loved someone, Miss Riza?”

Pairing  Royai

Rating K

a/n the lil drabble you write when you get stuck on your lil fic when you’re stuck on your other lil fic when you’re stuck on your enormous multi-chapter fic. in the world of my fics about EdWin’s wedding, Very Well and Three and the one I’m stuck on.  

 Enjoy <3 

ff ao3

Winry’s bachelorette party came to a close  in the most innocent of ways: a slumber party.

The girls all piled up in the den, a castle of pillows and blankets and stuffed animals. It was warm and fuzzy, and much of it pink.

The whole lot of them, stomachs stuffed with sugar, light and bubbling with champagne, snuggled into the hard wood like it was a large, fluffy summertime cloud.  

Each one of them slept with a soft smile, no doubt dreaming of white dresses, and rings, and cake, and forever.

Each one of them slept, aside from Riza. 

She sat propped up against the couch, holding her novel close utilizing as much of the porch light as she could.

Riza brought it with her knowing she wouldn’t be able to sleep. It was the wedding, she was sure. Weddings always seemed to throw everyone for a loop. 

In result, Riza hadn’t gotten much rest. It wasn’t a crisis, just an inconvenience.

So, she brought her novel and kept herself distracted, most valiantly fighting the silly thoughts of white dresses, and rings, and cake, and forever.

It was going well enough, until the bride-to-be ‘sleeping’ to her left, turned toward her and opened her eyes.

“Have you ever loved someone, Miss Riza?”

Apparently, she couldn’t sleep either.

Of course, Winry, however, had a perfectly good excuse to be awake and pestered with pretty thoughts of white dresses and rings, and cake, and forever.

Riza raised an eyebrow at the young bride. The girl grinned sleepily in the dim orange light.  

“There are very many different types of love-“ “You know what I mean,” Winry deadpanned, and Riza was caught.

The young girl now knew her quite well, so lightly unfortunate for a woman as private as Hawkeye. But, Winry had become a dear friend, very similar to Rebecca. Though, Rebecca seemed much less problematic - which was saying something.

The brunette lay snoring at her feet, curled up with Hayate, while the blonde ruthlessly gazed up at her with pleading blue eyes requesting a conversation about Riza’s least favorite of subjects.

Winry, of course, knew this.  She had somehow subconsciously cataloged all of the specific topics Riza would rather not discuss.

Often, if they were not riddled with pain, she would pick a subject, and nearly force Riza to open up and – god help her – socialize.  

It was harmless for the most part, but Winry was clever and fearless, and to Miss Riza’s great misfortune, knew right away when she was dodging the point.  

So, she had no choice.

Riza huffed, closed her book, even still, a subtle smile on her face.

“Yes,” she said candidly. Winry suspected as such.   “Do you love anyone right now?”

That particular question proved to be a popular pastime for the evening. They had played truth or dared, or rather, practically broadcasted their love lives outright, one by one.

Riza always had a perfectly poised, carefully crafted,  completely unspecified response. 

Such questions gave her quite the headache. Such questions possessed very complicated answers. Such questions prompted the intake of lots and lots of sugar.

Riza knew what they expected, and she disappointed every time.

Winry, however, was so sweetly relentless. She asked not for gossip, a scoop, a secret.

Winry simply wished for others, happiness.

She could do gears, and bolts, and motor oil. She could do dresses, and rings, and love.

And, if there were any woman concerned with the happiness of others on her own wedding day, it would be Winry Rockbell.

Unfortunately so, Winry had become a dear friend and there was no way Riza was getting out of this.

Do you love anyone right now?

Riza skillfully tilted her head, bit her lip and squinted, “Not that I’m aware of.” “Liar,” Winry quipped instantly.

“Now, how would you know I’m lying?” Riza picked up her book, opened it again, and stuck her nose into the pages.

“I just know,” Winry scoffed. Riza smirked.  “The evidence appears to be quite unsubstantial.”

Winry huffed, big blue eyes wide and restless. She propped up on her elbow and caved. Unfortunately, they were dear friends now, 

and Winry knew there was no way she was getting anywhere  with this woman, no matter how stubborn and persistent, and admittedly annoying her own tactics.

“Fine.” Winry bit and settled, “Have you ever had a crush on someone?” That wasn’t such a tricky question, now was it? It focused on the past, and on a much lighter, sillier, common kind of love. Riza blinked, “Crush?”

Winry nodded, “Mhm. Blushing and butterflies and all that.” Riza sighed, surrendered her book once more and, of course, knew the answer. But, ever Riza Hawkeye, she hesitated.

“I’m getting married the day after tomorrow.” “Yes?” “You’re the maid of honor.” “Yes?”

“So, it’s your duty to appease me,” Winry literally begged, “I’m the bride. I order you to answer.”

Riza chuckled. “Understood,” She sighed, “Yes, I have had a crush I suppose”

Winry lit up like a Christmas tree, “Who?” Riza bit her lip. There was no turning back now. She had orders, after all.

“My father’s apprentice.” “Oh,” she grinned, “Was it a forbidden love?”

Hardly, Riza nearly snorted. It was barely love at all.

It was a blush or two, butterflies maybe, a honorable, intelligent, painfully charming boy that was hell bent on befriending a very lonely girl.  

And, forbidden?

She wasn’t even sure, in those days, if Berthold Hawkeye still knew he had a daughter.   So, Riza decided on a, “I wouldn’t know. My father was never wise to it.”

“Did he have a crush on you too?” Winry hoped so ardently.

Riza brought a finger to her lip and tapped, genuinely answering, “I was never certain.”

“I bet he did.”

“And, how would you know, Winry?” “I just know,” Winry grinned. Riza smirked. “The evidence appears to be quite unsubstantial.”

Winry rolled her eyes and collapsed back onto her pillow. Riza took the opportunity to do the same.

Perhaps the conversation was over.

Perhaps Riza had dodged enough for long enough to exhaust even ever pure-hearted, ever ruthlessly vigilant Winry Rockbell.

Riza was very wrong.

“Tell me something about him.”

She had already turned away from the her, pointedly choosing to face the windows, escape the hot seat.

She had already tucked away her book.  She had already pat Hayate on the head. 

She had already convinced herself she had passed the test, survived. Maybe she could finally get some sleep. Probably not, honestly.

Still, Winry insisted for at least one more word. Riza huffed and turned back to her.

She thought and scrunched her nose. “He was kind of a know-it all.”

“Like Ed,” Winry snorted. “Like Edward, yes” Riza smiled.

It was possible then, Winry grinned. It was possible for even Riza Hawkeye, her maid of honor, so often carrying around the weight of the world,   to have her own Ed, her own love of her life.

Perhaps her own white dress, and ring, and cake, and forever.  

Perhaps it was possible.

“One more thing,” she lifted a finger. “Winry…” Riza warned.

It was time to sleep. It was time to stop torturing her dear friend, her maid of honor. Winry understood.   Still.

“What did he look like?”

Riza knew what she was asking.

Winry was aware of at least the bare bones of Roy and Riza’s past. Ed had mentioned it once briefly. She knew they had known each other for a long time, since childhood. Her father might have been an alchemist,

and Winry wasn’t one-hundred percent sure Roy Mustang was Riza Hawkeye’s father’s apprentice. But, she had a feeling. 

Riza knew what she was asking.

Ever still she did giver her a perfectly poised, carefully crafted, completely unspecified response,  while still following orders, of course.

Riza rolled her eyes, turned back to the windows, pulled the duvet up to her shoulders, and sighed into a smile.

“He had dark hair and dark eyes, Xingese decent.”

It was vague. It was specific.

It gave Riza just enough time to pretend she fell asleep before Winry hummed, “Wait a minute.”  Xingese decent, huh. then finally gasped, baffled she hadn’t realized instantly.

She knew it. She just knew.

“That sounds like General Mustang.”

“Does it?” Riza feigned exhaustion, muttering into the fluff of her pillow.

“Yes,” Winry saw through her and smirked, finally satisfied, “Yes, it does.”

it’s the little fics that are the loveliest. let me know your thoughts,  reblog with comments and tags and the like. Very Well actually happens right before this with a similar cute, warm and fluffy topic, so go read that one too. I love them. 

[widowsresolve]

Hello I have a request that randomly sprung to mind! Can you please write a fic around how Nat wore the arrow necklace to court in tws - where there were news crews and cameras - and idk maybe Clintasha reading articles about it? Or Clint/nat/both finding fan speculation about their relationship Etc? Thank you :)

“You really gave them something to talk about,” Clintcommented as Natasha slipped onto the couch beside him, a mug and spoon inhand.

She leaned her head on his shoulder to get a better look atthe laptop screen and raised an eyebrow. “Mmm, I figured there would be some gossip, but I wasn’t entirely sureon the extent of the speculation.”

“Like the press hasn’t been busy trying to draw connectionssince New York.”

Natasha took a spoonful out of her mug brownie and ate itbefore replying. “What all are they saying after the hearing? I see severaltabs up.”

He nodded. “There are some interesting takes. Here, listento this: ‘Natasha Romanoff’s revealed codename of Black Widow would seem toleave one to believe that the bits of behavior we’ve seen over the years matchthat of the same spider. However, could this arrow necklace reveal a certainfondness for the SHIELD archer known as Hawkeye?’” Clint grinned at Natasha.“Awww, they think you’re fond of me.”

“Do they think I have a couple extra limbs too?”

“Not that they mention.” Clint made a point of scrollingthrough the rest of the article. “Yeah, definitely nothing about youpotentially having any extra limbs.”

“So how far are other sources taking this beyond my beingfond of you?”

Clint clicked on another tab. “’In looking through thedropped SHIELD files, it becomes obvious that Natasha Romanoff and Clint Bartonhave in fact been lovers, very possibly since the early recorded days of theirpartnership. To be so successful in their work together, there has to bechemistry that leads to sparks flying before and during missions!’”

“That’s not exactly very gossipy.”

“It gets there, I just kinda liked that part, and theymention later that the evidence does support that we were very professionalduring our ops. The gossip comes about the effects of our chemistry when themission objective is complete or we’re between ops.”

She gave a small laugh in between bites of brownie. “Let meguess, we’re speculated to be so passionately attracted that we only varybetween work and barely being able to keep our hands off each other?”

“Something like that, in general allusion.”

“Clearly whoever wrote that has never been in a positionwhere there’s more than enough sore bumps and bruises between the two of youthat a hug once you’re finally alone again is enough contact for the day,” shedrily said.

“Yeah, plus it just isn’t a realistic standard to beginwith, but,” Clint broke into a grin, “how about this? This one claims that Iseduced you into SHIELD thus starting our torrid love affair. And I’m supposedto be jealous of Steve for threatening to whisk you away from me, unsourcedeyewitnesses claim.”

“Good thing that particular author wasn’t following us back atthe mall then.”

“I wonder how many romantic rivals I’m supposed to have.”

“You must be lucky, all these people trying to sweep me awayand I keep on coming back to you.”

Clint twisted to press a kiss to Natasha’s temple. “I maynot have Steve or anyone as competition, but I am lucky.”

“I love you too.” After a second she pointed her spoon atthe screen. “Is that a Buzzfeed article?”

“Yeah. ’12 Signs that Black Widow and Hawkeye are AVENGERSIN LOVE.’ All caps there.”

“Let’s see it Barton.”

He clicked on the tab. “Admittedly some of these are astretch. Like that one.  While Iappreciate that things worked out like they have, the formation of STRIKE TeamDelta was because we have complementary skillsets and sort of got along, notbecause Fury saw our inherent chemistry and set us up. He wouldn’t do somethinglike that.”

“Plus he wanted to give Coulson the slightly unruly defectorto keep an eye on and you weren’t scared of me, unlike some agents.”

“And then you became one of Fury’s favorite people, even ifhe wouldn’t admit it to almost anyone.”

Natasha smiled. “Another reason you’re lucky.” Before hecould give a reply she frowned at the screen. “Checking each other out ofmedical is also a stretch to base assuming our relationship on.”

“Number eight isn’t wrong though, and I have to admit that’sa pretty good shot from Thor’s dramatic exit in Central Park of us almostholding hands.”

“That was a complicated time.” Natasha trailed off as shespoke and quietly took another bite of brownie.

Clint swallowed and bumped his knee against hers. “Somethinglike that, but we got through.” He scrolled down to the last part of thearticle and smiled. “’Number twelve: the clearly visible arrow necklace thatshe wore at this hearing. Black Widow is a master spy who knows a thing or twoabout what conclusions to draw from appearances. While she may not be the typeto wear her heart on her sleeve, she may wear it around her neck.’”

“They’re not wrong.”

“And there are apparently plenty of people wondering whetherit’s an indication of starting to date, being engaged, or something like beingsecretly married. Oh, and I almost forgot, your wearing the necklace was amessage to Steve that you’re unavailable so he knows to stop trying to whiskyou away.”

“We’re teasing him about this stealing reputation of hiswhen we see him again, as long as the media isn’t anywhere nearby.” Natashamoved her head off Clint’s shoulder and leaned to put her mug and spoon on thetable before cuddling back beside him. “But how long have you been looking uparticles speculating about the extent of our relationship based on mynecklace?”

He shrugged. “Guess I wanted a distraction from otheraspects of the hearing.”

“Clinton.”

“And I was curious. Did you know that apparently we’re atleast a few people’s ‘real life OTP’?”

Natasha raised her head. “I’m not actually sure that I wantto ask.”

“Pretty much there are people we’ve never met who want us tobe together, which is good I guess. I’m not above admitting that I like havingsomeone who isn’t convinced that Steve is a threat though.”

She leaned her head back onto his shoulder. “Next thing you’regoing to say is that there’s a hashtag about us.”

Clint hesitated for a moment. “I haven’t looked for us, butyou are trending on Twitter.”

“So half the people are focused on the issues at hand whilethe other half are discussing the possible extent of our relationship. I’m notsurprised.” She reached for Clint’s hand. “Maybe for tonight it’s time toignore what the media is saying about either topic.”

With his free hand he shut the laptop lid. “Sounds good.”After a few second’s pause Clint chuckled. “I’m glad I don’t have to speculatewhat that arrow necklace means.”

Natasha smiled. “You’re just happy that your gift is gettingso much attention.”

“Which reminds me actually, I think a certain Tony Starktexted me asking just how purposeful wearing it was to the hearing and whetherwe were in need of anything that he could help with.”

She shifted closer to Clint. “We should probably get back tohis concerns at some point soon, but we’re pretty good with just each other.”

“Yeah, you and me, we can handle whatever comes. Includinggoing surprisingly public in a matter of a few years.”

“It’s a good necklace.”

“One last thing from what I read, there’s at least one takethat while I didn’t seduce you into SHIELD or anything, it was love at firstsight that convinced you to join and of course led to today.”

She gave a purposefully dramatic sigh. “My next appearance theseare all going to come up as gossip magazines try to get their few questions in.”

“Maybe I’ll just have to discreetly be nearby and let myidentity slip just as we’re about to leave, give them something more to talkabout.”

“You just want pictures of you in your favorite sunglasses.”

“They’re a good look. Or you could wear them, see if anyonerecognizes them. I’m pretty good but I know there’s a Hawkeye fan club outthere that would recognize them.”

“An arrow necklace and sunglasses are suddenly the definingphysical objects of our relationship. I suppose that’s something.”

“Are you actually going to do this?” Clint’s voice held anote of excitement.

“They’re not only a good look for you, and,” she said with awry grin, “at this rate I might as well make another headline.”