Chapter Text
With a blade pressed to your throat, your breathing was uneven. You were standing in the shadow of a building, your back pressed against the chest of a taller figure.
"Quiet, like a mouse..." Clint Barton, also known as Hawkeye, mumbled to himself.
This man, an assassin like yourself, but working for an enemy organization, had been assigned as your target. But even with your years of training in stealth and killing, he still managed to spot you in the shadows last second and reverse the roles.
"Who sent you?" He whispered in your ear, not wanting to attract the attention of any passersby on the city streets.
You stayed quiet, like you were taught.
Hawkeye clicked his tongue and pressed his blade further, drawing blood from your skin. It stung like a bitch.
You hissed. "Let me go and I'll forget about you," you lifted your hands up as a sign of surrender.
Hawkeye laughed. "I don't think even the rookies ever fall for that one."
A genuine feeling of being trapped hit you. Your breathing quickened, making the sharp steel feel more suffocating, as you desperately tried to come up with a way to turn this around. You could think of nothing that could give you the upper hand against an experienced, infamous fighter like him.
"I'm feeling up for it tonight though. I'll give you a second chance," he said, releasing you of his grip.
In an instant, you had moved multiple paces away from him, having picked your dagger back up from the ground. Now you stood steady in a position ready to take the fight head on.
"You're definitely going to regret that," you said with a determined smile glistening on your face, fear long gone.
He eyed you up and down. "Impress me, little one."
Dipping low, you lunged at his uncovered right side. Hawkeye swiftly turned his body, anticipating the blow after purposefully creating the obvious weak spot. But when he went to counterstrike, you knew exactly where he'd hit. Having done your research, you knew he was above such a mistake. He, on the other hand, had underestimated your experience and skill level.
Using both your hands to thrust your small dagger up against his blade with all your power, you disarmed him in one motion. Wasting no time, you used the momentum to swing your weapon back at your opponent. His quick reflexes allowed him to avoid the fatal blow, but a long cut from his lower abdomen to his chest still displayed his miscalculation.
"Shit," he spat out, as you leaped at him again, aiming straight for his neck.
Dagger inches away from ending his life, a heavy punch connected with your chin, knocking you up and onto the ground. Your head spun, and with shaky vision you watched the man walk towards his blade.
Overconfidence was a bad habit of yours, but most of the time you knew to back away before things got real bad. So you took the chance to run.
The sun having set, it was dark, and you still felt a little wobbly, but you put all your concentration on putting one foot in front of the other, and managed to get away. You had a slight feeling that he had let you escape.
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The following night you cursed to yourself as you walked down the steps into an underground clinic, masquerading as a flower shop. The owner and his wife were an older couple you'd known since the beginning of your shady career. They'd always helped to get you patched up after some of your tougher gigs.
You had slept in through the entire day, wallowing in the after effects of the collision with Hawk, and your overall state after overexerting yourself with work for weeks straight. Luckily the clinic doors were open through the night.
"Hey, Gallo," you greeted the man that was like an uncle to you, as you passed the counter he was sitting behind, surrounded by different kinds of flowers and plants, all brown and probably dying of thirst.
Like you'd done dozens of times before, you walked straight towards the curtain that hides the backside of the room, but stopped when Gallo called out to you: "We've got a new gentleman sleeping in there right now. Mirett can treat you here."
Furrowing your brows, you decided to satisfy your curiosity by sneaking a glance behind the curtain. On the dusty old mattress laid a blonde man, torso bandaged.
You stumbled back a bit, taken off guard, but the man sleeping didn't seem to hear and continued breathing evenly.
Regaining your composure, you turned your gaze back to Hawkeye. He was vulnerable right now. This was the perfect chance.
Or it should have been, but something about the calm expression on his face made you hesitate.
He didn't look like the coldblooded killer you'd imagined him as.
When you returned your gaze to Gallo, he was visibly confused.
"I think I'll come back tomorrow," you said with an awkward smile and hastened out the door.
Outside, you leaned your side against the wall and sighed. The image of your father appeared in your mind. He was the one who had set you on this path in life, passing on the skillset necessary for an assassin. Before his death, he had loved to go on and on about how brilliant you would be in this line of work, could you only learn to have less empathy for your enemies.
"Maybe it's not too late to become a florist or something," you mumbled to yourself, slightly feeling like a failure.
A shadow moved behind you.
At the same time as you yanked yourself around, you heard a familiar voice speak.
"I'm surprised you didn't try to kill me this time."
The bastard sounded cocky. You opened your mouth, but he interrupted: "Just wanted to watch me sleep, eh?"
"I had almost decided to let you live, but now I'm seriously reconsidering," you retorted.
He let out a huff and started walking closer. "Giving up would be boring now, wouldn't it?"
There was a pocket knife strapped to your thigh, and your hand slowly slid towards it, getting ready for an attack. It was late enough in the night that you could escape from the scene after without getting caught.
"Come at me, little one," Hawkeye taunted, and sure enough the degrading name succeeded in riling you up again.
But he knew how you fought now. You failed to realize that fact in time, as you hadn't had to face the same target a second time before.
Hawkeye got a hold of your hand that was holding the dagger, and gripped so hard it fell from your grasp. He then whipped you around against his chest, swiftly pulled an arrow from his back and pointed it at your jugular.
"You got your second chance and here we are again," Hawkeye said with a teasing tone.
You bit your teeth together and pinched your eyes shut.
"It was so easy it almost seems like you wanted this," he gently traced the steel across your skin.
You sucked in a breath, when you felt his other hand trailing down on your side. The situation had you scared for your life and but you also felt a strange thrill run down across your back.
"Are you going to kill me?" you asked.
"Do you want me to?"
His hand moved from your hip to your lower stomach. Drawing faint circles on the thin fabric of your shirt.
"No."
The arrow dug against the underside of your jaw, the other hand pressing you tightly against the man behind you as he bit your ear and whispered: "Get the hell out of my sight then. I don't have time to be worrying about some little bitch following me around while I work." His tone had changed completely, from sultry and soft to outright annoyed. He withdrew the arrow and turned away.
When he disappeared from sight, you were left feeling terribly confused by the weird chain of events, but also just relieved it was over.
Carrying on the mission was out of the question at this point. It was clear you were severely outmatched.
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Weeks passed without any new unusual encounters.
After abandoning a mission for the first time, you had also decided to take a much needed break from the stress of work.
You lived alone in an old and tiny apartment. Your roots were humble so it was how you'd always lived and didn't really care for anything grander.
Last night you'd seen Hawkeye in your dream. The incidents with him had plagued your thoughts more than you'd like to admit.
Though he had scared you, he did ultimately let you go, mostly unharmed, even after you'd tried to murder him and did slice his stomach.
You no longer believed he was any evil monster planning to wipe out your people. Your employer had lied. Another reason why going back to work at your organization would feel off. You weren't exactly close with any of them anyway.
Maybe the reason you couldn't seem to shake Hawkeye off your mind is because you didn't really have people close to you.
He'd gotten close. It felt nice.
Wait, what were you thinking? He'd been threatening your life and you thought it was nice? You must be going crazy.
That's when you decided. You desperately craved closeness. So the simplest thing you needed to do was to just find someone to share a bed with. It had been too long.
That evening you set aside the dark and concealing clothing of an assassin and found something that would help you with the new type of mission you were on.
The city you lived in was pretty small, so there weren't many options for where to go. But you knew of an old-fashioned little bar up the street from your apartment, and you chose it as the target area.
A tiny bell rang when you opened the bar door. You quickly scanned the environment, looking for anyone who might be there with the same goal in mind.
Not finding anyone specific, you sat down at the counter and ordered some mint shots. As a killer you were confident and determined, but in this field you'd always been shy, even after multiple relationships.
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The clock hit 1 in the morning. The mission was a failure. The only guy you'd managed to properly talk to had blabbered on about his hate towards vegetarians for like 10 minutes. You'd lost interest. At this point you were also way too drunk to try anything.
You walked sluggishly out the door. The streetlight behind you made your shadow long. You looked at it wobbling and laughed to yourself.
One step after another you stared at the shadow growing shorter and longer after passing each streetlight towards your house.
You kept walking and chuckling at the ground until you'd passed all the lamps, and finally looked up properly, realizing you had no clue where you were. You had gone the wrong way.
"Yoou've gottho be johkingg me..." you slurred out loud. This is why you barely ever drank. Stupid shit like this always happened.
You turned around too quickly which resulted in you tripping on your legs.
Before you actually fell to the ground, you were caught by someone.
"Careful," a deep but gentle voice said.
Your hand gripped to his forearm and you looked at the man holding you.
The combination of the darkness and drunkness made it impossible to make out any features, but his voice and closeness were enough to make you remember why you'd gone out that night.
"Arr yuu flirtng wit mee becuus iss workn," you winked and clung closer to him.
The man said nothing, and your drunk brain decided it meant he was going to kiss you.
You closed your eyes and leaned your face closer to his, until you felt his breath on your skin.
"You really can't keep away," the man said. From his voice you could hear there was a smile on his face.
Then you blacked out.
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A deep sting of pain across your temples woke you up. The air smelled of fresh laundry.
"What the hell..." you muttered as you began to register the unfamiliar environment.
You sprung up from the couch you'd slept on and looked around cautiously. Had you found someone from the bar and completely forgot about it?
"Hello?" you called out.
No one answered for a moment, but right as you were about to move, you spotted a figure in the corner of your eye.
Hawkeye leaned his shoulder against the doorframe between the rooms and raised an eyebrow at you.
You froze in place for a long second before patting your thigh to see if you still had your pocket knife. You didn't. You hadn't even brought it to the bar. Fuck.
"Look I don't want any trouble, I meant it when I said I'd forget about you." Well, forget about killing him anyway.
"And here I thought my life was in danger when a drunk fell on me and tried to kiss me," he replied sarcastically.
Your eyes almost popped out of your skull. An awkward laugh escaped your lips and you felt an even bigger urge to run than when you'd woken up in this strange place.
The smug looking man crossed his arms and made an exaggerated gesture to indicate reminiscing. "And I was truly afraid when said drunk later wanted to share my bed and whispered some pretty dirty words into my ear."
"I'm leaving," you said, absolutely horrified and dying of embarrassment.
You hurried to the front door and turned the handle, but a hand reached above your shoulder to push against the door and block your exit.
The large figure behind you breathed against your neck. "Something about you pisses me off. Maybe it's the fact that you tried to fucking kill me. Twice. But I don't think that's fully it."
Goosebumps ran through your spine at the sound of his tone filled with anger.
"I'm not going to kill you. You're not the kind of person I thought you were", your voice shook a little.
"I'm not what... a senseless murderer?" His free hand slid to your neck, wrapping around it gently. "You seem oddly certain of this."
"I-," you stuttered, struggling to come up with words. You could feel your pulse throbbing against his hand.
"How is it that a small thing like you, whose life I've been so close to taking, keeps crawling back into my grip?" His nails dig into your throat a little. "Do you get off on the danger, little one?"
You felt like you were burning, physically and emotionally overwhelmed and overpowered. You felt the vibrating wave of embarrassment washing over your whole being. He could definitely feel you gulping against the hand gripping your throat.
"I'm sorry..." you breathe out weakly. There were tears gathering in your eyes. You were unsure which of the billion things you were experiencing right now was causing it.
"Sorry for getting off on your life being threatened?" he mocked. "That's quite a dirty thing to be apologizing for."
The humiliation made you accidentally let out a whiny cry.
"Oh, fuck," Hawkeye groaned under his breath. The hand that had been blocking the door landed on your lower stomach. He pressed you tight against him, which made you feel even smaller compared to his size. You felt weak in the knees.
"I can't-," you started but were cut off by the feeling of his hand dragging lower. You bit your tongue when his hand slid between your thighs. You both realized simultaneously just how aroused you were. Hawk let out a dark chuckle and soon began running two thick fingers back and forth against your folds. The clothing you had chosen for the bar gave him easy access, and your thin underwear did nothing to make the sensation any less intense. Holding in your tiny moans was not something you were able to do any longer.
The pace of his rubbing only quickened as his voice rasped in your ears. "I could end your pathetic life right here and now, but you don't even care. All you can think of is how my fingers feel on you."
"Hawk..." you panted. His fingers continued assaulting you relentlessly. Your entire body felt weak, but you began trying to fight your way out. You were feeling too much. Your senses were overwhelmed past the limit. You pushed against him, clawed at his hands, and whined. "No..."
"What is it, little one? Close already?" You felt his face inch closer to the back of your head. The drawn in breath you heard behind your ear was the only warning before he bit the side of your neck. His fingers kept up the unforgiving massaging which became easier and faster as the wetness spread, lessening the friction.
Your moans became more desperate, and the strength in your knees finally gave in fully. Hawk smoothly shifted his grip so that he was able to hold you up against him with one arm while the other still worked you.
"Come for me, baby. I know you can do it." He bit and sucked on your neck as his fingers circled on your most sensitive spot. You tightly held onto the arm he had wrapped around you and pressed your lips together in effort to silence the needy moans forming in your throat.
"There you go," Hawk breathed heavily, fingers firmly sliding in your folds. A knot that had formed in your stomach exploded and you felt the pressure waves hit you so hard you gasped out loudly while gripping his arm.
You rode out your high on his fingers before he kissed your neck and helped you back on your own two feet again.
The clarity of the situation hit you sooner than you'd wished and the simultaneously hot and cold wave of embarrassment washed upon you again. You did not want to turn around to face him after what just happened.
Slowly turning around you found him licking his fingers, looking down at your thighs that were dripping wetness.
Shyness crept over you and you kneeled down, wrapping your arms around your knees, so you could hide yourself better.
Hawkeye, confident as ever, looked at you puzzled with a slight quirk of his lip. "Never met one like you before, that's for sure."
"You can actually just kill me now," you complained, forehead on your knees.