#hawkeye is my fucking wife. enough said

[kafkaguy]

character wrapped 2023 💥

tagged by @davidtennantpussytulpa ^-^ i didn't know how many to do so i copied tara and did top 10. i know the severance guys are Four Of Them but i can't separate them theyre all equally important to me

will graham (hannibal), em haywood (nope), aziraphale (good omens), mark & dylan & helly & irving (severance), hawkeye pierce (mash), martha jones (doctor who), ivan karamazov (the brothers karamazov), kim kitsuragi (disco elysium), stewy hosseini (succession), ruescott melshi (andor/rogue one)

i will tag... @fagician @britomart @libraryfag @roadwhores @majorbaby @globuspolski @hadleyfraserfaggot @tenderscience if u want to ^-^

#and now i will explain them all in detail #cos i started watching hannibal back in like. january or february and will immediately set up camp in my head and started to settle there #*I* pay rent to *HIM*. he lives there permanently. sweating and monologuing constantly #em was not only the character of 2022 but also of 2023 and of 2024 and the rest of the decade and all decades to come #she had such an impact on me keke palmer's performance will live with me forever and i love nope so fucking much #i almost didnt include her because nope was more of a last year obsession. but she lives on #aziraphale.........no comment #severance.......i love them all so much and at first i wanted just irving and then just helly and then i realise i cried over mark this week #and then i realised i couldnt possibly leave out dylan when hes probably my favourite character. so then i settled for all of them #hawkeye is my fucking wife. enough said #martha... well i knew i had to have a doctor who character. i thought maybe the doctor but then i thought their companions mean more to me #sometimes at least. i did have a fourteen icon for a while but then i was like but Donna..... and then i thought. well #these past few months at least martha jones has been eating away at my heart. i go batshit insane when i think about her #her impact. her grace. her power. so she had to go on the list.it was a toss up between her and donna for sure though #then i figured i had to include a karamazov since reading that book took up half of my year. and ivan was my favourite of the 3. so <3 #kim goes without saying. literally nothing to be said hes the character Of All Time. to me #stewy also goes without saying ive had so many Stewy Save Me moments since the beginning of season 4 all the way to the end of the year #i miss him every day. he is the moment. i wish there was more of him all the time #and the last one is a bit of a wildcard cos all my insanity abt melshi has been on my andor sideblog. #but rest assured ive been thoroughly Not Normal about him. he literally side appears in 4 episodes and has 11 total minutes onscreen #but i love him. so much. and hes occupied most of my thoughts since september. once again his impact his power his grace. his homosexuality #enough said. that's all. thanks for reading. this was a great year for autism and madness #tag game #🍪

[ohtobeleah]

Puzzle Pieces //

Chapter One: “All My Friends” (Chaos)

Summary: Rooster remembers what is was like to lose the love of his life even for a brief moment. So when his brother in arms is facing an uncanny experience? He knows what do do to keep Jake afloat.

Warnings: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader!Chaos. Trauma release, hospitalisation, recovery process.

Word Count: 3.2k

Season One of Chaos | Season One of To have & To Hold. | Season Two Puzzle Pieces

“Shit—no, no, no, no—hey Y/n you stay with me yeah?” Rooster felt the blood on his hands as it seeped through your flight suit. “Don’t do this, we’re good? Yeah? You're alright—“

“I’ll marry you.” Choking it out as blood leaked from your mouth. “Don’t think, just do.” Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you lost it completely, following whatever force was pulling you away. 

“Hey!” Bradley Bradshaw felt like his whole world had stopped spinning in the moments where you laid lifeless in his arms, limp like all that made you, you, had been sucked from your soul. “Chaos! Hey Y/n! Wake up baby come on don’t do this to me don’t you do this.” He cried. Rocking with you back and forth lightly slapping your cheek to try to gain your attention. “No baby—don’t go, don’t leave me, not now.” 

“Bradshaw—“ Jake was the first person by Bradley’s side as Hondo and Phoenix cleared wandering eye on lookers. “You gotta let her go man so the medics can do their job.” 

“Get the fuck off me!” Rooster hissed as he snapped back at Jake, shrugging his hand from his shoulder. Turning back to his wife, Jake pressed his lips together as she radioed for the ship's marshal to come and give his assistant in restraining the clearly distressed aviator. “Hey, you're not helping her by holding up medical attention, Rooster, let her go so she has a chance.” 

“Touch me or Chaos and I’ll kill you Seresin and that’s a goddamn promise.” Rooster hadn’t let his grip on your faulter—it was only when the Marshal grabbed him from under the armpits and dragged him away did the medical team get a chance to hover over your lifeless body and begin CPR. Trying to restart your heart as the helicopter prepared for emergency evacuation. 

“CHAOS!!” Rooster can remember the moment he thought he’d never see you again. Being dragged across the flight deck of the carrier away from you. Jake by his side—Hawkeye on the other. “Y/n! No—! No let go of me you son of a bitch! CHAOS!!” In the silence of the rec room back at base Bradley could hear his own screams vividly, echoing through his mind like a broken record stuck on a scratched loop. 

“HEY!” Jake shouted as he stepped into the dorm the marshal had detained the very obviously distraught Lieutenant in. “Bradshaw? You listening?” If Bradley really focused, he swore he could still feel the slap Jake cracked out against his cheek while he was in the middle of pacing back and forth, up and down the length of the cabin. Jake's hands on his shoulders as he shook him back to reality—out of his own head. “You don’t get to fall apart, not now—not until you know she’s good, you got that?” Jake said with the tough love Rooster needed, all for him to back track just for five seconds. “I’ll give you five seconds to get it out of your system but that’s all you get before you suck it up and be the rock she needs you to be—do I make myself clear?” 

Without a second of hesitation Rooster's knees buckled under the weight of his world shattering into a million pieces around him. He couldn’t breathe enough to shout or cry, he just fell into a heap as Jake caught him. Brothers in arms. The blood on Bradley’s hands stained Jake's flight suit as he gripped his forearms, linked through trauma, bonded by blood. Your blood. 

As Bradley watched the off road medivac pull up beside the ambulance which was waiting and ready to go, he saw Jake stumble out, standing there with hopeless eyes. Distraught and beyond stunned at the situation unfolding around him. As his feet took him in the direction of the ambulance, Rooster saw Coyote splayed out on the stretcher—the first out of the medivac and into the ambulance. There was a lady sitting on his pelvic giving him compressions, constantly and without hesitation as she most likely broke ribs to keep his heart beating at a steady pace. Working overtime to keep him alive.

It was then as Jake stepped back like he was too afraid to go near his wife, Bradley Bradshaw caught the first glimpse of Commander Hawkeye Seresin. Passed out but very much breathing and alive as they wheeled her straight passed and into the back of the ambulance. Her flight suit was covered in blood. 

“Hangman—?” Bradley placed a hand on Jake's shoulder and he jumped near seven feet in the air before realising it was Rooster. “She’s gonna be okay, they both will.” 

“She doesn’t remember us.” Was all Jake had to say before Rooster saw the tell tale signs of a broken man about to lose his mind. “Can’t remember ever being here, she—she.” Bradley stood before Jake, hands on his shoulders steadying the slightly shorter, more stoic aviator. “I can’t lose her—not now, not again.” Jake Seresin felt like he was reliving his worst nightmare all over again, except ten times worse than ever before. 

It was the tears that gave it away more than anything as Rooster saw his friend crumbling the same way he had not a few weeks ago. The same thing strickening the two of them—the love they felt for two of the most beautiful women they had ever known. Crumbling them into diminished versions of themselves, hopeless without their significant others. 

“Jake?” Bradley hissed to no response as Jake zoned out, caught in the vortex of the possibility he’d lost the love of his life, again. “HEY!” The sudden stinging sensation against Hangman's cheek brought him back to earth as Bradley stood before him. “You don’t get to fall apart, not now—not until you know she’s good, you got that?” Bradley said with the tough love he knew Jake needed, all for him to back track for just a moment. Knowing he needed just a moment to let it out. “I’ll give you five seconds to get it out of your system but that’s all you get before you suck it up and be the rock she needs you to be—do I make myself clear?” 

Jake recognised Bradleys words as his own but paid no attention to the parallel playing out before him as his knees felt weak. Jake crumbled into Bradley’s arms, screaming out a painful cry for help as the woman he loved was taken away along with his best friend and brother. The blood on Jake's hands stained Roosters Normex, your blood—now brothers in arms. 

“Come on, I’ll take you to the hospital—“ Bradley hated the sob that escaped past Jake's parted lips as he tried to pull himself together, kneeling on the tarmac wiping his tears. “Hawks stronger than you give her credit for, so is Javy—they’re gonna be okay.” 

“Rooster—I can’t fucking do this.” Jake sighed as he lost vision of the ambulance his wife didn’t want him in. She couldn’t remember the love they found again over the last few weeks, he knew it was a trauma response but what if she never remembered? That terrified him. “I don’t know how to do this?” 

“There’s no play by play guide for this shit Jake.” Rooster groaned as he helped Jake to his feet, dusting him off before slinging his arm around his shoulder for support. Jake's entire world had just been turned on its head and if anyone knew that feeling it was Bradley Bradshaw. “You just gonna put one foot in front of the other.” 

***~***~***~***~***~

“I never thought I'd be so happy to roam the halls of a hospital before.” Your mother Sarah stood behind your wheelchair pushing you slowly through the halls of the general populations ward of the Miramar Base Hospital. She smiled for a brief moment at your optimism, thankful her only daughter was still alive and recovering as well as you could be for someone who’d run up a pretty extensive injury list that would require months if not years of physical therapy. 

Sarah could remember the call she received from Bradley Bradshaw himself when he was giving permission to let your loved ones know what had happened. Usually the Navy would send someone to inform the family of those who’d been critically injured, but Rooster–carrying his own guilt about the events, wanted to be the one to inform her himself. He said that Tom would have respected that. It didn't hurt any less though, still knowing that you were somewhere over the Pacific Ocean being transported to the nearest hospital, fighting for your life. If anything Roosters call from on board the carrier just saved taxpayers a pretty penny. 

“Can you go a little faster mum? I wanna feel the wind in my face.” You joked as you pulled the blanket covering your legs up a little more. You would push yourself if you could but you still had your arm in an immobiliser for your broken collarbone and full shoulder reconstruction. Unable to move it. 

“You’re impossible, you know that?” Sarah chuckled, turning the corner into your new room. The doctors on your roster were happy to move you out of the intensive care unit as you seemed to be needing less and less attention these days. You were convinced it had been because you'd been bugging them. Still though, you couldn't go home, not yet anyway. But the doctors had assured you if you kept taking their advice to rest, recover and just take things easy so your body could heal–so that the trauma your body held could be released in a timely matter–that physical therapy would come around sooner rather than later and you'd be back flying fighter jets in no time. Fingers and appropriate appendages crossed. 

It was hard to keep a positive outlook on the situation though when all the walls looked the same, dull and meek. For an adrenaline junky, this was a worse fate than being sent straight to hell. At least hell would be interesting, being stuck in hospital was just boring, every day felt the same as the last, like a constant endless mind numbing loop of being poked and prodded. Test after test, assessment after assessment. At least today held a shred of difference, you’d been moved to a different room–it was bigger, quieter, had more privacy. 

“Oh this is lovely, isn't it sweetheart.?” Sarah cooed as she wheeled you in, putting the brakes on your wheelchair on with her foot as she wheeled you into the middle of the room. You had your own bathroom now, that was a nice addition–at least you wouldn't have to call for a nurse everytime you wanted to use the toilet. The view was nice too, you had a full window, floor to ceiling with curtains for added privacy, but your mother knew the sun would do you well, especially looking over the courtyard you’d soon be allowed to roam your wheelchair though. All in due time. You weren't quite ready for an excursion outside. 

“It's not home but it’ll do.” Was all you said. “Can you wheel me over to the window? I think I just wanna sit in the sun for a while.” Since being hospitalised, you had learnt how to appreciate the little things in life. The temperature of water was a new one you never really paid much attention to before, or the flavour mash potatoes, the smell of fresh air was a big one you missed, but most of all you'd learnt to appreciate the time people took out of their day to come and visit you. 

“Sure baby, I might go down to the cafeteria and grab a coffee, do you want anything?” You wanted to say a whiskey sour or better yet a bottle of Port because the one Hawkeye had brought you earlier that same day was just too fucking good, but held back because you knew your mother well enough to know she’d give you the third degree. As she moved you closer to the window and into the warmth of the sun's rays shining through, you simply shook your head no with lips pressed together in a fine line. 

“I'm good, thanks mum.” With a little hesitation, Sarah kissed your temple before making her way out of your new hospital room, leaving you in the silence for a while to just soak up the sun and silence and just breathe. It really didn't last all that long though, because after about five or so minutes of watching the people down below in the courtyard, Bradley Bradshaw came racing in, almost missing your room completely because he couldn't remember for the life of him if the nurses at the nurses station had said room sixteen or room sixty. 

“Hey–!” He was panting, he’d been running around the hospital for what felt like an eternity because he’d missed the memo that you were moving rooms and wards today. “Chaos–” 

“Like the new digs Bradshaw?” You asked with a taunting smirk, spinning your wheelchair around with a little difficulty. One arm would do that to a person. “I'm mobile now too! Got this sick ass wheelchair we can do burnouts in the halls in.” Usually Rooster would tell you to shut up or laugh at your attempt at carelessness and recklessness, but he just stood there speechless—searching for the words to explain the unexplainable. He didn’t know if telling you would do more good than keeping the accident a secret, but he knew better than to treat you like some fragile damsel. “What? What’s wrong?” 

“There was an accident—“ Bradley steps closer, dropping to his knees before you as you sat in your wheelchair twirling the fabric of the lightweight blanket that covered your legs. “So I just need you to listen to me, okay?” 

“What kind of accident?” There was a small part of you that didn’t want to know, but there was an even bigger part that already did. You knew by the look on Bradley’s face that it wasn’t good, that he was afraid of the reaction he might get—that you might give because there were still foggy moments unaccounted for in your own memory from your own trauma that Rooster was afraid would rear their ugly heads. “Bradshaw, what kind of accident?” 

Bradley reached out to take your hand in his, bringing it up to his lips so he could place a gentle kiss to your palm before squeezing it tightly. His elbows resting gently against your knees, still kneeling before you. 

“Coyote and Hawkeye.” It felt like you’d just been punched in the stomach as your jaw slacked with a soft gasp. Shock horror radiating your system. “They went down over the ridge, no one knows what caused it yet.” Rooster had fresh tears welling in his eyes but you could tell he’d been crying already. “Coyotes been In and out of unresponsiveness, it’s touch and go—he’s not doing well though.” You hadn’t said a word so whenever Rooster paused to take a second to breathe? The silence was deafening. “And so far all I know is that Hawk can’t feel anything from the waist down, but Jake found her giving Coyote compressions, so she’d been walking before the medics arrived.” Bradley wasn't sure if he should even bring up the fact that Hawk might lose her leg all together. That was something he wasn't going to mention. 

The funny thing about trauma is that every person processes it differently. Trauma blockers serve as a healing mechanism to help aid in the process of recovery and healing. They can also be a pain in the fucking arse. You still couldn’t remember much of the mission itself, you’d dreamt of bits and pieces here and there but it was all still a blurry haze. 

“Hangman said Hawk can’t remember ever being here in North Island—“ Rooster mumbled as he tried to read your mind, watching through your eyes, the gateway to your soul as to what you may or may not be thinking. There was something bouncing around in there. “She doesn’t remember patching things up with him, from what he can gather—which means—“

“She was just in here this morning though?” Bradley had never heard you sound so confused before as you frowned. “She brought a bottle of port in and was asking if she should take up a new position at Quantico or stay here in North Island.” Bradley knew he shouldn’t have fixated on the whole Hawk bringing you alcohol part of that statement, but he did. Reaching out to cup your face as he leaned in to kiss you. Eye level with you since he’d been kneeling. 

“You shouldn’t be drinking, next person who sneaks you alcohol I’m gonna put my boot up their arse.” 

“Rooster I told her what’s the worst that could happen—“ 

“We all did.” Rooster whispered as he wiped the tears that had begun to fall freely down your cheeks away with the pads of his thumbs. “You don’t bear that burden alone Chaos.” 

“Where’s Jake?” Your bottom lip trembled with remorse, you’d never felt so much pain for another person before. “Bradley, where's Hangman?” 

“He’s been admitted for shock.” Bradley explained, still accessing if what he was exposing you to was something you could handle or not. So far? He seemed to think you were handling it well. “His body just shut down, couldn’t handle the stress, he just passed out in the waiting room—hit his head on the corner of the little table that held all the magazines on it.” Rooster wasn’t going to admit one of his first responses to Jake's episode was to laugh, he’d never seen someone who paraded around like he was the centre of the universe go down as quickly, and as hard as Jack Seresin had. He fell like a sack of shit. 

“Ow—“ It wasn’t an immediate response, your shoulder had been in quite a bit of pain on and off throughout the day. A full reconstructive surgery will do that. But there had to have been some sort of trauma release going on as Bradley explained the accident Coyote and Hawk had had. “Ow—fucking hell, hurts.” Bradley was quick to rise to his feet when he noticed your doubling over in pain—clenched your jaw as you cupped at your shoulder, your collarbone. “Ah fuck! I feel like I’m on fucking fire!” 

“Nurse!” Bradley shouted, pressing the button near your beside that alerted the nurses at the nurses station that you needed assistance. “It’s just phantom pain from the S.A.M—“ 

“There’s nothing phantom about this you idiot!” You felt awful for snapping, but your pain was real—even if it had been subsequently brought on by the anxiety of hearing about your friend's accident. “Please help me—“ You sobbed as Rooster kissed the top of your head, stomping off the breaks on the wheelchair you sat in as one of the nurses came rushing in. 

“Her shoulders acting up again.” He explained with a sigh. “Can you have someone take a look at it please?” 

“Doctor Beck already explained the possibility of the muscles holding onto trauma.” Bradley read the name tag presented on the nurses scrubs. Her name was Lillian. “If she’s subjected to stressful conditions it’ll take longer to heal.” 

“Great.” You groaned as you looked over your shoulder at Bradley who just stood there regretting the last few minutes. He shouldn’t have told you. 

“I’ll give you some pain relief but you need to remember you’re not out of the woods yet, Miss Kazansky.” Nurse Lillian reminded both you and Bradley. “Your body and mind are still repressing incredible chunks of time and muscle memory.” She added with a warning tone, looking to Bradley as if to remind him you were clinically dead a few weeks ago, that he did have to tread lightly around you and that his actions did carry consequences—regardless of what you let him see and believe. 

“It’s gonna be a hell of a recovery.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Read Jake Seresin x Hawkeye!reader POV here

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags: 🏷️ @emma8895eb @shawnsblue @justanothermagicalsara @abaker74 @a-serene-place-to-be @blindedbythelightt @starkleila @luckyladycreator2 @caitsymichelle13 @atarmychick007 @xoxaabs88xox @averyhotchner @mintellaine @onlyheretowastetime @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog @avaleineandafryingpan @dracosluvbot-reblog @itsemohours @djs8891

#bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #bradleybradshaw #bradley x reader #puzzle pieces // jake seresin & bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun rooster #rooster series #rooster fic #rooster imagine #rooster fanfic #rooster x reader

[gildeddlily]

side characters ONly can be gay!!11!1! yep

I could write an essay about the way Marvel is just the reflection of how mass media deals with the queer representation "problem" nowadays

(I should study for my exam but fuck it I have time)

first of all, how many queer characters actually are part of mcu's big ass cast?

Searching on the internet they'll tell you about twenty- but it's enough to read who is queer to understand that they only care about seeming all woke and you know, kind and allies and all that good shit, but the truth is that if you're queer you'll get no more than five minutes of screen time

Loki is a bisexual genderfluid god, it's canon in the comics and in the shows/film, but does he actually acts on it? like, does he ever talk about the men he had a thing with? does he talk about his gender identity? no. and you know what, I don't want a long speech about feeling accepted and finding your place in the world and understanding yourself, I'd be ok with him being like "yk what, i feel like cunt today" and poof tom hiddleston is no more man.

we have a two second shot were he's labeled as genderfluid. that's it. he has a love story arc with his female alternative version.

like saying the bar can't get lower- all the time there's a man at his side, and they're so queer coded guys. they are so fucking queer coded. they'd have all the potential to be a good couple, and they prob could since Loki is canonically attracted to males too! but no.

let's choose the female you over the dilf grabbing your waist and telling you that you're more, that you matter and have a chance to be good.

can Loki count as representation? maybe.

it's shitty representation, tho.

then there's America.

America's a lesbian, daughter of two lesbian women, and they were proud of it probably- if it weren't for the fact that America's there, she live the adventure, and she has a lgbtqia pin. a pin. all her identity is expressed in a pin.

one could say, but the film is not ab America and her non-male partner, is about the story yk?

then why does every fucking marvel film features a man and a woman being in a relationship?

i guess that when it's about man Tony Stark and woman Pepper Potts everything's ok, you can give all the minutes you want to their sweet relationship- but if they're queer I'm sorry, the best thing you'll have is a pin.

then a few gays out there.

random man in endgame missing his bf. random girl in hawkeye mentioning her wife (slay). that one sexy dora milaje who has a sexier gf. slay you too ig. that Eternals guy who kissed his bf on screen (first time ever, and they feel revolutionary. fucking 2021).

the only thing that can be saved is Thor 3/4 because of Taika Waititi. the queerness is something Taika did because he wanted to.

Ragnarok's about this dude, his bi brother, this guy who flirts with both of them and has orgies with all kind of beings, a lesbian valkyrie and a gay rock. Love and Thunder is about this guy, his bamf ill girlfriend, a lesbian valkyrie who's trying to find some girl to eat out, a gay rock that ends up having strange sex with his bf, and greek people fainting after seeing said guy's naked body. (and that weird moment between Thor and Peter? that was made to be gay guys)

while it's not perfect, it's one step above everything else.

Taika Waititi's film's queerness is not there for looking more inclusive, it's there because gay people are there, we actually exist dude, and they deserve their space, and they should have it.

and like Taika Waititi's said, the world will be healed when people will stop saying "oh you know that new marvel series? yes, there's a gay gal in there", when people will treat queer people like the people they actually are.

it's like walking around in a forest and being like "oh look, a tree!". we aren't a different species ffs

representation is good, and of course gay characters sometimes are gonna be just there on the side cheering on the main character- because that's how life goes. I'm the cheering-from-the-side girl queer friend to my straight friend, and mcu stories are told by straight people, so it's kinda natural that we're kinda useless.

the thing that really, really makes me want to cry our is how they're able to destroy any queer "lead" they put here for us, for me, and I'm starting to believe behind those scripts there are some seriously repressed gay dude who can only express themselves by writing those things.

like Steve and Bucky? the classic we're best friends and we totally didn't have sex?

or Bucky and Sam?

why was the chair scene necessary? If i see something like that happening to a woman and a man my first thought is "they're a thing", and it was the first thing I thought with Sam and Bucky too- but ofc people will tell us "y are you making everyone gay?" it's not my fault princess it's the writers'

or, again, Loki and Mobius?

"you can be good, just in case no one ever told you" WHAT THE HELL DUDE

and you know, those things can be said between two friends too, but people gets disperate. I get disperate, after watching hours upon hours of two guys eye-fucking each other and ending up being all "yeah bro i love you this is my girlfriend amy". so I wrote, I draw, I think about them being "hey dude, d'you want to be the amy to my myself?" because the alternity is writing a fic about a random man who says he misses his husband on a three second scene.

(in a fandom like good omens I don't have to worry about it. I have my queer besties, my fav lesbian couple, and a lot of representation.)

so.

mcu's representation is bad representation.

every time they write a queer characters they're all "you see that? we did that!" like they did something special- but they didn't.

they write gays for the straight, in order to feel better about themselves and make straight racist sexist homophobic ppl (the "I'm inclusive guys!!!" kind of person) watching it feel better ab themselves.

(I'm not gonna start talking about the fact that this entire post talks more than anything else about the way the mcu treats women, bc it's a rabbit hole I'm not ready to talk ab cause I've been jumping in it for too many years.)

(sorry anon ily)

10/20 edit: valkyrie is bi my bad🧎‍♀️

#lgbtqia representation #lgbtq community #queer #marvel #i hate marvel #mcu #mcu loki #loki season 2 #america chavez #bucky barnes #mobius #lokius #sam wilson #bad representation #they make me so mad

[marley-manson]

[coffee cup] BJ/Peggy/Hawkeye OT3 is better than BJ getting divorced and leaving his established family (sorry this came off as confrontational somehow omg oops, I promise I'm just curious about your thoughts :3)

Thank you! And no worries lol it doesn't sound that confrontational to me.

That's a big disagree from me. Cut to spare any followers I have who are into it.

Like I'm not into ot3s in general in fiction, it's just something I'm incapable of getting invested in. The only ot3s I've ever been interested in have been extremely ill-judged ones that inevitably crash and burn due to tension and jealousy and weirdness lol. This isn't a reflection on how I feel about polyamory irl of course, but it's not my bag in terms of fictional romance.

Secondly when it comes to these people in particular, I find it impossible to suspend my disbelief. I can't imagine BJ being mature enough and secure enough to let Hawkeye fuck his wife or let Peggy fuck his boyfriend lol. I can imagine him saying he's okay with it and trying to make it work for about a week before driving himself around the bend, but I can't imagine him being chill about it. Hawkeye would be fine, I have 0 problem imagining him in an open relationship or with multiple people, Peggy is non-existent as a character so she's whatever the writer needs her to be to suit the fic, but BJ is the weak link who would send it crashing down.

Thirdly I don't have any emotional investment in BJ's marriage, I don't particularly care about Peg because she isn't an actual character and I have no imagination so I can't emotionally invest in a non-entity, and I think it would be very fitting for BJ's narrative if his marriage crashed and burned when he got back to Mill Valley.

The way he's - textually - most invested in it as a coping mechanism, as per War Co-Respondent, says it all to me, and completely tracks with how that marriage is portrayed throughout the show, imo. He cheats on her in season 5 and tells Aggie that he'd cheat on her again if he didn't need that vision of future with his family to cling to to keep him sane. He's paranoid about Peggy cheating in multiple episodes, he's scared of her having changed when he gets back home (Mail Call 3 iirc), he's scared of her not needing him, he's scared of being replaceable... what he's really scared of is losing his own image of himself as Wholesome Family Man, moreso than anything to do with this specific interpersonal relationship, imo.

I'm not saying he canonically doesn't love her, but I am saying that thematically it's not the most important aspect of their marriage, BJ's self-image is. And that really lends itself to darker takes on their marriage, and/or interpreting BJ as gay and repressed. Which is great for me, because I don't care about hetero relationships in my media, but I do care about interesting character writing, and this is that.

I don't think it's the only fitting culmination of BJ's narrative, but I do think that BJ and Peggy getting divorced is definitely one solid potential ending to it that fits the themes nicely, and it's much, much easier for me to imagine than BJ engaging in a triad relationship or otherwise opening up his marriage.

I also think that there's a solid Peggy vs Hawkeye thread you can trace through the show, and when it comes to narratives where two potentials are pit against each other, I always favour being forced to choose one over a character having their cake and eating it too. I'm a fan of bittersweet choices, consequences, gaining one thing while losing another, sacrifices in the pursuit of happiness, etc. Not a big fan of uncomplicated fluff where everything works out perfectly.

All that said, I did mention being into doomed ot3s, and ngl I would loooove to see a take on Hawkeye/BJ/Peggy that's less of a happily ever after and more of a giant trashfire. BJ telling himself he's cool with it and being completely unable to hide his jealousy at the thought of Hawkeye and Peggy even making small talk without him there. Or BJ trying to finagle an open marriage for me but not for thee set of relationships, idk, could be fun!

BJ's got a lot of flaws, and I'm only really interested in him if we're exploring them.

send me a ☕️ and an opinion (popular or unpopular) and i’ll say whether i agree or disagree

#marley on mash #bj mash #ship hb #mash

[angelt0rres]

ok i KNOW the ask game said specify a character but i think all ur pronoun/sexuality takes on all the mash guys would be very cool :3

M*x im fucking love you thank you for the precious gift youve given me…

ALRIGHT M*A*S*H BOYS NIGHT PRIDE EDITION

Hawkeye- is malewife a gender nah but weirdly enough i think Hawk is a he/him but in a “Harry Styles wearing a skirt and nail polish in 2018 while everyone on the internet collectively lost their shit” way. He is, as if I even had to say it, a disaster bisexual.

Trapper- all around red blooded american man, he/him, not exactly disaster bisexual but bisexual with a sunglasses emoji infusion 😎. he WOULD find it funny/endearing if you used she/her pronouns like yes I am that bitch hello how may I help you.

B.J. HUNNICUT IS THE WHOLE FRUIT SALAD. Idk this is just my hc but I feel like he is definitely in a lavender marriage with Peg like they definitely are best friends and they do love eachother but holy fuck Bea Jay Hunnicut is a funny little mlm he/they I want to see him in pain

Frank Burns- he fucking sucks i dislike talking about him but I really wish they fleshed out the “secret repressed homosexual that hates himself” idea so yeah he/him passably straight on the outside little fruit tart on the inside

Charles Emerson Winchester III- Secret Repressed Homosexual that Hates Himself Prime. I am a gay Charles purist and I can and absolutely will die on this hill. who the fuck is Donna He/Him and sometimes the royal “we” just cause hes my special little guy and he can.

Henry Blake- his pronouns are they/them! actually though? I feel like Henry could pretty solidly slot into the non-binary identity. Is this based on fact? No! Its based entirely on vibes (which is arguably more accurate) unrelated but they would also wear the “Women want me fish fear me” hat without a trace of irony

Sherman Potter- now THERE is a trans man who wouldve fuckin thrown down at stonewall. he/him StraightGuy tm who just loves his wife and his horses Very Much. arent there a lot of stories of AFAB ppl dressing as men to join the army? also i hc all of his buds in Old Soldiers to be trans guys too.

Radar- whats that post that goes like “I think Radar is autistic with massive amounts of t boy swag” its really funny but I would like to tweak the narrative n this one. I think Radars mom has the type of rural homegrown wisdom where she thinks the severity of her morning sickness would determine the babies gender so she assumed Radar would be a girl so everyone got her little dresses and painted the Radars room pink but after Radar was born she just. raised her as a girl anyway? you cant exactly scrap a 1-10 year female wardrobe and buy new in Ottumwa so out of convenience he was raised as a girl but recognized as a boy. so i feel by the time he gets drafted in korea and has spent plenty of time performing as both genders he really doesnt care anymore and only prefers mens clothing because he personally finds it more comfortable. i think he would accept he/she/they pronouns and be demisexual.

Klinger- said you were a lesbian girl me too I really dont know how to explain is but Klinger is both a straight man and a lesbian at the same time. definitely he/they/she and demisexual like Radar… i feel like Klinger is your dads older sibling and Radar is your moms younger sibling. same vibes for sure but different auras.

Father Mulchahy- ive been waiting for this one (and another thank you to M*x for letting me on my soapbox) FATHER! MULCHAHY! IS! NOT! ASEXUAL! HE! TOOK! A VOW! OF! CHASTITY! TWO COMPLETELY DIFFERENT THINGS! Please dont feel like im coming for your neck specifically if this is your hc its totally valid to want ace representation and it would only feel natural to assign it to the character who doesnt have any relationships as a part of their backstory or characterization but I feel like only assigning Mulchahy with this role is not only some pretty upsetting ace tokenism but harmful to the sanctity of his faith and vows he took on as a priest. That being said! I think Mulchahy is bisexual (and would probably think Jesus was too) and I think you could address him with he/they pronouns but has a slight preference towards he.

Sidney Freedman- It seems like almost everyone in my post has come down with a case of the bisexual he/theys 🤒 but yeah besides Hawkeye I think Sidney would be the vocal about his identity? He could run circles around homophobes and transphobes who try to claim gay/transness to be a disease and I think his wife probably knows and supports his identity although they remain monogamous (Sidney is NOT a cheater >:( )

Thanks so much for the ask!! I hope I answered thouroughly enough and if I forgot anyone please let me know so I can hit myself really hard with a cast iron pan

[amrv-5]

I was going to ask about bdyswp but I see Marley already asked about it so “Hawk goes home”?????

AHHHHH hello. yes. thank you so much for asking about this one LOL!! hawk goes home is my special project at the moment. i'm no good at balancing multiple WIPs so I just pick a thing and hack at it for a billion years. HGH is my longform litfic that I've been wanting to write forever. it is going to be stupidly long I assume, and is going to take forever to write. but the most important thing is that I Am Having Fun.

it's alternating hawk and beej POV (which i. never fucking do.) so bits of both below the cut, with classic beejdenial included:

Hawkeye trailed his fingers over the dashboard. The air was hot and thick with humidity. Outside the pavement shimmered with heat. The car shook briefly as Daniel slammed the trunk, and then again when he opened the front door. 

“You got a radio put in,” Hawkeye noted, rolling his thumb over a round, ridged dial. It clicked satisfyingly, and stopped at the extreme ends of its range on either side. 

Daniel paused, and then shut his door softly. “Yes. About a year ago. I guess I must not have written about that.”

“Maybe I forgot,” Hawkeye said, fiddling with the dial. 

“Maybe,” Daniel conceded. He started the car, and the radio crackled to life. Hawkeye spun the volume up slightly. 

The car pulled out of the airport’s parking lot. Hawkeye didn’t notice. 

“God damn,” Hawkeye said, hand still hovering over the radio’s face. “What the hell is that?” 

Daniel smiled slightly. “You like it?” 

“What is it?” Hawkeye asked again, foot tapping. He couldn’t seem to make it stop. 

“What do you think?” Daniel asked, merging them onto the highway. 

“It’s jazz,” Hawkeye said, after a long pause. His whole leg was bouncing, now, and his head was starting to get in on the action. “No. Blues. Jazz? Ragtime? Jesus, I don’t know. What the hell is it?” 

“You like it?” Daniel asked again. 

“I love it,” Hawkeye said, knocking his knuckles against the window in time.

“Oh, Hawk,” Daniel said, grinning insufferably, reaching over to hold his arm, “Things are changing. It’s a whole new world out there.” 

“What is it?” Hawkeye asked, laughing a little in disbelief at how terribly infectious the rhythm of the music was, the way it reached down deep inside him and made him want to move. 

Daniel laughed at him laughing, and took them smoothly around a curve in the highway as the piano on the radio rolled and jumped. “They’re calling it rock and roll.”

///

If Hawkeye were a woman, BJ figured, he would have married the man himself. 

The woman, he meant. And only if BJ hadn’t already been married. After all, Hawkeye was smart, and saw people. Not how they wanted people to see them, but how they actually were. And he was funny. Quick. He knew how to talk about important things, and beautiful things. He could stand on a table and sing every Broadway hit ever penned and then sing the praises of every painter he’d ever loved and tell a fellow just where their best works hung in the Met, and then start all over railing against the war and War, capital-W, and still have enough energy afterwards to spin BJ a story involving the entire female cast of Bringing Up Baby that always ended up somewhere between frustrating and funny, no matter how heavy it started off. He would have made somebody a great wife, if he hadn’t been a man. 

Hawkeye was a slob, admittedly, though surely there were a few women who weren’t natural homemakers. Hawkeye would’ve been one such girl, BJ figured. Too busy following her husband around, cracking jokes at him over the kitchen table while bread turned to charcoal in the toaster to think about things like laundry. She’d be tomboyish. Sort of odd and inappropriately rakish. A little too gawky to be classically pretty, too flat to be a bombshell, her laugh too goose-like to be truly elegant, with her dresses permanently rumpled. But she’d be almost unbearably endearing. Always endearing, that was his Hawkeye. 

BJ smiled, chuffed at the clarity of the image. Hawkeye was already sort of pretty, if one thought about it. And kind of girlishly shaped, with a feminine set to his hips and a touch of pectoral softness, before he’d become so frighteningly thin at the end. It didn’t take much imagination to think of him as a her. How he would look with his hair grown out, height-wise a little shorter—or, no, the same height, but in heels—smiling across a room at BJ. Asking him to do up the back of his dress. Sprawled on the edge of a bed, smug, wearing something sheer and delicate and the farthest shade from olive possible. Funny to imagine, a thing like that.

#mashposting #my fic #The LitFic Cometh

[365days365movies]

War November I: The Last of Mohicans (1992) - Recap: Part Two

What exactly is the Seven Years’ War?

This is the moment where I bemoan the American education system, yaddayaddayadda, we all know the deal. But OK, what exactly is it? We learn about it very little in primary schooling, since we focus more on the Revolutionary War most of the time. Which sucks, because this is the FIRST war that crosses oceans! Arguably, this is the first intercontinental war the world had ever seen!

See, as the kinda self-centered nation that we are...OK, the VERY NARCISSISTIC nation that we are, we only focus on the American campaign of this war, which was the French and Indian War. And that actually lasted 9 years, not seven. But this war not only involved England and France, but several other nations. Fighting with the British were the American colonies, the Holy Roman Empire, Portugal, and a bunch of territories that would eventually become Germany (Prussia, Brunswick, Schaumburg, Hesse). And against them with the French were the various Native American nations, Russia, Spain, Sweden, Austria, and India. Yeah, India!

In fact, this war was fought ALL OVER the goddamn place. As each empire attempted to spread their influence at lightning speed, battles were fought in most of North America, the Caribbean, ALL of Europe, Argentina, Senegal, India, Sri Lanka, and the Phillipines. Yeah, uh, this was a HUGE-ass war! And the ending results were monumental.

See, by the time the British won (which they did), they had accomplished quite a few things. France and Spain lost ground in the United States, with France losing BIG, and being pushed solely west of the Mississippi, losing Louisiana in the process. They also lost their territory in Canada, India, and much of the Caribbean. Spain gave up Florida as well, and India gave up the entire eastern region (Bengal) to the British Empire. Yeah. This is the war that gave the UK control over India. Which went...awesome...

The Seven Years’ War is a major part of world history, and should be known as well as any other by your average American student. What’s worse, arguably, is the fact that there are so few films that cover this conflict. Outside of adaptations of The Last of the Mohicans, I was able to find 21 films that cover the whole thing. The most famous of these are TLotM and the classic Stanley Kubrick historical epic, Barry Lyndon.

And yes, this is on my list...even though it’s 3 hours long.

Eventually. I’ll get to it eventually. Anyway, with all of that said, let’s get back to this story, shall we?

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap: Part Two

Cora makes her empassioned plea, tells Duncan to fuck off AGAIN (which is fantastic), then goes to make out with Hawkeye through the prison cell bars. And then, AS IF THAT WEREN’T ENOUGH, the French attacks the fort so badly, Munro is immediately forced to surrender. Which, again, actually happened! However...it’s about to take a turn. And it’s about to become a grisly part of military history.

See, Munro decides to surrender once he learns that Webb, the other general, has decided not to send him reinforcements, because ever British officer in this movie is an asshole, apparently. With this, and with the generous surrender terms provided by Montcalm, Munro decides to surrender to the French. This sits VERY poorly with Magua, who desperately wants to kill somebody, especially Munro.

Montcalm tries to talk him down, but Magua wants revenge for the death of his people, and especially for the death of his children and his enslavement by the Mohawk allied with Munro. His wife left him, his life was destroyed, and it’s all Munro’s fault! Yeah, shit, Magua’s gonna fucking destroy this dude, huh? Montcalm tells Magua that the French cannot break the terms of the surrender, and will not harm the British forces. But, uh...Magua ain’t French, now, is he?

The next day, the British forces and their allies are shepherded out of the fort unscathed, as promised. But as they walk through the upstate New York wilderness...

Looks like it’s ambush o’clock.

The Huron, led by Magua, come out of the forest and start attacking the troops, who are accompanied by the three Mohicans (one of whom is a prisoner). And it’s a LOT of Huron, all armed with guns and ready to kill. And lemme tell ya, they FUCK the British up. It’s a massacre...and it actually happened.

Yeah, in one of the most infamous events in the French and Indian War, and in the Seven Years’ War, the Native American allies of the French killed Munro’s men after they’d already surrendered. In reality, this was motivated by communication problems between Montcalm and the Native Americans, and happened within the fort. Munro wasn’t there at the time, and would die later that year of unrelated causes. However, in the movie...

Oh, shit, Magua made good on that fucking promise, huh? While Hawkeye and his family save the other Munros, and the Colonel gets his heart eaten (Jesus), the rest of the army gets slaughtered, with the exception of Duncan and some men. They all escape on canoes, pursued by the Huron, and Duncan STILL THREATENS TO KILL HAWKEYE. DUDE! NOT THE FUCKING TIME YOU ASS

Everybody escapes and hides in a cave behind a waterfall, and Duncan continues to be an asshole about BEING ALIVE! God, I hate this dude. They save his ass, AGAIN, and hide in the cave to throw the Huron off of their trail. Hawkeye tells Cora about her father, and she asks him not to tell Alice about it. However, Alice is clearly, like...NOT FUCKING OK RIGHT NOW, and almost walks straight into the waterfall before being saved by Chingachgook.

Realizing that their powder is soaked, Hawkeye and his family decide to take off in order to get more so that they can save them. He pledges to come back and find Cora, and then the three of them jump into the waterfall to escape. And at that point, well, the Huron find the Munros and Duncan and take them prisoner. They’re brought to the main camp of the Huron, and Magua consults with an elder chief, or sachem, speaking only in Huron. Just then, Hawkeye arrives in the camp, assaulted by the people there as an outsider and enemy. He makes it to the Sachem to address him himself, and tells them the truth about Magua’s ambush, with Heyward translating for him in French. He also offers himself in place of the girls. 

Basically, Hawkeye and Magua both attempt individual diplomacy checks, and go up against each other. Hawkeye does OK, but Magua rolls a 16 and has a better bonus. The GM rules that Hawkeye be allowed to leave, Heyward will be brought back to the British, Alice will be given to Magua is right the wrongs done to him, and Cora will be burned alive. Damn, dude, that’s a roughie. However, Duncan...Duncan rolls a nat 20, because he translates the statement as sacrificing HIMSELF instead of Cora. Um...damn, dude. Fucking credit where credit’s due, holy shit. 

He’s taken and burned, while Cora and Hawkeye are allowed to leave. Looking on from afar, Hawkeye shoots him dead, in order to put him out of his misery. Meanwhile, Uncas and Chingachgook look on as Magua takes Alice away to do God knows what. Uncas rushes in to intercept and save her, getting into a fight with Magua on his own. And it goes...poorly. Magua kills him and throws him OFF THE FUCKING MOUNTAIN.

Alice sees this happen, and walks to the cliff face. Magua tells her to come back, and Alice...OH FUCK WAIT

oh shit alice just jumped off a fucking cliff

That was...Jesus, man. And Cora saw that shit? Fuck me, man, that got brutal fuckin’ FAST! Chingachgook watches his son die, Cora watches her sister die, the sound mixing in this movie is FUCKING HORRIBLE...sorry, had to get that out. It’s SO BAD, guys. I had to change the volume on my TV, like, 20 times.

Chingachgook and Hawkeye catch up to Magua’s Huron party, and Chingachgook murders the ever-loving FUCK out of Magua, godDAMN

Cora and Hawkeye reunite, alive and severely traumatized, and they take off with Chingachgook and reconvene on a mountaintop. I have to turn the volume up again, because of that sound mixing issue, and we hear Chingachogook pray to the Great Spirit to watch over Uncas. He then declares himself Chingachgook...the Last of the Mohicans.

Roll credits.

Yeah, wow, that was...a lot in the last 30 minutes there.

I’ll talk more about this in a review post, but overall, I liked it...mostly. Now, if you’ll excuse me, the ending music is SO LOUD, I have to turn down my TV again. The sound mixing...is garbage.

See you in the Review!

#the last of the mohicans #film:the last of the mohicans #the last of the mohicans 1992 #tlotm #james fenimore cooper #michael mann #daniel day-lewis #Madeleine Stowe #jodhi may #russell means #Eric Schweig #Wes Studi #magua #hawkeye #nathaniel poe #french and indian war #war november #warvember #365moviechallenge #365days365movies #user365 #usergiles

[lesbianlotties]

(i swear) i thought i dreamed her

Andromaquynh Secret Santa gift for @aw-hawkeye-no​ Merry Christmas!!! 🎄❤⚔

(you suggested AUs, "modern, fake dating," and i just ignored the comma and did both lol i really hope you like it!!)

and a lot of love to @thirst-teenth for organizing this event and just being great ❤

Do I know about "fashion stuff"? nope. Do I know about "CIA stuff"? not really. did i completely ignore both just to bring you fake dating fluff and humor, quynh bullying andy, and andy being a complete mess for her? absolutely!!! so here it goes

Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Words: 5975

“Did you hire me to play the part of your fucking bodyguard?”

“No… I’m a humble fashion designer, I’m not meant to know the very best secret agent the world has to offer... I hired you to play the part of my fucking wife.”

Quynh is an Intelligence agent suddenly on the receiving end of some serious threats that demand the presence of one particular special agent. Andy isn't thrilled to play bodyguard, but soon she will find out it might be the very best job of her entire life.

Most times, when Andy had to visit James Copley’s office, she found it amusing. She would tease him for the walls covered in what she called conspiracy theories, and she’d think he looked so small behind his big desk. This time, however, she found the space suffocating, and his presence was nothing short of annoying.

“I don’t work like this, Copley,” she shook her head at him, “I don’t work with Intelligence, I don’t do undercover missions, and especially, I don’t play bodyguard for the rich ones.”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” he tried to insist. Copley was pretty much squirming in his seat. Andy was sitting on a chair on the other side of the desk, tense and angry, but she was as confident as he was uncomfortable. “Listen, Andy,” he tried again, “This is the kind of job you need after… you know. It’ll be good for you to stay out of high-risk missions for a while. And, anyway, it’s all I can get for you for the time being.”

She scowled at him, “Is it CIA?”

“Not exactly. Outside work. We call it freelance now.”

“Sure,” Andy rolled her eyes, “What exactly will it be then?”

“I think it’s best if she tells you in person,” Copley had the nerve to smile at her, as if Andy wasn’t going through one of the worst moments of her career and settling for a job she didn’t even want in the first place. Her frown must have conveyed that exact emotion, because the man in front of her had the decency to look a bit embarrassed, if only to cover his amusement. “She asked for you specifically.”

Andy frowned all the way back to her apartment, and her expression only eased when she settled down on her couch, ready to skim through the pages of her new employer’s file. However, she found herself completely engrossed in every bit of confidential information she managed to learn about Quynh. An agent of International Intelligence, linked to every major organization but not committed to any, with an interesting and impressive cover job as a fashion designer turned CEO of her own company with headquarters in Vietnam. The woman was a lethal weapon in designer clothes, designed by herself also, and just the thought of her threatened to drive Andy crazy. Thinking of how she could possibly hold a meeting with the head of the CIA right before a fashion show, and why exactly would she need Andy, a special agent with war experience who rarely wore clothes that weren’t some type of uniform.

Andy could admit she was intrigued by this job and maybe even Quynh in specific. What she wouldn’t ever admit to anybody, was the way that night her mind decided to craft a beautiful, breathtaking, completely unexpected, and detailed dream about Quynh.

--

Andy wasn’t nervous, she would have strongly denied that to anybody who asked. As she stood alone in the elevator that would take her to Quynh’s office at the top of a building that surveyed everything about the woman’s fashion company, Andy swore she was feeling just… uneasy. She wasn’t used to working without a team. She wasn’t used to working in any way that wasn’t direct action against a threat. Worst of all, Copley hadn’t explained much more to her before she left her office. The conversation she was about to have could change everything.

When Andy entered the office, she noticed two things. One, the space was beautiful, elegant, but surprisingly welcoming. Two, she was all alone.

“Hello?” she said, and cleared her throat.

Suddenly, a door at the side of the room opened and from it came out the most beautiful woman Andy had ever seen and wouldn’t admit to that very fact. Quynh was wearing a perfectly tailored white suit and she looked nothing short of magnificent.

“Welcome,” Quynh stepped forward and offered her hand in greeting, “Andromache, right?”

“You can call me Andy,” the taller woman replied, feeling a sense of pride at the way Quynh stared at their joined hands, held for a moment longer than necessary, and took a deep breath when she finally stepped back.

“Andromache, please sit.”

Although she did as asked, Andy had to hold back a frown. “What’s through there?” she nodded at the door from which the other woman had come out of.

“You’re not meant to know,” Quynh replied, sitting down on her own chair. She leaned in forward and rested her elbows on the desk in front of her, then rested her chin on her folded hands.

Andy met her eyes, dark and beautiful, and took a deep breath herself. “Okay. What sort of Intelligence you work for?” she asked.

“Also not meant to know.”

The answer made Andy grit her teeth, but she refused to look away from the other woman’s smug smile. “Fine. What’s my mission then?”

Quynh leaned back on her chest and smiled, “Your goal would be to fall madly in love with me.”

“Okay, you know what-”

“Hey, no, no, I’m sorry!” Quynh allowed herself one chuckle but then trained her face to seriousness when she noticed the other woman’s hand on the chair’s armrests, ready to flee the building. She stood up and walked around her desk to lean against it and stare at Andy. “I’m sorry. Listen, do you… did Copley tell you I asked for you specifically?” she tilted her head in wonder.

“Yes,” Andy nodded, and attempted to relax again on her seat, “Why is that?”

“Because I saw you in a dream,” Quynh grinned.

“Fucking…” Andy mumbled to herself and jumped out of her seat, determined to escape before she said something she could get in trouble for.

“Okay! No! Please… listen,” Quynh reached out and wrapped her fingers around Andy’s wrist, stopping her in place and soothing her temper. They were both standing up then, leaning against Quynh’s desk. Quynh took a deep breath, and talked to Andy with sincerity in her voice for what looked like the first time in the entire conversation. “I heard what happened to you. Betrayal. I can relate,” she met Andy’s eyes, and saw at once how guarded the other woman was, and how intently she was listening, “I got a death threat. A dozen of them, whatever. I believe it comes from someone in my inner circle. Someone that wants me to stop playing with the big names of the CIA and friends. But someone close enough to know where to follow me during my day job.”

When she was done, Quynh had allowed only a hint of fear to show on her eyes, but it had been enough to ease the tension from Andy’s shoulders. She knew, at once, that she couldn’t have refused the job, not even if she had actually wanted to say no.

“Did you hire me to play the part of your fucking bodyguard?” Andy said, calmly, amusement just barely there, but enough for Quynh to notice and relax too.

“No… I’m a humble fashion designer, I’m not meant to know the very best secret agent the world has to offer,” Quynh replied, sending a smile in Andy’s way. Then she sat down on one of the chairs on that side of the desk, nodding her head, inviting Andy to take the other chair. Quynh added, imitating Andy’s words back to her with a teasing grin she couldn’t hold back, “I hired you to play the part of my fucking wife.”

--

“Why can’t I wear my own suit?” Andy called out from inside the bathroom of Quynh’s bedroom. She had silently marveled at absolutely everything about the other woman’s home. Quynh didn’t hold back on elegance and comfort but, just as her office, it surprised Andy with how genuinely serene and practical most of it felt, nothing exaggerated but just a very beautiful place to live. Quynh might play the part of a wealthy CEO, and she might have more power than Andy could imagine, but she remained an intriguing woman.

“Because your suit makes you look like a waiter, Andromache!”

Quynh was also, by Andy’s standards, a little shit.

In response, Andy made it a point to kick the bathroom door. “I said you can call me Andy,” she grumbled, fixing the collar of the very expensive, very unique suit Quynh had chosen for her to wear to whatever event the woman was dragging her to as a grand introduction to the woman she had secretly married during a romantic spur of the moment kind of situation, as they would tell the press.

“You are playing the role of my wife, Andromache, you will have to wear the best of the best I’ve ever designed!”

Sighing in defeat, Andy walked out of the bathroom, feeling personally attacked by the number of buttons her shirt simply didn’t have for her to cover the better part of her torso. However, she stopped in her tracks, a victim of a much more aggressive attack, the sight of Quynh’s exposed back as the woman just finished pulling up her backless red dress. There was a tattoo there that all at once made Andy thankful for her mostly open shirt since she started to feel a little too warm in her clothes.

“Oh,” Quynh sighed when she turned around and stared at Andy. Andy, who made herself believe Quynh was looking her up and down so intently just because she was studying the clothes she had created and already knew perfectly, except for how well they’d fit a tall, irritable, professional, and unfairly gorgeous type of soldier with earnest green eyes that made Quynh feel just a little unsteady on her feet. “You look good,” she finally added, purposefully looking away, very professionally.

“You too,” Andy nodded, looking the opposite way, very seriously too.

It would have been easy for any kind of onlooker to determine that both women were thinking the exact same thing. This job would be entirely much more difficult than they had anticipated.

--

There was a red carpet and a small army of photographers ahead of them. The unfamiliar territory made Andy uneasy, that’s why she was standing so goddamned tense, and not at all for the way Quynh was holding her arm and standing so close, getting ready to step into the spotlight.

“Why a movie?” Andy whispered, genuinely curious and also trying to distract the other woman from the big event ahead of them.

Quynh sighed and turned to look at her with a smile, “I’m a woman of many talents.”

“You produced this?” Andy frowned.

“I did,” Quynh grinned, stood taller, and tugged Andy forward, “Now hush, we are about to go out. Look pretty for the cameras, alright? Do you think you can smile?”

“No.”

Her blunt answer made Quynh laugh wholeheartedly. The result was both women stepping on the red carpet smiling much more genuinely than they would have expected.

All things considered, Andy thought she did a decent enough job playing a fake wife. Although she also tried to play undercover bodyguard and kept an eye out for any remote threat to Quynh’s safety, she could hardly keep her eyes off her own fake wife. She listened intently when Quynh talked about her job, and she smiled when Quynh talked about them. It was difficult to complain about any of it when Quynh looked at her with that perfect smile of hers. She held Quynh’s hand as often as possible too, for safety reasons, obviously.

--

Back in Quynh’s apartment, as both women got ready to sleep, they reflected on the events of the night. The premiere of a movie was an event completely new and strange for Andy, who entertained herself by sharing a constant commentary about everything around her. The cameras captured about a dozen shots of Andy whispering in Quynh's ear, while she laughed happily at whatever the taller woman was criticizing. Even during the movie, they talked to each other enough to be shushed by a stranger halfway through.

Sitting on her bed, Quynh wanted to be embarrassed by how easily she had grown comfortable with Andy, of how much she had enjoyed a little company. But her thoughts were interrupted by the same women they were filled with. Andy came out of Quynh’s bathroom looking almost completely normal, with sweatpants, a t-shirt, and holding her suit folded on her hands, but there was a gun lying on top of the suit. The sight of it was an unpleasant reminder of the one and only reason Andy had been there with Quynh the entire night.

“That was a nice first date,” Quynh smirked, trying to shove down the feeling of disappointment upon remembering she was paying Andy for all of this.

“It was fun,” Andy replied softly, a little distracted by the sight of Quynh sitting on her bed, wearing silk pajamas, and her hair a little messy. The reminder that they had failed to discuss sleeping arrangements startled Andy like a bucket of cold water falling on top of her. “I’ll take the couch,” she blurted out.

“Are you sure?” Quynh sent a small frown her way.

Andy, already starting to walk away, granted her a smile, “Yes, your couch is unnecessarily large, it’s almost a bed for two.”

“Andromache, is that an invitation?”

“Uh,” Andy turned hastily away from Quynh’s teasing smile, making a beeline for the couch and stumbling a little on her way, enough to drop her gun and whisper “Fuck,” while the beautiful woman making a mess of her thoughts only laughed at her a short distance away.

--

Andy had traveled in the best and worst planes the world had to offer, anything to get to a mission, even if it was at the end of the world. That didn’t mean she liked planes though. The private plane flying Quynh, her fake wife, and her team overseas was impressive, but wasn’t the exception. And, apparently, Andy wasn’t the only one that disliked it.

After Andy took her time making sure the plane and its staff were completely safe, they were getting ready for taking off when Quynh stood in front of Andy’s seat, pointed at the window seat beside her, and asked, “Can I sit there?”

Andy looked at her very seriously for a moment that would have been longer if she wanted to tease the woman that had been teasing her nonstop since they first met but, she noticed the genuine and unusual apprehension in the other woman’s face.

“Haven’t we been married for a full week already?” she answered with a playful smirk, “You don’t have to ask.” She nodded to the place beside her in invitation. There was a part of Andy’s brain overthinking why Quynh, who had known her only a week, would sit beside her, instead of literally next to anybody else in the entire plane filled with people she knew and trusted and had worked with for years. A matter of safety, purely logical and professional reasons, Andy’s mind decided, shutting off the insistent little questions that her mind had about every little thing Quynh did. The problem was, now Quynh’s hand was gripping the armrest between them, and it took everything in Andy not to reach out to her.

“I hate planes,” Quynh confessed, breaking the silence, “I mean, I’m a little fascinated by them but, it just doesn’t feel right to be so far away from the ground, you know?”

“I know,” Andy replied, doing an almost inhumane effort to keep her voice steady even though the plane was starting to move, “If it were up to me we’d still travel on horses.”

That got her a laugh from Quynh. “Okay, that might be going too far,” Quynh said, meeting her eyes for the briefest of moments. She looked down at her lap quickly though, afraid that the other woman would be able to read in her eyes the answer to the question Quynh couldn’t stop asking herself, Why did she feel the need to sit beside Andy?

However, then the plane was leaving the ground behind, and Andy was as tense as Quynh, her chest tight and her logical thoughts nowhere to be found. She reached out in instinct and, without any of them acknowledging it, they held hands tightly the entire time until they were well past the worst of it.

The rest of the trip ended up being uneventful, technically, even if Andy’s heart got little to no rest. She got to witness Quynh glued to her laptop and talking to members of her team, as busy as if the whole world depended on her, and as confident as if she could fit all of it in the palm of her hand. If that wasn’t enough to make Andy’s chest tighten in a whole new way, then she got to watch the adorable way in which Quynh fell asleep for the second half of the trip. Nose wrinkled and little sighs escaping her now and then. The only thing Andy was sure of was that she was in some serious trouble if Quynh didn’t stop being so perfect at everything she did.

When they arrived at their destination, Andy was taken by surprise when Quynh approached her with a shy smile. “I’m sorry, I must be terrible company,” she said, looking up at Andy.

“Not at all,” the taller woman replied sincerely. She was delighted to see Quynh’s smile grow but, when she took a step forward to leave the plane, Andy had to reach out and carefully grab her wrist, stopping her. “I should go first,” she said as an explanation.

“But the cameras,” Quynh frowned, apparently an expert at walking down from planes while being a famous woman, because of fashion, surely not because of her involvement with the CIA and company.

“I always go first,” Andy insisted, but managed a reassuring smile, “for your safety.”

Quynh sighed, accepting the logic. But then, the least she could do was help a little. She reached out and stole Andy’s sunglasses from where they hung by the collar of her black t-shirt. Then she gently put them on Andy’s face, smiling at the result and holding back from moving Andy’s hair off her forehead. Except, she failed at holding back, and her fingers did brush Andy’s hair away, sending electricity up both their bodies.

“Okay,” Andy mumbled, turning away and putting all her effort in not shaking as she walked to the door of the plane, where she was ambushed by flashing lights. She scowled at them, and surveyed the scene, careless of how odd she might look up there, until she remembered she did this for Quynh’s safety. Quynh. Quynh, who had an image to keep. So, Andy turned around and offered her hand to her wife, putting on a smile for her. Quynh was surprised, but didn’t hesitate with the offer and, as she descended from the plane, her smile was more than a little effortless.

--

The next days passed by flying. They were in America, and Andy expected their days to be filled with all the interviews and movies and fashion shows that are included with one half of Quynh’s life. And they were, all of those things happened, but there was so much more too.

In the most random of moments, without consulting anyone but Andy, Quynh would pull the two of them into a different room of the hotel they had checked into, or into a fancy restaurant as often as into an unassuming cafe. There, men in suits would be waiting for them, with questions, answers, new instructions, orders, apologies, or gratitude and respect for whatever Quynh had succeeded at pulling off secretly and while keeping up a whole different life too. A few times, they were men that had actually given jobs to Andy before, even Copley showed up at one point. Once, it was a man Andy had fought against, and it wasn’t exactly the most comfortable meeting any of them had experienced in their lives.

Surprisingly, the other things were more difficult. It was Andy’s job to make sure that movies’ premiers were safe and that no one dangerous could sneak into one of Quynh’s fashion shows. The death threats continued to come just as often, and Andy was getting closer to figuring them out, but she wasn’t there yet. In the meantime, she had to dress up following Quynhs instructions, she had to hold her hand in public, and she didn’t have to put too much effort in smiling whenever their eyes met.

It was mesmerizing, to say the least, watching Quynh work. She was professional, and passionate, a little too honest, but fun and caring and charismatic. She was talented and challenging and so outstandingly beautiful that it was getting increasingly difficult for Andy to deny she may or may not have accidentally caught feelings for her. The soldier attempted to cope by reminding Quynh, at every chance she got, that she didn’t want to be there, hated the fancy clothes, the cameras, and the pretending. The problem was, not all of it was pretending, and the few times Quynh let a little bit of hurt show because of Andy’s words, then Andy had to pretend she didn’t notice it.

There were some things Andy genuinely didn’t notice though. She hadn’t yet learned to see past Quynh’s teasing and humor and find the sincerity hiding under the surface. She still called her Andromache, not so much because she had asked to be called Andy, but because it was an excuse to say her name, to watch her reaction, to be the only one who called her that. When they were in public she called her “wife” as often as possible, not to play some part for the cameras, just because she loved to watch Andy blush. Andy, who was supposed to be an intimidating special soldier but lighted up like a kid whenever Quynh surprised her with the best pastries each city had to offer. Andy was hilariously uncomfortable with the fancy clothes, and adorably clumsy when talking to Quynh’s acquaintances, it never failed to make Quynh’s eyes go soft with endearment. And Andy had no way of knowing some of her clothes were things Quynh had stayed up late to design especially thinking of her.

Two moments stood out from the rest. Two times both women got maddingly close to absolute honesty, to crossing a beautiful line they were both dying to cross but stupidly waiting for the other one to take the final step.

First, there was one special interview in Vietnamese where Quynh felt so comfortable it was a little too easy for her to let down her guard. The interviewer, unsurprisingly, asked her about her unexpected marriage and her mysterious wife. Quynh gave the usual, prepared answer but, with a little bit more prompting, she kept talking.

“What I love about her? Everything of course. Um, the unexpected things, mostly. She makes me laugh like nobody else, mostly without even trying, I just like making fun of her,” Quynh laughed, and her eyes moved around the room for a moment, searching. She found Andy’s face, mostly inexpressive at the moment but still breathtaking, and the language barrier was enough to kick down the last of Quynh’s hesitation. “There’s more too. There’s no one like her, really. She… she’s beautiful, intelligent, so thoughtful, and inspiring, and… she makes me feel safe.”

The interviewer then asked her what she’d like to say to her wife, but Quynh almost didn’t hear him. She was too preoccupied with sudden panic burning inside her because, right at the last sentence she spoke, she stared again at Andy’s face, no longer expressionless, but quite the opposite. Eyes big, lips slightly parted, too many emotions, too much understanding. Quynh wanted to scream at herself for not thinking about the chances that the world’s best special agent would obviously happen to be fluent in a dozen languages that happened to include Vietnamese.

“I’d want to tell her, um,” Quynh stuttered, looking for the right words, the perfect fake smile and laugh to hide behind, “that I don’t completely regret our marriage.” She chuckled along with the interviewer, she went on with the interview, and not once she dared to look back at Andy again.

Then there was the second big moment, save for a hundred little moments, when Andy and Quynh’s little act of pretending was almost brought to a sudden ending. It was a special night after an extremely long and busy day, not just for Quynh, but also Andy, who was closer than ever to uncovering the source threatening Quynh. The result was Andy looking about ten times more exhausted than Quynh had ever seen her, dragging her feet across the hotel suite with her hair messy and bags under her eyes.

“Andromache,” Quynh called her from her place already in bed, “We can share the bed, you know?” She suggested, willing her voice to remain steady even under the stare of Andy’s green eyes filled with surprise. “I can tell you’re exhausted,” she managed a chuckle to lighten the situation, downplay her suggestion, hide her hope, “It’s not a big deal, come on.”

To her surprise and delight, Andy nodded once. The taller woman walked to the bed and nearly let herself fall face first on it, groaning in pleasure at the comfort of the bed and making Quynh laugh adoringly.

They got comfortable in the bed that was luckily big enough to not make it too difficult to keep their distance from each other. Andy was pretty much asleep already, her eyes closed, her features relaxed, and the filter in her mind basically nonexistent. When Quynh wished her a good night, she simply blurted out, “This has been my favorite mission ever.”

Andy’s voice was slurred and deep with sleep, making Quynh’s heart flutter pleasantly. “Why?” she asked with a smile, staring at the gorgeous woman on the other side of the bed. There was a great spark of excitement, adrenaline, and expectation for whatever Andy’s answer might reveal. But she couldn’t deny a sense of comfort, and peace, that covered them both at the moment. Andy could fall asleep without saying anything else at all, and still, it would be a moment Quynh would treasure forever.

“You know, being-” Andy was interrupted by a yawn, which she took as an opportunity to turn around in bed, giving her back to Quynh and finding the courage to finish her sentence before falling asleep. “Pretending to be madly in love with you, that’s easy enough to accomplish.”

Andy was asleep before she got to hear Quynh whisper her name a few moments later. She didn’t say anything else, but just by the way she pronounced her name, so tenderly, adoringly, softly, it would have been enough for anyone to figure out what her real feelings were.

--

Andy hated London. She’d had mostly bad experiences there and still, her dislike for the city was far from her biggest problems at the moment. She was backstage on one of Quynh’s fashion shows and she was scowling at everyone that dared look her way. Quynh was busy, and the models demanded a lot of her time, and Andy, who was totally not jealous of the way that a young and beautiful Nile Freeman who would be the star of the evening stole Quynh’s attention, was getting restless.

It was nearly time to begin the show when Andy managed to drag Quynh to an empty hallway and whisper, with possibly too much force, “We have a problem.”

“Yeah, she’s tall and pretty but she’s been scaring my models with her angry frown.”

In response, the aforementioned frown on Andy’s face deepened. “I told you. I’m almost there with figuring out who’s after you. If something happens tonight, which might happen, I’ll know for sure.”

“Well… great. Can I go now?”

“Quynh,” Andy insisted, “I mean it. Tonight’s dangerous.”

“There have been death threats on almost every city, tonight’s not different,” Quynh sighed gravely, didn’t roll her eyes, but her expression of boredom was enough to set off Andy’s temper.

Worst of all, Quynh tried to step away, which prompted Andy to reach out and hold her wrist to stop her. “I’m saying, I’m not letting you go out there,” Andy said with finality. She was still gentle as always, but there was a new urgency in her hold, it was just proof of Andy’s genuine worry but, at the moment, to Quynh, it looked just a little too aggressive. She frowned when she looked up at Andy.

“You cannot decide that for me, Andromache,” Quynh seethed, “You’re here to protect me if something goes wrong, and I expect you’ll do your job correctly. That’s it, that’s the only reason you’re here, and not to tell me what to do.”

After a short moment that felt like an eternity, Andy replied coldly, “You’re right. That’s the only reason I’m here. Just doing my job.”

It wasn’t until somebody else walked into the hallway to let Quynh know it was time to go, that both women realized how close they had been standing, how hard they were both breathing, how badly they had just hurt each other. Quynh glanced at her assistant and nodded, then she turned back quickly to look at Andy, an apology on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t get a chance. Andy had a perfectly cold expression on her face, the worst part being the fake smile on her lips.

“Good luck,” Andy whispered to her, then leaned in and kissed Quynh’s cheek. It was, by far, the worst thing she could have done to her right then. It was the first time she did it, and the fact that the small kiss was so cold, almost carrying venom with it, it broke Quynh’s heart more than she could have put into words.

Quynh had to leave Andy there, and she had to pretend she wasn’t on the verge of tears as the show started. It proved to be a good enough distraction, but it never quite took her mind off the hurt in Andy’s precious green eyes when she had brought up the purely-work-related argument on their discussion. Quynh thought it couldn’t have been worse, and then came the ending of the show. There she was standing alone on the runway, the models walking away, she was trying to smile for the cameras while the seat reserved for her wife on the first row was devastatingly empty. Andy had left, Quynh blamed herself and, for an instant, she didn’t think it could get worse.

Maybe it was the light, maybe there were tears in her eyes, but everything was a little bit blurry, and Quynh was completely caught off guard when a strong arm came around her shoulders, quickly pushed her down and away from where she had been standing. Then, there were shots. Quickly, one after another, loud, frightening. People started screaming, jumping out of their seats, and running, it was all chaos. However, from her safe place on the floor of the runaway and out of danger, Quynh couldn’t focus on any of it. How could she, when standing in front of her was Andy in all her glory, still holding a gun and staring a little too proudly at the lifeless body of the person that had been hired to kill Quynh, hired by someone Andy had already tracked down and ordered to take down while this all played out.

“Let’s go,” Andy said, offering her hand out to Quynh, and it all felt a little like a familiar dream.

The world was still going mad around them, but once again Andy was able to hold her hand firmly and pull her away from it all, pull her right back to the empty hallway where they almost broke each other’s hearts beyond mending. As soon as they were safe and alone, Quynh threw her arms around Andy, who eagerly reciprocated, holding her as closely as possible.

“I’m sorry,” Quynh mumbled again and again against Andy’s neck until they finally pulled back enough to look at each other like they were dying to do. Quynh still looked worried, but Andy’s face was a perfect reflection of joy.

“Don’t be,” Andy answered softly, daring to touch Quynh again, this time, placing her hand delicately against her cheek, and smiling when she felt the shorter woman lean into her touch. “We got him. Everything is fine now. You’re safe.”

Quynh sighed, “I said some things I regret.”

“It’s okay,” Andy promised, “I was paranoid, and overprotective. I’ve lost people I care about during missions before, but I can’t lose you…”

The earnest look in Andy’s eyes, her sweet words, her tender touch, it was all too much. Quynh didn’t trust words to express what she was feeling for the incredible woman standing right in front of her. As naturally as if she had done it for years and years, she leaned in, and she kissed Andromache, pouring all her feelings, everything she had been holding back for weeks, into that kiss.

Andy kissed her back with matching emotions, and when she pulled back, a small sigh escaped her. She glanced quickly at the chaos still going on beyond the end of the hallway and promptly ignored it all. She rested her forehead against Quynh’s and whispered, “There’s no one watching.” There was no need to act, to pretend, to do anything, or be anything beyond their truest selves.

“I know,” was all Quynh answered before pulling Andy down for another kiss.

--

After all the acting and all the pretending was done, letting down their guard and being honest with each other came really easily for Andy and Quynh. After her safety was restored, Quynh decided to take a small break. One of her jobs, under the spotlight, often required small breaks in some beautiful place. Her other job, under the weight of the entire world, often required her to maybe disappear for a little while. That’s how she found herself in a remote place, in a mostly isolated charming little house, sharing her bed, her life, and her heart, with Andy. They were starting to lose count of the days, just focused on enjoying and getting to know each other.

They were in bed, sitting side by side, their arms intertwined. Andy was finishing off whatever dessert she had brought from the kitchen back to bed with her. Quynh was teasing her for her sweet-tooth, complaining about leaving crumbs on their bed, and leaving little kisses on Andy’s shoulder.

After a while of silently holding each other, Andy broke the silence, humor obvious in her tone as she asked, “So, do I get to keep the job?”

Quynh laughed wholeheartedly and cuddled even closer. “My heart, I am not paying you for this,” she answered.

“Why not?” Andy scoffed, bringing them both to laughs, that eventually turned into kisses, that they wished would never stop.

Eventually though, Quynh pulled back, she looked lovingly at Andy and smiled. “Andromache, I did dream of you,” she confessed, “The day we met, I said-”

Andy couldn’t help but interrupt her with a kiss. She meant to say I know, I was there, I had the same dream, I was yours since before we met, I’ll be yours forever. She might say the words someday, but for the moment, she kissed her. She might confess she looked forward to maybe calling Quynh her wife again some day soon, for real, but, for the moment, she kissed Quynh with all the love she had in her, all the love she had for her.

#Merry Christmas!!! 🎄❤⚔ #AndromaquynhSecretSanta #aw-hawkeye-no #the old guard #andy x quynh #andromaquynh #immortal wives #andromache the scythian #quynh #tog #the old guard fanfiction #my fic

[fullmetalscullyy]

unplanned kiss

i received the prompt: “undercover royai with an unplanned kiss” from bananaman (a guest on ffnet). thank u so much for the prompt this was some good food to think about uwu

thank you to @khrysopoeia for the beta!!

rated: t | words: 1626

read on ao3

The mission was going exactly as planned. Everything was in place and it was a little too smooth for Roy’s liking. Still, it running smoothly meant that they’d be home in time for the nightly news instead of things dragging well into the night, so he wouldn’t complain at that.

Every soldier was in place at the exact right time. Every suspect was apprehended almost to the letter, except one. So, it was no wonder his irritation grew towards one particularly incompetent soldier who looked like he was going to faint in fear from the stern, reprimanding look on his Colonel’s face. The same soldier who’d cost them valuable time and meant they had to track their suspect further.

Riza called to him, using his fake name, her tone completely uninterested and impatient, but Roy understood her signal. She was telling him to back off from the poor guy, to keep his cool, and to come with her so they could tie up this loose end quickly and get home at a decent time.

“Yes, dear?”

It was as easy as breathing to call her such a pet name, and that scared him. Terrified him to his core, but also caused an exhilarating thrill. Because, if it were that easy, he would need the utmost control not to let it slip out back in the office. Not to mention that if it did happen, he could play it off as a habit from this week-long mission, but the team wouldn’t buy into that for a second. Havoc and Breda would tease him mercilessly until Riza glared at them to shut up and get on with their work, Roy was sure of it. It may make Riza smile to herself, but was it worth it for the ridicule?

Roy had to weigh it up in his mind, but only very briefly. It would absolutely be worth it to see Riza smile because of it.

“Come on,” she whined, putting on a petulant tone. “Leave him be. I want to go and check out this bar at some point tonight.”

Their undercover identities were supposed to be husband and wife. Another one of Grumman’s sick jokes, but, while he would never openly admit it, one that Roy was actually thrilled with. Admitting that would earn a glare and possibly a bullet from Hawkeye if he did.

Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye was a fucking incredible actress, Roy had discovered. She played her role perfectly, dedicating herself to it one hundred percent, just like she did to every aspect of her work. In the evening, back at the safehouse, she slipped out of her cover identity easily, as if it was as easy as shrugging out of a coat. It was hung up without a second thought, left there for whenever she needed it next. Roy tried to tease her to pass the time, as though they were still in character, but she just raised an eyebrow and never rose to the bait. Her ability to breeze past and ignore him didn’t deter Roy, though. The annoyed twitch of her eyebrow just amused him further.

“Coming,” he crooned, following after Hawkeye, acting the ever dutiful “husband”.

The bar was where their target was hiding. Slipping inside was no problem as Hawkeye charmed the doorman so easily that even Roy was left stunned. As he stared after her, he noticed the bouncer was doing the same, but with a hungry rather than a shocked expression. Frowning, Roy stalked after his “wife” and slung an arm around her waist, pulling her against his side.

“Careful where that hand is going, sir,” she warned sweetly out the corner of her mouth, a coy smile plastered over her face to hide her ire.

“Just playing the part, my sweet.” He was laying it on thick here, but Roy didn’t care. If he was getting the opportunity to be this close to Riza Hawkeye, the woman who owned his heart, then he wasn’t going to waste it, right?

“Yes,” she hummed in agreement. “You play it far too well, I think,” she smirked up at him. However, Roy saw that warning glint behind her batted eyelashes.

“We’re undercover,” he murmured, bending low to speak in her ear quietly before the wall of noise and heat from the bar managed to drown them out completely. Did his senses deceive him, or was that a shiver he felt? He smirked to himself. “I’m just going along with the mission,” he added innocently. That might cost him, but the second shiver and seeing gooseflesh rise on her bare arms was worth it.

All thought was drowned out by the loud music as they entered the bar. He spun in place, walking backwards with an inviting grin, and tugged Riza towards the dancefloor immediately. Her eye roll was completely genuine, whether it was in character or not, but so was the smile on her face. She was enjoying this part as much as he was, at least.

They were drawn together on the dancefloor, other bodies moving around them fluidly but leaving them untouched. In order to communicate efficiently in the loud noise, Roy drew her close to her body, chancing his luck, to speak directly into her ear.

The scent of her shampoo wafted into his nostrils, filling them pleasantly with a reminder that was completely Riza. A hint of shea butter from her body lotion made its way through too. Roy had seen the container in the bathroom of their safehouse and taken a note, enjoying the pleasant smell it gave off. He’d smirked, pleased he could finally put a name to the scent that reminded him constantly of her.

“Twelve o’clock,” she said into his ear as they spun, holding each other close. He shivered at the feel of her breath on the shell of his ear.

Roy’s head lifted, his chin leaving the warmth of her bare shoulder. He missed the feeling immediately, but he had to remember he currently had a job to do. Their target was straight ahead, and he was staring right at Roy. As if he knew exactly who Roy was.

Angling them, so less of their faces were in plain view, Roy ensured he still had an eye on their target.

The target started walking towards them, his face like thunder.

Roy’s eyes met Riza’s, knowing she’d noticed the same thing.

They needed an out. This guy was pissed and heading towards them with murder in his eyes.

Riza grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked him towards her. Roy’s arms flailed out in surprise to steady himself and his brain took that little bit longer than usual to comprehend just exactly what was happening to him.

Because Riza Hawkeye, his subordinate, had chosen to kiss him.

Once that thought managed to penetrate the fog of surprise shrouding his brain, Roy’s eyes closed and his hands instantly went to her waist, fingers digging into her flesh as he held on for dear life. He knew this was a spur of the moment, panicked attempt to hide his face from view, but he didn’t care. Her tongue reached out, seeking, swiping against his bottom lip and if Roy hadn’t been so lost in the sensations, he would have been embarrassed by how loudly he moaned. The music in the club was loud enough to drown it out, thank God.

It was truly criminal, the cropped t-shirt she was wearing tonight. The tiny sliver of her midriff on show above her skirt had almost ruined Roy, and that was before she started kissing him. It was so different from her regular attire. Holding onto her waist, he could feel soft flesh over hard muscles, contracting as her hands lifted into his hair. The nails scratching against his scalp made him moan again.

Suddenly, the heat from around his face vanished. Blinking his eyes open, Roy stared stupidly at the space where Riza had been just moments ago, now void of her eyes and lips. She still held onto his hair tightly, tugging at the strands, but her chin was over his shoulder.

“He’s running!” Her cry was loud, startling him from his stunned reverie as she spoke it right into her ear.

“Um. What?” His reply was stupid, he knew that, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Sir,” she hissed, pulling at his hands on her waist, her cheeks still flushed from their kiss.

Roy blinked at her and all he could think about was how pretty she looked. The memory of her soft lips pressing against his, her tongue caressing his lips…

“Sir!” she barked at him, glaring.

“Right!”

Embarrassment curled around his ribs, but so did another emotion once he let go and started running. This one was much stronger and was not something he could dwell on while chasing down the target. Still, it propelled him forwards.

The thrill of kissing Riza Hawkeye quite literally pushed him forward.

One corner of his mouth tugged up at the thought. He grabbed the corner of the wall in the back hallway of the bar he was sprinting down. Gripping tight, he slingshot around it to continue running, feet pounding the ground as he reached the target. The man went down easily when Roy tackled him, and Roy couldn’t help but grin and lift his eyebrows playfully over his shoulder at Hawkeye.

She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks and throat were still flushed, her lips swollen. All he could think about was wondering if she’d kiss him like that again.

#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #royai oneshot #fic request #emma writes #i was feeling soft... #then this happened 🥺 #me: hmmm will probs be a while until i work on something new - #also me: this idea came to me in A Vision

[avengerscompound]

Bartoned - Chapter 31

Bartoned - A Hawkeye Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Rating:  E

Warnings:  Nothing really

Pairing: Clint Barton x F!Reader

Word Count:  1667

Summary:  Clint’s name has become synonymous with fucking things up.  When you have a one night stand with him, your whole life gets Bartoned.

A/N:  Thank you for @mumbles411​ for your help with this chapter

Chapter 31

The wedding of Kari and Wanda seemed to rush up on everyone suddenly.  It was weird how things like that could happen.  It would seem like there was an eon before a big event and then it arrived and you couldn’t believe how fast the time had gone.

You had been so busy though, with work, helping Kari with her wedding preparations, planning your own wedding, the two bachelorette parties, and parenting, there was never a moment of your time not occupied by something.  By the time the wedding actually arrived you felt exhausted and worn a little thin.

Though the excitement radiated off Kari and Wanda.  The ceremony was relatively small and being held in Central Park at the Cop Cot under the natural gazebo.  Wanda was getting ready with Natasha, Carol, and a few of the other female Avengers who she was close with in the apartment she shared with Kari, while Kari was in your apartment with you and her mother while Clint got ready and kept Nattie out of the way.  She was nine-months-old now and had started self-weaning from breastfeeding, and while she couldn’t walk alone she was very into cruising along, holding herself up on the couch or coffee table, or better yet, holding her daddy’s hand.

A photographer had been taking photos of Kari getting ready too but everything seemed to be done now.  Hair was set.  Makeup was done.  Dresses had been smoothed over and double-checked.

“Alright.  I think… I think I’m about to become someone’s wife,” Kari said, looking around to see if she missed anything.

You handed her her bouquet of red and white wildflowers.  “FRIDAY can you let Bucky know we’re heading to the car.  And tell Wanda we’re heading out?”  You said.

“Of course, miss,” the A.I. replied.

You kissed Clint and Nattie goodbye and headed down to the cars where Bucky was waiting.  You, Bucky, Kari, and her mother all climbed into the back of a limo and it pulled out into the busy midtown street.

“So you’re the one who’s acting as Kari’s father?”  Kari’s mother asked.

“That’s right.  You can call me, Bucky,” Bucky said, offering her his hand.

“I’m Conny,” she replied, shaking it.  “Funny, you don’t look old enough to be her father.”

“I assure you, I am,” Bucky joked.

“You would have been in Europe around the time she was conceived, weren’t you Buck?  Any trips to Denmark?”  You asked.

Bucky chuckled while Kari glared daggers at you.  “No.  You cut that out.”

“It’s possible.  I was sent all over the place,” Bucky replied.

“Oh god,” Kari groaned.  “I should have asked Tony after all.”

The car pulled up at the gates of the park, and the few security that had been hired moved in quickly to help get you all to the venue without a problem.  You could hear the group gathered up on top of the hill from where you all waited in the closed-off marque.

When Wanda and her group arrived you heard them talking as they moved into their own one.  The celebrant came to collect us as Bucky fixed his kippah to his head and went through the instructions about when each of us should go.

She left and a moment later a four-string quartet started up, letting us know she was making her way down the aisle.

“See you down there,” you said, kissing Kari on the cheek and heading out of the tent.

Natasha was waiting for you looking stunning in her cocktail dress, with its scoop cut neckline and flared-a-line skirt that reached just below her knees.  While the style was completely different to your floor-length empire cut dress, the red matched exactly.

The two of you walked up the path to the large gazebo on top of the hill surrounded by a thick cluster of trees.  The music changed and you and Natasha walked arm in arm down the aisle, splitting up when you reached the chuppah and you each moved to either side of the small canopy.  The cloth that covered it was red and white and it was decorated with wildflowers.

The music changed again and everyone stood.  Kari began walking down the aisle, flanked on either side by Bucky and her mother, their arms linked.   When they reached the chuppah, Conny lifted Kari’s veil off her face and kissed her cheeks before both she and Bucky moved to stand beside you and she stepped up in front of the celebrant.

Once again the music changed and the crowd all turned to look again.  Kari looked up excitedly and Wanda stepped through the entrance of the Gazebo.  She looked like a queen.  She wore a ball gown dress with a small train.  Red jewels were sewn up the skirt in such a way that every step looked like she was walking through fire.  The corseted bust was pulled tight with red ribbon, and on her head, she wore an elaborate diadem that almost looked like it formed two horns.  It was heavily jeweled with a large red jewel on her forehead.  Her veil was sewn into it and covered her face but even through it, you could see how her eyes were painted with a smokey eyeliner and even more clear was the huge smile on her dark red lips.

Clint looked just as proud as any father would.  He walked on her right, while Steve walked on her left.  When they reached the chuppah, Clint lifted Wanda’s veil and kissed her cheek, and then moved over next to Natasha.  Steve kissed Wanda too and when he was in place, Wanda and Kari circled each other.  When they finally moved into position the ceremony started.

It was a long but beautiful ceremony that blended in a few things from Wanda’s Jewish and Romani heritage - including stepping on a glass and jumping the broom.  The one thing that was constant throughout was how Wanda and Kari couldn’t stop looking at each other like one of them had hung the stars and the other had hung the moon.  They were so very in love and that whole feeling looked so alien to you.  When they finally walked back down the aisle and everyone followed after, the caterers swooped in and began to rearrange the area for the reception.   You and Clint found each other outside while the photos started.

“That was a beautiful ceremony,” you said, leaning against Clint as he wrapped his arm around your waist.

“Yeah, it was.  They looked so happy too,” Clint agreed.

“I don’t want ours to be anything like that,” you added.

“Fuck no,” Clint said quickly and you both started laughing.  “Like ten minutes.  I do - I do, get out.”

You leaned in and cradled his jaw as you looked into his blue eyes.  “I love you,” you giggled.

“Yeah, yeah.  Who can blame you?”  He teased and brought his lips to yours.

When you pulled back you were dragged into a few group shots and you stood around trying not to look too awkward as they rearranged everyone again and again.  When you finally were let go so that Kari and Wanda could go take photos around the park you made your way back to Clint again and inside the gazebo where they were serving canapes that this time mixed Wanda’s heritage and Kari’s Danish roots.  There was dark rye bread with gravlax, stuffed cabbage, and little potato cakes with a sweet corn mayonnaise amongst them.  On a small table next to the head table was a cake made from stacked rings of marzipan.

You grabbed a flute of champagne from the first server that passed you and drained half the glass in one go.

“Woah, go easy there,” Clint said as he piled canapes onto a napkin.

“No way, this is the first night out with you I’ve had since I got pregnant that I wasn’t either pregnant or with my infant daughter.  I’m getting hammered,” you said.

“You’re still breastfeeding!”  Clint argued.  “Plus we’re still going home to her.”

“I’ll pump and dump,” you said.  “She’s not gonna care if she gets a bottle instead.  And you -” you tapped his chest “- can stay sober.”

Clint tried to stifle a laugh unsuccessfully and kissed your forehead.  “Well, here’s to the second time in my life I’m getting to see my fiance drunk.”

“Here, here!”  You cheered and drained the rest of the glass.  “You think she’s gonna be okay tonight?  There’s always been one of us there for bedtime.”

Clint shrugged.  “We’re not gonna be that late.  And Doreen has our number.  It’s not like she’s never gotten her to sleep before.”

You switched out your glasses and looked around the room.  “Tony’s chatting up Kari’s mom,” you said pointing at them with your glass.

Clint snorted.  “He’s determined to get back at Kari for not choosing him to walk her down the aisle isn’t he?”

You giggled.  “Looks like it.”

Clint leaned into you and nipped at your throat.  “It’s a pity we’re in the middle of Central Park,” he said.  “Not having Nattie with us calls for being dragged into a maintenance closet and fucking our brains out.”

“God damn it, Kari,” you cursed.  “Spoiling our fun.  You’re not even gonna be able to finger me under the table, because we’re not even sitting at the same table.”

“Well that’s just rude,” Clint agreed and shoved the last of his canapes into his mouth.

There was a clinking on glass and Steve went up to the microphone.  “Could everyone take their seats?  Wanda and Kari are nearly here.”

You huffed and nuzzled at Clint’s cheek.  “I’ll see you at the dance, I guess.  I’m going to be well drunk by then.”

“Sounds good,” he said and pecked your lips.  “Oh, one thing before you go.”

You looked at him quizzically and he brought his lips to your ear.  “We’re next,” he whispered.

// NEXT

#clint barton #clint barton x reader #hawkeye #hawkeye fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #fluff #bartoned

[wizardofrozz]

The Perfect Pair

Warnings: swearing, violence, angst, blood and gore, character death

Pairing: Loki x OFC

_____________________________________________________________

Chapter 18: Hello Brother

I shot up into a sitting position gasping for air despite the burning in my lungs. Slowly, breathing became easier, suppressing the spike of anxiety but only momentarily as I stared at Violet’s unmoving body; I dropped my head, rubbing at my eyes, waiting. I heard a gasp then coughing a few feet away; quickly, my mind caught up, and I crawled across the floor to Violet.

           “Hey, you’re okay,” I soothed, rubbing her back as she choked on fresh air.

           “That was fucking miserable,” she hacked, pressing a hand to her chest. I burst into a fit of laughter, sitting back on my heels, and dropped my head onto her shoulder to steady myself.

           “Gods, I love you,” I managed through giggles.

           “And don’t you forget it,” she shot back, snickering. “Now, where the hell are we?” I lifted my head, breathing through the last of my laughter to look around the room but still having no answer.

           “No idea,” I shrugged. “Doesn’t matter; missiles are probably already flying towards the Avengers compound.”

           “Son of a bitch. Odin really couldn’t make that any less uncomfortable?” Violet swore, rubbing her chest.

           “Come on, you pain in my ass,” I laughed, getting to my feet. Violet grumbled in protest but grabbed my outstretched hand, gingerly getting to her feet. “Get changed, and we’ll go.” I took a deep breath and my simple attire started to morph; green and black leather crawling over my skin, my cloak fluttering down behind me, the familiar weight of my helmet settling on my head. I looked over at Violet, watching her armor materialize; her raven black hair braided tightly, charcoal breastplate swirling with purple accents appeared along with rich black cloak that fell around her. “Add some new designs?” My eyes followed the soft swirls of purple that littered her cloak.

           “Shut up, plain black is so boring,” she mumbled.

           “Ready, my love?” I reached for her hand, smiling softly; she thought for a moment before meeting my eyes.

           “Almost,” she whispered. I raised an eyebrow, but my silent question was answered when her lips met mine. “Now I am.” I laughed, shaking my head as my eyes fell shut; I reached for my brother, magic tendrils flowing in all directions in hopes of finding him.

           “There you are, brother,” I whispered, teleporting us with ease.

           “Oh gods,” Violet gasped. I opened my eyes slowly and was met with a sight that could only be described as apocalyptic; the compound was in shambles, falling in on itself, smoldering debris everywhere.  

           “It doesn’t even look like we’re on Earth,” I whispered, squeezing Violet’s hand.

           “Are you scared?” she asked suddenly.

           “Terrified.”

           “Thank god I’m not alone,” she whispered. I looked down at her, fear creasing her beautiful features, only adding to my panic. “We have to get moving. Do you know where Thor is already?”

           “Not exactly. I followed him to this point, but I didn’t try for an exact spot,” I explained. Violet and I jumped when a blinding bolt of lightning exploded a few hundred feet below us, signaling we found Thor.

           “Safe to say we found him,” Violet laughed. Her laughed died off when Thanos slams Thor on his back, beating down on him repeatedly. “When are we supposed to step in!” Violet whispers harshly.

           “When we can get to Thor without running face-first into Thanos. Even with five of us, we can’t beat him,” I bark.

           “We may not make it to Thor,” she gasps. I snap my gaze to my brother to see Thanos leaning over him, pressing an ax into his chest.

           “We have to help.” I grabbed Violet’s arm, but she ripped away, her eyes still glued to the scene unfolding.

           “Look,” she mumbled to the left. I flicked my gaze away from her in time to watch Captain America catch Mjolnir; I almost choked on my own saliva, causing Violet to snort. Thanos kicked Thor through a pile of debris before facing Captain America; Thor tumbled a few feet away, landing with a thud on his back.

           “Now’s our chance,” I stated, grabbing her hand. When I opened my eyes again, my beaten and bloody brother lay unmoving a foot in front of me; Violet pulled me closer, nudging Thor’s leg.

           “Hey! Get up!” she half-yelled, kicking him harder. I ran my eyes over Thor, noticing his larger body shape, thick braided beard, and dreaded long hair.

           “I didn’t know we were taking on the likeness the Vikings imagined,” I snorted, keeping my eyes on his face. Thor’s forehead wrinkled, his eyes moving under his eyelids before a deep groan escaped his lips.

           “I was thinking the same thing. The beard is pretty impressive though,” Violet added, raising an eyebrow.

           “Usually, he keeps it short, makes him look younger,” I snickered.

           “W-wha…” Thor tried, his arm shifting at his side.

           “Come on, big guy, open those pretty blues,” Violet called, kicking his leg again.

           “Hey!” I protested, slightly hurt.

           “Are you really going to doubt me now? I’m your wife that came back from the dead to rule with you,” she deadpanned.

           “…alright, got me there,” I admitted, rubbing my neck. Thor screwed his eyes shut tighter, his arm finally moving, very slowly, towards his face, rubbing between his eyes.

           “I’m losing it,” he whispered, scrubbing at his face. “I'm still hearing their banter from beyond the grave.” Violet glanced over at me, raising an eyebrow as she tried to hold back a laugh; I covered my smile with the back of my hand, moving my gaze back to Thor.  

           “Can you lose your mind later? We have shit to take care of,” Violet grunted, shifting to place her hands on her hips. Thor froze, his eyes flying open, trying to adjust again; his eyes slowly grew wider as he looked back and forth between Violet and me.

           “What the fuck…” he whispered, his eyes still moving.

           “Woah, he uses that word?” Violet laughed.

           “But…” Thor tried again, only to fall quiet.

           “Listen, Lebowski, if you yell that we’re alive again, I’m putting you back to sleep.” Violet popped a hip out, her hands still resting on them as she glared down at Thor.

           “Lebowski?” I asked, my face scrunching in confusion.

           “What, I’ve watched movies before,” she shrugged.

           “How did you escape? I-I watched you both…” Thor stumbled over his words, tears forming in his eyes.

           “Come on, let’s get you up,” I offered softly, reaching a hand to him. I pulled Thor to his feet, throwing his arm over my shoulder to steady him; Violet wiggled her way under his other arm to help him walk.

           “To answer your question, you should probably thank your father for sending us back,” Violet said, smiling up at Thor. He turned to look down at her for a few seconds before turning his gaze to me again.

           “Odin did this?” he mumbled, supporting more of his weight on his own the longer we walked.

           “Yes, but we can discuss this later. We have a Titan to take care of.” I smacked Thor’s back, stopping in my tracks, not wanting to get too close before Thor could hold himself up.

           “We can’t win,” he groaned. Thor straightened up, rolling his head on his shoulders, stretching his arms; he already looked better than a few minutes ago. “Five of us isn’t enough.”

           “Good thing there are more than five of us,” I smirked, pointing towards the growing portals. I stepped behind Thor, resting my hand on his shoulder and grabbing Violet’s hand, teleporting us next to where Captain America stood.

           “Thor,” Steve said with a relieved sigh. “Wait, I thought you two were….dead,” he stumbled.

           “Doesn’t stick,” Violet joked, jabbing me with her elbow.

           “We’re here to help,” I added, glaring at Violet, who only smiled back sweetly.

           “Thank you,” Steve said with a smile. “I mean it.” Steve turned to look at the growing army but turned back to us. “You’re going to need earpieces.” Then, with a flick of my wrist, I felt a pressure in my ear and noticed Violet flinch, touching her ear.

           “Done,” I chirped; Steve smirked, shaking his head. I looked over my shoulder, noticing more people pouring out of portals, getting closer; a Pegasus circling overhead, caught my attention.

           “Hey.” I nudged Violet, pointing above our heads; Violet’s face lit up when she recognized the flying animal.

           “Bea? Bea!” she screamed, waving her arms. The winged horse descended, landing gracefully a few feet away, trotting towards us.

           “No fucking way!” Bea shouted, a huge smile spreading across her face. Violet blew her a kiss then turned back towards Thanos’ army, taking a deep breath.

           “You ready, trickster?” she asked, looking up at me.

           “As ready as I’ll ever be,” I sighed, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. Violet twirled the impressive long sword that materialized in her hand, squaring her shoulder. I sucked in a deep breath, deciding to use a long sword as well, and relaxing slightly when the weight settled in my hand.

           “Avengers!” Steve screamed. I chanced a glance back, swallowing a gasp at the sheer number of people filling the space behind us. “Assemble.” The misfit army erupted, battle cries filling the air as everyone took off towards Thanos’ army. Chaos commenced as the armies clashed, bodies slamming together with loud thuds; Violet was thrown back into my chest, roaring in anger.

           “Throw me up!” she yelled. I responded without hesitation, launching her in the air and using the momentum to throw a ball of magic at an approaching Chitauri. My sword materialized in my hand again as I slashed through an Outrider, pushing closer to Violet, who was jumping and spinning like a deadly dancer. I jumped out of the way of a giant fist as a man, who I assume was the Falcon, slammed into the massive creature’s chest, stabbing his metal wings into the gorilla.

           “Cap, what do you want me to do with this damn thing?” Hawkeye’s voice erupted in my ear.

           “Get those stones as far away as possible!” Steve answered. I ducked, dodging another large punch, knocking the gorilla back with another blast of magic.

           “No! We need to get them back where they came from,” Bruce shouted.

           “Bruce!” I heard Violet’s voice next.

           “Violet?! You’re alive!” Bruce exclaimed. “Loki?”

           “Hello, Bruce!” I yelled, grunting as an Outrider slammed into my chest.

           “No way to get them back. Thanos destroyed the quantum tunnel,” Stark’s voice cut in, interrupting our greetings. I struggled against the weight on my chest, holding back the creatures snapping jaws; suddenly, the weight was lifted, and the Outrider was knocked away.

           “Now’s not the time for rest, brother,” Thor laughed, pulling me to my feet.

           “Hilarious,” I snorted, shaking my head as he flew off again. I shook my head, landing a kick against the chest of another Outrider, sending it flying back. I heard the faint sound of music from somewhere off in the distance.

           “Anyone see an ugly, brown van up there?” Steve’s voice came through again.

           “Yes! But you're not gonna like where it's parked!” Bea shouted. Ignoring the intercom system, I glanced around, catching a glimpse of Violet, eyes glowing an unnerving bright purple before a blast of magic burst from her chest, knocking numerous Outriders back. I tore through the few Chitauri between us, almost stumbling into her from the force of ramming my blade through one a Chitauri.

           “Hey baby!” she yelled, yanking her sword up through the upper body of an Outrider. I noticed her cloak was gone, and she was covered in gore but smiling so brightly, it could put the sun to shame.

           “You’re incredible,” I laughed. Violet winked before yanking me forward, twirling to bring her sword down on another creature. I regained my footing and fell into a rhythm with Violet, gracefully moving around her as we tore through the endless hoard of creatures. When the first cannon exploded from above us, Violet and I froze, watching missiles rain down on the battlefield.

           “Well shit,” Violet grunted. I huffed a sigh, close lining a passing Outrider before stabbing it in the chest then spinning to avoid being tackled.

           “What the hell is this?” Falcon’s voice erupted in my ear. I backed up into Violet as I looked at the ship, seeing the canons changing direction.

           “What the hell?” she mumbled, narrowing her eyes.

           “F.R.I.D.A.Y., what are they firing at?” Stark said this time, but I didn’t hear the answer.

           “Something’s coming through the atmosphere,” Violet said, pointed at the crackle of light flying through the clouds. A figure emerged from the clouds, bursting through Thanos’ ship, tearing a hole through it, causing an explosion.

           “Oh yeah!” an unfamiliar voice screamed.

           “Danvers, we need some assistance here,” Steve’s voice cut in.

           “Danvers?” Violet mumbled, raising an eyebrow at me; I shrugged. “I think it’s time,” she says, nodding over my shoulder. I glanced back, realizing how close we got to the van everyone was looking for and catching a glimpse of the Titan stalking through the battlefield.

           “Go, I’ll watch your back,” I stated, ushering her forward. Violet jogged towards a group of three women I didn’t recognize, stepping into Thanos’ path; I couldn’t fight the terror that seeped into my bones as I watched her face off against the Titan again. I fought off two Outriders, catching a glimpse of the blast that threw Thanos back as a streak of light flew past. I jogged closer to Violet, meeting her halfway, only to be knocked back slightly by a wave of energy.

           “What do we have here?” Thanos laughs, his eyes falling on Violet and me. I closed my eyes, forcing as much of my magic as possible into a compact ball between my hands; quickly seeing Violet mimicking me, I nodded, pushing the magic forward. The green and purple wave of magic launched Thanos back, sending him skidding through the dirt; I tried to step forward, only to fall to my knees, head spinning. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Violet is bent at the waist, close to falling too.

           “Brother!” Thor yells, wrenching me to my feet, smacking my face.

           “Go!” I yelled, pushing him forward when I noticed Stark slamming into Thanos. Thor hesitates for a second longer before attacking Thanos with help from Captain America. “Vi?” I called, still a little unsteady on my feet.

           “I’ll be okay,” she pants, swaying as she stood again. We tried to move forward, only to notice a second too late that Thor’s body was flying right for us, knocking us off our feet; the three of us rolled a few times, landing in a heap.

           “Damnit, Thor!” Violet cried. I tried to blink away the black spot in my vision to find her; I shouted at the sharp kick to my kidney. Well, that’ll clear my vision.

           “Hold still!” Thor yelled at Violet. Thor gently rolled onto his back, relieving the pressure from my chest and the weight off Violet’s legs.

           “Everyone okay?” I panted, pulling myself into a sitting position.

           “Wonderful,” Thor grunted, sitting with his back to me.

           “I’ll live,” Violet groaned, getting to her knees next to me.

           “We should go….” Thor vaguely gestured towards Thanos. “It’s-“A blinding white light cut off Thor. “No…” Thor blanched, snapping his head towards me, scrambling to his feet.

           “Thor!” I called desperately, reaching a hand towards him. Thor pulled me to my feet and reaching down to yank Violet to her feet by her arm.

           “No, Odin told us how it should go!” Violet whispered harshly, jogging after Thor. I stopped as I rounded the corner of the debris, causing Violet to run into my back. “What…” she broke off.

           “It did,” I whispered, slowly dropping to one knee next to Thor. Violet followed my lead, dropping her head forward, sighing raggedly. Thor sniffled next to me, wiping at his face aggressively; I threw an arm over his shoulder, pulling him close. He froze for a moment before sagging against me; Violet crawled around to his other side, rubbing circles on his back. Thor wrapped an arm around her, letting her head fall on his shoulder while he rubbed her arm.

           “It’s over,” Thor whispered.

_____________________________________________________________

Series Masterlist | Chapter 19

Taglist:

@criminalyetminimal​ @marvelfansworld​ 

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki x ofc #loki laufeyson x ofc #loki odinson x ofc #god of mischief #frost giant #halfling #asgard #asgardian #half frost giant ofc #half asgardian ofc #jotunheim #angst #violence #prince loki #prince of asgard #loki series #loki laufeyson series #loki odinson series #god of lies #loki of asgard #loki of jotunheim #marvel #mcu #magic #magic ofc #avengers #the avengers

[cauldronofmorning]

Okay so i'm having a time and a half wrapping my head around sherm as like... a Regular Army man. (and his still being narratively 'good'). A while ago you mentioned M*A*S*H as a liberal war fantasy so I figured: penny for your thoughts?* (*this is me just having watched the movie and having some opinions about it and thinking about vietnam-adjacent, anti-war media anyways..)

Under the cut cos I rambled like mad. TW for mentions of homophobia, sexual assault and racism.

So to start: I hate the movie. It’s interesting to compare it to the show (and how even in the pilot where Hawkeye is at his most movie-ish - hell season one where he comes out so many times yet still weaponizes homophobia to get what he wants - he’s still *different*), and where the show started, the similarities/differences and how it grew up. But Hawkeye and Trapper laugh about the latter trapping a girl, humiliate Houlihan to triggering levels who barely is on the radar enough to be given a first name, and maybe it’s me being coddled and white, but I feel like no matter how much more likely it is that they would be the fifties men instead of the can be shitty but hey they’re lovable (more on that) characters of the show, being anti war doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme if you hate women that much?

So the actual show. It being a liberal fantasy sometimes is comforting (who wants to see Hawkeye deal with the fact that the fifties knowledge of sexuality meant if you were open then you were shunned by other gay people? not to mention it’s lovely that Klinger is so accepted and that after Frank, Margaret can have as much fun as she wants with no awful nickname.) and like I said, I would much rather have the Trapper and Hawkeye who dance together and ride ponies off into the distance than “don’t let him kiss you Hawkeye” “wouldn’t you be upset if you were [gay], Hawkeye”.

Plus it can use liberalism to its advantage! Maddie did a great meta on Hawkeye being naïve for In Love And War, I love Commander Pierce for how easy the pacifist liberal can fall into military if you stress him enough, I really do wish Oliver had more to do in The Moose but for setting up Hawkeye being a self righteous white boy in over his head it does the job, and Guerrilla My Dreams goes hard in calling the Americans out. 

But there’s things like:

Frank’s queer coding in comparison to Hawkeye’s. Hawkeye... has his own issues, he’s predatory (which is seen as jokes but both early seasons and later seasons have him as “he can convince anyone to do anything” in a sex context, as just one example in season ten) and while it’s also deconstructed cos Massive Abandonment Issues, there are a lot of references to the Promiscuous Bi trope, with plenty of trauma jokes about being coerced himself. Being a bi a lot like that I can enjoy it and crit it, and he’s human with a lot of good qualities, but back to Frank.

Frank is pathetic. He’s the one who homophobic generals assume is gay, giggles about what communists do to women who don’t talk and wants to see Hawkeye having a fate worse than death, calls his wife and Margaret mommy, we’re supposed to laugh at him for having his toenails painted, and unlike Hawkeye’s loving if co-dependent relationships with men and women on equal level (Carlye has the same effect as Trapper and so on), he only snivels about kissing boys and hoping the teachers didn’t see him.

The racism! Altman can fuck off with his bad faith takes because it’s not like his movie even tried, but Oliver and Ginger disappear, the portrayal of South Koreans ranges from patronizing to just outright offensive, and unlike misogyny where Hawkeye and company have to continually face up to their shit, the racism is a lesson of the week for guest stars, and the racism that Klinger gets is an occasional “aw I’m sorry” (red/white blues, why is Hawkeye suddenly military and more importantly why is he not beating himself up over it).

But onto what you were actually asking me about, Potter vs Henry. A lot of it is exacerbated by the reddit/militarybro part of fandom. Potter is competent, doesn’t have a lot of flaws, and that’s really just it. That portion of fandom prefers “a decent military man”, while Henry openly doesn’t want to be there, so Henry is remembered as a blundering idiot, when really he was just anxious and never wanted to be known as “colonel” anyway.

One last thing: Frank vs Charles. Frank is easy to beat, one note, pathetic like I said, and I really do prefer Winchester. But also Winchester is the “decent republican” trope, who treats Klinger badly and who I’m pretty sure has praised eugenics, but he has enough soft moments that you still enjoy him. Or I do, and I’m mad at myself for it.

#m*a*s*h #did any of this make sense? it's been a long week

[penpatronuswhump]

WHUMPTOBER 2020

No. 20   Alt. 14 

Fandom: Avengers

Whumpees: Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff

Caregivers: Peter Parker

Title: The Barton Farm Battle

By: PenPatronus // PenPatronusAooO

Auntie Nat convinced Peter to go to Cooper’s birthday dinner, granting his wish to meet Spiderman. Peter autographed everything the kid wanted him to. He sang “Happy Birthday” and ate pizza and the amazing cake that Mrs. Barton baked. He played darts with Clint, colored pictures with Lila, and showed off his powers to an astounded Nathaniel, who immediately started searching the farm for spiders so he could be just like his new hero. Peter was in the barn, where Nathaniel was proudly showing off the family’s tractor, when the hairs on his arms suddenly stood on end. He grabbed Nathaniel and raced outside. Beyond the farm, the sun was close to setting.

 Natasha was closest. She was sitting with Cooper on the porch, showing him how to use the Swiss Army knife she’d gotten him. Peter sprinted over and opened his mouth to say the codeword he’d been trained to use at Avengers Tower for such a situation. But – he couldn’t remember it. So, he just stood there while Nat, Cooper, and Nathaniel stared at him like he was crazy. “Strawberry pancakes!” he finally sputtered. “I mean… blueberry crepes. I mean… Raspberry waffles!”

 Natasha’s cheeks paled. “That’s what you want for breakfast? I was thinking the same thing.” She smiled, stood up, and rubbed her upper arms. “Hey, Clint!”

 “Yeah?” Clint called back from where he and Lila were practicing with a bow and arrow.

 “Did you feel that breeze?” she asked him. “Gave me goosebumps.”

 It was subtle, but Peter noticed Hawkeye stiffen. “Babe? Honey?”

 Laura stuck her head out of the kitchen window. “Yeah?”

 “That summer breeze gave Nat goosebumps. Maybe you could run downstairs and grab her a sweater.”

 It was subtle, but Peter noticed Laura start to tremble. “Of course! And it’s getting dark, honey, how about you all come inside?”

 “All right!” Clint took the bow from Lila and gestured for her to head into the house. He sauntered over to the porch where Nat stood with Peter, Cooper, and Nathaniel. “Coop, take Nate inside, will you? It’s past his bedtime, anyway.” The three Avengers stood listening to the movement inside the house. Peter heard a door open, heard Laura talking nonchalantly about heading to the basement to grab a popsicle, heard several pairs of feet go down a flight of stairs, and then he heard a louder, heavier door open and close.

 Clint’s phone chimed. He read a text that Peter saw was from Laura. “We’re in.”

And then, incredibly quickly, Barton and Romanoff started using American sign language. They signed back and forth at each other so quickly and so wildly that Peter could tell they were “yelling.” Several times they each pointed at Peter’s nose. Then they settled down. Clint “shut up” and Natasha signed – and then seemed to have the last word. “Hey, Peter, why don’t you go downstairs and have popsicles with the other kids,” Natasha said.

 Peter’s eyes narrowed. “No thanks. I don’t like popsicles.”

 Barton glared at him. “Have a popsicle, Peter,” he said. “Go. Have. A. Popsicle.”

 Peter stood straighter and raised his chin. “No, thank you,” he said. “I’d rather hang out here with you guys.”

 Natasha rolled her eyes. “Fine, stay with us, but do everything we tell you,” she insisted with a tone that left zero room for argument.

 “Yes, ma’am.”

 “All right. Why don’t you two head inside and get the Scrabble game set up,” said Clint. “I’ll be right behind you. I just have to run to the barn.” Clint started jogging away. Nat took Peter by the elbow and led him inside. She took the Scrabble box off the shelf and sat down at the kitchen table. Peter went to sit down beside her, but she gave him a look, and he sat across from her, his back against the corner of the walls. Nat opened the box, loaded the guns inside it, and slid one over to Peter. “Do you know how to play?” she asked him casually.

 Peter gulped. “No, I’ve never played before.”

 Natasha nodded. Her lips were thin and white. “I should’ve taught you how to play before we came here,” she sighed. “But, don’t worry, you’ll figure it out.” She winked at him.

 Suddenly – and Peter couldn’t help but leap to his feet – the lights all over the farm went out at the same time that the yard exploded. Underground charges in a circle around the barn and house erupted, tossing Nate’s tricycle onto the roof and leaving a moat of fire no one could possibly pass through. At first Peter thought that the intruders on the edge of the property had set off bombs, but then he saw Clint racing to the house with a smile on his face. He joined them in the kitchen and Nat tossed him a gun. “I’ve kind of been wanting to do that for years,” he admitted. “That was fun.”

 Nat turned to Peter. The jig was up. They might as well talk freely now because whoever was listening knew they knew they were there. “Laura and the kids are safe in a panic room in the basement, but we cannot, under any circumstances, let those intruders get inside this house. How many are there?”

 Peter shrugged, only able to see his teammates by the light of the fire moat. “I don’t know. I can sense them coming, I know there are a lot of them all around the house, but that’s all I got.”

 Clint’s phone chimed again. “The team is on their way,” he reported. “We just have to hold them off long enough for them to get here.”

 “We can do it,” said Natasha. She nodded at Peter, then shrugged. “Point and shoot,” she instructed.

 That was when a bullet punctured the kitchen window behind Clint. The bullet went through his back, exited the upper right side of his chest, and continued on into the right side of Natasha’s chest.

 “Oh,” Nat said.

 “Fuck,” said Clint.

 They both collapsed to the floor.

 Peter ducked as a dozen bullets came through the same window.

 “Parker,” Clint said with red teeth, his voice barely audible over the gunfire, eyes glowing in the firelight, “get her downstairs.”

 Natasha coughed. A glob of blood leaked down her chin. “N-no,” she stuttered, “take… him…”

 “Peter, do what I say.”

 “He has a wife and kids, Peter, take him down to them!”

 “Shut up, Nat!”

 “You… shut… up… Barton…”

 “Both of you shut up!” Peter bellowed. The assassins looked at him shocked, and a little annoyed. “Shut the fuck up and let me save you both!” Peter grabbed Nat and Clint by the wrists, got up onto his knees, and dragged them both to the basement door. He kicked it open and then, struggling to keep the backs of their heads from slamming down on each step, he walked backward, hauling their bodies downstairs. “LAURA!”

 “Molasses,” Clint said, his voice sounding a little dreamy. Natasha was unconscious.

 “MOLASSES!”

 A ceiling-high silver box stood in the far corner of the basement. Laura peeked out of the panic room, took one look at the scene, and started giving orders to Cooper and Lila. By the time Peter dragged Clint and Nat into the tiny room, the Barton’s were all ready to give first aid.

 ----------

 Tony, Bruce, Steve, and Thor saw the smoke as they approached the farm in the Quinjet. Dark figures were running around the house, throwing grenades and torches into it, blowing it up in one corner and burning it down in another. Tony turned spotlights down on the figures and started firing. The figures immediately retreated, running into the woods. Tony landed the Quinjet in the field beside the burning farmhouse, right on top of the picnic table. Thor took flight the moment the ramp descended. He raised his hammer and launched himself into the sky. High above the house, barely visible in the moonlight, Thor swung his hammer as fast as he could, summoning wind. He aimed the tornado at the house and unleashed it. The house fire disappeared in seconds. The Avengers were about to run into it when everything load-bearing collapsed. The second floor dropped into the first, which collapsed into the basement.

 The house was gone.

 “Oh my god,” Bruce said, shaking.

 “They’re…” Steve was breathing so heavy and fast that he almost failed to get the words out. “Do you think they’re…”

 Thor landed beside them. “I saw nothing from above. Barton’s vehicle is still here, the barn is empty… They… Maybe they…”

 Tony leaned over and put his hands on his knees. For a moment he looked like he was going to vomit, but then he took two deep breaths, and led the sprint straight into the wreckage of the farmhouse. “PETER!”

 “Nat! Clint! Laura!” Bruce called. He waded into the debris and started throwing wood and books and stones outside of the wreckage, digging.

 “Romanoff!” Steve shouted. Carefully, trying to avoid nails and broken glass, Steve stepped into the destroyed house, looking for clues. “Barton! Parker!”

 Thor jumped over all three of them and landed in the very center of the rubble. He rummaged around, called out names, and then suddenly ordered his teammates to be quiet. “What is it?” Tony demanded.

 “Hush!” Thor commanded. “Captain, what do you hear?”

 Steve shut his eyes and tried to hone in on his super hearing. He did hear something. Pounding. A fist against something metal. Steve stepped over and between piles of junk until he found a hole close enough to the sound. Miraculously, that hole led to a staircase, and more than half of the steps were intact. Steve and Thor exchanged a look, then climbed down into the basement with Bruce and Tony right behind them. Part of the basement was still burning, and chips of wood and bits of stone were raining down around them. Steve spotted the silver panic room. He pounded on the door, and someone inside pounded back. “Password!” that someone shouted.

 A desperate Tony kicked the door so hard that he left an indent in the metal. “You know who I am!” he roared. “Now open up!”

 There were so many locks to unlock that it took Peter half a minute to unhook, turn, and unscrew them. When the door opened he threw himself into Tony’s arms. “Oh, thank God,” Tony exhaled. He hugged the kid back, then held him at arm’s length. “Are you all right?”

 Peter nodded. There was blood all over his clothes, but none of it was his. “Happened so fast,” he gasped. “I – I did all I could.”

 “Of course you did, kid.” Tony smoothed down Peter’s wayward hair and smiled at him. More dirt and debris showered down around them. “Upstairs,” he ordered. “Get out of here.”

 “Yes, Sir.” Peter ran out of the crumbling house.

 Tony turned back to the panic room where Laura was convincing her children to exit with Bruce. “Mommy will be right behind you,” she told them. She put a sobbing Nate into Bruce’s arms and made the pale and trembling Cooper and Lila each hold onto a corner of his shirt. The little train made its way up the stairs and out of sight. Tony actually entered the room, then, and gasped at what he saw. The entire floor of the tiny bullet-proof, waterproof, fireproof panic room was one puddle of blood. Tony watched, shellshocked, as Steve carried a heavily bandaged, white-faced, unconscious Natasha out and up. Clint sat up against the far wall, just as pale and bandaged, with his wife kneeling beside him. Tony went to them and put his palm on Clint’s wound. “Jesus, Barton.”

 “I’m ok,” Clint wheezed, clearly far from it. Blood was starting to leak through the dressings. “Are the others out?”

 “They’re safe,” Tony promised.

 “Take Laura,” Clint said. “Laura, honey, go with him. Thor can help me.”

 “Babe, I…” Laura took a deep breath. “Ok.” She went to the door and Tony took her hand, holding onto her tight as he ascended the steps in front of her. Tony was at the top when the second-to-last step gave out, and Laura plummeted. She screamed, but Tony’s grip on her was tight, and he pulled her the rest of the way up. Meanwhile, around them, the basement ceiling/first floor was disintegrating. By the time Laura and Tony reached the others on the outskirts of the destroyed house, the entire thing had caved in. No one could hold in their screams. Thor and Clint were still down there.

 A hammering sound preceded Thor emerging from the ground like a cork out of a bottle. The kids screamed and clapped. Thor had Barton over one shoulder and he flew straight to the crowd. He landed and readjusted Clint’s body so that he was in a bridal carry. Barton was unconscious. They started for the Quinjet.

 “Where’s the nearest hospital?” Tony asked Laura.

 “Half an hour north, by car,” she said.

 “Do they have a helicopter pad?”

 “No. It’s a tiny place – one floor.”

 Tony shrugged. “They have a roof. That’s all we need.”

 Everyone crowded into the Quinjet, and Tony took off.

 Natasha had surgery – and recovered.

 Barton had surgery – and recovered.

 By the time Clint was able to leave the hospital, Tony already had the house rebuilt – three times as big.

 The End

#Whumptober #Whumptober2020 #Whumptober 2020 #Alt 14 #Shot #Avengers #Fic #FanFiction #Whump #Avengers FanFiction #PenPatronus #PenPatronusAooO #Tony Stark #Steve Rogers #Clint Barton #Natasha Romanoff #Laura Barton #Peter Parker #IronDad #SpiderSon #Thor #Bruce Banner #Angst #Marvel #Team Feels #Friendship #Hurt Comfort #Hurt/Comfort #Family #Avengers Feels

[marley-manson]

hunnihawk leader follower and/or meta shit lol if you're still doing the wip game

Thank you! Yeah I'll always answer ask meme prompts as long as people want to send them, idc how long it's been.

I'll give you everything I have written for the first one, which is:

AU where instead of Carrie Donovan BJ cheats with a man and Hawkeye finds out. BJ has a crisis, and Hawkeye straight up takes advantage. Instead of encouraging BJ to stick with his wife, he encourages BJ to explore those feelings and consider that he may not be happy in a heterosexual marriage etc etc and makes out with him.

Basically the idea is a fic that leans into Hawkeye's force of personality and tendency to take charge and pursue what he wants vs BJ's paggro resentment of it even as he goes along with him. Plus I think the fact that Hawkeye once canonically tried to cajole someone into leaving their spouse for him, and was perfectly fine being ~the other man~ to Margaret, should get more attention lol. Like, if the circumstances were different with BJ, as in he's not straight and Hawkeye realizes it, I could see him going all out in pursuit of an affair, and I’d love to see that explored. So like, it would basically be Hawkeye convincing himself that it’s in BJ’s best interests to fuck him because that’s what he wants, and BJ going along with it because that’s also what he wants but being wracked with guilt at the same time and sort of letting himself be led because then he can put more of the blame on Hawkeye rather than himself for not either divorcing Peg or putting his foot down and not cheating.

***

meta shit is probably the fic I’m most likely to finish and post next, since I actually wrote it all the way through to the end and now I just have to edit it. And figure out a title lol. But basically Hawkeye gets insomnia again circa like season 9 or 10 and in his half delirious state notices the tone differences between the early seasons and the late seasons and tries to investigate them. It’s not full like, Hawkeye realizes he’s in a tv show style meta, more just a vehicle to self-indulgently explore some of my own takes on the show and Hawkeye.

Hawkeye squinted at him. His eyes were taking a while to adjust to the dim interior after coming in out of the light. “Why aren’t you in a dress?” he asked.

“I don’t wear ‘em anymore. Are you feeling all right?” Great, now Klinger was clucking over him. 

“I’m fine, but green isn’t your color.” 

“I was always partial to yellow, personally. But you’re a few months out of date for that, Captain.”

That word hit him like a mild electric shock. “Hey, hey, look - why do you call me that?”

“Huh?”

“That, that, ‘sir,’ ‘Captain,’ all that. Seeing as how you-you-you hate it here so much.” His brain was sliding out of his ears but his body had more than enough energy and drive, so he started pacing.

“Gimme a break, here, Captain - Hawkeye. I had to be a model citizen to get out on a section eight. You know that. Please don’t walk on my bed.” 

He diverted his route slightly for the next lap. “You don’t anymore.”

“Yeah, well, old habits die hard. When in Rome, you know.” Klinger said it with fake cheerfulness. Hawkeye had infinite reserves right now and he still couldn’t help but wonder where he got the energy to dive into every pointless little task and gesture with a smile and a crisp salute. 

He spun around and walked backwards for a few paces to look at Klinger. “Don’t you think it’s demeaning?”

“I’m pretty used to it.”

“Guess you can get used to anything eventually.” A sudden rush of vertigo hit him so he sat down on the bed when he got back to it, needing to ground himself on something for a minute. Klinger was at his side in an instant. Maybe he’d wavered a little as he sat down.

“You don’t seem drunk,” Klinger said, “but you’re definitely something. You stay right there, I’ll get the Colonel.”

“I’m not sick, I’m just not tired either.” He rested his forehead in his hands, palms pressed against his eye sockets and elbows braced on his knees. 

Klinger didn’t run to find Potter; he sat on the bed next to him. “When’s the last time you slept?” he asked. 

“Two days ago.” He rubbed his eyes and opened them again.

Klinger whistled. “Want me to whack you around the head with a two-by-four?”

“Let’s give it another day before we resort to that.”

#ask meme #text post #marley on mash

[hawnkcore]

In Her Arms

Hawkeye has always liked nice things. Pretty things. Things that are soft and luxurious. The types of things that make a person feel as beautiful as they look.

It’s not a surprise when Hawkeye decides to wear a dress or a pair of heels. Frank is used to scrubbing lipstick stains off his skin in the morning, after a night of love. He actually likes it. Likes the way Hawkeye’s salt and pepper hair has grown out, long and luscious. Likes how Hawkeye wears fishnet stockings with short skirts or lingerie in bed.

Tonight’s look, for instance: an orange knee-length sleeveless dress patterned with large purple flowers, a pair of mint-colored heels, and hair pulled back into a loose bun. It should look ridiculous, but Frank always thinks Hawkeye looks sexy all dolled up.

It shouldn’t be surprising either, then, when Hawkeye sits down next to him on the couch and tells him decisively, “Frank… I’m a woman.”

Only it is.

Because it’s not said in that usual joking manner Hawkeye has. The cadence of the words is all wrong. Hawkeye is being serious.

Frank is unfamiliar with how something like this works. Hawkeye is… well. Hawkeye just is. Certainly more feminine than most men but…

Frank has never considered this before. He thinks back to the times when Hawkeye would ask him to whisper good girl during sex. He’d always thought it was just another one of Hawkeye’s… proclivities.

What is he supposed to say? How should he respond? Hawkeye is starting to look worried. Frank can sense the tension in the air. This can’t have been an impulsive moment… Hawkeye has thought this through. Frank should really say something sooner than later.

“Do you mean that you…” Frank begins. He doesn’t know how to put this. “...You think you’re a woman? Or—or you want to be a woman? Or…” Frank is trying to understand. He really is.

Hawkeye’s face falls. “No, Frank. I… I already am a woman. I always have been. I’ve just been… I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t think you’d understand.”

Tears well in Frank’s eyes. The last thing he wanted to do was disappoint Hawkeye. “I want to understand. Help me understand. Please, Hawk.” He takes Hawkeye’s hands in his own, makes gentle eye contact. “Tell me what to do. How can I make this right?”

Hawkeye’s checks are glistening with tears. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Yes, I have. I didn’t see you.”

“...Nobody did. I can’t ask more—”

“You shouldn’t have to,” he cuts Hawkeye off. “I’m your husband.”

Frank pauses for a moment to take in the sight before him. Hawkeye, vulnerable and trusting, sharing this most intimate piece of self with him. “And you’re my wife.”

Hawkeye has never looked more beautiful to him than in that moment. The moment she hears him call her wife for the first time. Her eyes widen with disbelief, then hope lights up her features. She pulls him close, cradles his head against her chest, runs her fingers through his hair. He wraps his arms around her waist, rests his weight against her, buries his face in the crook of her elbow.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I love you.”

Frank nuzzles at her arm, kisses his way up her bicep, her bare shoulder, presses a soft kiss at the base of her throat. When he tilts his head up to reach her lips, she kisses him and kisses him and kisses him.

***********************

Their love life may have slowed down over the years—moved to the back burner for a gentle simmer—but they still fall into bed regularly. It’s been a week now since their chat and they haven’t had sex once.

Hawkeye had been feeling unsure of herself and wanted Frank to take the lead for once. Only… he hadn’t. He had kissed her plenty, sure. Deep kisses, long and slow, full of love. She doesn’t doubt that he loves her, not after he had taken her hands in his and called her wife. He had even given her a dozen red roses just yesterday, for no other reason than to make her smile.

But does he still want to fuck her?

“Let’s go out tonight,” she tells him. “I want to get dressed up.”

He obliges her. (He always does.)

Hawkeye stretches out in the bath, luxuriating in the warm water flowing over her skin. Once she is clean and dry, she peruses her closet for something she knows will tantalize Frank.

Hawkeye puts on her sexiest dress—a backless, black, silky thing that hugs her skin down to just past her thighs. Frank bought it for her sometime last year, though she hadn’t had occasion to wear it. She matches her lipstick with a pair of red heels and lets her silver hair cascade down around her shoulders. A feeling she can only describe as finally bubbles up inside of her, threatens to escape her mouth.

Hawkeye takes a moment to admire herself in the bathroom mirror, catches Frank staring at her in the reflection, his mouth agape.

Frank clears his throat. “I think I’m underdressed,” he says, eyes trailing down her back.

Turning to face him, she steps close and smooths the collar of his light blue plaid button-down. He’s become a true Mainer now. In her heels, she all but towers over him.

Leaning down, she whispers, “Not yet, you aren’t.”

Hawkeye plants a kiss behind his ear and heads out to the car.

Frank makes eyes at her all throughout dinner. This feels right. It’s how their dates used to go. They’d stay out as long as they could stand it before they had to retreat to the backseat of their car or a bathroom stall somewhere. She’s excited to find out where they’ll end up tonight.

Once dessert is finished and they’ve paid the bill, Frank takes her hand and leads her to the back of the lounge. He sits at a corner booth, pulling her down onto his lap.

“I’ve been wanting to do this since before we left home,” he says, pressing a kiss to each one of her vertebrae. He makes his way down her back until she’s doubled over on his lap, long silver hair brushing against her knees. Frank wraps his arms around her from behind, holds their hands in her lap, caresses the inside of her wrist with his thumb.

“You could’ve,” she murmurs—soft, maybe he doesn’t hear it.

The hem of her dress is sitting high up on her thighs. She takes the opportunity this affords to move his hands down between her legs, encouraging him to take this further.

Gently, Frank glides his fingers across her thigh, smoothing her dress back down to renew her modesty. He kisses his way back up her spine, pulling her back against him. “There’s people here,” he whispers.

“Let’s go then.” Hawkeye stands, takes his hand, and walks with him back to the car. She smiles to herself. It’s a backseat night.

Only, when they reach the car, Frank opens the driver’s side door for her—not the back.

Tears come, unbidden, on the drive home. She wills them away.

*

Hawkeye makes the walk from the car to their house as quickly as her heels will allow. Once inside, she kicks them off and takes the stairs two at a time. From beyond the bathroom door, she can hear Frank calling her name, asking if something’s wrong. She ignores him, washes the makeup off her face. Tears help clean the mascara from her lashes.

Hawkeye stays in there a while, sitting on the edge of the tub. She wants to take her stupid dress off but there’s nothing to change into and she doesn’t feel brave enough to walk out of here naked right now. Frank is in the bedroom still, she can hear him moving around out there.

The bathroom door isn’t locked, it never is, but Frank won’t try to open it. She almost wishes he would.

Twenty minutes pass, maybe more. Her tears have long since stopped and she’s growing bored. Maybe he’s given up and gone to sleep by now? If she’s quiet, she might be able to sneak into bed beside him without a fuss.

When she finally walks into the bedroom, she nearly laughs aloud at what she finds.

Frank has taken the petals from her bouquet and spread them across the bed. He is sitting in an armchair, sipping on a glass of red wine. There is another full glass next to him on the bedside table. He picks it up and offers it to her.

Frank looks nervous, holding out the glass for her to take. She does, drinking deeply from it before setting it down next to Frank’s.

“I’d planned… if you’re not feeling up to it we can just go to sleep.” Frank says weakly.

Hawkeye shakes her head, smiling. She steps forward and straddles him, knees on either side of his thighs. He looks up into her eyes, cups her cheeks, pulls her down into a kiss. He tastes of wine, just like she does.

She cradles the back of his head, running her fingers through his lightly thinning hair. Frank’s hands caress her face but don’t move any lower. Hawkeye shifts her weight to one side so she can press her knee against his growing hardness. She smiles at the low groan this elicits from him.

Frank’s breath quickens, “Wait,” he says.

Dread begins to pool again in her gut. He doesn’t want her after all.

“Let me,” Frank says, sliding his hands all the way down her bare back and coming to rest underneath her ass.

In one smooth motion, he pulls her against him and stands, holding her body against his chest. She wraps her calves around his middle, hooks her ankles together behind him. Frank kisses her neck as he carries her, stopping at the foot of the bed. He lays Hawkeye gently down on her back, her long gray hair spread out like a halo.

Frank looks down at her, whispers, “You’re so beautiful.”

Hawkeye can feel tears pricking at the corners of her eyes again. The sweet smell of fresh rose petals fills her nostrils and she’s never been so happy to be wrong. Reaching up for him, she says, “Kiss me.”

Frank does. Kneeling over her, he kisses Hawkeye. Deep and passionate and loving. It’s the same kiss he’s given her all week but there is heat behind it tonight. This kiss is leading somewhere and it’s making her ache.

She pulls him close and unbuttons his shirt. Hawkeye runs her fingernails (painted red, her favorite color) up and down Frank’s bare chest—lightly, teasing him. Pulling off his shirt entirely, she squeezes his biceps and scratches at his shoulders.

Frank breaks the kiss for a moment, panting. He nuzzles against her ear, nibbles at the lobe, asks, “What do you want?”

“You,” she answers immediately.

“Yes, but how, darling?”

He’s never asked like this before. They usually just did whatever felt right in the moment, letting the unspoken language of their bodies do all the talking for them.

“Touch me,” she says between kisses, breathless.

Frank does. Reaching underneath her dress, he rubs at the hardness within her silken panties until she is arching into his hand. Frank kisses her all the while, making his way down from her lips to her neck, sucking lightly at her collarbone.

Hawkeye is throbbing for him. “I want you inside of me,” she whimpers, ready to beg if need be.

He obliges her. (He always does.)

Frank hitches Hawkeye’s dress up to her waist and removes her lace-trimmed panties. Gently working her open with his fingers, he leans down and takes her into his mouth.

Hawkeye gasps, toes curling with the sensation. She pushes his head away. “I don’t want to come yet.”

She reaches down between her legs and helps Frank finish stretching while he removes his pants and shorts.

“That’s enough, I’m ready,” she tells him, spreading lube onto Frank and guiding him to her entrance.

Frank pushes in slowly, giving her time to adjust, looking into her eyes.

“You really are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” Frank says in wonder.

Well. Hawkeye doesn’t know what to say to that, so she wraps her legs around him again and squeezes, forcing him closer, further inside.

“Move,” she pants, “please.”

Frank does.

The pace is slow, languid. As if they have all the time in the world. And, Hawkeye supposes, they do.

Frank continues to kiss her, uses his teeth to delicately slide the thin straps off her shoulders. She’s not wearing a brassiere—the dress wouldn’t allow for it—and she’s grateful that there’s one less piece of fabric to remove. He kisses a trail from shoulder to breast, licking and sucking at one nipple, then the other.

She urges him on, breath hitching faster as his pace quickens. Hawkeye feels the mounting pressure of her orgasm and goes to touch herself but Frank gets there first, taking her firmly into his hand and stroking. He rubs circles at the head with his thumb, just how she likes it. She clenches down around him as the pleasure flows through her in waves.

“Oh, Frank,” she gasps.

Frank cries out as he comes with her, stuttering his hips and filling her up. He lies his weight on her, breathless. She pets his hair.

“I should get something to clean you up, huh?” Frank asks, still panting slightly.

Hawkeye smiles. “Ever the gentleman, my husband.”

Reluctantly, Frank removes himself from her and walks to the bathroom. She misses the feeling of him inside her already.

When he returns, he carries a damp washcloth. She reaches for it, but he’s already cleaning her belly with the soft, warm cloth and wiping the mess from her dress where it’s bunched up around her middle. Frank pulls it up over her head, leaving her body bare.

Hawkeye is more comfortable now. She wants Frank to come lie with her and wrap his strong arms around her while she sleeps. She scoots herself up the bed toward the pillows and turns to lie on her side, her back facing Frank. She pulls his arm over her, presses his hand against her breastbone.

“Hold me,” she tells him, already drifting off to sleep in the arms of her husband.

Frank does.

#in her arms #trans au #fic

[atamascolily]

lily watches fma:b, eps. 42-47

In which the Briggs arc goes out with a bang, and I have flashbacks to the “Day of Black Sun” from Avatar: the Last Airbender.

Okay, Al is basically still May's age on the inside, lol. i love those two.

hawkeye reduced to serving tea for Bradley makes me so damn mad.

but bradley is in love with his (human) wife so there’s that.

kimblee double-crossed the drachma dudes? how completely in character.

one of the chimeras betrays Scar's group and brings in Envy. I was hoping he'd be relevant again!! turns out it was a trap and the chimera isn't actually evil again.

so envy uses the philosopher's stone to power his shapeshifting?? sure looks like it.

apparently marcoh has been mixing alkahestry into his work and it's awesome. the ice sculpture in a middle finger is a nice touch.

oh, no, may's hiding out doing action at a distance and envy has no clue. GO TEAM.

okay, marcoh denatures envy down to a little bug form which is simultaneously cute and disturbing. Yoki messes with it at his peril. I love how envy accidentally takes the wrong hostage if he wants people to care about his victim's fate.  

Scar is inspired by Miles to change Amestris from the inside instead of just killing people, so... that's good, I guess?

scar gives may envy in a jar and tells her go home, which seems LIKE SUCH A BAD IDEA ON SO MANY LEVELS

(like, I get that they did this so May could save her clan--which clearly hit of Scar's buttons--does no one even bother to think this through...?)

(the last time an emperor tried to get immortality was Xerxes and THAT worked out so well, so... *cue 'The Genocide Song' from Trigun*)

Anyway, I predict this will not end well.

Meanwhile, one of Greed's chimera buddies, Bido, survived, and learns that the military is searching for Izumi and Sig, but they're on the lam. He follows them back to base when he realizes they're from Bradley; he wants revenge for Wrath killing his boss.

(i love u bido you adorable little rat.)

(also, the fact that the original!Greed was like, "fuck u, I make my own rules" and ran away from Father's schemes with his misfit friends just warms my heart.)

There are only three rules for state alchemists: "don't interfere with the military,""don't make people," and "don't make gold",LOL.

It's so funny to me that the gold thing is included, even though I don't understand how you can MAKE gold with alchemy if gold is a single independent element and you are bound by the laws of equivalent exchange. but whatever, it's still really freakin' funny to me that they don't want State Alchemists fucking up the economy with their magic chemistry powers.

anyway, turns out they don't also want people growing their own armies in the basement - that's what THEY'RE DOING. quoth olivier: fuck.

(fun fact: an RPG character of mine playing a necromancer in a urban fantasy setting did EXACTLY THIS and it was awesome)

somehow, al and winry get to liore (again, DISTANCE? Time??) and "Mr. Ho" is working for Rose's food stand.

And he's all, "oh, I heard about how you lost your body, lol" and then...literally walks off.

(the sad thing is that Hohenheim is literally NOT the worst father in this show - that award goes to Shou Tucker.)

Bido discovers the Zombie Meat Locker, then runs into Greedling... who doesn't remember him until AFTER he stabs him, sob. rip bido.

Winry takes a bath, because fanservice, and she and Rose talk... and it does not pass the Bechdel test, sigh.

there's a "Banks Bank" in Briggs, lol

I wish I could get my glasses to do the opacity thing on command.

Ling yells at Greed for being a jerk and Greed decides to try and kill Wrath because that worked SO WELL last time...(at least he managed to shield from Bradley's signature move this time)

The Armstrong patriarch makes Olivier and Alex fight over who gets to be head of the family, lol. Then he just walks out and starts acting like Olivier won the fight, which she does.

turns out it's to keep the military from taking them all hostage for Olivier's good behavior. She's really good at this.

Envy tricks May into going back to Central, sigh.

Ling regains control of his body long enough to run into Ed and explain before Greed takes over again

they're really laying out the whole "Seven deadly sins as a personal flaw" thing on thick, aren't they?

Greed just wants to be left alone, but agrees to team up if Ed works for him, lol.

Izumi proudly declaring herself to be a housewife as she kicks ass gives me life

the phone chain here is pretty impressive, although grumman loses major points for sexually harassing Rebecca

apparently, Father has to wait for the stars/planets/sun to align in order to do his Evil Alchemy - it's referred to as "the Promised Day" and I'm having flashbacks to the "Day of Black Sun" from Avatar: The Last Airbender (though I think it's supposed to be more like Sozin's comet?).

TIME SKIP! It's spring in Resembool for the sheep festival. Winry is smuggled home and finds Ed in her bedroom - right as she's about to undress. Hijinks ensue.

anyway, Ed and Greed are hanging with Pinako. Ed gets his automail serviced and Winry ups the stakes by refusing to run away in case things go wrong.

she is specifically ordered to stay at home and bake a pie while the men go out to battle, sigh.

meanwhile, greed approves of winry's desire to "have it all" (i.e, victory against Father AND Ed and Al getting their bodies back on the Promised Day) and Ed is Not Amused.

(i love greed so much, he is definitely the #BestHomunculus in this version.)

Scar has been gathering the Ishvalans to help save Amestris and thereby win acceptance back

Grumman calling the Fuhrer "Bradley-chan" is hilarious, full stop.

Al's body keeps calling his spirit back but I'm not sure why it's only been a problem recently, given the gap between its loss and the present day.

we're now up to the "day before the promised day" which means that from now until the end (ep. 64) is likely to take place in 48 hours (plus whatever resolution awaits at the end in 64). yowza.

unfortunately, bradley appears to be on to Team Good's elaborate plan, but it's unclear if Team Good wants it that way or not.

okay, it’s intentional, they blew up the train, but I'm pretty sure Bradley's not dead

(why is grumman narrating the "previously on" intro, tho)

The first thing Ed does when he sees Hohenheim is punch him in the face, #bless.

Hohenheim offers to use his stone to bring back his sons' bodies... which means he COULD have fixed Izumi earlier, but didn't. fuck you, hohenheim.

okay, so it really is "the Day of Black Sun after all" - WHY DOES AN ECLIPSE MAKE ALCHEMY WORK BETTER, PLEASE EXPLAIN.

(he does not explain)

hohenheim asks if ed will help with the plan, lol, what exactly is the plan here, very cryptic of u

I can't believe Pinako asked Ed to tell Hohenheim Trisha's last words. Like, that was her job. She TALKED TO HIM HERSELF EARLIER IN THE SHOW. WHy the fuck did she make ED do it?

hohenheim cries when he learns that trisha said "sorry, I couldn't keep my promise. I'm dying first." AS WELL HE SHOULD, THE FUCKER.

ed buys red cloth and uses it to make his flamel jacket again I'M HOWLING

Al pops out of the bushes unexpectedly and Ling takes over Greed shouting about how his homunculus sense is tingling... I hope Greed doesn't die, but I'm not holding my breath

ed wins by knocking out all the lights, extinguishing the shadows... because pride can only exist in with some light, not full dark? I don't get why shadows work but not dark, despite greed specifically saying “you can’t have shadows without light”. DARK IS DARK, isn’t it?

grumman goes to look for bradley's body,but it's unclear if he's using his allies as a means to take over the country later or if that’s miles’ paranoia

GREED AND LING WORK TOGETHER TO FIGHT GLUTTONY AWWW YEAH

AND THEN LAN FAN SHOWS UP WITH HER BADASS NEW ARM AND SAVES THEM BOTH

(way to level up, Lan Fan!!)

#fullmetal alchemist #lily liveblogs