I had the pleasure to be @typosandteabags partner for the Most Wanted Fic Exchange! Hope you enjoy your present, it was a delight to write for you!
I like my women how I like my coffee
[AO3] {Huntingbird, rated G, ~2.8K}
Summary: After a sleepless night caused by a loud neighbor, Hunter seeks solace in the coffee shop across from his apartment. What he wasn't expecting to find was a nemesis of sorts in the form of a really tall, really gorgeous blonde.
Sneak-peak:
He drops by two days after that, and Jemma waves at him from the counter and sneaks him a butter biscuit on the house with a wink. Okay, this place is not debunking his favorite pub anytime soon, but he could get used to it; apparently, there is something beneficial about going out when there is still sunlight and whatnot? He would have never guessed.
He just finished a manuscript and is working up the energy to get up and go to the counter and ask for a herbal tea- it is after six after all, and he will not get any sleep if he gets any more caffeine, and what is wrong with you Lancelot???- when she finally comes in. Now that he is not cranky, sleep-deprived and shocked, he dedicates ten seconds to watching her and confirming that their first encounter wasn’t all a figment of his exhausted imagination; she really is that tall, that gorgeous,... and she really is coming his way with a smirk on her face and a cup on her hands.
“God damn it!” Bobbi hisses as the ‘assemble’ ringtone goes off.
“Third time, really? Y’know, maybe it’s a sign,” her date says as he pushes off her couch, “that we’re not meant to be anything more.” She stares up at him with a cold smile before getting to her feet and heading toward the door, throwing it open as soon as she can.
“Fine. We’re done. Happy?” He scoffs as he picks his jacket up off the back of her couch and walks out of her apartment. He turns around to say one last thing but she slams the door in his face before he can even open his mouth. “Douchebag,” she mutters, then sighs as she heads toward her closet.
It doesn’t take long for her to slip into her suit and double check her pockets and staves. She heads out the door in a matter of minutes, stealing the cab from her ex-fling with a smug wave.
“Drive,” she orders and the driver turns his head.
I'm sorry I'm too trash to write it myself but is there any way you could write a huntingbird songfic to the song "Better Man" by Little Big Town? You're an amazing writer and you have such a way with feels!
AN ~ Thank you so much! Sorry this isn’t quite as long as I wanted but I hope it encapsulates the mood.
Set pre-canon. Rated T. Angst with a hopeful ending.
Read on AO3 (~1000wd).
-
Bobbi sighed, and let herself slump in the diner booth. Her hand grasped half-heartedly at the cup of hot, slightly stale coffee that had already been brought to her and damn it, it reminded her of Hunter’s scruff in the morning. Back at the beginning, she’d woken up to stubbled kisses and his lean body, eager against hers. These days more often than not she was up earlier than him, out for a run, and came back to arguments and half-cocked plans and… sometimes breakfast. Eggs, or fruit. Sometimes he’d pelt an apple at her. She always caught it. Then she’d find him waiting in the kitchen for her, as if it was normal, as if they could have made some sort of home there.
She shook her head. Theirs was not a life of homemaking. They’d both given that up; her when she’d joined Ops, and him far earlier. At a time he didn’t like to talk about, in a history he liked to keep to himself. For all he jabbed at her about her secrets, he had more than a few of his own. Didn’t he know that she only wanted to understand?
Not that she knew what to do with that. She could barely understand herself, acknowledge her own trauma. But still, maybe she could have helped, if he’d let her.
-
Hunter held the ring up before his eyes, looking it through it like it was just a toy; just a piece of glass. He should have seen this coming, Bobbi running off like that. How many times had it happened before? Her empty space on the bed beside him didn’t even feel that empty anymore. He was used to it. Used to the heart-ache. Used to the angry tears that stung his face. How could she be such a coward? A striking warrior, so afraid of her own heart. Afraid of commitment to anything other than The Cause. Afraid of him.
He couldn’t kid himself that she was afraid of how much she loved him. It certainly didn’t feel that way when it was her who kept dropping his heart like a hot coal. Maybe, he thought, she was afraid of settling. Afraid of the way their love was hot and torrid turned stale and sour and always curdling again with stubbornness and pride. They never worked for it, just expected it to happen, and so they kept falling into the same pattern. Maybe she was right to break it off. But what could have happened if they’d reached for it instead? If they’d opened up their hearts and communicated and worked together? Hunter tried to imagine it: sitting on those ratty mismatched couches, looking into each other’s eyes, and saying:
“When you kill people for money, it makes me feel like you have no morals.”
“When you kill people for the government, it makes me feel like you’re a heartless spineless bitch.”
He snorted.
Right.
Try coming back from that.
-
“Can I get you something, darl?” the waitress asked. Bobbi looked up, chagrined as she realised how obvious her forlorn state had become. Drinking in a diner in the middle of the night, twirling her wedding ring around on the table.
“A better husband?” she joked.
“Bad night or breakup?” the waitress asked. Bobbi shrugged.
“Both, I guess.”
“Want a phone?”
“Oh. No. Just um – pancakes please.”
“Okay, sweetheart. Look after yourself.”
Bobbi nodded. She almost laughed, at all this woman did not know, but she felt chilled. Of course, she could physically protect herself, but in her heart she was lost. Rationally, she knew, Hunter wasn’t good for her. But he was a good man. A good soldier. With a good heart. And he understood her, sometimes. Just not enough of the time.
She remembered when she’d busted her ribs on a mission once, and Hunter had catered to her every whim without complaint. Why couldn’t they have held onto some of that sweetness? Why did he have to let their hard world turn him harsh too? Couldn’t they both have been softer?
-
Hunter couldn’t quite bring himself to toss the ring across the room. He’d lose it forever in this pigsty anyway and somewhere deep inside he wasn’t quite ready for that. What he was ready for was breakfast, except that it was just barely past dark o’clock in the morning and there was nothing in the house.
“Beer it is,” he whispered to himself, and cracked one open. Bobbi would have hated that.
But she would have loved the sunrise coming in through the window just now, catching his attention as he stood. Red-orange like the inside of a grapefruit, it dazed him. He remembered her. The parts of her he preferred to remember, like her shampoo smell and her at times endearing insecurity and the patterns on her naked skin and the languages rolling off her tongue and the way she’d grinned at him when he’d eaten his first horseradish. Disgusting stuff, but he did love her laugh. Why couldn’t they have held onto some of that softness? Why had she let their cruel world turn her cold?
Then again, he supposed as he watched the sun, maybe they both could have been warmer.
-
Regrets, of course, come by their very nature when it is too late to change them. Whatever they wished they might have been was in the past. Several times over, in fact. Yet each time, they did it, and each time, they regretted, and the cycle went on. There was something about holding those gold bands between their fingers though, and tasting the tang of that metal as the memory of the sand between their toes on their wedding day turned sour, that made them turn their thoughts in on themselves. Turn their regrets into promises, into inspiration.
Hunter ate healthier. Drank less. Exercised. Found a crowd he trusted who made decisions he could live with.
Bobbi picked up therapy. Learnt about her feelings. Saw the fall of Shield for what it was and started critically thinking about the path her life had been taking her down for so long.
One day, unbeknownst to them, their paths would cross again and the little voice in their hearts would resume its whispering that maybe this time, they’d be better.
Marriage Material ♥ A Huntingbird AU
Part of the @thehuntingbirdnetwork‘s Secret Valentine Exchange!
For @memorizingthedigitsofpi who prompted me with: Family board game night
Summary: The path to marriage is a complex one, filled with vast Commitments that prove to your significant other that you are indeed “The Marrying Type.” Do too many of these Commitments and you may quickly find yourself…Marriage Material!
(Aka, SHIELD Security is hosting its annual Valentine’s Day office party and Lance Hunter is stuck playing a silly game with certain people he’d rather never see again).
Title: I liked you always (and now I like you even more)
[AO3]
Square Filled: Impregnation
Ship: Bobbi Morse/Lance Hunter
Rating: T
Tags: fluff and angst, baby discussion, implied miscarriage.
Summary: The different stages of Hunter and Bobbi discussing having a baby.
Word Count: 1598w
Created for @mcukinkbingo
Sneak-Peak:
The first time they try it, they are young and reckless.
("Don't try to tone it down, we were plain stupid."
"You take the romanticism out of everything, Barbara."
"You think recklessness is romantic? Why did I marry you again?"
"Dunno, but you did it twice. And the first time you trip with a rock, it’s the rock’s fault. The second time you trip with the same rock, it is your fault.")
Here are my card and my masterpost. I’m accepting prompts for it and also for my MCU Bingo Card.
I was wondering if you could write a Bobbi/Hunter fic where they're both queer and struggling with what being 'straight-passing' means for them/their relationship?
Thank you for this prompt, anon, it sure was an interesting challenge! Hope you enjoy it.
Hunter comforts Bobbi after some people misgender them.
Huntingbird, ft. nb!Bobbi and pansexual!Hunter. Rated G. ~1K. Mentions of misgendering and cisheteronormativity, and subsequent discomfort and mild dysphoria.
Hunter knows something is wrong the moment she gets through the door and doesn’t even say hello, but instead heads straight (lol) to their bedroom, takes off her contacts and her make out, puts her hair up in a messy bun, and ditches the pencil skirt and silk blouse for the biggest, most threadbare Star Wars t-shirt she owns, and a pair of sweatpants that belonged to him and are too short on her ankles, but pretty good at hiding her hips.
curiouscat anon: bobbi saying ily for the first time during recovery
this is part of a larger idea that i’ve had and i wanna write it at some point but i found this in my notes and i can’t not share it.
“…talked to my mum the other day. mentioned something about maybe stopping in soon. it’s been too long.” bobbi gently squeezes the fingers resting in her palm, eliciting a surprised squawk from the man sitting next to her bed. “bobbi?”
“yeah,” she croaks, blinking into the blinding light. “how long was i out this time?”
“only a few hours,” lance replies, shifting as close as he can, smoothing his thumb over the back of his hand. she smiles despite how chapped her lips are, she can feel them starting to split, and he frowns. “do you want some water?”
he starts to get up but bobbi grips his hand tighter, hoping he'll get the idea. “no. stay.” his eyes turn molten for a second and he relaxes in his seat, gaze dropping to their joined hands. “so, you called your mom, huh?"
lance grins sheepishly and ducks his head, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth. “yeah. i guess i've just... been thinking about the bigger picture."
“this bigger picture,” bobbi says hesitantly, looking anywhere but at him. “what's it look like?” he hooks his fingers under her chin and gently guides her to look up once more, their eyes locking.
“i'm looking at it,” he replies lightly, effortlessly, making heat flare in her cheeks almost instantly.
-
he's hungover.
she hasn't even been conscious for a minute and she knows he's hungover; the kind of hungover where he's still a bit drunk from the night before.
lance blinks slowly, forces a grim smile, and she wrinkles her nose.
“you're drunk,” she states matter-of-factly. it draws a quiet sigh out of him and he drops his head, running a hand through his hair.
“i...” he doesn't even put up a fight, and her heart aches. “yeah.”
“hunter,” she breathes, reaching out to cup his cheek, and he looks up. bobbi can't help but inhale sharply when she sees the pain and sorrow in his eyes, immediately regretting the action when her chest seizes up. he curls his fingers around her wrist, rubbing his thumb over the delicate pulse point, just until she can breathe normally once again.
“you're okay,” lance croaks as she sinks into the bed, and she hums in agreement. he's silent for a moment, and she can practically hear him thinking as he tries to string thoughts together. “that's why”
“that's why what?”
“that's why last night happened,” he sighs, and bobbi closes her eyes, letting the news wash over her.
“you were in surgery,” lance continues without prompting, twisting his hand until he can lace his fingers with hers. "emergency, something about fluid, i think. you crashed, three times." it feels like a punch to the gut, and bobbi opens her eyes again, gaze trained on his face.
“the first time wasn't bad, you just stopped breathing. the second, your heart rate dropped.” he chokes up suddenly and she squeezes his hand softly, a reminder that she's here. “the third time...”
when he doesn't finish, instead hangs his head to rest in his free hand, bobbi shifts to try and catch his eyes again. his head snaps up at the sudden movement, shoulders drooping the second he realizes there's no immediate danger.
“the third time...?” she coaxes softly, and he blows out a shaky breath.
“you flatlined,” lance manages, eyes shining as tears start to well up. “i remember going back to my bunk, digging out the whiskey, and that's where it ends.”
bobbi can hear the heart monitor increasing in tempo, and she tries to force herself to calm down. “c'mere,” she says, tugging his arm gently.
“bob, the last time we tried this-.”
“i don't care,” she interrupts, attempting to shift to the left without further injuring herself. “now help me move over. you're getting in this bed, damn it.”
he chuckles at her stubbornness, getting to his feet and shuffling around to the other side. lance slides his arms underneath her back and thighs and carefully moves her, watching her for any sign of discomfort.
“that's good,” she bites out, shoulder screaming in pain at the slight movement. she knows he can tell it hurts too, but he doesn't say anything for once; instead, he checks that her leg is supported as he moves back around to the other side of the bed. lance toes his shoes off before laying down, lying on his side to keep a bit of space between them.
“i don't bite,” bobbi chides, no heat behind it. “c'mon, this is my good shoulder.” he sighs and scoots closer, draping his arm over her waist as he pillows his head on her chest.
she slides her palm up and down the length of his back, smiling when she feels him breathing in time with her strokes. “that's it. you're okay.”
“'m sorry,” he mumbles, muffled by the hospital gown. she's made it clear before that his binge drinking scared her, and her heart clenches up.
“don't need to apologize, babe,” she shushes, craning her neck to kiss the top of his head. “you can rest, it's okay.” bobbi can feel some of the tension bleed out of him and he burrows into her closer still.
it's not long before he relaxes completely, breathing evening out. he's not uncomfortably heavy, on top of her; it's just enough to make something warm flutter in her chest. she takes the opportunity to get a good look at him.
even though she can smell the whiskey on his breath, even though the circles under his eyes seem darker with the lack of color in his cheeks, even though his scruff appears overgrown since he didn't trim it this morning, he's still in there. the man who somehow broke through her walls and masks, who got her to bare her vulnerable underbelly, who still makes her heart skip a beat every time he smiles at her, is still in there.
“i love you,” she murmurs without thinking, lifting her other hand to push his hair back, even though the pain makes black spots dance in front of her eyes. it feels easier to breathe with him by her side, and it's clear she has a similar effect on him as well.
sure, they might get scolded in the near future, but, right now, it's worth it.
