theunholygrails

[theunholygrails]

Foolish Games

(NSFW)

Part 1

Part 2

[theunholygrails]

Foolish Games Part 2

Masterlist

A/N: Introducing new characters and some drama! Percy is still sexy as ever :'(.

Warnings: BJ

I woke up to a door slamming so hard it joined the symphony of my pounding headache. I groaned, hoisting myself over the back of the couch to investigate to intrusion. A brunette head of long sweeping hair rushed through the foyer, barreling towards the kitchen. A familiar mop of black hair hurried after.

Reyna was speaking so fast in Spanish my brain scrambled to keep up. I noted lots of curse words followed by a series of sentences too fast I was surprised she even knew what she was saying. Percy was answering in slow measured words, probably fighting a hangover of equal measure. I ducked behind the back of the couch, reaching for my phone plugged in on the coffee table.

It was noon. 2% battery and a couple messages from friends. Nothing from my ex thank gods. Five from Annabeth being nosey. I opened my uber app, squinting in the sunlight breaking through the cream curtains. I managed to get my driver secured.

A door slammed and I winced, peaking to check that they were in another room. I did not immediately spot my dress in the chaotic. I grimaced remembering the midnight swim. When I sat up I finally noticed the white tshirt I wore and the basketball shorts. And then I went rigid remembering what happened after the swim.

“Motherfucker,” I whispered.

Now I really had to get out of this house. I checked the arrival time of my driver. Three minutes away. Great. I made my way on shaky knees to the large wooden front door. My keys were still in the collection dish. I grabbed them quietly and turned the door handle a fraction of an inch before another door slammed open and Reyna came barreling back into the foyer, brown eyes landing promptly on my guilty ass. Behind her, Percy pursed his lips into a thin line and raised both of his hands to lay on top of his head. His biceps strained nicely against the thin t shirt.

“The fuck is this?” Reyna whispered.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” I babbled.

“It’s just Noa, Rey. Gods,” Percy said.

“I can see that, Percy!” She snapped. I was glad her spear was not strapped across her back this morning. “Why is she sneaking out of my house in your clothes?”

“People were swimming last night. Her clothes got wet.”

“I’m sure the fuck they did.”

“Zeus, Rey! You ended it with me. Why does it even matter?”

“Because I still fucking love you! I’m sorry, okay?” She burst out crying and Percy instantly pulled her against his chest. The memory of being in those arms drove me out the door like a nest of hornets.

~~~~

“I’m just saying. You have nothing to feel sorry for,” Annabeth paused to sip her iced coffee. “Unless they get back together and then you sleep with him. But as of right now, you’re good. Trust me. Been on the Percy train. We’re still friends. You’ll get over it. Just a harmless rebound for both of you.”

I groaned, laying my chin on the cool metal table parked outside our favorite coffee shop positioned between our New York apartments. Just two Manhattan women enjoying their Sunday afternoon. The air was cooling as fall neared. I pulled my baseball cap closer to the top of my sunglasses.

“Should I call him?”

“Maybe tomorrow. Let him deal with his relationship drama. Reyna is a lot to deal with. Still nothing from fuckface?”

“Nope and that’s fine.”

“Good for you. We will hydrate you, get you a good dinner, hit the gym before work in the morning and then get back on our bad bitch mental track. Agreed?”

~~~~

“Good Monday, yogis,” I chirped from my desk at the corner of my studio.

The third class was beginning to trickle in and I was settling into my rhythm. Hot yoga was next and hopefully I would sweat out all the negativity I’d allowed lately. I was in the middle of emailing back a potential client when someone rapped at the wood of my desk. I glanced up to a blonde male who waved gently.

“Heya, sansei Noa,” he said.

“That’s karate. Can I help you?”

“Do you do trial classes?”

I hit send on my email and closed my laptop. The guy was built like a poser with the defined muscles and chiseled jaw but his voice was soft and tempered. He was clean shaven and dressed like a basic gym bro.

“Normally you have to schedule them beforehand because of class size,” I gave my standard answer.

“Right, my bad. Sorry. I was just passing by the front and it looked like the kind of place I needed right now. Can I go ahead and pick a date then?”

I was staring too long into his pale blue eyes, honed in on the polite response. A nice change from the daily demanding consumers. “You know what? Ive got space right now if you like? Have you ever done hot yoga?”

A brilliant white smile showcasing sharp canines. “My favorite.”

“Perfect. I just need a name, number and email to get you a file started.”

He leaned large hands on my desk. “It’s Luke Castellan.”

Before he could give the contact information, I cut him off. “Wait. I know you.” His tanned skin paled significantly.

“I…”

“You’re supposed to be dead!” I blurted out.

His eyes skated around the room and he leaned in closer. “That’s not supposed to be public knowledge. I assume you’re a demigod?”

“Luke, you trained me. We took fucking sculpting together. The Apollo table was right next to the Hermes one for fuck’s sake.”

He winced. I heard a murmuring from the rest of my class I was disturbing with my volume. I collected my shock finally. “Take a seat if you want. We should talk after class. I need to start.”

“Okay. Thank you. I’m sorry Noa.”

I waved him off and walked over to my yoga mat. I sat cross legged and drew in an even breath to smooth out my emotions.

It was a slow 30 minute class. Each pose and movement dragged on. Finally, I dismissed the group and nodded Luke outside. He was waiting on the bench outside of the studio I split renting with a few other instructors. I sat next to him, wiping sweat from my face with the towel slung over my pink sports bra.

“Alright, talk,” I said.

“Not much to say. I was given a second chance at my hearing. Here I am. Starting over.” A shrug of well-defined shoulders. The muscles flexed beneath his gleaming sweat. His red tank top stuck to his chest and stomach. “I wish I remembered you, truly. That time is such a blur in my life.”

“It’s ok. You were a lot older than me and to be honest I had a massive crush on you so I probably hid most of the time.”

A surprised smile slipped across his lips. “I’m assuming the betrayal helped you get over that?”

I laughed outloud, slapping his knee. “No shit! So where are you staying these days?”

“Just around the corner actually. Got a job at the local gym.”

“Yeah I bet the fuck you did.” I squeezed his forearm between both of my hands. I wanted to roll my eyes at me falling back into my school girl giddy at him. Betrayal of the gods aside. He was even more gorgeous than ever. The scar down his face gave him a dark sexy vibe. Like a bad boy even though he claimed he was rehabbing himself now.

“So how, did you feel about the class?”

“I mean, I’d like to sign up for it a couple times a week, that’s for sure. And I’d like to take you out to dinner to make up for not remembering a beauty like you.”

I almost bit my cheek biting out the response of “Yes!”

“You’ve got my number,” he said, chuckling quietly. “I’ve got to get to work.” He shouldered his gym bag and excused himself.

The bike back to my apartment was spent reliving my tween fantasies about bad boy Luke. I opened my apartment door and screeched seeing a man sitting at my kitchen counter. Percy turned to face me.

“You know you live in New York? You should really lock that.”

“It was!” I snapped.

A quick grin. “Yeah. But it was easy to break into.”

I dropped my bag onto the floor and brushed past him to get a protein shake from the fridge. “I have to shower and get prepared for my night classes.” I told him.

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier.”

I shrugged. “I didn’t either.”

He paused, studying my face in the shitty lighting of the single bulb hanging between us over the counter. “Are we good, Noa?”

“Of course. What’s a little head between friends?”

“Okay…I can’t read you. Can you not play tough just for a minute?”

I chugged the shake and set the bottle down between us. I leaned my arms on the chilled counter, bun knocking against the light. “Honestly, Percy. I’m fine. We are good.”

“Reyna moved back in.”

“You’re engaged again?”

I drank from the empty bottle to give myself something to do. He watched me with those green eyes. He’d known me for far too long. He was nearly impossible to deceive, but I was determined today. The fact that I had dreamt of fucking him two consecutive nights was irrelevant if he was off the table. Even if his lips did look incredibly juicy tonight. Even if they had done near illicit things to me just nights ago.

“I don’t know. She said she wanted to work on things. And it’s her dad’s house, so I can’t ask her to go and I don’t want to go to my mom’s and admit defeat.”

“You know you could stay here, Perc.”

He worked his jaw silently, then rubbed his hands over his face. “Thanks. I do know. Even if we aren’t officially back together, I think we should work on it…” he trailed off.

“And not tell her about you eating me out?” I leaned closer because I was mean to both him and myself. Because I knew this top combined with this angle gave him a simple opportunity. And he took it.

His tongue slid out between his lips as his eyes flicked down, stayed, then dragged deliberately back up. “Probably not,” he agreed.

For a long moment neither of us said anything. He had more to lose now than me. We were no longer on equal playing fields. So, I left the ball in his court. “I’m going to go shower.”

I was done washing in the first ten minutes. The second ten was giving him a little wiggle room to decide. I had my hand on the faucet to cut off the water that was beginning to go cold when I heard the door creak open. I watched through the fogged glass, catching a hold of my breath. I watched as he tugged his shirt off. My stomach flipped over itself when he reached for his jeans. What had I done?

The opening door let in a rush of cool air, perking my skin to attention. My eyes raked unapologetically over his naked, aroused body. His dark hair quickly slicked against his stubble covered jaw. His eyes were no longer the sea green but murky like the deep water of the ocean.

“Hey,” he said quietly, cautiously.

“Hey,” I giggled, reaching out to touch his rough jaw. He winced, catching my hand with his. “We probably shouldn’t kiss again.”

“Sure, whatever you want, Percy. What can I do to you?”

He groaned, turning his mouth into my palm, scraping teeth against the vulnerable skin. “Touch me,” he said.

My free hand instantly planted against his chest, scraping at the muscle. His eyes fluttered closed, head tilting back to expose his throat. I slid my other hand into his thick hair, tugging it tightly between my fingers and pulling to grant myself more access to the strong column of his neck. I bit it first, backing him into the tiled wall when he shuddered. I kissed over the reddening skin and moved my hands to his flat stomach, feeling the shuddered breaths beneath my touch.

“Like this?” I asked.

His reply was unintelligible. I kissed down his chest, moving my hand lower still as I went. When my fingers brushed over the v-line of his hips, I shifted my route away from the center and to his thighs. An annoyed grunt escaped his lips. “Hush,” I scolded, getting my knees under me. The now cold water was hitting the back of my neck and flowing down my body. I placed my hands on the inside of both his thighs, trailing them upwards and upwards until he nearly contorted when I gripped him. He let out a scandalous string of curses that quickly turned to moaning silence when I took him into my mouth.

He unraveled in minutes and I let him cum all over the breasts I had teased him with earlier. I rose in front of him, my own rosy cheeks mirroring his. “Now we’re even.”

[theunholygrails]

Foolish Games

masterlist

(Because Logan Lerman is a sexy, spicy man and I’m bored at 2am. Might make this a series??? I love Annabeth too much to make her the scorned lover in this. So for this purpose, just say they amicably split up after high school.)

Warnings--NSFW, oral

The fizzy pink champagne bubbles did not mix well with the three shots of jack I had taken upon immediately walking in to the party. I contemplated making my way to the snack table back inside but that risked running into one or both of the affianced couple and that made me more nauseous than the alcohol. Seeing the boundless love and joy would in fact make me vomit. So, I took another swig from the bottle to chase that thought away.

Cheers came from the far side of the pool where a riveting game of flip cup was occurring. I was sure Reyna was thrilled about the turning of her upscale event into a classic keg party, with sticky floors and people vomiting in the well-maintained front yard included. I smiled as a shirtless son of Hephaestus cannonballed into the glowing blue pool. He surfaced floating on his back, beer belly poking out.

I picked at my now soaked dress, frowning only slightly. Serves me right for sitting in the lounge chair directly by the deep end, but avoiding speaking to anyone had been the more pressing matter upon arrival.

“Gods, do you just have a cell phone just for show? I swear to Zeus you never answer that thing. I’ve been texting you for half an hour wondering if you were going to show.” Annabeth strutted over in her sky high silver stilettos. I marveled at how she did not even falter on the now water-slick concrete. She claimed the lounge chair next to me, yanking it closer so we sat knee to knee.

“Of course. I wouldn’t leave Percy hanging on his engagement party. He’s my best friend.”

Her elegant wrap around blouse pushed her chest up and her waist in. A skin tight skirt made her mile long legs even longer. She swiped the bottle from my grasp and wiped some of the condensation off on her toned and tanned thigh before raising it to her lips. She brushed a loose curl behind her ear and leveled a too knowledgeable gaze at me. “Alright, so what are we talking about? Mutual split and you’re just regular depressed or did that dickwad wrong you and I need to go get my dagger from my purse?”

“He said I was ‘moving too fast for him,’ and ‘I stifled his artistic aura.’”

“Piece of shit. What did I tell you about dating Iris? Flighty at best.”

She took another long sip then passed me the rest which I gracelessly finished. I wiped the excess from my chin and clapped my hands together. I toed my shoes off. “Alright, I’m over him now.”

“Excellent. You were really too hot for him to begin with. What are we doing?” she askedm side eyeing me as i rose from the lounge chair.

“Swimming.” I unzipped my wet pink dress and shimmied it down. The beer belly guy cheered encouragement from the pool and I waved back.

“Mm, I’ll pass. I’ll be looking like straight up Medusa if I get my hair wet. Want me to bring you another drink? Or snacks?”

“Snacks,” I confirmed before performing my own ceremonial cannonball.

I surfaced breathing in the warm night air.I drew it in deep before submerging again and begining to circle the pool. A few laps later I heard a male voice call my name faintly from the surface. I emerged, shoving hair from my face and blowing water off my nose. I glanced towards the steps where Percy waited with a bowl of Chex mix at the shallow end. I swam over sheepish and flushed.

“Annabeth sent me. Whatcha doin?” he asked through a small smile. 

“Healing. I’m a scorned woman, don’t you know?”

He set down the bowl on the edge and I stuck my wet hands into it immediately. He kicked off his brown leather shoes and rolled up his perfectly hemmed blue pants legs. He sat on the edge letting his legs dangle in. His green eyes were far off tonight, thoughts disappearing into the cloudy midnight sky.

“Thanks for coming anyway. Breakups are a bitch, Annabeth told me about the text,” he said.

He cracked his knuckles then heaved a breath out and leaned forward onto his knees.

“Hey,” I shook his ankle under the water. “What’s up?”

“Reyna left.” He said. His voice was full of disbelief. He laughed like it might even be a joke. I crunched on another handful of the snack waiting, for him to elaborate. “It had been coming for a while.” He ruffled his dark waves of hair between his hands, letting a few of the silver strands frame his face. In the glow from the pool I could pick out the faint freckles on his cheeks.

And then he stood up, stripping out the jacket his now ex-fiance had no doubt picked out for him. Next came the tie and then the other party guests outside noticed and charged past him into the pool with wild, drunken revelry. My eyes remained dizzily fixed as Percy undressed despite the waves splashing against my back. I hadn’t seen him shirtless since back at camp years ago. And he had only a few sparse pieces of chest hair back then and skinny boy muscles. Now…dark hair trailed from his well-defined chest, thinning around the lean abs and vanishing under the band of Calvin Klein briefs. “Damn you Calvin,” I muttered.

“Hu?” he asked.

“Grab me a beer?”

He obliged, generously giving me a view of the back. Percy Jackson was a grown ass man. And a sexy one at that. I knew we had both grown up, of course. But he had been dating Reyna for years and I was between noncommittal guys constantly. I barely remembered the last time he had been single. It looked good on him. He walked down the steps offering me a beer and sipping from his own. Those green eyes were fixed on me now almost curiously. They ran up and down my submerged frame. “Nice swimsuit,” he teased, mouth curving up on one side almost shyly. I scoffed to myself. Percy was anything but shy.

Still, a chill pricked at my skin, turning downright scorching the further south it went down my body. Oh, I was in trouble. “It’s lingerie. Scott was supposed to get lucky tonight.” I couldn’t look away. He was like a siren but with less murder attempts. Being in the water gave him an ungodly unfair advantage over my hormones.

“That so?”

He was always playful, but it felt different tonight. I was horny and lonely now and he was conveniently an option. I shook myself. It was definitely just all in my head. He was the same old Percy. He…

He was rubbing his thumb under my eye and the chill and heat was back with ruthless abandon. “Your makeup was running a little.”

“Shit, I must look like a troll.”

“What’s new?” He punctuated the tease with a tipsy wink.

i swatted him and he caught my wrist tugging me. The sway of the water washed me closer to him, into his chest, his hips. My lips fumbled together, dropping whatever intellectual sentence i had prepared. Instead I said, “Float with me,” to get some sobering distance between us.

Another quick easy smile and then we were floating side by side in the pool. The stars were smudged underneath hazy clouds. The moon streaked the midnight sky yellow. I closed my eyes letting the water muffle the noise, letting my thoughts float away too.

A kick to my foot had me sitting up. Annabeth squatted at the edge of the pool. People were trickling out through the house. “I kicked them out. You’re welcome,” she announced.

“You’re the best,” Percy sighed. He swam up beside me, shoulder brushing mine. Fucker. 

“Yep.” She turned to me. “You need a ride?”

“Um…” My tongue rubbed between my teeth in debate. “I was going to help clean up a little actually.”

Her brows rose instantly, grey eyes flickering back and forth between us. She hid a laugh with a turn of her head and cleared her throat. “Ok. Okay, I got you. Have fun cleaning.” She called, seeing herself out.

Percy submerged himself up to his eyes, treading water. He quirked an eyebrow and I huffed pushing him out of the way. I climbed out of the pool, snatching up one of the towels probably used to mop up a beer spill and wrapping it around my red bra and underwear. I turned hearing Percy splash out. He shook water off his head, leaving strands dripping onto his nose.

“Can’t you just woosh yourself dry?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He strolled over casually, water glistening on his tan skin. I took a step back when he got in my space, back bumping up into the siding of the house. “But sometimes I like to get wet.”

“Oh fuck,” I whimpered out loud. “You are very drunk Percy Jackson. I am very, very drunk.”

That damn cocky smile softened. He reached out to trail a finger from my clavicle to my shoulder, tugging on the strap of my bra only slightly. “Should we get to work cleaning then?” he asked softly.

“Don’t be mean,” I begged. I wanted to curse at him. At myself for already being fully aware of the mistake i was about to make. Breakups and alcohol were not great mixers. 

His laugh was against my mouth, a torturous preamble to his kiss. My breasts ached for attention so I pressed them to his bare chest. He tasted of the saltwater pool but still achingly savory. He pulled the towel down gently. His kiss tempering my fevered one, promising a slow and deep release. I groaned, reaching to rip off my own bra. He seized my wrists before I could and pressed them to my sides.

“Easy,” he instructed. The only word that could escape my mouth in the blinding frustration was his panted name. “I like that. Keep saying it.” 

He ran his hands down my stomach and my thighs as he got down onto his knees. My head fell back against the wall in disbelief as more obscenities flitted through my brain, occasionally slipping past my lips as his own lips pressed over and over to my inner thigh and over my underwear, never quite where he needed to be. Then, he kissed the center over the lace material.

“Percy!” his name was a demand.

He indulged me, hooking the thin material with a finger and tugging to the side. “Oh gods.” His kiss knocked my legs out but his strong hands pinned me to the wall to fully receive the blessing of his mouth. I was vibrating between his kisses and licks. And then finger pressed into me curving towards him before he added another. I could feel myself utterly dripping down my thighs, giving what he silently ordered.

The rhythm was exquisite and left my brain swimming more than liquor. I was quaking and gasping and then completely shattering beneath his mouth. I moaned and screamed, nails burrowing into his shoulders. He kissed my center through it, urging more and more of the release from me.

He eased me to the ground across from him, breathing just as heavily as me. He leaned his sweaty forehead against mine. “Why…” he paused to catch his breath and laughed deeply. “Gods why haven’t we done that before?”

“You’re a longterm relationship man and I’m a flight risk?”

“I mean, I knew you were gorgeous but godsdamn when you came…”

“Do you want, um?”

He shook his head cutting me off. “I think we should both take some time. But that was amazing. I won’t forget it.” He kissed my temple and got up offering me a hand.

[theunholygrails]

I just read your “when you’re sick” preference from 2017 and had to laugh when I read that Sam wore a face mask when you’re sick, now we all do that! Sorry this message is random, have a good night! <3

Stay safe everyone!

[theunholygrails]

I’m Captain America now. Deal with it.

[theunholygrails]

the saga continues…

[theunholygrails]

Avengers Preference: PDA

Masterlist

Clint: Like you’ve grown to expect, Clint will devour your mouth at any given opportunity. It’s especially welcome during boring meetings and has stopped a few undersecretaries in their tracks. But two can play that game and just as often you’re the one climbing into his lap, audience be damned.

Pietro: When he needs the reassurance, Pietro will slide a sly hand into yours and gently rub his thumb back and forth. At dinner, waiting for the train, and especially after he comes back from a mission bruised and battered. Otherwise, he sticks to gentle forehead kisses that ground you both. Sometimes when he’s feeling cheeky, he’ll ghost one across your skin as he rushes past you quick as lightning.

Steve: It would take a lot more training to make Steve comfortable with casual, constant PDA, so he doesn’t do it often. But when he does...you’re in for it. The desperation of too much time apart or leaving for a mission has him firmly grabbing your ass or planting a passionate goodbye kiss to your lips in the middle of the helicarrier runway, as if anyone needed a reminder of who he always misses the most.

T’Challa: The very proper king prefers to verbally dote on you in public, especially when there’s others around to hear his sweet talk. He’ll praise your skills in mission briefings or call out how lovely your royal robes are while you’re still crossing the room toward him. It may not be as tactile as his touch that ravishes you in private, but you still feel every word deep in your chest.

Tony: Tony is crazier about you than anything else in his life, and the bar’s already set pretty high. All of his PDA is the most dramatic, from spinning you into a hug to dipping you for a kiss. The bigger the audience, the better. It’s all about showing you off and proving that he’s always gonna do the most for you.

Scott: He’s the personification of “peppers kisses all over” -- to your forehead, your hair, your cheek, wherever is easiest to reach at the moment. He thinks you’re the prettiest thing in the world (after Cassie, of course) and just can’t help kissing you. He likes to make sure someone is watching before he does it, too.

Thor: This king is not shy about PDA at all, but is very tasteful with it. He likes to always be touching you in some form or fashion, because what better way to remind him of what a wonderful catch you are. He’ll guide you through a crowd with his hand on your lower back and leave it to deliciously linger, or press a kiss to your cheek whenever you walk in the room.

Bucky: Surprisingly, Bucky is very cheeky with it. As soon as you’re settled comfortably in the relationship, you feel like you get a glimpse of the charming Sergeant Barnes from the 1940s. He’s always got an arm slung around your waist and steals kisses whenever he can. He’s also big on playing with your hair, twirling the ends of it in his fingers to comfort you both in a crowded room.

Sam: He’s an avid hand holder because it’s simple but very effective. You can squeeze each other’s hands for extra support and his favorite is to tug you just close enough for a kiss as you keep walking. He also won’t let go for anything. If people or bikes need to get through, they better go around. Sam would rather clothesline civilians than let go of you.

Quill: Once Peter discovers a good thing, he doesn’t like to let it go. Having a hand on your ass is a constant and his go-to move whenever you’re in public. He swears they invented back pockets for the sole purpose of a hand being there. It’s a little possessive, a little sexy, and just a little of what you love about him.

[theunholygrails]

Call it What You Want

Masterlist

Summary: Pure drabble, just giving the good captain the appreciation he truly deserves

Even with his shoulders curved inward and down against the wind Steve was still a massive form weaving through noon traffic. A languid sidestep kept a chattering business woman from spilling what was most likely her third cup of coffee down his nice sweatshirt, the hood of which was pulled up and over his combed blond locks. He wore sunglasses to add to the fugitive ensemble even though the sun only beat down delicately between bloated clouds every now and again.

Her wedge heel kept her chair perched on its back two legs as she observed his steady progress, eraser of her pencil jammed between pensive teeth with much better ideas of what they could be busy doing. He still moved like he was on the run or on his way to a clandestine meeting in one of the alleys he passed, even with months of clear charges under his belt.

The dark wash of his jeans fit him unfortunately well and the curves they hugged were something she could sketch with her eyes shut. So she did.

She drew on the image of him from this morning before she had to slip out for work. His body free of the covers. Bare. Just how she left it the night before; precisely how she preferred it. The warm light from her bedside lamp gave his tanned skin a soft glow. Hair tickle his forehead and more traced down his chest, nestling between his sprawled legs and trickling off downward.

She sketched the permanent indent her kiss surely must have left on his shoulder as she left their love nest. Their trysting place. Their stomping ground. She had no word for it and decided the name of the painting could be whatever the viewed decided to call it. Just as their love was.

Even with his head angled down away from the muss and fuss of the world on its lunch break, the smile he bore still could place him decidedly high and soaring through the clouds.

His kiss was swift and scorching against her lips like a wind burn, too fast and too strong.

She forgot her complaints from work, the stressors of the morning, and the sour taste of her tea when he took his sunglasses off and met her gaze. With her mouth still hanging from his kiss, he let loose an endeared laugh and collected the sketch pad that lay between them.

“You always get my forehead weird. It’s not actually that big right?” he asked.

“It is. And I got something else right too.”

“What’s that?”

Day faded into midnight. Days passed and weeks, then a whole lifetime and through it all she still pictured him right at her side. She leaned across the table, recreating the sample kiss from earlier with a full portion sized one.

“You.”

[theunholygrails]

Could you write some more Clint Barton? There really isn’t enough out there. You can do what you want just make it really flirty between him and the reader xx

https://theunholygrails.tumblr.com/post/190603716794/very-differently

Since you asked so nicely

[theunholygrails]

Very Differently

Summary: This isn’t really new, just something I never got around to posting here. Basically my take on Budapest with an OC added to the mix for fun. 

Masterlist

Zdravstvuyte

The shadows cast from the wastefully clad guests in the soft angles and indecipherable masses were notably more elegant than the calculating frowns of their creators. A gloved hand traced along a freshly polished curling oak banister as Sonja made her was to join the babbling benefactors. Leaflets of conversations rustled not long enough to take root but simply flew past on the careful air of disinterest her fellow hosts held about them. With a sharp nod of her head and a demure curve of her lips, she joined the nearest transaction.

Arms dealing can be tricky business when neither party particularly trusted the other.

Jewels painted the necklines of her most generous buyer and in their pristine surfaces, she could make out the warning flash of the smallest red dot. Sonja shifted with a subtle flip of her hair to block the shot and simultaneously tapped her earpiece.

“Ma’am, I do believe my husband is coming down with something fatal.” she said.

Even if she did not have a husband to speak of, the message was abundantly clear—the event was compromised because Black Widow herself was present.

“Take care of it, Chief. I need this night to be spotless.”

“Got it.”

Security hustled onto the floor at Sonja’s signal to escort each of the dozen or so guests back to their armored vehicles.

With the prompting of her boss in her ear, Sonja slipped out the back door to attempt to uncover any tracks the Widow might have left behind.

The wet asphalt did little to help her heels find traction as she scanned the nearest buildings for the optimal vantage point the spy must have taken to train a snipper on people under her protection. With the rest of her security team busy locking down the premises, she was left to the goose chase even though looking for tracks from this particular prey was about as promising as searching for footprints after a storm.

She tensed when something popped right beside her ear and the sharp slap of metal hit her cheek. She scolded her hammering heart and forced a calm gaze to the arrow that kissed her skin and was now imbedded in the wall. Her hand went to the dual blades tucked against her thighs knowing full well that any assassin after her would not be foolish enough to miss twice.

A test of her ear piece told her its signal had been knocked out somehow. A heavy pair of boots splashed down beside her and she whipped into a defensive pose before the archer could cut her mission short.

The man kneeling across from her had his bow pressed to the ground and his black stealth suit clinging to him like any woman in her proper mind would in a scenario a little less lethal than this. Given a situation where she were allowed to use her real name and wash the blonde dye from her hair, she might have done just that because his looks were wasted on the dark, filthy streets of Samara, Russia.

“Hello, easy, Chief. I’m not here for you. Sonic took out your communications, also I was listening in a little bit, Ma’am is a weird name. Is that like the birth one or did she rename herself that? I’m looking for the Widow. You know anything?”

“Does anyone?” she flicked her blades so they would glint in warning beneath the lazy stars.

“They sent one person out to challenge her? Seems a little under kill. Unless you’re just the bait.”

She advanced a step to show just how much of a danger she truly was. His mouth curved up in amusement when he rose from his crouch. “You’re not going to let me leave,” he said.

“I fear my boss will want to speak with anyone chasing her.”

“Knew better,” he sighed. “Alright, let’s do this before I have to check out of my hotel.”

Her first swipe cut only into nothing as he swiveled around to her back. She feigned left, sweeping her right foot back to catch his ankles.

“Woah, who taught you that?” he demanded, dancing over the attack.

While she paused to process his stunned remark his completely unstunned body cracked his bow against her forehead. She grabbed at his forearm, twisting until it clattered free of his grip. “Quiet, American.”

“Was it Hill?” he carried on. “You with S.H.I.E.L.D?”

Now she faltered and he did not take the opportunity to jam any of his color coordinated arrows into her temple.

“I wasn’t told of another operative here,” he babbled.

She slammed her shoulder into his chest and landed him flat on his ass where she could properly threaten him.

“I’m handling it.”

“This is about as under control as a mouse wrestling a snake.”

“You realize I’m pinning you right,” she demanded, dropping her knees to either side of his hips and pressing the flats of her blades against either of his wrists.

“That means nothing. I’m letting you. Just so you know, they asked me to do your job first. Also, the first and last fight I had with the Widow ended with my jaw dislocated. That was back when I cornered her in Milan. That makes me a mouse too.”

“Sadly, I think that just makes more dinner for the snake instead of an overwhelming force.”

He shrugged his eyebrows and glanced down pointedly. With a sigh she crawled to sit beside him as he grunted and rolled onto his stomach. Hands propped under his head as princess worthy blue eyes fluttered up at her. “Feel better? I think you missed bruising one of my ribs if you wanted a clean sweep.”

“I was going to ask why Fury didn’t tell me you were coming, but pretending you don’t exist does seem to be the only way to deal with your bullshit.”

“Supposed to be super top fucking secret but since you kind of outed me, not cool by the way, want to work together to charm a snake?”

“Is she a spider or a snake, man? Make up your damn mind.”

He rocked back, clutching his knees as a laugh barreled through him. “Oh, I like you. You don’t get a say now. We’re working together. Got something more stealthy than that yellow dress?”

***

She did not give one rat’s ass how he got into her apartment only that he could have possibly blown her cover.

“Brought flowers. Told the doorman I wanted to surprise you.”

“Was the surprise that I had a boyfriend?” she deadpanned as she shrugged off her bulky overcoat.

“Fiancé, when he asks but that’s not why I’m here. I need your help bringing her in. She vanished, shook all my tracking abilities. From what I hear, you’re pretty handy with the underworld system.”

“If you hear anything then I’m doing my job wrong. Why would you want her brought in anyway? Isn’t protocol to take out someone that rouge and dangerous?”  

He gave his knees a firm pat before pushing off them to match their heights. “I think she could prove an asset. I made this call. If it goes south, it’s on me. I know I’m asking you to compromise yourself but from what I can tell, the Widow is more involved in mafia’s inner working than the little crew you head. We find her, we get you your hot target too.”

“Ma’am is a pretty cold-hearted bitch from ghost chatter I’ve picked up.”

A tug of his grey hoodie secured it around his face for a safety net just in case anyone was spying in from the dirt smeared window to their right. Sonja was afforded no such luxury because her face was always bared to the world. She was buried way too deep in her world of shit to risk disguises. “Funny. We should work well together.”

“What’s your clearance?” She demanded.

The space of her apartment was deemed worthy of her retailer to host grand parties of up to a dozen people but she already felt stuffy with his confident presence entirely too close to her though he remained clear across the green wallpapered room with his feet twisting into her recently purchased, hand woven rug. It was probably worth three times his ratty boots with its intricate depiction of a fanfare of angels descending the heavens; this man was no angel.

“Alpha.”

“That doesn’t exist. Ten is the highest. I would know, I was the reason they created it.”

A tilt of his head told her he was only amused with her declaration and not in awe like all other inferiors she came across. “Welcome to Alpha then. I’ll fill you in on the plane.”

“I thought you didn’t know where she was.”

“I said she shook me. That doesn’t mean I don’t know her well enough to predict where she would go. Pack light, Budapest can be unforgiving this time of year.”

“Got a name?”

“Got a code, Hawkeye. Yours?”

“Zero.”

***

Being nearly run over three time while crossing a single street was a personal record for Sonja. Hawkeye was weighed down beneath a tan backpack filled with waters, old and clunky laptops, maps, granola bars (as if she could live off of those along), and a very distinct lack of weapons. Hawkeye had insisted on leaving them behind because airport security did not make exceptions for undercover agents and using a private jet would raise too many eyebrows. He had extracted her daggers from her and then held his hand out expectantly for the spares he could not have known she kept tucked neatly between her planner and wallet in her purse. She felt slightly less naked when he tossed his bow as well but still would rather not relying on their combined wit and charm since her partner appeared to be painfully lacking in both and making up for it with 100 proof sarcasm.

The wind buckled with the weight of the dry air it carried and tugged at the ends of Sonja’s hastily dyed and chopped off brunette locks. A sunhat kept the loose waves mashed against her face and even bigger sunglasses kept the prying sun at bay along with Hawkeye’s dancing glances back to make sure she was keeping up with his soundless steps.

“Come on,” he called even though the only closer she could have been to him would be to just piggyback it.

“Where is the safe house again?” she called over the roar of traffic.

He pause while a couple bustled between them, their heads bent in deep conversation then nodded politely to a minister though she doubted his devilish grin could even point out a church. “Next block. You wanna take over bag duty? I’ve got this crick in my neck I haven’t been able to shake since the plane.”

“That’s because you were stupid enough to sleep on the plane. On my shoulder no less. There’s a drool stain.”

The bag was tossed at her chest where her hands caught it without the aid of her gaze leaving his. “If your posture was more slumped we wouldn’t have this problem.”

“Excuse me for remaining vigilant.”

“Trust me, your people don’t know you’re missing yet. You’ve probably got until noon.” His eyes skipped between his blank wrist and the sun overhead to judge the time. “And once we get set up with internet, I will clear the airways of anything we might have left behind. Say, do you think you could give me some sort of reaction? The constant dead expression is a bit intimidating.”

“I can see why the Widow dislocated your jaw, you talk too much.”

She spotted the covert insignia for S.H.I.E.L.D. and pushed past him to key in the day’s number sequence for entrance. There was distinct absence of air conditioning when they entered the stale room sitting on the basement level of what appeared to be the back of a tourist ice cream shop. Hawkeye’s bulky jacket hit the floor then his paisley shirt was tossed over the back of a chair that used to be sand colored but appeared to have been recently stained with globs of red. His back hit the ground as he fiddled with the window unit and Sonja set to toeing along the perimeter of their quarters.

She came across the outlet first sitting adjacent to the Ethernet cable in the far right corner. After depositing the backpack for him to fiddle with later on, she peeled off her overcoat and tank top while she stuck her head into the bathroom to check on the water situation. What trickled from the sink was lukewarm at coldest and the pressure in the shower was laughable but at least the toilet flushed and air freshener hung from the doorknob. Its orange tree shape was swinging in the next moment as blessed air filled the cramped space.

Sonja emerged from the bathroom with her sports bra held away from her damp skin. “Guess you are useful.”

“Do me a favor and check the freezer.” He toed off his boots as he walked, adding more of his shit to the mess that made her fingers twitch to clean only slightly.

“Think they left us frozen dinners? Because you’re health nut bars are not going to cut it Hawk.”

“I’ll order pizza for us,” he called with a wink as he tapped away on the booting up monster of a laptop.

She grumbled her response and pried open the rusted closed freezer doors that concealed an inside that somehow felt hotter than the oven of a city. Two metal cases rested inside, one smaller and snugly sitting atop

“You know how to defuse bombs right?” she called, eyes tracing the otherwise empty white cubicle for any wire or trigger.

“That’s a no. They’re presents from Fury.”

She did not move to take his word for it but instead carefully shifted the boxes sideways while sliding her hand where they sat in case it was weight sensitive. When she felt only the sleek, flat bottom, she cautiously picked up the bottom box from either edge with just the tips of her fingers and walked it as far away from Hawkeye as she could manage.

“For Christ’s sake, Z. I special requested those. Look, the code is 1971 on the bigger one and all zeroes on the other because I’m brilliant. If those don’t work then you can pull out your bomb squad suit.” He strode over, task forgotten, and squatted beside her kneeling form. “I’m not sure whether I’m offended you don’t trust me or flattered you’re trying to keep my out of harm's way.”

She flinched when he keyed in the numbers and passed her the first case carelessly before punching in his own and flipping the lid up to reveal and brand-spanking-new carbon fiber and purple streaked bow.

“Stealthy.” Sonja pulled out her own sleek new dagger set. Four blades so sharp just the skimming of her fingers drew their first blood. “Gorgeous.”

“I’m going to assume both of those were for me. Look, since I slept earlier, you take this round and I’ll wake you when night says it's time to move.”

When she made no move to do as such, he groaned and jutted out his hand. “Clint,” he said.

“What,” she snapped.

“That’s my name. Clint Barton. 1971 is the year I was born.”

“Is this supposed to make me trust you?”

“What? You want my social security number? Passport? Birth certificate? To be honest, I have so many of those I probably couldn’t pinpoint the original for you.”

She glanced down to hide the smiled curving up her lips and tucked a single dagger into her calf high sock. After refolding the hem of her khaki shorts, she felt composed enough to meet his impatient blue eyes. His smile was quick and brilliant and caught her so off guard she returned it, still vulnerable from the previous moments.

“There she is. Listen miss bomb technician, that why they call you zero? Because of the countdown? Anyway, if you don’t sleep you risk both our asses tonight and I happen to have a fine ass. As a gentleman I have not checked yours out but I am willing to bet that it’s at least half as good as mine.”

“If I go to sleep will you shut up?”

He touched his scarred knuckles against her cheek and lugged his new toys over to the ancient ones where he set up shop for the next few hours. The flimsy mattress with springs poking out every few inches was tucked away between the window and the front door and Sonja barely got her coat down on it before her head crashed against her arm for her pillow and her eyes tapped out.

***

do svidaniya

Clint’s version of a gentle awakening was a kick to her foot as he passed by. Of course, her leg swept out in defense and he landed face first on the mattress beside her. Her groggy eyes blinked open at him and promptly scowled at the dumbfounded expressions holding even his usual smart ass comment at bay.

“We better be under attack,” she grumbled, failing when she attempted to remove her already asleep arm from beneath his heavy torso.

It took him an alarming number of seconds to compose an answer and she squinted through sleep crust to glare at him. His lips parted then apparently he discovered them too dry to speak because his tongue swept out and at this proximity, so close she would not even have to reach to strangle him, the smell of his lingering bubblegum toothpaste pulled her fully into reality.

The same abrupt force that stilled him froze her from shoving him off the bed. She blamed the dreams still singing to her but the more likely cause was his hand which had by the damnation of some god landed on the dip of her waist, not her ass or her breast, which would be far simpler to explain the skip in her chest.

His recovery was like watching a runner recover from a particularly nasty hurdle “Afraid your mafia is running a little behind schedule, so we have to go out and meet them. Gear up.”

He grunted when her knee sent him rolling to the floor next.

“What time is it, Hawk?”

“2100. Think you bruised my bladder.”

Her change of clothes were swept up and the bathroom door slammed between them and the meager form of water she coaxed from the sink drowned out the breath she heaved from her lungs. The woman staring back at her was faded and spotted where the mirror was tarnished from the years without maintenance.

There was scarcely enough time to worry about saving her own skin let alone playing guess that hormone with an archer she met two days ago. A quick coaching session of her emotions and the addition of a black beanie, matching under armor shirt, and a lightweight bullet proof vest she emerged, undoing the button to her shorts after regretfully noticing the absence of the last bit of her uniform.

Clint lounged in front of the air unit in identical gear, hands folded across his pulled in knees so that the muscles fought against the fabric of his shirt. “Didn’t know pants were optional,” he called as she neatly folded her shorts beside their supply bag and produced the cargo pants that would be hiding her weapons for the evening. “I did appreciate that silky number you wore for me on our first mission,” he continued.

A belt secured the bottoms and after shoving her feet into the boots she stomped one down dangerously close to his most vulnerable bits and offered a sweet smile down at him.

“Think the world has one too many eunuchs as it is. Next time you want me to tie your laces try a nice ‘Clinton, would you be a dear and tie my fucking shoes?’”

“Don’t I feel like Cinderella?”

Deft fingers made quick work of her laces and she was still admiring the knots she could not even begin worrying about how to undo when he stood and shouldered his bow.

“Let’s go catch a spider, Z.”

“Let’s take down the Samarian crew as well while we’re at it.”

The night was their friend, lending its heaviest cloud cover from the stars that dared shine from the moonless sky as they jogged through the still bustling city’s alleys.

They passed a meat truck making a last minute delivery and Clint offered the driver the nod of his head before prodding Sonja’s body to pick up the speed as if they were out for a jog instead of on the tracks of the most dangerous woman on any side of the world. She shifted out of his reach, none too content on having her mind replay its earlier clash with emotions for the rest of the mission.

The building where Clint’s found surveillance footage last picked up her image was tucked between the river and the last wall of structures. A fishing shack where Sonja doubted the lights from the horn riddled bridge now stretching over their heads could penetrate if a paid professional like herself were taking shelter there.

Rounding the last bend on the downward slanting street, Clint caught her belt loop and pulled her against the crumbling brick building that smelled like moss and moldy bread. She bent her knees to keep from slipping down the slope on the loose cobblestones beneath their feet and still managed to subtly maneuver further from him because his aftershave was making repeating the plan like a mantra in her head a thing for the birds.

“Hey, you with me, Zero? You remember what we talked about?”

“Not dying or the not fucking up part?”

“See, I knew you weren’t listening to me.”

“Relax, Hawk. I’ve been doing this since I was toddling.”

“Really? Diapers for me.”

She swatted his arm when his blue eyes danced with humor and closed her own to reel herself back in.

“Seriously, though, you up for this? Because I can go in alone…”

“Like, hell, Hawk. You’re long range, I distract. Stick to it.”

He held out his knuckles wrapped in fingerless gloves that would help his aim. With a laugh disguised as a groan, she knocked hers against his and watched as he began scaling the fire escape to the tops of the connected houses leading to the perfect vantage point.

It took the coaxing of the restless waves to remind her that she too did not have the fortune of sitting still and allowing her already spiraling life to make Budapest its final resting place.

The traps took precious time to pick out--a motion detector from the front porch, a snoring dog with paws running in the air when she slipped around to the side, an electrical ward along the single sealed window, and finally a good old fashioned set of cans on the roof she managed to climb on. Sonja crouched on the narrow ledge of the none-too-secure roofing tiles, still off balance from her misjudged landing.

The cans, a mix of unopened green peas for which Sonja could not blame her and chili whose lids appeared to have been ripped off by bare hands, were stacks to at least twice her height and made a perfect circle around what she had to assume was another vulnerable entrance. From her original distance of spotting from the bridge with Clint, it had appeared merely another level of the shack which she could scale but now was proving to be just a pain in her ass. She circled on feet quieter than death to the side where Clint could see her and held out her hands helplessly.

“No in?” He said over the ear piece.

A shake of her head was the answer she knew his strapped on night goggles could pick up.

“Alright, hold on.”

“Clint!” she hissed out as an idea struck.

“Hell of a time to break out the Christian name.”

“Knock out the electricity on window.”

“I know you remember how these sonic arrows work. Our communication will be cut off and I know you’ll miss this sweet watchful voice, Z.”

“Sonja,” she whispered, hunching down on her knees and throwing a finger down as if he did not know the window she intended.

“No, sonic.”

“That’s my name you moron. You’ve got to trust me. Just shoot it.”

There was that hesitation from him again, she was beginning to understand how his head worked. The job was simple, something he was trained beyond reason for, but she was a variable he had to carefully calculate into the equation.

“Alright. I’m right behind you.”

“I know. Just don’t miss.”

She heard the smile in his response, “I find your lack of faith disturbing.”

“Are we really resorting to quoting Star Wars right now?”

“Fire in the hole, Sonja.”

The arrow struck home with a muted thwack and Sonja slid down onto the windowsill throwing a thumbs up into the now unresponsive night as she jimmied her dagger around to unlock the window. A second blade joined her free hand when she ducked inside.

The first thing she noticed was the complete lack of interior decoration just like their own safe house and the second unfortunately was that the insides were also void of any inhabitants. Why so much security without anything to protect?

There was a knock at the front door and a moment later Sonja remembered the power surge would also have affected the motion detector. She wearily trudged over before sliding into a defensive position when she flung the door back.

She saw the Black Widow first and her arrogant smirk followed by the prompting of an arrow to her skull.

“Plan B then?” Sonja called as Clint jostled their target into the room.

“I thought we agreed this was the more likely alternative,” he said. “Making it plan A.”

Sonja shrugged and pulled the handcuffs from her calf pocket before moving to snap them securely around the Widow’s ankles. The woman grunted as a green glow filled the room and a shift of her hips proved her unable of even lifting her feet.

When Sonja straightened and reached to tuck a stray strand of hair back into her braid, the woman finally spoke. “Props.” she said.

“Thanks, we’ve been practicing that last bit for hours now. I was really worried about the execution.” Clint strolled around to the front of their captive, pockets bulging with confiscated weapons.

“Not you, Barton. I knew you were on my ass for months. Her I wasn’t even looking for.”

Sonja crossed her arms. “Case. Point. What’s your real name?”

“Natasha Romanov.”

The plain reply jarred both her and her partner equally and Clint took her arm, walking her as far back into the room as he could manage before inclining his forehead to make the whisper easier hear. “She’s going to try to play a game with us. Anyone around her is instantly compromised. I need you to stay with me.”

A sharp nod answered him and his grin danced with mischief as he swung back around to stroll over to Natasha with his bow forgotten and swinging in his left hand. Sonja did not even feign relaxation but rubbed her thumbs over the sweating hilts of her daggers.

“This about the Avengers initiative? I read all about it last week,” Natasha said.

“You know it is. That’s why you let us capture you.”

“Let?” Sonja’s arms slipped from their protective frame.

Clint pushed on, feigning deafness when Sonja knew good and well his hearing aids were in. “You’ve got a nasty ledger and S.H.I.E.L.D. only wants to help you rectify it through the Avengers.”

“Avengers?” Sonja questioned.

“I’m fine where I am,” Natasha retorted giving the glowing shackles weighing down her feet a good tug and only ending up on her knees which, despite the powerless position, she somehow conveyed was right where she wanted to be.

Clint sighed and dropped as well. “You’re fine painting every city you go to with blood for people you don’t even know? The Avengers are going to protect the world and we want you to be a part of that.”

“Cute speech. Did Sonja feed it to you? You’re not bright enough to try the emotion ploy.”

Sonja was too busy puzzling how she knew her name to reply. That’s when the first bullet cut through the air and buried itself clean in Clint’s left calf. When he keeled forward in pain, Natasha swiped the gun tucked into the back of his belt and began firing to cover all their asses.

Lurching forward, Sonja kicked the door shut and pried her pistol from her belt as her back smacked against the wall. “Clint!” she called when he finally lifted himself from the ground.

“You led the Samarians here!” Natasha shouted as bullets pelted the door and walls relentlessly.

“Whoops,” Clint managed.

“Damn right you’re gonna need my help with the Avengers if you can’t even manage to stay off their radar. I assume you at least had an escape route in place.”

Clint wiped his bloody hand off on his shirt and primed an arrow for release should their defenses be breached by the crew. “Boat out back.”

“You’re gonna have to uncuff me.” Natasha called, firing precisely through an already fragile portion of the wall to produce a thunk of dead weight only a few yard away.

The deadly accuracy made Clint hesitate as he added in yet another variable, but Sonja just tossed the keys without a word and returned to keeping her gun aimed at the door.

“Barton go first and we’ll cover you,” Natasha called as she dodged a bullet cutting entirely too close to her brain. When she sat up straight again a line of red across her forehead added to her already flaming hair and scarlet pjs look.

Clint’s gaze snapped to Sonja unwavering in its unspoken question: would she be ok alone?

“Get out of here, Hawkeye,” she added the last bit to help him depersonalize, to remind him this was just a mission and all lives involved were expendable. “I’m right behind you,” she continued when he did not move.

His mouth curved up as he heaved himself onto mostly steady feet and sprinted to the backdoor while Sonja and Natasha laid down cover fire until both were down a clip. “Together?” Natasha called.

“Hell, why not?”

Sonja leapt up first, followed shortly by the much faster woman. The night air was thick with humidity that only pooled more sweat on their skin. On the free side of the house, a man screamed as the now awakened guard dog set to work. The other side was occluded by the closely stacks buildings and on the water just ahead, Clint revved the waiting engine of the speed boat.

Natasha waded into the water and slung her leg over the side, hauling herself on board in one fluid motion. Sonja had time to see her eyes go wide before she heard the other female voice cut through the night, “Chief!”

A sword was leveled at her instead of a gun and Sonja had the absolute pleasure of facing her old boss when she turned around. “Ma’am,” she replied without a trace of emotion.

She heard the cock of Natasha’s gun along with the wiry draw of Clint’s bow and briefly wondered if he could even keep his hands steady at the moment due to the blood loss.

“Or is it Agent Zero now?”

“Whatever you prefer, Ma’am.”

“Shall we settle this like the duals of old or has all your honor gone through the window with the american?”

Sonja heard Natasha grumble about being ignored as she tucked her gun into her pocket and produced a dagger. The other hand reached for her back pocket slower all the while keeping her opponent's gaze fixed on her words. Ma’am’s bulky henchmen fanned out behind her patiently waiting to be allowed to have some fun with the traitor and spy.

“What can I say? He brought presents.”

She waited the appropriate ten seconds for the meaning behind her words to smash into Clint before she pulled the pin. The homemade grenade sailed from her hand while her body was flung in the other direction. Her side slammed into the boat and Natasha just managed to get a drip on her belt before Clint slammed the throttle into its highest gear. He was ducked on the floor by the steering console for safety just as Natasha had thrown herself beneath the low walls at Clint’s advisement.

“When did you even have time to make that?” he demanded, driving blindly down the wide river.

“You’re the one who apparently knows everything,” she snapped.

“Christ, I’m sorry, alright. You weren’t cleared to know.” He paused then turned to her while Natasha huffed and took over driving. “Zero failed missions?”

“Guess again.”

“Zero like you were the original?”

“You’re not cleared, asshole.”

***

Natasha made airports her bitch with the new fresh faced S.H.I.E.L.D recruits scurrying behind her toting her luggage and a flight attendant rushing to retrieve her properly iced water. She shot Sonja a lazy wink but the other woman was too busy scowling away any potential disturbances to do anything other than reshoulder her backpack.

Clint took the lead, his reputation sending the herd of freshmen scattering in his wake of glory. Sonja quickened her steps, determined to talk to him now that the paramedics aboard their evac copter were no longer shooting him full of drugs.

“You’re not careless,” she said once she matched long legs to his abrupt stride.

“Think Nat will make them carry her?” he mused, wincing when he stopped focusing on his uneven gait.

Sonja caught under his arm and he glanced over through sleep deprived blue eyes and the tangles his cropped hair had somehow managed to tie itself into. “You gonna make me carry you?” she countered.

“I’ve got it.”

The usual airport crowd of proud mothers, blubbering fathers, and excitable kids ready to go off and make lives for themselves meandered past them. Sonja wondered what life awaited her back at S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters.

“I was born there, you know. S.H.I.E.L.D that is. Born and raised. I don’t exist to our government because S.H.I.E.L.D doesn’t. I’m nothing, I’m just zero.”

“I let the Samarians follow us,” he admitted in the breath after she finished her confession.

“I know. You’re not careless. You needed a common enemy for us to get Romanov on our side.”

“I was going to apologize for ruining your original mission, but I think all of earth takes precedence. We wouldn’t have made it out of there if not for you.”

“Taking out Ma’am was my mission Clint. Yesterday was the first time I saw her in person. I spent years working my way up through the ranks only to figure out I would only ever be important to her when I betrayed her.”

“You’re welcome, then.” He leaned in when he sang it and she gave his face a shove away as they exited the building through sliding glass doors and reached a junction in the sidewalk where she would climb into the car that would carry her home and he would get in his rental and drive out to his next mission.

“How long has it been since you’ve been stateside?”

“Just four years. I haven’t been home since I was a teenager, though when I completed my training.”

“You don’t have to face those bastards, you know. I’ve got something involving lightning and a hammer waiting for me. Could use some backup I trust.”

“Sounds alpha level. I’ll leave you to it.”

He nodded, shifting his weight off his bad leg and closing the humming space between their bodies just enough for her to notice it was deliberate. Her hand shifted under the strap of her bag while she toed at some bits of loose gravel beneath her sneakers.

“Guess this is goodbye, then. Keep an eye on Nat for me, will you? She respects you.”

“Only because she was comparing me to you.”

His mouth pulled up in a smile she had grown all too accustomed to seeing regularly and had truthfully taken for granted now that he was leaving. The civil term of closer inspection crossed her mind as she leaned in further still followed by the embarrassing real word she had been searching for--a kiss.

She could not even recall the last time she had kissed someone without an ulterior motive. She expected him to politely return it or to laugh and tell her to collect herself, not for him to bite her lip and slide his lips between hers like the whole damn earth might spin off course if he did not. His hands were soft in her hair and his hand slid down tracing over her cheek so that his fingers replaced his lips when he reluctantly pulled away.

“Put a pin in that, Sonja?”

“You mean like when I pinned you? Or what I pulled the pin on the grenade?”

“No explosions and no more beating me up.” He punctuated his sentence with a rushed kiss to her forehead. “Unless we can twist those into kinky things.”

“Oh, it’s possible,” Natasha called as she strolled past and climbed into the waiting black SUV.

Sonja gave his chest a push and took two controlled steps backwards simply because if she didn’t there was no guarantee either of them would be setting out on their respective journeys today.

“Goodbye,” Sonja said.

With a wink that sent her spiraling higher than the pyres of Moscow’s finest cathedrals Clint Barton was gone.

[theunholygrails]

Oh my god,so,I just read The Analyst,and I just died.It's so great.I was just ahdsfklk right here.And,it's 4am,but your blog and writing is too good.Like,damn,that's the good stuff..I mean,I don't usually read any Clint fics at all.But,the ending?That was genius.And,I've been reading other Marvel fics,cause yea,and I just🤯.They're so great!Everything is so in character!And your writing is so detailed.Like,you are my new favourite person.All the respect to you.Bye!PS:I don't want to sound creepy

Thank you so much for the support. We always love having new fans. Much love!

[theunholygrails]

Touch Me

Steve doesn’t like the way you handled a mission. You dare him to do something about it.

Jealous!Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: nsfw, Steve’s “captain” kink

Masterlist

How socialites wore heels every night of the week was a mystery to you. You were trained to work through all sorts of pain but you still couldn’t wait to get those damned stilettos off at the end of this mission. Thankfully the Quinjet was waiting just outside of the venue and Steve offered his arm to help you up the last step.

But he pulled away as soon as you were inside.

You thought nothing of it and let the force of takeoff push you into the seat next to Sam. Just as you tossed the godforsaken shoes to the side, Tony’s voice came crackling in over the comms.

“Cap, Wilson, Y\L\N, great job. I would’ve been there myself, but --”

“We know, Tony,” Sam quipped, “these particular arms dealers want you dead on sight.”

“And the plan worked,” you piped up, crossing your legs freely under your billowing skirt. “They were too busy looking for you to notice me luring the boss away.”

Steve scoffed, finally contributing to the conversation, but didn’t offer anything else. He was equally silent the rest of the ride back and stalked off the Quinjet as soon as it landed at the compound. You figured he would tell you what was pissing him off if he wanted and would otherwise deal with it himself.

You didn’t know how right you were.

With the mountains of jewelry you’d been wearing now stacked on your dresser, you were about to unzip your gown when you heard someone behind you. You whirled to find Steve looming in your doorway, arms crossed ironclad over his chest.

This wasn’t a new occurrence. He’d silently shown up at your room after a few other missions when you both needed a good fuck to forget it all. And talking about it would ruin the fun, so you never did. But the anger now blazing in his eyes signaled a different reason for this visit.

“You screwed up tonight.”

“I thought I was right on track,” you countered evenly. “Got the target alone and everything.”

Changing out of his mission suit didn’t make Steve radiate any less self-righteousness, especially when he pulled himself to his full height. “Taking out your earpiece and going radio silent were not part of the plan.”

“C’mon, Steve, sometimes plans have to change. The guy would’ve noticed the earpiece and I knew what I was doing.”

“It was dangerous.”

“Occupational hazard.”

“Hey! This is serious.” He took a step forward to get in your face. “I can’t have people going off-book without backup.”

You turned on your heel with a scoff. How dare he storm in to reprimand you, even if he was respectful enough to do it out of earshot of other agents. When you reached the other side of the room, you spun to face him again.

“I thought you counted as my backup. Besides, you’ve improvised before, what’s the sudden...” You trailed off as the truth smacked you. “This isn’t about the earpiece and it’s definitely not about my judgement. You’re jealous. You didn’t like seeing us flirt. You’re pissed that he got his hands on me.”

Steve clenched his jaw but his eyes gave him away.

You strode back over to call his bluff up close and personal. “That’s all this is, jealousy. Why don’t you put your hands on me, Steve? Make sure my tits and ass don’t forget how you feel.”

A haughty grin lit up your face when he wouldn’t look at you, giving you all the more reason to challenge him. “Touch me, captain.”

He pursed his lips tighter, not breathing a word.

“Okay, that’s fine. But don’t --”

“Wait.” His hand caught your wrist to keep you from walking past him, though his grip was loose. A tense sigh escaped. “Say it again.”

This time you ghosted the words an inch from his lips. “Touch me, captain.”

His hands flew to your hips in an instant, crushing you to him as he seared his mouth to yours. Your knees would’ve given out if it weren’t for his hold and you greedily smiled into the kiss, proud that your goading had worked. He didn’t forget your command either and gripped your ass hard enough to make you gasp.

You pulled away and Steve was confused until you closed the door, leaning back against it with an alluring smirk. He stepped toward you but before he could dive in again, you braced a hand on his chest.

“These are my favorite,” you said, balancing to slip off your underwear, “I don’t want you ripping them, too.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Sometimes I still don’t know my own strength.”

“Whatever, super-soldier.”

You balled up the front of his shirt and dragged him back in, kissing him fervently and relishing the taste of his tongue. Steve quickly knocked your hand away so he could wrap an arm around and press you flush to his chest. His heartbeat thrummed against your own and matched your racing pulse.

His hands were everywhere, squeezing at your back and ass and thighs, anything he could grip while his lips ravished you. Heaven was nothing compared to the bliss Steve could bring you any given day. But the fabric of your dress was becoming too much of a barrier and you mumbled that it needed to come off.

He understood and unzipped it for you in one smooth motion, pushing it off your shoulders with the little patience he could muster. “This thing wasn’t helpful tonight, either.”

“Nat helped me pick it out. It was a hit.”

“I bet it was.” His eyes narrowed dangerously.

Without warning he pulled you with him to fall backward on the bed before flipping over on top. His hard-on strained through his sweatpants, rutting into your thigh as he slid a hand up to your breast. Goosebumps rippled in the wake of his touch and drew a pleasant sigh from your lips that he captured in another kiss.

But this wasn’t the time for soft touches and sweet sighs. You cupped Steve’s jaw, kissing him back harder to grab his attention. Your legs parted effortlessly and he settled between them, the weight of his hips pressing on your clit just so.

“Steve…”

“Is that what you call your mission leader?” he taunted, letting more of his weight sink into you.

“Captain,” came your desperate whisper. “I need to feel you, Captain.”

That was all he needed. His pants came off in a frenzy and then he was on top of you again, hoisting your leg around his back. He buried himself in you with a grunt and you clawed at his shoulders to cling to your sanity. The tension in your core wound tighter with each rock of your hips and Steve’s lips and teeth were on your neck, sucking and scraping in a delicious contrast.

You nearly whined when he left your neck and lifted up on his forearms, moaning in time with his deep thrusts. You opened your eyes in time to see his jaw drop in pleasure and that glorious sight alone was enough to send you over the edge. The climax electrified you and Steve’s followed, making him gasp and clasp his hand over yours.

It was still clasped tightly when he rolled to the side and he squeezed your hand once more before letting go. The genuine smile that rose to your lips surprised you, but you knew better than to break the cardinal rule of friends with benefits.

“Remind me to tell Fury to put us on more covert missions together,” you mused.

“I think that was more fun for you than me.”

You watched him stand to find his pants, admiring his ass for a moment before flicking your gaze back up. He offered his hand and you took it, pulling yourself up and slipping on the pajamas you’d set out before the night got much more interesting.

“So the ‘captain’ thing, hm? That’s new.”

“Yeah, well.” Steve waved it off with a grin. “Everybody’s got something.”

“Have you...had other people use it before?” You wish you’d never spoken as soon as the words left your mouth.

He cocked an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the turn of events. “Who’s jealous now?”

“And this is where I bid you goodnight.”

Both of you laughed, setting each other back at ease. You kept your word and strolled over to open the door and playfully shooed him out. But Steve turned back around and leaned on the doorframe, shoving his hands in his pockets while he worked up the courage to say whatever it was.

“You know how we never talk about this?”

“This?” You couldn’t risk a misunderstanding now.

“This, us.” He hung his head and laughed at himself before looking back up at you through those lashes. “What if we did?”

[theunholygrails]

Workout

You’re a secretary of sorts who still finds time to squeeze in some exercise with the Falcon himself.

Sam Wilson x reader

Warnings: nsfw

Masterlist

The elevator slid shut and granted you a bit of solitude, even quieter than your empty office at that time of night. You blew out a deep breath, releasing a week’s worth of stress from helping save the world from behind a desk and preparing for some stress-relieving cardio. The Avengers compound gym was open to all employees, not just the superheroes.

You were bent over tightening your shoelaces when the elevator dinged at the next floor down and whoever it was paused in the doorway. You loved how your ass looked in your leggings and they were probably getting an eyeful of it.

“Desk girl? That you?”

You knew that voice and that nickname and straightened with a smile. “In the flesh, bird-brain. Anything I can do for you?”

“Tell me what you’re still doing here and in…this.” Sam Wilson casually waved a hand at your outfit as he made his way next to you.

“C’mon now, you’ve never seen workout clothes before? What does Nat wear when you spar?”

His arms crossed, making the muscles strain against his sleeves. “I’m used to all that, but you’re usually Agent-No-Nonsense in blazers and whatnot. Not that this is a bad look for ya,” he added with a smirk.

“Well, thanks and no thanks, pencil skirts don’t cut it for every second of the day.” You ghosted a wink and led the way out of the elevator.

But as soon as you set down your gym bag, you whirled around with a hip cocked out. “What about you, Sam, what are you still doing here? Don’t you have a new bar to show Cap or a woman to woo? You’re usually a hard man to find on Friday nights.”

“And who says those things aren’t still gonna happen? The night is young.” After a deliberate raise of your eyebrows, he continued, “Alright, you got me. I had some leads to follow up with and now I’ve gotta get my workout in.”

You weren’t unhappy with the company.

Only the dumbbell section of the gym was disorganized and that was probably accounted for by Clint not giving a shit. As you and Sam tidied up, you let your gaze sweep over him more than once. Maybe he didn’t have any special serum coursing through his veins but he still had a delicious swagger that you drank in discreetly.

Or so you thought. He swiveled and caught your eyes knowingly.

“Can I help you? You need a spotter for something?”

If he was gonna ignore the tension, then so were you. “If you’d like to spot me running then be my guest. I won’t be here long anyway, usually cut it short on Fridays.”

He shrugged, then turned to stretching his arms. “You got a boyfriend waiting up on you?”

Oh, this was too good. His nonchalance would’ve slipped past anyone else but you could tell he was eager for the answer. The two of you had been flirting long enough that you’d also wondered if he had someone at home and now seemed like a good time to put everything on the table. Plus, you were going through a dry spell and quenching it with Sam Wilson was the best-case scenario.

With the fate of the night sealed in your mind, you pulled a long stretch through your hamstrings, offering another great profile of your ass. “No, nobody’s at home.”

“Me neither,” Sam offered willingly.

“It’s hard to keep someone around for more than one night with the whole Avengers gig, am I right?”

“You got that right.” He paused, letting the charming gap in his teeth break through a grin. “Never heard you talk like that, and I’ve heard you say a lotta shit under your breath.”

It was your turn to shrug. “We’re friends, Sam, I figured I could be honest.”

“So be honest with me again, you ever keep any of the superheroes around for a night?”

You laughed but sobered up when it was clear he wasn’t joking. “No, I stick to normal ones.”

“I’m pretty normal.” Sam’s eyes searched yours for a reaction.

You hadn’t even started your warmup but your chest was heated and you blamed something in the weekend air for making this so easy. “That’s true. I mean, we’re both here for a workout, so…”

You faded out and continued stretching, leaving Sam with a curious look on his face. Gesturing widely, he said, “Just so I’m not making any assumptions –”

“Yeah, Sam, I’m throwing it out there if you wanna fuck.” You perched invitingly on a nearby table.

He peeled off his sweatshirt as he crossed the distance between you and suddenly he was pushed between your legs, his nose resting next to yours and saying breathily, “I think I’ll take you up on that one, baby.”

Your hands roamed for a few moments, testing the waters before letting the tsunami wave crash. Locking your fingers behind his neck, you crushed him impossibly close, meeting his open mouth with your own. There was a minty spice on his tongue that you immediately craved more of and his chest rumbled with a laugh as you dipped your own eager tongue around his.

“Alright, I get it,” he let his lips graze to your jaw and down your neck, “you’ve been gunning for me for awhile.”

You stifled the impatient moan in your throat. “Look who’s talking. So why are you dragging it out?”

“That’s how I roll.”

The click of the air conditioner turning on across the gym came in time with the click of your tongue as you chided his stationary hands. You guided them up your waist with a bit of resistance as he insisted on taking it slow and then his caressing kickstarted pressure between your legs, right where his bulge sat dangerously in front of your core.

Without warning Sam laid you back on the table, his biceps coming to rest on either side of your head, and you moaned at the friction his strong body was now providing. Your lips found his neck this time, kissing and sucking and tugging and he uttered a few beautiful sighs here and there.

“New favorite workout,” he muttered as he reached to pull off his t-shirt.

“Tell me about it.”

You tore at your own shirt, too, and then couldn’t pull Sam back onto you fast enough. Each feverish kiss was more desperate than the last and you only broke away to gasp when he squeezed through your thick sports bra. You arched into his touch, aching for more and smiling into another kiss when you received it. Together you rid yourselves of the last pesky pieces of clothes.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed when you were bared to him, raising a heat in your chest and between your legs.

You moaned your thanks against his mouth but it came out strangled as the cool metal of the table made contact with your skin.

“Sorry about that. Let’s move.” Before you had a chance to comply, Sam had swept you to a more cushioned table nearby and you perched once again with him between your legs.

You draped your arms over his muscled shoulders and drawled, “You’re pretty handsome yourself, by the way.”

“Who knew normal people could be so hot?”

He captured your laugh in a kiss and his arms now willingly curved around your back to pull you flush against his chest. You wanted to stay in this moment forever, with Sam lighting up every inch of your skin, but he dialed it up another notch by slipping a hand down to toy with your clit.

Your hips jutted into his touch and he smiled against your mouth, proud that he was the one making your body react like this. Once your slick coated his fingers, he adjusted to line himself up.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, Sam. Please,” you gasped through the desperation of wanting him inside you.

Loud moans filled the air with his first thrust into you. He filled you perfectly, like everything you’d dreamed of, and your grip on his shoulders only tightened with each fervent thrust. His forehead was rested to yours and he kissed you haphazardly while his arms anchored you against him.

“I’m right here, baby. You feel so good.”

He was expertly working you over and you could only pant in response. The rhythm of his hips had that delicious tension building in your lower belly and you were losing focus on anything but Sam and his body intertwined with yours. You kissed him hard, drawing a deep chuckle from his throat.

“You gonna come for me?”

Your witty comeback faltered on your tongue as the climax took you unexpectedly, sending blinding pleasure to your every nerve. Sam’s face fell to the crook of your neck as he came right after, hips stuttering through the finish. Everything slowed down and eventually you pulled back to look at each other, matching smirks gracing your lips.

“Not bad for a desk girl.”

“Not bad for a bird-brain.”

“A bird-brained gentleman,” he countered. To prove his point, he helped you off the table and gathered your strewn clothes first before finding his own.

After checking each other out for months on end, sneaking glances while you redressed felt natural. Your skin was still warm from his touch and to make sure it stayed that way, you grabbed the front of his shirt and stole another kiss as soon as he was close enough.

Sam cleared his throat when you finally pulled away but couldn’t hide his smile. “Any chance you’d wanna make this last more than one night?”

“Great minds think alike.”

He was about to kiss you again when the elevator opened and Clint strolled in. He glanced around, clocking your closeness to Sam without a second thought, and headed back to the weights section.

“Thanks for racking these for me, guys. I was gonna clean ‘em up sooner or later.”

“Speaking of cleanup,” Sam confessed as he shouldered his gym bag, “you might wanna wait until this place is wiped down tomorrow before you touch anything.”

His words didn’t register until you and Sam were safely on the elevator. Just as the doors were closing, Clint’s disgusted cry rang out.

“Oh come on!”

[theunholygrails]

I’m Your Man

Summary: Sexy couple spat

Warnings: Cursing

Masterlist

“What do you want from me?” Tony scrambles after you and you pry yourself away from his touch.

“I want to leave!”

“Baby, I swear I can do better. I will do anything you say.”

This time when he seizes your wrist to stop your flight, his knees hit the ground. “Stop it!” you hiss. You are tired of his bullshit and lies and scams. You are tired of the game, of it all.

He hits you with a charming laugh, still not quite taking your furious flight seriously, and it takes every moral sense within you not to hit back with a closed fist. “Babe, I’m your man. You want a boyfriend? A fuckbuddy? A fiancé? You name it and I will do it. That’s how crazy I am about you.”

There was slight mania in his voice and you took a firm grasp of your opposite emotional stance.” No, Stark, you’re just crazy. Suddenly those horrible things you yelled don’t mean anything because I’m leaving you?”

“Angel, you know I’m just frustrated at work right now. How could you ever be nagging or overbearing or cold? Look at this face.” He reaches up to stroke your cheek and you gnash your teeth into your lip to hold the submitting smile at bay.

“You want me to grovel?” He gets to his hands and knees. This is a sight in his driveway with him in only his silk red boxers and slippers. Again the urge to give in to his charisma is dizzying. But you already heard his words and the ones spoken now will not erase them.

He crawls towards you making the most pathetic noises and when he reachsd your feet, he wraps his arms around them and raises a sincere face to you where only the smallest hint of mischief remains.

“Come on darling, you know you love me. I can do better.”

“You better,” you snap.

His face shatters with a smile and you sigh, sinking to the concrete with him. Now, your arms are tangled with his, tangling into his mess of hair and your mess of a man.

“Baby, please.”

“I just want you, Tony, can you do that?”

“Yes. Are you sure you don’t want to slap me?”

“Probably later.”

The kiss that overtakes is animalistic and uncoordinated. Your knees scrape against the rough ground as he draws you closer against his bare chest, slightly damp from the humid night air. You two are too concerned with devouring each other to notice the car pulling into the driveway. A horn blares and you feel Tony release only one finger from your body, making his point very clear while his tongue marvels away at your mouth.

“Not cool, Tony. We had a deal. This paperwork has to be done tonight,” Rhodey’s familiar voice calls.

Tony groans, rolling his head to finally look at his friend. “But I wanted to do something else tonight.” His hand gives your ass a firm squeeze.

“Right. I’ll just tell the senator rain check. No big deal.” Rhodey throws his arms up and gets back into his car.

“What do you say, sweet thing?” Tony turns to you. “Want to help me procrastinate?”

“Please.” You saunter off into the house with him following at your heels as surely as if you had been dragging him by a leash.

[theunholygrails]

Y’all seem to be enjoying this one a lot recently, so we are going to reblog. Hopefully some new content will be coming your way soon. Keep your eyes out!

Infatuated

Summary: When a friend turns up after a breakup for comfort, will Steve finally take the opportunity to admit his feelings? 

Warnings: Unprotected sex. 

Masterlist

If there was one thing Steve Rogers could accomplish where women were involved, it was being chivalrous to the ever painful T; where you were involved, though, it was an entirely selfish endeavor. If he held a door, it was only to watch your ass as you walked past. If he offered to help you out of one of Tony’s particularly low sitting cars, it was purely to feel the silk of your skin and the velvet of your “thank you” wash over him for however brief the moment. And worst? When he helped you into your coat tonight. God, he took two showers and he still could not shake the scent from your hair as it brushed his nose.

Now he was sprawled out on the couch in the living room area of the Avengers compound with the TV on as a haphazard distraction. A light from Wanda’s room lit up the hallway on the second story and easy melodies from her guitar slowly, slowly unwound the tangled strings of his heart. If he listened hard enough, he was sure to pick out Sam’s snores and Tony and Rhodes bickering from the workshop below his feet.

His phone buzzed on the coffee table and he jumped at the distraction. An audible groan fled his lips when he saw your name lighting it up.

‘You up?’ It said.

Keep reading

[theunholygrails]

so endgame was an Event and has provided some lovely inspiration

[theunholygrails]

New “Avengers: Endgame” character posters by Boss Logic