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avengerscompound · 4 years

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Bartoned - Chapter 35

Bartoned - A Hawkeye Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Rating: E

Warnings: None for this chapter

Pairing: Clint Barton x F!Reader

Word Count: 1884

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

Chapter 35

While you were still a fair way off your wedding date, there was still a lot that needed doing. There were dress fittings and bridal registries. Bridal showers and meetings with celebrants, photographers, bands, and caterers. More pressing than this, was Nattie’s first birthday party to organize. With all that, work, and now Nattie running around everywhere, you were very much looking forward to your honeymoon when you were taking a break.

Things in the compound had settled in completely and now the tower had reverted to being for Stark Industry related business. The compound was much bigger, with more staff which had meant a few changes. First was; there were more on-site facilities available to the staff because there was a lot more staff. More staff meant the Avengers had a little more time at home. They were all team leaders now delegating to their seconds for things like training recruits and sending their teams on missions. It was only the really big things that would have an actual card-carrying Avenger going along and thankfully none of those had popped up in months.

The medbay was much larger and there were specialists for more things. So now it was just a place people could go for all their medical needs. Whether that be the emergency patch-ups and physicals they used to provide or something like gynecology or obstetrics.

There was also now a childcare center on-site. It was in the office building and allowed staff to come in and breastfeed if needed. It was very handy for you and Clint because Doreen hadn’t been able to move out with you permanently due to college and while she’d come and lived with you for the transition, you were now nanny free and the childcare center picked up where Doreen left off.

There weren’t many kids in it yet, though you thought that was going to change. Wanda and Kari had applied to adopt in Sokovia and there were new recruits, office workers, lawyers, and medical staff. Some already had kids and some were thinking about it. Right now though there was Nattie, a pair of three-year-old twins that were the kids of someone in the psych department, and three kids that were all two but at staggered ends of the age whose parents were all agents. A four-year-old would be joining the group in a couple of weeks though because today was the day that Steve and Bucky brought their foster-to-adopt kids home.

They’d been keeping things a little close to their chests. Clint had hypothesized it was because they were worried something would happen and they wouldn’t get to bring them home. The same way people didn’t say they were pregnant until 12 weeks in case they end up losing it.

You did know there were three of them. That they were all half-siblings and the age gaps were large. The oldest was fourteen, then eight, and the youngest was four. Aside from that, no one knew everything, so on the day they were bringing them home everyone was somehow just randomly busy in the front yard in the hopes of catching sight of them.

It was funny how many people’s front gardens suddenly needed tending. Even Pepper was inexplicably tending the Goji berry bush in the front garden of Tony’s house.

You, Clint, and Nattie were playing with various outdoor toys. She’d been chasing a ball around for about 20 minutes and you were just setting up her play table with paints and paper so she could finger paint. She ran over to you with Clint in hot pursuit and slammed into your leg. “Wassat?” She said, banging her hands on the paper.

“Did she just say ‘what’s that’?” Clint asked as he pulled up behind her.

You blinked down at your eleven-month-old in surprise. She’d been saying things that vaguely resembled ‘mama’ and ‘dada’ for a while but even though she’d use them to get your attention, they were never quite right and she’d mix them up or use them on other people too. This was the first thing that actually sounded like words that meant something other than ‘hey look at me’.

“It’s paper,” you said crouching down with her.

Nattie picked up the tube of red paint. “Wassat?”

There was a tug at your heart as Clint’s face broke out in a large smile. He looked so completely happy at that moment you didn’t think there was a thing in the world that would ruin that mood right now. “That’s the red paint,” he said and looked up at you excitedly. “She’s talking.”

“She’s our smart little bean,” you said, running your fingers through Clint’s hair.

He leaned over and pressed a kiss to your forehead. Nattie pushed in close like she was trying to get in on the kiss too, and Clint started laughing and kissed her forehead too. “You’re a pretty clever kid, Nattie,” he said.

“Bwee?” Nattie said, looking up at him. Her attention was soon grabbed by the dark blue minivan that was traveling down the road. “Wassat?”

“That’s a minivan. Your uncle Bucky and Steve are both huge nerds,” Clint said, picking her up and carrying her to the fence line. Everyone else had moved to their fences too and were watching closely as Steve and Bucky pulled up the car.

“Man, those kids are gonna feel super weird with all of us watching them,” you said.

“Yeah,” he agreed and waved at everyone to get back. They seemed to get the drift quickly and by the time the kids were getting out of the car everyone had gone back to their gardening. Clint put Nattie down at the table and you squirted some different colors of paint onto a plate. She immediately slammed her hands into the paint and started to rub it over the paper as she babbled to herself. Natasha appeared at the front gate and let herself in.

“Two boys and a girl. The girl is the middle one,” Natasha said, crouching down at the table with Nattie. “This is a lovely painting, Natyusha.”

“How’d everyone look?” Clint asked as Nattie babbled and rubbed her hands quickly back and forward in the paint, so she smeared the colors all over the paper.

“The oldest looked quite wary but also like he was trying very hard to be on his best behavior. Middle looked scared but very excited. Steve was holding the youngest and he was hiding his face in Steve’s chest. Steve looked like he was trying to be on his best behavior and nervous as hell. Bucky looked scared and a little excited.” Natasha explained as she ran her fingers through the paint too.

“Kind of exciting isn’t it?” You asked.

“So exciting,” Natasha agreed as she painted a butterfly with her finger.

“Wassat?” Nattie asked, putting her painted hand right on the butterfly.

Natasha looked from Nattie to you back to Nattie again. “It was a butterfly, Natyusha,” she looked back up at you again. “She talks now?”

“Just now!” Clint said excitedly. “She literally said that just before the car rolled up.”

“Oh my goodness, what a clever little thing you are,” Natasha said, putting a dot of paint on Nattie’s nose. Nattie started giggled and clapping her hands.

“I don’t know, but I think this picture is done. Shall we use fresh paper?” You asked as you pulled the sheet away, revealing another under it.

Natasha and Nattie went back to finger painting together, this time Nattie getting a lot more paint all over herself. As the paper got closer to being filled Bucky, Steve, and the three kids approached the house.

“Hi there,” Steve said in an overly friendly tone as you and Clint went over to the gate to meet them. “The kids wanted to take a look around so we’re just taking a walk.” He then introduced you and Clint to the kids. The oldest was Emilio, then Isabella, and the youngest was Cruz. “What's going on here?”

“We’re just doing some finger painting,” Clint said. Cruz picked his head up from where he was still hiding, clinging to Steve.

“You want to do some painting too, buddy?” Steve asked, rubbing the little boy’s back in soothing circles.

“Dey’s so messy,” he said in a fearful voice.

“That's okay,” Bucky said gently. “You're allowed to get messy if you like.”

“That's right, Cruz,” Emilio assured him. “See even the grown-ups are messy.”

Cruz looked around at his siblings like he was trying to work out if it was some kind of trap. When he seemed satisfied he nodded his head and Steve carried him in and out him down. The little boy tentatively approached the table. Isabella came and took his hand, leading him to it. Natasha took the top piece of paper away revealing another fresh sheet under it and topped up the paints and Nattie straight away began to finger paint as she babbled baby talk in Cruz’s direction.

It took a little while but eventually, Cruz dipped his hands in the paint and began to paint too, though Steve ended up sitting in the ground next to him and wiping his hands with baby wipes every ten seconds to stop the little boy from panicking.

The whole time Nattie just babbled away like she was having a fantastic conversation with them. It seemed to make Isabella relax and soon she was talking to your daughter like they were having a proper conversation, saying ‘oh that's very interesting’ and ‘I didn't know that’ and other similar things.

Clint circled his arm around your waist as he watched them and leaned in and kissed your cheek. “This is making me really want another one,” he whispered. “You sure you don't wanna try yet?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” you scolded, nudging him. “I want to fit into my dress. But I'll tell you what.” He looked at you with hopeful, expectant eyes and you leaned in close to him. “I'll get my IUD out before the wedding and we can start trying on the honeymoon.”

“Yes!” Clint cheered, pumping his fist in the air.

You laughed and nudged him and he stumbled a little away from you.

“Hey, Clint,” Bucky said, approaching you both with Emilio. “Wanna go in and play some Mario Kart while the little ones are painting?”

“Yeah, sure,” Clint said, giving your ass a tap before heading towards the house. “Follow me.”

Bucky and Emilio caught up beside him, and Bucky clapped Clint on the shoulder. “I was telling Emilio that you spent a lot of time in the Foster system.”

“Oh yeah,” Clint said, looking back at the boy. “I can't say it's a great story but I can tell you it if you want.”

They disappeared inside and you looked down at Steve. “You want to stay for lunch?”

He smiled up at you sheepishly as he wiped Cruz’s hands again. “If it's not too much trouble.”

“Of course not,” you said. “I’ll go get it started. You okay with Nattie, Nat?”

“Of course,” she replied.

You ruffled Steve’s hair as you passed him on your way inside and went to prepare lunch for the new members of the extended Avengers family.

// NEXT

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

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thelastspeecher · 7 years

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In That Better World

This is a sort of continuation of these two ficlets I posted a while back. I didn’t want to post this until I had posted Chapter 12 of “Stan Pines, Farmhand”. The reason should be pretty clear. Enjoy.

Stan came to a stop outside a door.

“Look, Ford, it’d be nice to chat more with you, but-”

“This is your room? That’s fine. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Maybe,” Stan said with a shrug. Stan entered the room without knocking on the door first. Ford looked around.

Where’s room 435?

“Stanford!” Ford spun around. Fiddleford was walking toward him. “What took ya so long? I went out lookin’ fer ya.”

“I got stuck in the elevator.”

“Oh. Say, that young man you were chattin’ with, was his name Stan?”

“Yes. I actually know him very well.” Ford frowned. “How do you know Stan?” Fiddleford cocked his head, bemused.

“‘Cause he’s- let’s just go visit my lil sister’s room, okay?”

“All right.” Fiddleford knocked on the door of the room Stan had just entered.

“Come in,” a voice said. Fiddleford opened the door and walked in. Ford followed. A young woman was lying in a hospital bed. Stan was sitting in a chair next to her bed, holding out pictures for her to look at.

“I like this one the best,” Stan said.

“Darlin’, it’s sweet of ya to go get ‘em developed, but in a month or two, they’ll be old enough that ya won’t recognize ‘em from a picture.”

“Really? That fast?”

“Yessir.”

“Heh.” Stan grinned.

“…Are ya proud of ‘em just fer growin’ fast?”

“Yeah.” The woman laughed.

“Yer such a goon.”

“I’m your goon.”

Wait… Fiddleford cleared his throat. The woman and Stan looked up. That’s the person in Stan’s picture! I thought she looked familiar; she’s a McGucket, isn’t she?

“I see ya found yer wayward boss, Fidds,” Fiddleford’s younger sister said cheerfully. She frowned at Ford. “An’ yer boss is related to Stan, apparently.” She looked at Stan. “Brother?”

“Twin.”

“Ah.”

“Wait, Sixer, you’re Fiddleford’s boss?” Stan asked. Ford nodded. “Huh. Small world or whatever. Anyways, this is Angie.” The woman, Angie, waved at him cheerfully. “My girlfriend.”

“And…?” Fiddleford prompted.

“Mother of my children, yeah,” Stan mumbled. Angie frowned at him.

“Don’t sound so ashamed. Do ya want yer daughters to hear that?”

“Babe, they’re barely a day old. They don’t understand anything. And anyways, they’re both sleeping.” As if on cue, crying began to emanate from one of the cribs by Stan, which Ford had just realized were there.

“Speak of the devil,” Angie said idly. “Stan, would ya-”

“Let me get her,” Fiddleford said, already walking over to the crib.

“Fidds, ya don’t need to.”

“No, I want to. She’s my lil niece and I want to spend some time with her.” Fidds picked up the crying infant and began to make shushing noises. “Don’t be upset none, sugar cube. Yer Uncle Fidds is here.”

“Stan, why didn’t ya tell me ya had a twin brother?” Angie asked.

“We don’t get along.”

“I still feel like it was necessary information, given that we have two beautiful children together.”

“Seriously, we don’t get along. The only reason I didn’t punch Ford earlier was because I had been looking at pictures of the girls.” Angie smiled. “I mean that in a very tough way, not a sappy way,” Stan clarified.

“No, ya don’t. But that’s fine. It’s good that yer not in the mood fer fightin’ ‘round yer daughters.” Angie kissed Stan on the cheek.

“When are the two of ya goin’ to tie the knot?” Fiddleford asked suddenly. He frowned at Stan. “I certainly hope ya didn’t knock up my baby sister and not plan on marryin’ her.”

“Fiddlenerd, it’s okay, you don’t need to give me the speech,” Stan said lazily. “I already heard it from-” He looked at Angie. “-which brothers stopped by?”

“Harper and Lute.”

“I heard it from them.” Fiddleford pursed his lips. “We’re taking this step-by-step. We’ll get to marriage eventually. After the girls are old enough.” He grinned at Angie. “We both wanna drink at our wedding.” The infant remaining in the crib began to fuss. “Shi- shoot. I’ll get her.”

“May I hold her, actually?” Ford asked. The McGuckets and Stan looked at him, all three bemused. “I may not have the most experience in childcare or even holding children, but she is my niece.” Angie looked over at the crib.

“Which one is makin’ the noise?”

“Daisy,” Stan replied. Angie nodded.

“Let him hold her. He might find it interestin’.”

“You sure?”

“If’n he can’t handle it, ya can take her from him. But I really think he’d like to get to know Daisy.”

“…Okay.” Stan took his daughter out of the crib. “Ford, get your ass over here. I don’t want you standing around when you hold her.”

“Stan,” Angie said in a warning tone.

“Right. No swearing around the kids,” Stan said. Ford walked over and held out his hands. Stan gently set Daisy in Ford’s outstretched arms. “Be careful with my kid, Ford. If she gets hurt, you’re dead meat.”

“I wouldn’t dream of being anything but careful with such a young infant,” Ford said. Stan rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, whatever.” Ford looked down at his small niece. Her eyes were the same bright blue as Fiddleford’s. She stared at him with immense curiosity.

“Hello,” Ford said hesitantly. Daisy grinned. She reached a tiny hand upwards, stretching her fingers. Ford’s eyes widened. He looked over at Stan and Angie. “She’s a polydactyl?” Stan and Angie nodded.

“Eleven fingers,” Angie said. She smiled fondly. “An’ every single one is perfect.”

“It’s probably for the best that you showed up,” Stan said. “Makes it easier to explain why one of our kids has an extra finger.” Angie rolled her eyes.

“Sure, that’s the only reason it’s good yer twin brother was here.”

“Stanley, I am a bit insulted that you didn’t want to reach out to me,” Ford said slowly. “I mean, I know we didn’t part under the best of circumstances, but you’re a father now! I’d have hoped that you would let me know about such an important life-changing event.” Stan rubbed the back of his neck.

“Maybe I shoulda tried to call you or something. It is sorta your fault that the girls exist.” Ford tore his gaze away from his niece to stare at Stan.

“What?”

“When you told me to leave, I decided to steal a boat.”

“You decided to do what?” Fiddleford interrupted. Stan waved a hand.

“It’s okay, man. I didn’t do that. I thought about it. Angie saw me sitting at the docks. She talked me out of it. One thing led to another and, uh, I’m a dad now.”

“…Oh.” Ford looked back at Daisy. She was still smiling up at him.

She’s so young and innocent. If he hadn’t stayed, these kids, my nieces, wouldn’t exist. And they’re only a day old, but they already make the world a better place.

“…It’s for the best that you stayed, Stan,” Ford said finally. “You made the right choice to not listen to me.” Stan grinned.

“Can I get that in writing?”

#i don't want to tag this post bc i'm lazy #my writing #my stuff #ficlet #speecher speaks #gravity falls #better world au #stanley pines #stanford pines #fiddleford mcgucket #angie mcgucket #Daisy McGucket #Stangie Family

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forceyourway · 7 years

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Tree of Life Shadow Work Challenge

Day Eleven: “What aspects of my societal influence might I benefit from taking into consideration?”

(Using Loki’s tarot deck, “The Raven’s Prophecy Tarot”)

Page of Coins - A responsible, optimistic person who can make and execute a plan. The Page of Cups is drawn to opportunity, but unknowingly, cheats herself out of it. This is also someone who is carefully tending this tiny, baby thing, that somehow is and isn’t me. I may have a long way to go, but the seed has been planted, and with enough love, it’ll grow into something beautiful. <3

Society - Status, Roles, Standards

Think about the society you live in and how it has shaped you. Are you generally accepted in society? What kinds of status, roles, and standards has it placed on you? How is your current career perceived? What role do you play in community affairs and family relations? How is your sexuality or relationship status judged? What kinds of living standards are you expected to uphold? Do you have any resistance to the expectations that have been imposed on you by society?

I’ve touched on a lot of this stuff already. My field, Early Childhood Education, is considered to be insignificant by pretty much everyone. It’s believed that no education/training is required to care for children, and many will balk at the notion that Pre-K children can be “taught” anything (especially infants). In Canada, where I got my degree, they were for the first time piloting a B.A. in ECE program. Prior, there had been none in the province. Here, there’s B.A. programs all over; the problem is they’re all terrible. The amount of B.A. programs in ECE in the country that don’t suck is less than I can count on two hands, because they’re generally the same as Elementary Education programs. The classes are overwhelmingly focused on “teaching” a subject (”Teaching Math in Early Education” or “Teaching Phonics”), and there is very, very little child development to be had. As a result, even those with degrees tend to be clueless when it comes to child development. There’s rampant child abuse in public centres, and very, very high turnover rates, with many employees being young women waiting to be granted entry into the school system. As such, it’s very hard to find work that is fulfilling, having to dodge child abuse everywhere, and harder still to find anyone who treats me with respect. In their eyes, I’m just their babysitter. Circumstances have forced me out of childcare centres (for the time being) and into Nannyhood, which is truly awful on the respect front. I’ve had parents constantly cancel on me at the last second, or demand I work at the last second. I’ve had parents abruptly decide they didn’t need me, and parents who were months behind on paying me...not because of financial difficulty, but because they “forgot.” I’ve had parents who fought kicking and screaming against my efforts to make a living wage. I still don’t. And a lot of emphasis is placed on housework, which should not be the focus of my work. Society doesn’t like my sexuality, or my religion, and believes I should be married to a man, and serving his every need. Society doesn’t like that I am female and poor.It’s expected that, as a woman, I be ready to cook all dinners, and that my house always be neat and tidy; am impossible task for my mentally-ill self. And my mental illness is unacceptable too; perhaps that is the most unacceptable thing about me. I have a long, long history of being thrown around by the rest of the world. When I went to Catholic school, the first time I was picked on, but not in an extraordinary way. The second, however, the entire place - staff, children everyone - wanted me gone. A variety of situations were cooked up in hopes of achieving this, and each time, I unknowingly incriminated myself, even though I was completely innocent. For example, I was accused of forging my mother’s signature on a progress report. How one was meant to discover this, I’ll never know. The class was shocked, and the girl next to me was saying who could possibly do such a thing?! I said, “I think I know,” but backpedaled when asked to clarify. What I meant was the boy who always seemed to be getting in trouble, but this make me look real guilty. Of course, it wasn’t forced, and my mom was so pissed by the implication that she stormed in and harassed the woman. The second was the time I had a bee stuck in my hair; I had managed to avoid being stung my entire childhood, as I was afraid my grandmother’s deathly allergy come to me. One got caught in my hair one recess, and I was wailing miserably as a teacher tried to take it out. I was later accused of swearing, but did’t.They couldn’t prove I did swear, so I faced no punishment. The last involves a talent show, for which I wanted to sing a hip-hop song. The song I wanted was on a specific CD containing an assortment of songs. and to get it, I’d need to destroy those two units. The music teacher gave me permission to use the CD unripped (he originally wanted to take the words out), uneditied. My audition was pitiful and whimpering, but I didn’t want to be remembered for such. So when the time came, I really threw myself into it, and sounded, of course, totally different. So it was assumed I was lipsyncing, and they wanted me gone for that, but again, couldn’t prove it. In my first college ECE placement, I was working as a sort of student teacher at a childcare centre. The first semester was fine, but in the second, I started noticing a hundred thousand tiny, terrible things. I noticed my mentors’ readiness to set me - and the children - up to fail, their arrogance, and how horribly they treated the “problem children.” I was eventually so bothered by this that I was losing sleep; one day, at 3am or something, I sent my advisor an e-mail explaining that I was so worried about the children that I couldn’t sleep. She arranged a meeting with the director, hoping that she would dispel my concerns, and posed that the meeting stay between the three of us. The director agreed, but when the meeting came, my mentor stormed through the door, with the hugest, most arrogant smile on her face. This was not part of the agreement. Both my mentor and the director started verbally attacking me; I left a few hours later in tears. The next placement, I had at another centre in the infant room. I made the mistake of showing my mentor that I had a green sheet, which means I can have accommodations made for me if necessary. I never used it, but they came to guess what was “wrong” with me. I was accused of rolling my eyes when she spoke, but what was really happening was that I simply looked upward when thinking. Both my mentor and advisor (I had a new one) refused to accept this, and my mentor suggested that “maybe I have an information processing disorder,” and that I should stand in front of the mirror and practice “not rolling my eyes,” or no one would ever hire me. They refused to do a recommendation for me, citing that they “didn’t know me well enough,” when they’d done recommendations for many students before, who were in exactly my position. This finally led to my most-loved professor personally intervening and appointing herself my advisor for my final placement, which she chose herself. When I came back to the States, I worked very briefly in an abusive centre, which was mentioned in a previous post. I was told that satisfying the “customer” (parent) was of the highest priority, and that the needs of the children would come second. I was not okay with this, so I went to another centre. It was...fine, I guess. Deeply unprofessional and chaotic. Several of the staff resented me for not wanting to hang out with them, and one staff member personally hated me and one day let loose a verbal onslaught that caused me to suffer a panic attack (for the first time). The director insisted they’d never put this other person and I in the same place at the same time, but immediately revoked this as soon as the other gave them a fake apology. After this, came Dream Job, which was everything I ever wanted, until it wasn’t. The staff knew from day one I had anxiety, and during a flareup and getting ready for a huge open house where many famous people would be, and working overtime without pay, and working without breaks, meant I was utterly exhausted. I started to disassociate, and my boss unleashed this vicious attack about how she wasn’t sure I could be trusted. Because apparently I was crazy to her. It was a horrifying experience, made all the worse because it was completely unexpected.

#Tree of Life Shadow Work Challenge #Tarot #Divination #Divination Challenges #@unmaskingthedivine #Child Abuse #Ableism

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