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#clint barton imagine
lesbian-deadpool · a day ago
Steve: Now, if someone is trying to rob you, what is the correct course of action?
Thor: T-Posing to assert dominance.
Peter: Naruto run.
Clint: Screaming.
Bruce: Well, they’re probably in desperate need of the money, or deeply unhappy and unfulfilled in their life, so I think I’d give them as much as I can spare, and a big hug!
Natasha: Absolutely not! All of you are so wrong! What you’re supposed to do is-
Y/N: Thank God for the lovely meal you’re about to have, and then-
Steve: Absolutely not!!
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Pushchair- Clint Barton
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Pairing: Clint Barton x Reader
Characters: Clint Barton
Warnings: N/A
Request: Anon- Heyy, could you do something with the following prompts with Clint Barton “Let’s make this work.” 
Word Count: 413
Author: Charlotte
Being a stay-at-home mum involved more energy and work than you ever had to use working as an Avenger. You missed the days where you were getting your arse kicked for work instead of being stuck sat in a mess of toys whilst watching cartoons of animated animals that you were starting to gain an unnecessary hatred for. You loved your daughter with all of your heart even if she was a two-year-old terror, but you were getting to the point where you were desperate for even a moments break.
Luckily for you your husband, Clint, was home for the day and offered to take your daughter out to the park around the corner from your home so that you could have a shower without having a little human point out all of your insecurities. You were grateful for the break and tried not to cry with joy as you waved off your husband with the push chair. You made the most of your time, taking a peaceful shower and getting a snack that you normally had to either sneak or share. The peace couldn’t last forever as you had to scramble to throw away the crisps wrapper before going to greet your family.
Your daughter started to ramble on about the slide as you watched your husband attempt to put the pushchair back down to not take up the whole of your porch. You watched as he fought with it, attempting to push and pull everything he could to get it to collapse but it wasn’t working out the way that he wanted it to.
“Need some help?” You asked.
Clint rolled his eyes at you, taking a step back. He was an amazing dad, but he could never get his head around anything that you had for your child, rarely able to collapse the pushchair, open the baby gate or figure out how to remove the batteries from the annoying toys that his friends had gotten for your daughter.
You stepped up to the pushchair with a cocky smile, knowing that you had to use the pushchair nearly everyday so had gotten the knack for it by now.
“Let’s make this work,” you said to yourself.
You pressed the correct button and pulled the latch, instantly folding it up so that you could slot it behind the coat rack so that you could manoeuvre the entrance of your house with ease.
Clint turned up your nose up at you. “Show off.”
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to ashes, truth
Clint Barton x Reader
To Ashes, Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Summary: clint now knows that you’ve lost control of your abilities, and you have no choice but to tell him what happened during the battle of wakanda.
Warnings: angst, adult language
Word Count: 4,836
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prologue - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14
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A/N: Chapter includes rewrite of scenes from Infinity War. Also, sorry the chapter took so damn long. **********************************
Days Since the Decimation: Two Hundred and Seventy-Eight
Waking up was like pulling yourself out of a river of mud, sleep clinging to your senses as you struggled to keep your eyes open. It took you a long moment to recognize your surroundings even as you finally shook off the remaining drowsiness, and you found yourself laying on your back in the dark. Lights occasionally swept by, slipping part the closed curtains above you and there was an unsettling sensation of swaying in place… you were tucked into the bed in the back of the Winnebago, and you were on the highway.
You sat up cautiously, swallowing heavily as your head throbbed and spun, a reminder of what had happened.
What happened…
You touched a hand to your face carefully – the blood from your nose was gone. Your brow furrowed at the tightness you felt around your fingers, and you flexed them experimentally. A passing set of headlights lit them up for a second; there were bandages wrapped securely around your palms and up to your elbows, and you remembered the bite of your nails into your skin as you’d lost control.
You reached up and switched on the overhead light, wincing as the weak orange light flickered on. You felt dizzy, weak, and the hollowness in your stomach suggested that you’d been out for more than just a few hours. The sterile scent of ointment teased at your senses, and you carefully unwrapped one of your arms. There was a thin film of cream covering your skin, and feather-like burns running down the length of your forearm. They resembled the ones you’d seen on people who’d been struck by lightning – a familiar result of holding the psychokinetic energy of your shields for too long. There was a small trashcan by the bed, and a glance showed it full of discarded bandages… apparently Clint had treated your burns more than once since you’d fallen unconscious.
You rewrapped your arm and pulled back the blankets, swinging your legs over the side of the bed carefully. Your shoes were gone, but otherwise you were still dressed in the workout gear you’d been wearing when you’d passed out. You shivered, pushing wayward strands of hair back out of your face as you noticed one of Clint’s hoodies folded at the end of the mattress. You slipped it on, zipping it up and wrapping your arms around yourself as you stood and made your way shakily to the front of the RV.
“Clint…?” you cleared your throat as your voice came out hoarse, one hand sliding along the kitchenette counter to help you balance as you approached him. You could barely make him out in the dark, but you saw him turn his head as you spoke. You stopped for a moment as the RV hit a pothole, the jolt making you sway unsteadily. A headache was already beginning to form behind your eyes, and you dug your teeth into the inside of your lip as a pitiful attempt at distraction.
“Hey. You’re awake.” you were a little surprised by the relief in his voice, and you slipped into the passenger seat beside him. There was music playing quietly on the radio, and he reached over to turn it down further. “How’re you feeling?”
You drew your feet up onto the edge of the seat, wrapping your arms around your knees. “What time is it?”
“Uh, a little after three, I think.” Clint replied, casting a glance towards you. “Thursday morning.”
“Thurs—I was out for three days?!”
“Technically, about two and a half. You’ve been kind of in and out.” he said with a half-hearted shrug. He fished a plastic shopping bag out from beside his seat and held it out to you. “I, uh… I thought you might need this.”
You took it from him, bemused, opening it to find a bottle of water, another of juice, a packet of saltines and a bag of gummy worms. You felt the corners of your lips tug upward in a small smile, and you picked out the juice before setting the bag aside. “Thanks. Where are we?”
“Somewhere in West Virginia, I think.” he replied, and you noticed the two empty coffee cups in the console beside him.
“Virginia?” you repeated in surprise. You straightened slightly, torn between sudden hope that Clint had decided to call off his mission and fear that he thought you were too much of a liability to keep around. “Are we… are we going back to New York?”
Clint shook his head, eyes on the road. “D.C.”
“Oh.” The two of you were silent for a while, the tension pulling at your senses as you tried to figure out where you stood. “I didn’t think we were finished. In L.A., I mean.”
Clint huffed a sigh, and you saw his shoulder shrug out of the corner of your eye. “We weren’t. You did a lot of damage to that studio. I didn’t want to risk anyone recognizing what exactly had done it. So, we relocate.”
You picked at the bottle’s label, nails scratching tracks in the paper. “Oh.”
“How’s your head?”
You shrugged noncommittedly and took a tentative sip of juice. When it didn’t upset your stomach further, you swallowed down another mouthful. “I’ll be fine.”
“Y/N.” Clint’s voice was soft, but there was a roughness to it, worry. An eighties ballad crooned over the radio, too low for you to really pick up on any of the lyrics. “You’re not in control anymore.”
You sighed, squeezing your eyes closed against the light of an approaching car. You considered lying again, but everything you could think of tasted sour on your tongue. So, you swallowed thickly, tucking hair behind your ear as you directed your gaze away from him, out the window at your side. “No. I’m not.”
Clint glanced over at you for a moment before turning his attention back to the road ahead. “There are painkillers for you in the glovebox.”
You raised a brow, leaning forward to retrieve them. A tiny part of you wondered if he’d been testing you – if you’d lied, and he’d caught you, would he have still told you they were there?
You found a prescription bottle instead of aspirin, and while it didn’t have a label, you recognized the pills as you shook a couple out onto your hand. You looked up at him again, surprised. “These…these are my prescription.”
Clint cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. I saw you were out.”
“How did you get these?”
Clint shifted in his seat, and the headlights of a passing truck lit him up as his hands flexed on the steering wheel. There were similar burns on his hands to the ones on your arms, and you remembered the way his hands had gripped at your wrists even as the energy had still pulsed through your arms.
He seemed to be avoiding your eye, even as the truck passed, and you were left in the dark again. “I picked them up on the way out of L.A.”
“My prescription ran out.” you said, an eyebrow arching as realization dawned on you. Your words almost came in a disbelieving laugh. “Clint, did you… did you rob a pharmacy for me?”
He started to shake his head, but he inhaled, changing it to a slow nod. “Only in the… well, literal sense. There are more bottles in your bag.”
You hummed a laugh, amazed, and swallowed two pills with another mouthful of juice. “I… thank you.”
The two of you fell silent again, and you closed your eyes, letting your head fall back against the seat. Your head still throbbed; the ache of energy overload made stronger by your empty stomach. Still, with painkillers in your system, you were sure you only had to wait it out until it lessened to a more manageable level.
Three songs passed on the radio – each one separated by a radio host who sounded far too positive to be awake at this hour – before Clint spoke again. “What’s going on with you? What happened to your powers?”
You opened your eyes slowly, letting them fall to your lap.
His voice was soft. “Y/N?”
You sighed heavily, teeth digging into your bottom lip. You couldn’t avoid this anymore, and you felt bile rise in your stomach as you finally answered.
“Thanos happened.”
The heat of the Wakandan sun did nothing to banish the cold you felt at your core, your anxiety making your heart pound against your ribs as you stood alongside warriors far more experienced than you. You could feel the tension in the air around you, the energy almost palpable. Steve, Natasha and the King made their way to the barrier stretched before you, and you shifted from one foot to the other, your battle suit unfamiliar against your skin after so many years.
Even with his adamance that you remain retired, Tony had apparently found the time to make upgrades to it – the neckline was higher, sturdier armor embedded in the material. The black was highlighted with the usual blue but interspersed with lines of gold, and your now-black wrist bracers had been lengthened and turned to fingerless gloves, undoubtedly designed with some high-tech alloy to protect you from the burns your powers could leave behind. The hem of the top had been lengthened at the back and sides, falling almost like a cape to brush your mid-thigh.
You swallowed as you tried to steady yourself, glancing at the man beside you. “We haven’t actually met before… I’m Y/N.”
His lips curved in a small smile even as he didn’t take his eyes of the barrier. Your stomach dropped as you watched warships rise in the tree line. “Bucky.”
“I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but, uh—”
“Not really the day for it,” he replied as Steve and the others rejoined you. “They surrender?”
“Not exactly.”
An energy beam flew past you and blasted through the chest of an approaching alien, its body falling to the dirt as you knocked back another. You were standing on one of the largest stones that dotted the riverbank, your arms stretched before you as you summoned shield after shield. You could taste dust and sweat and blood, the smell of burnt flesh and earth overpowering.
There were too many of them; every time one fell another three came tearing forward to take their place. You couldn’t maintain shields big enough to protect everyone – instead, you threw them between your allies and their attackers just long enough for them to get back on their feet and return to the fight before dropping it and summoning another.
You knocked back one beast from Okoye as she turned to drive her spear into another, dissolving it as you saw Steve disappear beneath another three. You gritted your teeth, waving your arms and creating a bubble between them, throwing them back as it expanded. They landed a few feet away, and Steve caught sight of you as he clambered to his feet, nodding gratefully before he threw himself back into the fight.
You cried out as pain tore through your side, and you were thrown to the ground, stone and earth knocking the wind out of you. There were aliens on you immediately, and you threw up your arms, a dome of crackling blue energy surrounding you. It tossed them back, but they regained their footing, tossing themselves onto it, claws and gaping maws slamming into the shield.
“There’s too many of them!” you heard Bruce’s panicked voice over your comms, and you turned your head, catching sight of the Hulkbuster falling under the weight of his attackers a few feet away. You gritted your teeth, one hand still extended above you as you reached out towards him, your own shield shuddering as you tried to create another around him. You managed to push back a few, but more took their place, the red and gold armor disappearing under the swarm of flesh and teeth. “Get off! Argh!”
The ground suddenly shook beneath you and a bright light flew past, sending the beasts still trying to push through your shield sprawling into the dust. You shoved yourself up off the ground, shield dissipating, eyes widening as you took in the pillar of light in front of you.
Lightning danced out from it, and you felt yourself break into a disbelieving, breathless grin as the light disappeared.
Bruce’s laughter sounded over the comms, ringing with pride and relief. “You guys are so screwed now!”
Thor stood before you, every bit the god of Norse legend, lightning and fury crackling off his body as he faced down the army before him. You heard him roar as he charged, and you barely had the moment to register the creatures by his side before the sky darkened and lightning rained down from above.
“Guys,” Sam’s voice sounded in your ear as you ducked under the arm of another alien warrior. You kicked it in the back, knocking it down long enough for Bruce to fire a repulsor beam into its head. “We’ve got a Vision situation here.”
You saw the repulsors in Bruce’s suit glow and you rushed to his side, tossing back one of the beasts as it threw itself at his back. “Bruce!”
He took your meaning immediately, the giant fist of the suit closing around your arm and swinging you gracelessly up onto the back of the suit. You clung to the metal with aching fingers as the thrusters activated, the two of you rising shakily into the air.
“Somebody get to Vision!”
“We got him!” The suit launched itself forward, and the two of you rocketed towards the base of the mountain, your eyes squeezed shut against the wind.
The Hulkbuster landed heavily between Vision and his attackers, and you fell from its back, landing in a crouch in front of the android. You straightened hastily, scrambling to Vision’s side as Bruce aimed the repulsors at the warriors in front of you. Vision grasped tightly at your arm as you reached him, his face contorted in pain and one hand clutching at his stomach. You helped him to his feet, stumbling slightly as you adjusted to his weight against you. Slinging his arm around your shoulders, you wrapped your other arm around his waist. “It’s alright, man. I’ve got you.”
“Ohhh, no… Oh, no, you don’t.” Bruce warned, and you began backing towards the tree line as quickly as you could without hurting Vision further. “This isn’t going to be like New York, pal. This suit’s already kicked the crap out of the Hulk—”
The larger alien suddenly lurched forward, grabbing ahold of his arm. The thrusters fired, and the two of them were launched into the air. You cursed under your breath, stopping in your tracks as they disappeared, leaving the two of you alone with the other warrior. He smiled.
“Guys!” Bruce shouted in your ear. “Y/N needs back up. Now!”
You released your hold on Vision carefully, your eyes trained warily on the alien in front of you. Vision stumbled back as you did, but your attention didn’t waver; energy crackled down your arms, shifting blue orbs forming around your hands. You swallowed, raising your chin as the alien spun his spear at his side.
“Y/N, let me—”
“I’ve got this, Vision.” you said quietly, tightening your jaw to keep the quiver out of your voice. “You need to get out of here.”
“This is who you have to protect you?” the alien taunted, stalking towards you slowly. “Your last defense? Barely more than a child.”
You jumped back as he rushed toward you, throwing up a shield just as his spear swung downward. The blade met the projection, and your eyes widened as it slid through it unencumbered, pain shooting through your arm as it sliced into your bicep. You stumbled back, the shield falling away as you slapped your hand over the wound.
The alien grinned cruelly, swinging it towards you again. You dodged it clumsily, trying to keep yourself between him and Vision. “The blade of my glaive can split atoms, girl. You think your magic tricks can stop me?”
He thrust the blade towards you, and you jumped away, swinging your free arm up instinctively. The shield you created came in an arc, the edge meeting the spear’s shaft and knocking it off course. He snarled, spinning it towards you again, and you ducked, side-stepping to get yourself in front of Vision again. A thought came to you suddenly, and you released your arm, your hand slick with your own blood. You threw a shield towards his legs, sweeping them out from under him. The alien landed in the dirt, baring his teeth as he pushed himself up again.
You planted your feet, meeting his eye determinedly, teeth digging into the inside of your lip. You had no idea if this was going to work. “Vision. Go.”
The alien’s grin widened as you summoned another shield between you, your bloody hands shaking slightly as you held them aloft. There was more blood dripping from your nose, but you ignored it, even as you tasted it on your lips.
He thrust his spear forward, aiming for your gut. You drew your hands together quickly as the blade pierced the shield and the energy shrunk with it, until you’d formed a crackling blue ring around the glaive’s shaft, the blade bare inches from your stomach. The alien’s eyes widened as you turned your hands and twisted it out of his grip, flinging the spear aside. It clattered to the ground, and he turned to you, his expression viscous.
The back of his hand met your jaw so hard it knocked you off your feet, and you hit the ground hard. You saw him raise his arm and the glaive flew into it, his attention turning to Vision. You struggled to your feet, your head spinning, eyes widening as he sunk it into Vision’s gut.
“I thought you were formidable, machine.” the alien spat into his ear. “But you’re dying, like any man.”
He tugged the glaive out of Vision’s stomach, letting him collapse before him. He reached for the Stone, and before you could raise a shield between them, he was tackled off his feet by Steve.
“Get him outta here!” he ordered, and you pulled Vision to his feet, the two of you struggling to stay steady. “Go!”
You urged Vision to turn, intent on getting him back to the lab, even as unwilling as you were to leave Cap to fight alone. “Vis—”
He pushed himself out of your grip, and you turned to see Steve on his back, his own shield pressed to his throat. You jerked forward, arms half raised as the alien stopped, his own spear stabbed through his back by Vision.
The android lifted him away from Steve and tossed his body aside, Cap managing to catch him as his knees gave out once more. You wiped the blood away from your nose with the back of your arm, trying to steady your breath.
“I thought I told you to go.”
“We don’t trade lives, Captain.”
“We need to wait here for Wanda.” Steve said, setting Vision carefully down against a fallen tree. You were too far from the city; there was too much open terrain. You’d be easy targets crossing on foot. “We’re not going to get him back up to the Princess like this.”
You nodded, falling into a kneel beside the android. Vision gave you a small, wan smile. “You’ve improved, since I last saw you.”
You huffed a short, self-deprecating breath, hand hovering over his latest injury. The last time the two of you had fought together, he was only hours old, and you’d been unconscious for half the battle. This time, you might be still awake, but you were fading fast. You could feel your knees shaking and your head was beginning to pound. “Apparently not enough.”
His response was interrupted as Wanda landed before you, and you stood as she rushed to take your place at his side. She barely spared you a glance, her hand cupping his cheek. “Are you okay?” Vision groaned in pain, the Stone in his head flaring. “What? What is it?”
“He’s here.”
You felt something stick in your throat, nerves rising as you moved to Steve’s side. The air around you felt… eerie, the wind picking up as the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. “…Steve?”
Steve didn’t answer you directly, raising a hand to his ear to activate his comms. “Everyone, on my position. We have incoming.”
“Do we have a plan?” you asked nervously, eyes still scanning the jungle around you. You could feel it, the dread hanging in the air around you, but there was no physical sign of another presence. Not yet.
Steve nodded, and you felt his hand squeeze your shoulder briefly, reassuringly. “I want you back there, between Wanda, Vision, and whatever’s on its way. You’re our last line of defense, you got it? Stand your ground.”
You nodded determinedly, moving back towards the couple as the others joined you. Natasha’s expression matched Steve’s – she could feel that same sense of foreboding that you did. “What the hell?”
A cloud materialized ahead of you all, black and blue shifting together as it opened. A figure stepped out, purple skin and a golden gauntlet on his left hand, easily as tall as the Hulk. The uneasiness you felt doubled, settling in the pit of your stomach. You steadied yourself, exhaling shakily as you drew the energy into your arms again.
“Cap.” Bruce’s voice was low, tense. “That’s him.”
Steve raised his shield. “Eyes up. Stay sharp.”
You watched as the other charged forward, watched as the Hulkbuster, surrounded in a blue glow was made immaterial, floated ineffectually through his target to the wall of rock behind him, burying Bruce in the side of the mountain.
Watched as Steve was thrown aside in a cloud of purple, untouched by the Titan himself.
Watched as the Panther King launched himself at Thanos, only to be grabbed by the throat and punched to the ground, the kinetic energy of his suit discharging around him.
Watched as Sam flew forward, guns firing, only to crash, his wings suddenly rubbery and useless.
You felt energy ripple against your back as you watched Rhodey’s armor seize up around him, heard Bucky yell as he charged, his gun raised, before being knocked back by a jolt of purple light. Your stomach clenched as you realized what was happening, what Wanda was being forced to do, and you were stuck, torn, unable to offer any kind of hollow comfort as you stared down the approaching evil, fear rising in your chest and clutching at your heart.
Okoye’s spear was stopped midair before she too was tossed aside, and Natasha fell, trapped beneath bands of earth.
The tree-like creature that came with Thor sunk his arms into the earth, cables of roots twisting around Thanos for a moment before he broke them apart. His pace didn’t falter, his approach unhindered by each attack.
The energy behind you doubled, you could feel it against your back, feel the hair on your arms standing on end, and Steve rejoined the fight, and despite all reason you felt a grain of hope as Steve grabbed hold of the gauntlet. You could hear Wanda sob, even as Steve yelled, and that foolish hope burned up as Thanos’ fist crashed into Steve’s skull, and the super soldier crumpled to the ground like any normal man.
Thanos turned his gaze on you and you raised your arms, pushing enough energy out from your mind to create a huge, shining wall between you. It expanded quickly, the tree to your right cracking apart as the shield cut through it. The giant looked unimpressed, and you saw a stone on his gauntlet shine purple before he raised his fist.
You ignored the throbbing of you head and the dizziness you were feeling, pushing everything you had into the shield before you. It shook as his fist met it, splintered but didn’t break, and you felt the bones in your arms vibrate with the force of it. Your whole body was shaking, your knees threatening to give out as your migraine doubled. Your vision was blurry, but you saw Thanos snarl, saw the purple glow brighter, joined this time by red.
His fist slammed into the projection, and it shattered, and with it, so did you.
You felt a scream rip from your throat as your mind broke, but you couldn’t hear it – you couldn’t hear anything over the agony in your head. You collapsed, every nerve in your body firing in pain as your brain lost its grip on your powers. The energy was rebounding inside you, burning along every vein and every muscle you had while the rest of you forgot everything that wasn’t this feeling right now. You clutched at your head, blood in your ears.
The next sound you were aware of was Okoye’s voice, calling out a word you didn’t understand. You forced your eyes open, your stomach churning as you managed to focus on Vision’s lifeless body, his empty eyes turned towards you. Wanda was kneeling over him, tears staining her cheeks, and your heart stopped as you realized your failure.
She didn’t even seem to hear you, lost in her own world of grief, and your eyes widened in horror as she suddenly turned to ash, floating away on the wind. You pushed yourself up, head spinning, blood and dirt sticking to your hands. “Wanda?!”
“Sam?” Rhodey shouted nearby. “Sam?! Where you at?!”
You watched Steve walk slowly past you, collapsing on the ground by Vision’s body and you felt bile rise in your throat. Natasha, finally free of the stone she’d been buried under, approached. Her fingers clutched at the vest she was wearing, a terrible look of comprehension on her face.
“What is this?” Rhodey asked, disbelieving. “What the hell is happening?”
Steve exhaled, his voice breaking. And even through the pain tearing through your head, the realization in his voice was heartbreaking. Horrifying. “Oh, God…”
You’d lost.
You swallowed thickly, tears burning in your eyes. You rubbed one with the heel of your hand, focusing on the road ahead of you. “Whatever… whatever it is that Thanos did, it… it broke me.” you murmured, exhaling in an effort to keep your voice steady. “The next time I tried to make a shield, I almost threw Bruce and me through a wall.”
Clint was silent beside you, his hands tight on the steering wheel. He hadn’t seemed to react to anything you said so far, and anxiety tightened your ribs and squeezed at your lungs. Your fingers twisted together, hands shaking. You’d spent months trying to forget what had happened, to keep your failure to yourself… speaking truth to it now made your insides churn.
“I haven’t… every time I try to use my… my abilities now, they—” you sighed, brushing hair behind your ear. “They either blow up in my face or they don’t work at all. It’s just been safer to—to stop using them all together, even with the headaches, and the nosebleeds, and… and when you said to stop using them, I-I just… it felt easier to not—to not tell you what was wrong with me…”
Clint’s silence was deafening, cutting into the raw ache in your chest. You felt tears spill onto your cheeks, and you pressed your lips together tightly, as if it could hold back your words. “I’m so sorry, Clint… it’s my fault… it’s all my fault! If I had just-just stayed with the-the team, if I’d never retired, then I would have been stronger. I would have… I could have stopped him, or… I could have done something different. It’s… it’s my fault… Wanda, Sam, Bucky… your f-family… it’s my fault…”
Clint shifted in his seat, and through the blur of your tears you could see his hands tighten hard on the steering wheel. “We’re still a few hours out from D.C.” he said, his voice gruff, controlled. He wouldn’t look at you, but you could see the tightness in his jaw. “You should sleep off the rest of that headache.”
You froze as his words sunk in, his dismissal. Nodding numbly, you swallowed back a sob that threatened to break past your lips and stood falteringly. You held your breath as you tried to keep your composure, cold air clinging to the tear tracks on your cheeks. You closed your eyes as you turned and moved past him, unable to face him, returning to the bed at the back of the RV.
tags: @lovely-dreamer19 @wittyforachange @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @glossyloner @capitalnineteen @youclickedthislink @s0ftness @castieltrash1 @absolutly-me @lol-you-thought @ruderavenclaw @startrekkingaroundasgard @notafraid-bitch-igot9lives @akumune @whovianayesha @bradfordbantams @alice-the-nerd @rimaries @fanofalltheficsx @ace-fandom-dumbass @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @twsssmlmaa @earth-pig-fish​
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moonlit-imagines · a month ago
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a/n: insp
not requested
You weren’t an Avenger, you just lived with them. Dad’s the Avenger. The man himself, Tony Stark. So while they were all having a team meeting, you sat in your bed doing homework for a class you could easily test out of and turned your music all the way up. And it had honestly never been a problem before until…
“What is that?” Steve asked, hearing your loud music muffling through several walls.
“Sounds like music to me, old man.” Tony replied and went on with the meeting.
“Y/N?” Nat chimed in. “They’ve got good taste.”
“Can you tell them to turn it down, maybe?” Clint suggested and Tony completely ignored him. “If you don’t, I will.”
“No, Legolas. My child needs to concentrate on their schoolwork and if music helps them to do so, then so be it.” Tony quickly answered before going on with his previous thoughts, or not. “Damn it, you guys. I forgot what I was talking about.”
“The Iron Legion.” Steve reminded.
“Right! Right, I knew that.”
taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @rorybutnotgilmore // @locke-writes // @sweetheartliz07 // @queen-destenie // @natasha-danvers // @frostedficrecs // @johnmurphyisqueer // @teenwaywardasgardian // @pappydaddy // @captainshazamerica // @freya-xo // @ravenmoore14 // @yukh3ic0re // @ofthedewthesunlight // @canarypoint // @zoeyserpentluck // @randomawesomeperson102 // @brutal-out-here // @wonderful-writer // @of-a-chaotic-mind // @groovygirlie // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @lxncelot // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @petersgroupie // @dindjarinsspouse // @werewolf-himbo // @lost-fantasy // @moobrvoobl-moobmoob-oobmpoobroom // @summersimmerus // @cipheress-to-k-pop // @augustvandyne //
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angeli-marco-writes · 2 months ago
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Doctor Stephen Strange.
Baby Blues & Tattoos. ♡
↳ After a tiring mission, the last thing you want to do is have to crash at a hotel, especially with the cockiest man alive. Will things change with the fact there's only one bed on such a sleepless night? 18+
An Out-of-Body Experience (Baby Blues & Tattoos - Part II). ♡
↳ You plan on getting Stephen to snap tonight, knowing exactly what you want. But he has wants of his own, and ideas to bring to life, and things he isn't afraid to do in the middle of the Sanctum... 18+
Stay, Stay, Stay.
↳ ‘I'm pretty sure we almost broke up last night. I threw my phone across the room at you. But you stayed. This morning I said we should talk about it... I think it’s best if we both stay.’
Loki Laufeyson.
Dress. ♡
↳ This dance between you and Loki has been going on for far too long. The night of the palace ball gives you the chance to make your next move, wearing the dress you bought only for him to take it off.
Darling. ♡
↳ Night terrors have haunted you for a long time, but you've always kept them quiet. However, your first night with Loki proves to be more than either of you banks on. He doesn't mind your troubles, and holds you through it all, bringing you back from a nightmare.
The Sweetest of Them All.
↳ Once Loki confesses to you he's never tried candy, there's no going back. You aim to change his mind over a picnic with a whole meal of sweets.
Peter Parker, Spider-Man.
Everything Happens for a Reason.
↳ Stark!Reader x Peter Parker, post endgame. Months after the death of your father, your aunt, and your uncle, you find yourself in a sticky situation, and to make it even worse, your childhood crush doesn’t even recognise you now. Then again, doing most of your growing up while half of the population is dead doesn’t exactly bode well for your love life nor your commitment issues. When things finally start to turn around while learning to live with a disability, will you still be taken away to live with your step mother, or will love pan out at last? After all, everything happens for a reason.
Steve Rogers, Captain America.
Promise. ♡
↳ Being an apprentice at the Avengers Tower is never easy, especially not when you make a promise to your favourite person there and fail to keep it, through no fault of your own. In a matter of seconds, your world comes crumbling around, but Steve seems to come around in order to pick up the pieces. 18+
Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier.
Getaway Car.
↳ ‘Well, he was running after us, I was screaming, "Go, go, go!” You were drivin' the getaway car, There were sirens in the heat of your heart. Don’t pretend it’s such a mystery...’
Clint Barton, Hawkeye.
↳ After the snap, you never think you’ll see Clint again. Hanging around the tower alone day in and day out becomes tiring, especially when your hormones are in overdrive and you can’t stop thinking about the one avenger you haven’t yet had in bed, until he walks through the door more attractive than ever. 18+
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ssadumba55 · 5 months ago
Marvel Characters Comforting You (Headcanons)
A/n: I felt like making some headcanons with some of my favourite Marvel characters because no one's requested Marvel recently haha. This is my account I do what I want. These are just general headcanons btw they don't really tie into movie plots or show plots, the gifs I used are all over the place. Enjoy!
Tony Stark
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Tony will definitely be aware of when you're feeling down, mostly because you shut down and he knows what shutting down is like
Will ask if you're okay
When you don't respond, he will sit beside you
He won't say anything or hug you, just let you know that he's there if you do need him
Eventually you will lean into him and he'll wrap an arm around you
The two of you may sit there for hours or minutes, but it doesn't matter
You just appreciate being in his presence
Bruce Banner
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Bruce is a lot like Tony, he'll notice you're down before you even have to tell him
He'll make you something to drink/eat, because when you get upset you tend to stop self caring as much
Will try to cheer you up by telling you about Tony's lab antics
Will talk it out with you if you want to
If not, will distract you
Clint Barton
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Clint won't notice at first, but once he does he will be by your side until he deems you okay enough to not need him
Will take your phone so you don't have to deal with stressful notifications
Cuddles! He will cuddle you.
Might even give you an inspirational pep talk
He's a cheery guy, so just being around him will cheer you up a lot
Scott Lang
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Like Clint, he's just a cheery guy so just being around him will be enough to cheer you up
Will take you out to spend time with him and Cassie
Cassie herself will also cheer you up a lot
Ice cream!!!!
Cuddles and pillow forts!
He will tell you dumb jokes to make you smile
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Vision doesn't understand human emotions all too well
But he will definitely want to cheer you up
He will search his databases on ways to cheer you up
Does cliche things to cheer you up
Watches movies
Makes you food (but it turns out bad because he can't eat it)
Peter Quill
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He will listen to music with you
Definitely drag you up to dance with him when he realizes you're still upset
He will act more like a dumbass on purpose (if that's possible), just to see you smile
Let you drive the ship and go anywhere you want
Rocket: Why does Y/n get to drive the ship? None of us get to
"They're upset, Rocket. Cut them some slack?"
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Because of her empathic abilities will know immediately
She will use her abilities to cheer you up
The two of you will just sit and talk, about anything and nothing at the same time
More cuddles!!!
She will ask the other Guardians for advice on ways to cheer you up
And use their ideas
Which will cheer you up because they will all turn out horribly
Ava Starr
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She won't really know how to cheer you up
She doesn't have a lot of people in her life who she cares about and who cares about her so she won't entirely know how to cheer you up
But she knows what cheers her up!
So she'll try and tell you jokes
Hugs, she won't be a full on cuddler but she will definitely hug you
She'll do whatever you want her to do, watch a tv show, make you food, whatever you want
James 'Bucky' Barnes
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Okay, this man has been through a lot
Which means he'll definitely provide you with the best comfort to suit your needs
He won't pry
May stick magnets to his arm just to get a smile out of you
Will definitely do whatever you want
He's not a huge cuddler, but if that's what you want he'll do it
He just wants to see you smile
Wanda Maximoff
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Like Bucky, she's also been through a lot and will also be really good at comforting
Sitcoms and snacks?
She won't pry if you don't want her to, but she'll definitely let you know it's better to get it off your chest
Might have a little bit of fun with her magic, just to cheer you up
Constant reminders that you're not alone
She will hug you if you start crying
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youreobsessedwithmarvel · 2 months ago
And They Chose Him (Part 2)
☁️-Undecided/I don’t freaking know
⚡️🔥-Triggering Possible
Word Count:782
Warnings: None
I love Thor way to much
Part two for I Once Asked If It Was Between Me and Him, Who Would You Choose?
@coffeebooksandfandom @sassyandclassyx @i-choose-you-cyndaquil @the-empty-chxld @meeksmusic83 @sakura8585
Taglist (Line through means unable to tag)
@bonkynsteeb @graveyard-kitten  @fangirlfree @marilynmonroefanfics @leniram1890 @talksoprettyjjx @veronicapaula @drpepperobsessed @quezzzzz16 @marvel-baby  @southernraven @sohosteve @mysticunicorn7 @rottenstyx @jellyb34n @gorbnasta @magneatoooo @g4yw3nch @greengarsstuff @denkisimpbutmakeit-gay @brooke-supernatural16 @b0xedjuiice @dindjarinsspouse @apobrien @justreadingficsdontmindme @seaweedthewhale @crazymushroom22 @caswinchester2000 ​​
MCU Taglist
@bi-lmg @laic2299​
Requests are OPEN (click here for guidelines and here to request)
Thor Masterlist
Y/N nodded when no one answered her. “Thank you for letting me know that you care more about a kid you’ve known for a little over half a year than you do one that you helped raise.”
4 years later
Y/N ran across the street, attempting not to get hit, and entered the large building. She smiled at the lady who stood up and ran over to her when she walked in. “Miss. Y/N, we weren’t expecting you till later!”
“Oh I know, but I got awfully bored just sitting in my apartment so I decided to come early.”
“Of course ma’am. Being bored is never fun.”
She pressed the button for the elevator, “Anything that I must know before I head up Emma?”
“Um...Thor Odinson is up there and waiting for you.”
Y/N snapped her head to the small blonde, “What did you just say?”
“Uh...Thor Odinson is here for you.”
“Do you have any idea why?”
“No ma’am, I don’t. He refused to tell me and just said he’d wait in your office. You aren’t mad, are you? Because we tried everything we could to get him to leave, but he just wouldn’t listen.”
Out of all the things that came from being a former Avenger, her favorite had to be that none of them bothered her anymore. Hell, she hadn’t seen them since she left 4 years previous and now she was the the biggest entrepreneurs. Just second to Tony fucking Stark.
She walked into the elevator and turned back to face Emma, “No, I’m not mad. Well, not at any of you guys, I’m sure you tried your best. I was just planning on never seeing any of the Avengers again. Unless it was at an event, where I would expect to see them.” The doors shut as she finished and she leaned against the side of the elevator. She was already tired and she had only been in the building for 5 minutes.
As the doors slid open she slipped out of the elevator and walked down the hall, smiling to the people she saw down the hall. When she made it to the end of the hall, she placed her hand above the door handle, holding it there for a few moments before breathing out and opening it. When she opened it, immediately she was met by the back of the large Asgardian. 
She let in a shaky breath and closed the door, “Hey Thor.”
He turned around and gave her a large smile, “Lady Y/N! There you are! I have missed you so!” He walked over and hugged her, tightly. And oddly enough, all worry and fear washed away. When he pulled away, he kept his smile and walked over to a chair and sat down, “I am so proud of you.”
She sat next to him, instead of in front, “Why?”
“Because you did what I always wanted you to, you left. You made a name for yourself, away from the Avengers. And I am so proud of you for that.”
She smiled softly, “You have know idea how happy that makes me feel Thor.”
He nodded lightly, “Now, what do you usually do around here? And could you not do it and spend the day with me. I have not seen you in about 5 years now and I miss you my dear friend.”
“You want to spend time with me?”
“Of course! Why wouldn’t I?”
“I dunno, I figured that you would be infatuated with Peter Parker.”
“Stark’s kid? No, why would I be? He isn’t you.” He gasped, “Oh! Before I forget,” He reached into the bag that was next to his chair and pulled out a cloth and unwrapped it. Holding to her a handfull of small blackberry like berries. “I was able to bring you back some Svarte bringebær like I promised I would when I returned.”
She smiled at Thor, “Thank you.”
“Of course! Now, may we go and spend today together?”
She stood up, “I would love to. Let me just inform Emma and we will be on our way.”
He excitedly stood and grabbed the umbrella that she very well knew wasn’t actually an umbrella and the two went out.
By the end of the day, Y/N and Thor was smiling and laughing like idiots. When she asked him what he would have done, he told her that he would have always made time with her, no matter what. He called everyone a bunch of idiots for doing what they did to her.
And for the first time since she had left the Avengers, she felt happy. Truly happy as she had Thor on her side.
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lunatic-metal-witch · 3 months ago
The fact that I would literally date and have sex with both the maximoffs, Clint, Natasha, Valkyrie, Carol, Loki, Steve and Bucky makes me a pathetic little bisexual who is not able to date real people.
Thanks for coming to my Ted talk.
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bisexual-chupacabra · 4 months ago
Clint, in the mall: What was that?
Y/N: It’s probably just Nat getting excited about pockets.
Nat, holding up a dress: LOOK, Y/N, IT HAS THREE!
Y/N: That’s awesome, babe!
Clint: Are dresses with pockets really that cool-
Nat, Y/N, and pretty much every woman ever: YES
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kaz11283 · 5 months ago
Could I make a request: Reader is ill (fever, headache, etc) and Loki comes home to find her fast asleep whimpering in her sleep from being ill and burning up from the fever? Something along those lines, feel free to take creative liberty, haven’t been feeling great lately and would love some comfort. Love your work 💕
Yes my sweet dear! I really hope that you get to feeling better soon! Thank you for the request and for the support! I am sending you some comfort vibes right now as we speak as well as some Loki Love i truly hope this helps you to feel better!
Characters: Nat, Loki, Clint, you
(Loki x reader) (Clint x reader, brother)I know I've done this but I just love the idea of being siblings with Clint (Nat x reader, friends
Summary: After a beautiful snow fall you and the team decide to go outside and enjoy the day off, of course knowing your luck you would be the one who got sick.
Announcement: Individual request sent in, i am more that happy to write anything that is thrown my way (even though it might take some time) i inow what its like not feeling good and jusy wanting some comfort and to be loved on so I hope you truly enjoy this!
Loki Masterlist
Your nose was red as you made it back to the cabin were you and the team had decided to vacation for a little down time, of course it wasnt your normal run of the mile cabin not with Tony bank rolling the whole thing. It was a rustic 4 story cabin with 3 rooms on each floor, a huge fire place that literally sat in the middle of the house (you didnt really cared how it worked you just knew it looked cool), a huge kitchen and living room sat on the first floor.
"I cant believe i let him talk me into that." You mummbled making your way to the fire place. Clint, your wonderful older brother had decided that the team should have a snow ball fight, you know "team building exercise" as he called it. You had of course been on opposing sides since it would be fair for two Bartons to be on the same team as Tony had said.
"You should know his tricks by now y/n, you've only known him all your life." Nat laughed walking in the door after you shacking snow from her hair.
"I didnt expect him to peg me in the side of the damn head. OR tackle me to the ground and shove my face in the snow." You grumbled. "Hes lucky he ran before I could get up."
"I'm pretty sure he's hidding in a tree somewhere." She laughed again.
"Good, the bird can stay in his roost for all I care. I'm going to go take a nice hot shower and a nap. Let the others know please." You walked off toward the steps that lead to yours and your boyfriends room. "Hey Nat, try to make sure the others are nice to Loki? The only reason hes here is so that he could try to get closer to them."
"Yeah, him being able to spend as much time with you as possible was not his intentions at all." She stated rollingbher eyes.
"Thanks." You went and took the hottest shower you could stand enjoying the steam as it enveloped you before you got out wrapped yourself up in a big fluffy towle and made your way into the living area. This was another nice room, hell every inch of this place was nice though. It wasnt like your "mini apartment" as you liked to call your room at the tower, but it still had a seprate smaller living area with a couch and a recliner, the bed was on the oyher side of a patrician looking out of the floor to celing window. You didnt want to lay there because it was so bright so after digging around in your bag and pulling out a pair of black shorts and one of Lokis green pullovers you decided to crash on the couch. After a few minutes of watching some random cooking show you dozed off engulfed in your boyfriends sent lulling you to your dream world.
You woke with a start when you felt something pressong aginst your forehead, you felt like you hadnt been asleep for very long, lookinh atound you realized first that it was dark outside, and second your muscles all over was sore and stiff feeling.
"Shhhh, Its just me, my darling." Loki ran his hand down your cheek softly. "I came to check on you, I realized you must not be feeling good when you were whimpering in your sleep." You then noticed that your throat was sore.
"I dont whimper." It came out horse, youtried to clear your throat as much as you could.
"You did, it was adorable." He smiled. He walked around the couch to take a seat next to you. "Your not feeling well. I can feel it." He had a look of worry. He always went on and on about how vulnerable mortals were and you wasnt doing anything to prove him wrong at this moment.
"Loki, I promise the worst this is is a cold that I technically caught from my idiot brother. Ill be fine in a few days. The only thing that aucks is I'll be stuck in here while the rest of you are out having the time of your lives." You huffed pulling the pillow under your head better.
"The rest of you? My dove, I can promise there is no rest of you if your not going to be there. The only reason I came on this dreaded team building experience is because of you." He offered you his hand and helped you stand so that he could guide you to the bed. "Lets lay here and watch the snow fall." He pulled your side of the blankets down and help you under them.
"That sounds like a plan Loki. Although I am a little hungry." You sat in bed as you watched him strip from the clothes he had been wearing all day and changing into a pair of black sleep pants. He started digging again. "I have your hoodie on." He looked over and shook his head with a smile.
"It looks better on you anyways. Of course I should have known that you would try to get me naked." He laughed. "Your brother saod he would bring something up in a bit. I had text him and told him you wasnt feeling all that well."
You stared in shock, "Textjng my brother? Looks like you have made some new friends."
"I wouldnt go that far, he said that he was afraid of you even if you were sick and I was probably the safest one in the room. He is going to vring a peace offering though." He pulled the blankets up around him as he settled in bed.
"The hawk shouldnt have flown his roost. Ill kill him once I get to feeling better." You grumbled.
"Sleep now my darling, get some rest. When we wake in the morning, of you are feeling any better, we will plot domination over your brother then." You felt him wrap his arms around you and kiss the top of your head before drifting off once more.
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Since Hawkeye is a Christmas show, for the season finale, Clint Barton’s Christmas gift to Kate Bishop should be his favorite bow. Kate says something along the lines of, “I can’t take that, that’s the signature Hawkeye bow!” and Clint responds with, “I know, kid. I’m looking at Hawkeye right now.”
Cue Kate Bishop hugging Clint as Christmas music plays in the background. Then everyone cries because it’s super emotional, but in a good way.
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lesbian-deadpool · a day ago
Clint: It’s time for this fawn to strap on a machine gun, spread its wings, and fly!
Y/N: Okay, what exactly do you think a fawn is?
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toomanyrobins2 · a month ago
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The Ivory Hotel was sacred ground in New York City after the Three Families had formed. Multiple disputes and bloodshed after the war has led to a new leaf being turned over in the city. The Stark, Barnes, and Barton families have come together and become more powerful than ever before. With HYDRA looming and gaining more power elsewhere, they're now trying to start in New York. It’s the new generations turn to grow up and protect their family.
Summary: Y/N “Birdie” Parker left New York and her family three years ago in the middle of the night. Now, a call for help to her best friend brings her back into the fold of the Three Families and their “business.”
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Parker!Reader
Summary: Y/N “Indigo” Phillips had dealt in secrets her whole life. Working for Tony Stark at 16 and then falling in love with his son was never the plan. She also never expected that five years later, she’d be leaving Peter in the middle of the night with just a note on the dining room table. Now, she has to return to the Three Families as their whole world continues to be threatened by a dangerous rival.
Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader
Summary: Y/N "Honey" Y/L/N has been many things in her short life: an unwanted child, a dancing prodigy, a teen mom, and now she's a replacement bride. After her sister runs away, Y/N is forced to take her place and marry into the Barton family. The Three Families are already dealing with enough. With the murder of a high-ranking member and HYDRA continuing to make threats, they need this marriage to go ahead without a hitch. Can Clint and Y/n find happiness or is there too much against them?
Pairing: Clint Barton x Reader
Summary: Their world is in chaos. HYDRA is a constant threat and Bucky Barnes is feeling the pressure. All around him, his friends have paired off and started families. Families that are now in danger. Sunny, the new bartender at the Ivory, tumbles into Bucky’s life and drives him up the wall in the process. She’s mouthy and stubborn and yet, for some reason, he can’t seem to pull away. Will Y/N being a distraction from the chaos be for the better or the worse?
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Masterlist with the other stories…
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idle hands
Clint Barton x Reader
Prompt: "my butt is not a drum, dude.”
Summary: you’re trying to get work done on a quiet afternoon, but your boyfriend clint barton is nothing if not distracting.
Warnings: fluff, smut, adult language, fingering, unprotected sex.
Word Count: 3,123
Got a Request? Prompt list for: tony | clint | quill
follow my fanfiction blog
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AN: I’m so sorry this took so long! And once again, I didn’t really do much of a proof-read, so if you see any glaring mistakes, please let me know :)
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
You looked up from your work long enough to smile gratefully at Clint as he set a fresh cup of coffee on the table beside you, turning back to your laptop as he moved to flop back onto the couch. You were stretched out on your stomach along one side of the L-shaped couch, legs bent up against the cushions and slogging through the mission reports you’d let pile up in the last two weeks. Clint slouched back against the cushions by your legs, clicking the TV on with the remote.
You turned your head to give him a pointed look, a smirk playing on your lips. “Do you mind?”
The archer grinned crookedly back at you, flipping through the channels without looking. The sounds of sports commentary and midday soaps and infomercials bled together, just loud enough to be distracting. “Not really.”
“Don’t you have reports to fill out?”
“Already did,” he said with a shrug, switching over to Netflix. “Check your inbox.”
Curious, you did as he suggested, opening the files you’d been CC’d on.
Mission Report: We won. -Hawkeye
You shook your head in amusement. There were four separate reports, but aside from the date and mission code at the top of the page, they all read exactly the same. You had no doubt that the reports for the work he’d completed with Romanoff and Rogers read the same. “How you still have this job is beyond me, Hawkguy.”
Clint’s smile widened; his eyes glued to the television as he scrolled through adventure movies. He tapped fingers erratically against his thigh; he’d been bouncing around the apartment for most of the day, but you didn’t see the use in pointing out that a fifth cup of coffee probably wasn’t helping his restlessness. Trying to convince Clint to cut back on coffee was a battle you’d lost months ago. He’d already taken Lucky for a run – the Labrador was sprawled out on the dog bed in the corner, snoring lightly – but it had apparently done nothing to tire him out. “Maybe I just look damn fine in the uniform.”
You smiled, turning back to your work. You suppressed a sigh as an email alert appeared in the corner of your screen; it was from Maria, which probably meant she was sending you the briefing material for your next mission. So much for having the next week off. “If that’s how SHIELD works, Romanoff would be the director by now.”
You felt Clint’s hand slide over the back of your bare calf, giving the muscle a gentle squeeze. “And what would that make you, exactly?”
You shrugged a shoulder. “A little turned on, I guess.”
He snorted a laugh. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“Yeah, I do.” you replied, smiling widening. “But I’m busy now, so we’ll have to entertain your workplace-based power dynamic fantasies later.”
You felt Clint’s fingers tap along your thigh, drumming out a staccato rhythm against your skin. “Ooh, promise?”
“Hmm…” you took a sip of your coffee, setting it aside again before answering. “If you’re lucky.”
He hummed a laugh, finally settling on a movie. His tapping against your skin continued, following the tune of the film’s opening credits theme music. You did your best to focus on the work in front of you, even as Clint’s hand continued its dance along your leg. You rolled your eyes as it travelled slowly higher, his fingertips drumming along your thigh. You were wearing a sundress, and with each inch his hand rose, he took the hem of your dress with it. You glanced skeptically back at him, but his attention was focused totally on the TV, so you weren’t sure it was intentional at all. Besides, this was better than the wrestling match he’d had with Lucky a few hours ago – they’d broken a lamp and knocked over your breakfast.
The score picked up in the film after a while, and Clint spread his hand over the back of your thigh, his thumb settling along the curve of your ass for a moment before he resumed playing out the beat, patting you ass repeatedly with his palm. Raising your eyebrow, you turned to look at him meaningfully. His eyes were still focused on the TV, but the smallest of smirks quirked at the corner of his lips as you faced him.
You waved a hand at your laptop. “I’m trying to work here.”
“I know.”
His hand didn’t stop.
“My butt is not a drum, dude.”
Clint’s innocent expression finally broke, a grin lighting up his features as he held up his hands in surrender. You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously for a second and he laughed, turning his attention pointedly back towards the TV. “Okay, okay. Look, I’m behaving myself.”
You turned slowly back to your computer, not believing him for a moment. You’d been dating him long enough to know that Clint Barton was never behaving himself.
Sure enough, you soon felt Clint’s hand drifting slowly up your leg again, slowly mapping out the back of your thigh. His hand was soft and warm, and you felt goosebumps follow it, a shiver travelling up your spine. You sighed, turning your eyes to the ceiling impatiently. “Barton, I swear to God…”
“Shhh,” he replied soothingly, his touch still moving higher. “This is a good scene.”
You scoffed, fixing your attention determinedly on your computer screen. Your resolve wavered as you felt his hand continue upward, slipping between your thighs to ghost fingertips along the sensitive skin between your legs. Your breath hitched as he slowly balled his hand into a fist, pushing your legs apart gently. You caught his reflection in a picture frame; he was still dutifully focused on the movie playing out in front of him, and you whimpered as he moved your underwear to the side and slid his fingers against your sex.
“You okay?”
You wet your lips, taking a quiet, steadying breath as he pressed two fingers to your clit. “Fine.”
“How’s the report going?” You could hear the amusement in Clint’s voice, and you stiffened slightly as he circled your clit, biting your lip. “You know Fury wants them in by four.”
You nodded, teeth still digging into your bottom lip. Clint was so good with his hands, and the smug bastard knew exactly how to have you breathless and needy within minutes. You focused stubbornly on the screen in front of you, one hand gripping at the couch cushion. “Mm-hmm.”
“You need any help with it?”
Usually that question would earn him a sarcastic response, but as you felt him turn his hand and push a finger slowly into you, all you could manage was a hurried shake of your head. You heard Clint snicker, his thumb pressing against your clit.
“You sure?” Clint’s tone was playful, dropping to a huskier cadence as he teased you. Still, despite his cockiness, his voice dropped, and you thrilled as he muttered, “Fuck…”
“Clint, I—”
“Uh, uh, uh…” Clint slid another finger into you, and you arched into his touch. “You’ve got work to do.”
“God, I hate you.”
A chuckle played low in the back of his throat, and he circled his thumb over your clit. Your hand tightened on the cushion beneath you, a whine slipping past your lips as your nails dug into the fabric. “That’d be more convincing if you weren’t so… fuck, you’re wet…”
You giggled breathlessly, rolling your hips back into his hand. Clint withdrew his fingers from your sex, and you jerked as he pinched your clit.
“C’mon now, none of that. I told you; you’ve got work to do, Agent.” He pushed your legs further apart before rising, moving to kneel between your knees. He took hold of your hips, pushing your dress up around your waist as he lifted you and shoved a couple of pillows under you. “So, eyes front.”
“Just to be clear, am I supposed to just let you do whatever you want back there while I finish this?” you asked snidely, gesturing to the laptop in front of you had as you arched your neck to look back at him. The screen had gone dark.
“Yep.” Clint said matter-of-factly, smirking as he teased his fingers against your clit again. His other hand was unbuckling his belt, and you thrilled at the outline of his erection against his jeans. He unzipped his fly, and you bit your lip as he reached into his underwear to grip the base of his cock. “Now, shut up and do your work.”
You scoffed despite the anticipation swirling in your belly and tingling up your lower back. “Asshole.”
He smoothed his hand over your ass, fingers digging briefly into the flesh of it. “Don’t tempt me.”
Your retort was cut off by a moan as Clint thrust into you, sliding his cock into your cunt with one slow, steady stroke. He groaned, and you watched his reflection in your laptop screen; his eyes closed and his jaw tight as he filled you. His hands claimed your hips, pulling you back to meet him as he took up an excruciatingly slow pace.
Your dress bunched further up your back, goosebumps rising on your skin as he ran his left hand over the small of your back. It moved to your ass, and he gripped it possessively. Another moan fell from your lips as he tugged your underwear aside, the material pulling taut against your clit. Each thrust of his hips into you made it pull again, and you pressed your face into the couch, teeth gritted. Your arm knocked the laptop, and the screen lit up again.
“How’s your report coming?” Clint asked snidely, humor undercut by the husky tone of need in his voice. You could tell by the tightness of his grip, the way his breathing came sharply, that he was holding back, drawing it out. He wanted to make you fall apart, needy and desperate for release. All the pent-up energy he’d been annoying you with had a new focus, one that you were quickly becoming at the mercy of. He trailed his right hand up over your thigh, grunting as he rocked into you with more force. It made you gasp, eyes rolling back. “I don’t see any progress being made.”
“You are so – fuck – fucking annoying, Barton.”
You could hear the smile, the beginnings of a laugh in his voice. “Y’know, it turns me on when you talk dirty like that.”
You reached back to smack him on the thigh, and he laughed in earnest. You snapped the laptop shut and shoved it to the other end of the couch, all half-hearted pretense out the window. “Oh, just shut up and fuck me, Clint!”
“See? I’m all tingles,” he replied jokingly, the hand on your thigh snaking down between your thighs to your clit. You moaned aloud as he rolled his fingers over it, his thrusts becoming more hurried, more purposeful. You rocked back on your knees, meeting each push of his hips with one of your own, the sound of flesh meeting flesh filling the apartment as he slid deeper into your eager cunt. You could feel the leather of his belt, the rough denim of his jeans against your ass and thighs with every thrust, and you cursed as Clint increased the pressure on your clit. “God, you feel good, baby.”
“Fuck—” you could feel your body tightening, feel the excitement building. You reached back to grasp blindly at his thigh, eyes rolling back. You came loudly, moaning his name. Clint groaned, hands tightening – delightfully painful – on you as you shuddered and constricted around him, pushing into you in long, slow strokes.
“You know what I find really, really cute?” Clint asked brokenly, his breathing unsteady as he fought to keep himself under control.
“Oh, do—” you exhaled shakily as you relaxed, reaching between your legs to grab at his hand. He let you tug it away from where it was still circling your clit, and he interlaced his fingers with yours against your thigh. “Do tell.”
“How much you curse when you’re screwing.” he teased, his hand grazing over your hip. You jerked under his touch, over-sensitive, and he slid out of you carefully, releasing his grip on you. “You go from professional super spy to foul-mouthed sailor on the docks in like, three minutes.”
You snorted, pulling the pillows out from under your hips and tossing them aside. You moved to a kneel and turned around to face him. He was smirking at you, his hand wrapped around the base of his cock. “That is such a flattering description, honey, thank you.”
Clint’s grin widened, and he wrapped a hand around the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss. It was sweet and loving; you could feel his smile against your lips and a laugh bubbled in his throat. “Don’t worry, baby. You’re the cutest damn dock-dwelling sailor I’ve ever seen.”
You snickered, nose bumping against his. “Spend a lot of time down at the docks, do you, Hawkeye?”
“Only when you’re out of town,” he replied with a shrug. “A guy gets lonely, y’know?”
He interrupted your retort with another kiss, and you melted into eagerly, trailing your fingers over his chest and down his stomach. Clint moaned against your lips as your hand replaced his around his cock, and you stroked him slowly, urging him to sit back against the cushions. You straddled his lap, lips leaving his as he pulled your dress off over your head. He tossed it aside, head falling back against the back of the couch with a groan as you lowered yourself onto him. His cock slid easily into you, and you helped him take off his shirt before grasping at his shoulders and taking up a steady rhythm.
Clint’s hands came to your waist, thumb brushing the underwire of your bra as his lips trailed over your jaw. You reached behind you to unclip your bra and Clint’s hand found your breast, warm fingers cupping and squeezing. You could feel the metal of his zipper grazing your thigh, and you tugged his belt free from his jeans, wrapping an end around each hand and looping the middle around the back of his neck.
Clint groaned, the soft leather of his belt biting into the back of his neck and his hands tightening on your body. His breath was warm against your neck as he ducked to dust kisses over your chest. You felt his lips and his tongue on the sensitive flesh of your breasts, your breath catching as he caught your nipple between his teeth. Clint’s hands slid around to your ass, gripping it hard as you rolled your hips and ground against him.
“God, baby…” he breathed against your breast, and you shivered as his breath played over the wet stripe he’d left on your nipple. He tilted his head back to meet your eye, his own half-lidded and dark. “…I’m trying to think of something poetic here, but I’m coming up all curse words.”
“Good thing I don’t date you for your way with words,” you laughed, tugging on the belt, urging him closer still. He met your lips with a smile, one hand coming up to tangle in your hair. His hips pushed up into yours, and you moaned into his mouth, letting the hand he still had on your ass guide you into a quicker, more desperate rhythm. “Fuck, Clint—”
His hand tightened in your hair, his teeth catching your bottom lip before breaking the kiss. He pressed his forehead against yours, his hand leaving your hair. It travelled down over your chest, pinching your nipple fleetingly before sliding down to grasp at your thigh, and your lips parted in a gasp as his thumb finally returned to your clit.
“I’m with you, baby…” he muttered, and you came with a moan, the belt cutting into your hands as your fingers tightened on the leather. Clint groaned, head falling back against the coach and his hips jerking up into yours as he followed. His hands slackened their grip where they’d tightened, and you sighed a shaky breath as he began massaging away the ache of it. You tossed the belt aside and let yourself fall against his chest with an almost giddy laugh, pressing a kiss to his sternum.
“Well… damn…”
You felt Clint’s chest shake as he chuckled, wrapping his arms around your middle. “See? The minute we stop, and you’re back to cursing like a PG-13 movie.”
“Well, someone’s gotta keep it civilized around here.”
“Is that what you call that thing with the belt?” he teased, tracing shapes along your spine with his fingertips. “That was new.”
You straightened, meeting his eye. You hadn’t exactly wandered into bondage or airplay there, but you’d definitely toed the line, and the two of you hadn’t really experimented with either up to this point. “New good, or—”
“Oh, good!” Clint grinned, tucking hair behind your ear. His fingers skimmed over the side of your throat and down your arm and you relaxed, taking his hand. “Definitely good.”
You smiled, kissing him. “Good.”
“In fact,” Clint continued, helping you off his lap. He tucked himself back into his jeans, but didn’t bother to rezip. Instead, he pushed you back against the cushions and moved to lean over you, arms braced on either side of your shoulders. “You might want to keep it in mind for that whole workplace-power-dynamic-fantasy you’re dying to try out.”
You scoffed, rolling your eyes at him. “How can you already be thinking about sex again?”
Clint smirked running a hand up the outside of your thigh. “Oh, baby, when it comes to you, I am almost always thinking about sex.”
“Yup. Never in a church.” he assured you. “Then it’s mostly just about hand stuff.”
You shoved at his chest and he fell back with a laugh, running a hand through his hair. “When are you ever in a church, perv?”
“Missions take you to the strangest places,” he said with a shrug. He stood, smacking a kiss to your forehead. “Speaking of: you’ve got reports due, Agent. And not much time to do them in. Better get a move on; some of us like to at least attempt to be professional around here.”
“God, I hate you!”
He dodged the pillow you threw at him with a laugh. “That’d be more convincing if you weren’t still half naked and your thighs weren’t drip—”
The next one caught him in the face.
tags: @lovely-dreamer19 @wittyforachange @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @glossyloner @capitalnineteen @youclickedthislink @s0ftness @castieltrash1 @absolutly-me @lol-you-thought​ @ruderavenclaw​ @startrekkingaroundasgard​ @notafraid-bitch-igot9lives @akumune​ 
as always, if you would like to be added to the tag list for clint or any/all marvel character, please send me an ask :)
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moonlit-imagines · 3 months ago
Is That What You Wanted?
Avengers x teen!reader
warnings: death!! guns, blood, alcohol ment
a/n: this is not good lmao
prompt: anonymous: “Hello! I was wondering if you could write an avengers one shot where the reader is an avenger and is pretty young (maybe peters age) and the other avengers dislike her because they think their “useless”, and then one a mission the reader ends up passing away, and then the other avengers feel really guilty? Ik this is pretty and if you can’t write it then that’s 100% fine! 💕💕”
It Was Never What I Wanted (Sequel)
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The Avengers didn’t have you for long, but for the time that they did, they did not like you at all. You were young, which was already a bogey. All you heard Tony go on about was “child labor laws and endangerment” and how he “didn’t want to go to prison because of you.” Apparently the whole team was on thin ice because of you, and for what? Your powers were mediocre, you simply controlled the air.
Truthfully, you weren’t using your powers to the fullest. It was a bad idea, they scared you. You’ve hurt people in the past, so now you were destined to be a walking air conditioner and a severe burden. And seriously, you’ve been used as an A/C unit before. Missions in this climate could get very warm very fast.
“I bet you all feel lucky to have me right now.” You chuckled while circulating air through the armored vehicle taking you to your final destination—the most risky fight of your life. There was a vast desert surrounding you and your fellow teammates and god, were you bored…
No one answered your little comment, either. Not even a chuckle or a sly remark. It truly made you feel as useless as they had seen you, and you wondered why they even kept you around. Maybe they saw potential in you and were just using tough love, or maybe Cap didn’t want you to feel such a harsh rejection, or maybe the team just needed you as a loyal errand kid.
You actually stopped the breeze inside and waited for someone to notice, and it wasn’t long before someone spoke up.
“Hey, what’d you do to the air, y/n?!” Clint snapped at you and the whole group began to stare holes right through you.
“I—I just got a little tired. I can start it up again.” You sighed and began to use your powers once more.
“I don’t even know why we keep you around at this point.” He propped his feet up on the seat in front of him and you stared at him in disgust. “Do you need something?”
“Yeah, I need to get out of here. Christ’s sake.” You muttered before standing up and opening the back doors of the moving vehicle.
“Y/N, sit back down, right now.” Nat commanded, but you hopped right out and began to fly overhead, using your wind to slam the doors behind you.
“You guys should really be nicer to them. They’re just a kid.” Bruce chimed in without looking up from his book.
“The enemy doesn’t care if they’re just a kid, Banner.” Clint told him. “Besides, if they can’t use their powers to ventilate this thing, how are they gonna use them to fight?”
“Y/N’s more than just their powers.” Bruce closed his book and set it aside.
“Well, y/n isn’t a scientist with seven Ph.D.’s now, are they?” Nat smirked back at him and watched him roll his eyes.
“Not what I meant.”
Meanwhile, you flew ahead with Tony and Thor, who were surveying the upcoming area for threats before the team reached their destination.
“What the hell did I tell you, y/n? I said ‘stay in the truck.’ Jesus, you never listen, do you?” Tony started to argue with you immediately. “I mean, we told you it was dangerous out here. Thor and me are allowed out here because I have this armor and he’s a god. What do you have? A little bit of wind?”
“Stark, it isn’t that big of a deal. Y/N is apart of this team, are they not? And if you want to get rid of them so bad, why not let them go on the dangerous mission?” Thor explained, making your eyebrows raise at his boldness.
“Because, genius, I don’t want to go to prison on a child neglect charge. What is so hard to understand about that?” They bickered back and forth as you all flew forward, but they stopped paying attention, which would be blamed on you in the moments to come.
“Guys, we’re coming up on something.” You told them as a base came into sight, the one that you’d been searching for all day. It wasn’t long before they spotted you, either. Or before they launched missiles in your direction. Tony and Thor hadn’t exactly been paying attention enough to do something, so you acted fast to create a gust of wind so powerful it acted as a tornado and spun and launched the missiles back to where they came from. “Can you two get serious now?”
“That was lucky, y/n. Real lucky.” Tony rudely replied to you and boosted his suit to win the “race” to the base. You landed on the vehicle that some of your team was on in order to protect it from any more heavy fire. The rest of them would be on the other transport just a couple hundred meters back. Luckily, they wouldn’t be the target thanks to the heavy-duty fliers in the field.
“Are you guys ready?” You poked your head into the cabin after opening the door a bit.
“Stop getting distracted, y/n. We’re fine.” Nat waved you away and began to adjust all her gadgets for the fight.
“Just trying to help. You guys are kind of the worst.” You laughed and slammed the door shut before flying to the second car and asking the same question.
“Yes, y/n. We’re fine. Why don’t you go ahead and do some work for once.” Sam shot back to you while powering up his wings.
“We’ll be there soon.” Steve added. You just sighed and flew ahead to join in on the action. It was already loud up there, but what did you expect from the God of Thunder and flashy rich boy?
“Need any help?” You asked while swooping onto the scene.
“From you? Not really.” He flew past you and blew up a defense tower. You were getting really sick of this, but you were also scared to prove yourself. Using your powers the wrong way could have some really awful consequences. Suffocation, trauma to the body, catastrophic destruction, and even (un)natural disasters. Was it really worth the risk?
As the rest of the team arrived, all hell broke loose. It was a trap, they were expecting you, and now you were all in the same place, completely surrounded.
“I need you guys to cover your faces. I’m talking eyes, mouth, nose.” You warned them without explanation. “Or hide on my mark.” They all stared at you like you were crazy. “Sam, Thor, Tony! On the ground, now!”
“We don’t take orders from you, kid.” Sam stayed in the sky as you enacted your plan. A sandstorm that would be sure to cause unrest. It wasn’t long before grains of sand overwhelmed everyone on the base, a good enough distraction to save your team. While the enemy braced themselves for your power, the Avengers evacuated to the transports without you, waiting for you to finish up.
“Y/N, get out of there, that’s an order!” Steve shouted to you as you eased up on the storm. The team was surprised to say the least. You’d never used your powers to such an extent before, but you did it for them. Only, it’d been so long since you’d even attempted such power, you were to weak to go on.
“Someone needs to get them.” Bruce told the team, but no one volunteered. “Seriously, any day now!” While they argued about who would go back into the settling sandstorm, you hobbled onto your feet and slowly, weakly walked to your transport in a daze, then noticed a red light shining across your torso. You didn’t even have time to react before realizing what it was before a bullet flew through you. The bang of the gunshot startled the rest of the team and you watched all of their heads swivel to you as you stood alone, gripping your stomach.
“Guys?” Sam asked in disbelief before seeing a dark red stain grow more prominent on your suit. You dropped to your knees and onto the ground just seconds later and the whole lot came running for you as Sam and redwing analyzed the trajectory and found the shooter, ending him without another thought.
“Y/N? Hey, eyes open, alright?” Nat snapped her fingers at you and watched them flutter open. “Good, that’s good.”
“There’s no way I’ll make it through this one, you know it.” You chuckled out of fear and groaned as Nat flipped you over to plug the entry wound with something from the first aid kit, then laid you down again and pressed on the exit wound. Tony landed beside you and exited his armor.
“Come on, kid. You gotta pull through. I can’t go to jail.” He sort of begged while Bruce checked your pulse.
“Not now, Tony. Just don’t.” Cap sternly told him while Sam worked to call the Quinjet.
“Quinjet is en route, should be here in five.” Sam told you all and you knew you wouldn’t even make it that long.
“It’s fine. I did my job. Went out a hero, I guess.” You quietly spoke to the group as Bruce offered you some water. “Thanks…anyways, I saved all of your asses despite your constant mocking and mean comments. Who knows where you would be right now if it weren’t for me.”
“We’re lucky to have you, y/n.” Steve assured you as he placed his hand on yours.
“I hope so. And I hope you remember this. Forever.” You told him with a wavering voice.
“Y/N, you must save your strength.” Thor pointed out, but you’d rather get this over with.
“You can all be horrible people, you know? No wonder this team is so fucked. They abused a teenager until they needed them to sacrifice themselves. W-What—does that say…about you?” You took one last breath and went completely limp, sending the Avengers into peril. There was no saving you, no way to help at all, just watch your corpse lay still until they could bring you home.
The ride home was quiet. Natasha was still covered in blood on her hands, arms, and stomach. And she and Bruce sat with you the whole time. Steve stared from afar, wondering where it all went wrong. Sam sat beside him with tears in his eyes, already mourning a bit. Clint sat away from everyone, thinking about what could have happened if you weren’t there and how many lives would have been lost if not for you. Thor was thinking of what he could say about you, but kept it to himself. Tony was staring out the window while crying to himself, he got a kid killed and they didn’t even think twice about saving him. And he was going to have to answer to someone about this.
Once they arrived at HQ, your body was covered in a white cloth and transported inside via stretcher. Never had the Avengers felt shame quite like this. You were right, they were fucked if the life of a child was put on the line in order to save their skins.
“We need to talk.” Steve told them as they gathered their composure inside.
“I’d rather not.” Tony rubbed his temples and walked to the bar to grab a drink.
“Y/N was a good soldier and a valuable member of our team. We have to honor them in some way.” He explained to the still silent group that couldn’t be bothered any more. “They saved our lives, something we’ll never be able to repay or forget.”
“Oh, I won’t forget it.” Tony said before taking a long swig straight from the whiskey bottle. “No, I won’t forget their last words. The ones that’ll haunt me until it’s my time.”
taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @rorybutnotgilmore // @locke-writes // @sweetheartliz07 // @queen-destenie // @natasha-danvers // @lokihiddles // @frostedficrecs // @johnmurphyisqueer // @teenwaywardasgardian // @pappydaddy // @captainshazamerica // @freya-xo // @ravenmoore14 // @xuxinoir // @ofthedewthesunlight // @canarypoint // @zoeyserpentluck // @randomawesomeperson102 // @brutal-out-here // @wonderful-writer // @of-a-chaotic-mind // @groovyfluxie // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @lxncelot // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @petersgroupie // @dindjarinsspouse // @werewolf-himbo // @lost-fantasy // @legolas-with-hearing-aids // @moobrvoobl-moobmoob-oobmpoobroom // @summersimmerus // @cipheress-to-k-pop // @blleuu //
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thesuitkovian · 18 days ago
“I love you.” “Tell me that when you’re sober.” + “I didn’t think it was possible to love someone this much.”
A/N: Kinda wrote this as an alternate ending to the previous Clint Drabble, but you don’t need to read the other to understand this one or anything like that.
Prompt: “I love you.” “Tell me that when you’re sober.” + “I didn’t think it was possible to love someone this much.” w/ Clint
Word Count: 1.2k
Content Warnings: Clint x Reader, mentioning drinking, drunk characters, mentions of vomiting, fluff
You had snuck out of Tony’s party, hiding in one of the tower’s many staff rooms, and decided to relax on one of the couches. You hadn’t intended to fall asleep but according to the clock, you had slept right through the 3-hour party undisturbed.
As you’re rubbing the sleep from your eyes the door swings open and you immediately whip your head to see who it is, startled. Tony enters the staff room, sighing and throwing his hands in the air as soon as he sees you.
“Finally. Can you come get your man please?”
You frown, confused, “My man?”
“Clint is drunk and I don’t have the energy or desire to drag his ass back to his rooms.”
“Tony, did you find-” Natasha enters the room, stopping and offering you a half-smile when she sees you, “Hey there, Y/n, Clint is asking for you. Says he refuses to go to bed until you-” she lifts her hands, making quotation marks around her next words, “Tuck him in.”
Tony lifts a hand, motioning to Natasha, “See what I’m talking about? Your man, you deal with him. And if he throws up on my expensive floors you can clean it up. These floors cost more than you’ll ever earn in your lifetime, alright, I don’t want vomit stains on my hardwood.”
Natasha snorts, shaking her head, “I bet you don’t Tony.”
He gives her a deadpan look, stepping to the side so you can pass in between them, “Very mature, Nat, very mature.”
Their bickering fades as you walk down the hall and into the large open party area. Bruce turns, hearing your footsteps, and nods when he sees you. He’s sitting on the coffee table in front of Clint, humoring Clint who seems to be rambling on about something. He has two drumsticks cuddled to his chest and his knees dangling over the edge of the couch.
Thor sits off to the side, enjoying an alcoholic beverage with a smirk on his face. “Here you are! Clint has not stopped asking for you, Midgardian!”
Clint’s head snaps up at this, a large smile blooming on his face when he sees you. “Lovebird!” He crows, struggling to sit up. Bruce lurches forward, steadying him with a helpful hand on his shoulder but Clint doesn’t even notice, only having eyes for you.
“Thank you, Bruce.” You nod in his direction, crouching down in front of the inebriated avenger.
“Yeah, of course,” He stands, wiping his hands on his pants before awkwardly placing them on his hips for a few seconds before stuffing them in his pants pockets, “Have a good night, Y/n.”
“You too, Bruce.” He turns to walk away just as Clint brings a hand up to your jaw, turning your head to face him. “Stop paying attention to Bruce, pay attention to me.” He pouts, cupping your face with a warm, calloused hand. You lean into the touch, pressing a kiss to his wrist.
“Come on, Clint, it’s time for bed.” You stand, reaching out your hands for him to take.
He does so eagerly, jumping to his feet, “You’re coming to bed with me?” You can hear his excitement as you turn and begin to walk him out of the room.
You chuckle, shaking your head, “No, Clint. You are very drunk, I’m just going to take you to your room-” You jolt to a stop when he stops walking but keeps a hold of your hand. You turn to look at him, noting the frown now pulling the corners of his lips down cutely. “What’s wrong?”
“I want you to come to bed with me.” He states, voice like steel, and you know he isn’t going to change his mind. He’s stubborn sober but drunk he is completely unmovable.
“Alright, fine.” I’ll go to bed with you Clint.” His smile is back in a second, and now he’s guiding you to the elevators.
You allow him to press the buttons himself, and as soon as the door closes he’s wrapping his arms tight enough around you that you can’t move away.
“Clint?” You ask, your cheeks getting warm. His nose brushes along your neck before nuzzling his face against your nape. “I love you.” He slurs, his voice muffled.
His words catch you by surprise, but you recover quickly, telling yourself not to take the words too seriously. “Tell me that when you’re sober.” You force out, your whole face now warm and your voice a little shaky.
“I love you.” He presses, voice gaining that same edge it does when he’s trying to win an argument.
The elevator beeps and comes to a stop, and the doors open revealing the floor with all your rooms.
You lead him out of the elevator, which is a struggle seeing as he is now leaning on you heavily. At least he isn’t completely octopused around you like earlier, or else you wouldn’t even be able to move.
“You’re drunk.” You disagree, “You love everything when you’re drunk.”
He shakes his head, once again stopping the both of you in his tracks. He’s starting to remind you of a hard-headed mule.
“I do love you. I love you so much, Y/n, so so so much. I just love you like…” He trails off, “a lot. I don’t have the words to describe how much I love you, cause I just love you so much.” He grabs you by your waist, pulling you as close to him as he can get you, staring you in the eyes with a surprisingly sober expression, “I didn’t think it was possible to love someone this much.”
Your resolve begins to waver, but you just shake your head slowly to recuperate yourself.
“Let's get to bed,” You whisper, struggling to keep your voice even. You tug him towards his room and he surprisingly lets you. He’s silent as you guide him into his rooms and then his bedroom, helping him to take his shoes off and get comfortable.
He breaks the silence as you pull his blankets up to his chin, tucking him just as Natasha said he wanted. “Do you not love me?” He asks, his voice startlingly sad.
Your eyes snap to his face, surprised by his words. “What?”
“You didn’t say it back.” He whispers, his pout back full force and no longer just for attention.
You find yourself floundering. Of course you love Clint, but you don’t want your love confession to be while he’s drunk and probably won’t remember it in the morning… but if he won’t remember it then you can always confess it to him again at a different point.
Taking a deep breath to steady yourself you open your mouth to return the sentiment, but when you go to meet his eyes you find they’re closed.
“Clint?” You ask, frowning. He doesn’t respond, and you realize he’s fallen asleep.
You sigh deeply, leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead. “I love you too.”
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youreobsessedwithmarvel · 2 months ago
I Once Asked If It Was Between Me and Him, Who Would You Choose?
🌧-Both ☁️-Undecided/I don’t freaking know ⚡️🔥-Triggering Possible
Word Count:159
Warnings: IDRK
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Bruce Banner Masterlist
Y/N stood off to the side. Watching as everyone sat in front of the TV. It was Saturday which meant old film day. But when she had asked everyone what film they wanted to do this week, they all mentioned that that they didn’t have time. They had been doing that for the past few weeks. Blowing her off and then doing something themselves. It hurt more than she would liked to admit.
She turned and walked out of the room and to her own. She opened the door, kicked it shut, walked over to her bed, and fell onto it. She grabbed her pillow and pulled it into her, curling around it. It hurt her. It hurt that they always chose him over her. Every damn time.
Why was she always the second choice? Ever since he joined the damn team. She couldn’t do anything without asking if Peter was doing something. He always came first. Even on missions. On their last mission, he fell from his web, and was perfectly find mind you, but everyone ran to check on him. But she was thrown against the wall, a broken arm, and a ruptured eardrum. She got yelled at for being so reckless when she was trying to protect him.
She didn’t understand what was so special about him. He was just a kid with special abilities. A kid with special abilities that practically kicked her off the team. After that she was never allowed to train or do anything. That was really when they decided to distance her out. She wondered that if Thor was there, if he would do the same. Probably. 
Sighing, she closed her blinds and closed her eyes. Not even trying to stop the tears from falling. She didn’t want to. She wanted for them to maybe walk in and see her. See her laying on her bed crying. All because of them.
Now here she was, a week later. Fighting with them. Fighting because, as usual, they had chosen him over her.
“--I needed you guys there! He didn’t need you!”
“He had his--”
“--He didn’t need you there for his Science Fair Tony! I had to go to the Doctor for my eardrum! Which, by the way, was only ruptured because I was trying to protect him!” She pointed to Peter when she said that last bit.
“Why would you need someone with you?”
“Oh I don’t know Steve, maybe it’s because they had to give me medication and I’m not supposed to drive after I’ve taken it! I waited for five hours! Five fucking hours for one of you to show up and take me home! I had offers from people but I didn’t take them because I didn’t want to scare you guys!”
“Well why didn’t you call one of us?”
“My phone died! And someone fucking took my portable charger to make something! That someone also took my project and made it his own! That hologram version of FRIDAY? Yeah, that was my idea! I had been working on it for years now! I had been working on it since it was JARVIS!”
“If you had to choose between saving me and Parker, who would you choose?”
“Y/N, I don’t think--”
“No Natasha, I want to know from all of you. Who would you choose? Me or him?”
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clints-lucky-arrow · a month ago
turn off the stove.
(Comic) Clint Barton x F!Reader 
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SUMMARY: Clint is alone. He's desperate, struggling, and you try your best to be there for him in any way that you can.
And soon enough, it means rebelling against the part of yourself that knows better, and allowing him to bend you over the kitchen table whenever the need grows too strong.
Smut. Friends to Lovers. Soft!Clint. Based on Matt Fraction’s Hawkeye (2012) Series.
18+ ONLY.
WARNINGS: Faint Allusion to Depression. Explicit Sexual Content. Vaginal Sex. Vaginal Fingering. Praise Kink. Dirty Talk & Praise. Not Beta-Read.
Word Count: 4.3k
Likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated.
A/N: If you are a comic's fan, this take place during Volume 3 (L.A. Woman).
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It's a little unclear how exactly it all started. The path of circumstance that resulted in finding yourself on your back on Clint's bed, crying out as he buried his face in the crook of your neck and stroked himself almost desperately into your core. Listening to his ragged breathing and feeling the sweat on his skin as you held him close, and knowing that he was finding some solitude in you, and that the act was a refuge from all that darkness loneliness which had plagued him recently.
After all, Bobbi was gone. Natasha was gone. Kate had stormed off to the West Coast and taken Lucky with her, and so Clint was alone. Or he would have been, if not for you. It had just been friendly at first. Going over to cook some meals and ensure that he was taking care of himself, but then - somehow - it became so much more.
God. You had tried to tell him that you shouldn't. That you both should stop and think about this more logically because you were friends. He obviously wasn't okay, and you didn't want to feel like you were taking advantage. However, those needy blue eyes had settled upon your face, and he had whispered "please" so softly. Before you even knew it those hungry kisses were guiding you down onto the flat of the sofa, his body covering yours as he rolled on top, fingers dipping underneath the hem of your shirt.
Even now, you can feel him behind you. Those eyes burn into your back as you face away - purposefully not making eye contact - and continue to lean over the stove. The pot containing the coiled pasta boils and simmers, while another pan hosting the mince and sauce bubbles off to the side. Spaghetti bolognese. One of the few things that he will eat, because the man has the appetite of a damn toddler. Not that you'll tell him so right now, given his rather precarious mental state.
He shifts in. Moving closer. Approaching until he is nearly pressed right up against you, firm chest brushing your back. You stiffen, trying to focus on the food and not on his proximity. It’s hard when his breath wafts against the nape of your neck. Prickling as it washes over you. Those fingertips rise to settle on your hips, their touch light but insinuating.
The contact resonates even through the fabric of your dress. A tight swallow constricts your throat. Eyes fluttering closed, you lean forward, feeling the steam buffet your already heating face as your hands brace upon the solid countertop on each side of the stove. Your head shakes - just the smallest amount - in an attempt to centre yourself. He rubs small circles on your sides, mouth lowering to ghost across the curve of your neck. You can't help but lean back into his touch, even though you know you probably shouldn't.
Chances are, this is only going to end messily, and your friendship will be ruined. But you can't stop yourself. Being fucked by Clint Barton is like a drug.
So when his teeth catch on the skin of your neck, you can only groan and pathetically grind back into him. The gesture is accompanied by words that are both hoarse, and ringing with strained reluctance. "We shouldn't."
His low groan sounds in your ear. Clint presses himself further against you, until the hidden bulge of his hardening cock is unignorable against your buttock. You can feel him nearly throbbing through the fabric of his jeans. Hard and aching, and it's presence steals away your rational thoughts. Leaving you with nothing but the desire to feel him slide inside of you, and take you right there against the counter. The thought has a futile whine hitch in your throat, and he chuckles ever so slightly, chest vibrating with the motion.
It's a rare sound nowadays, and yet it washes over you in a soothing wave of heat, melting you even further.
"But you feel so good, baby," he whispers against your skin. One hand still leaves your hip, reaching up to fumble against the stove controls. Turning them off. His hips tilt, pressing more firmly against you. Pushing your body slightly forward until there is no space between his own and the lip of the oven. A low heat simmers outwards from it's depths, and presses against your core. There's no room to breathe, or to think. Clint just grinds the front of his jeans against you, teeth catching on your earlobe as he murmurs softly again. "Do you really want me to stop?"
That freed hand returns, palm pressing against the bottom of your stomach before slowly descending further. It skates between your legs. The fabric of the dress flattens with it, and you moan gently again, knowing that although you'll never admit it, you wore a dress for this very reason. So that he could have easy access to lean forward, one arm wrapped around your waist to hold you against him, while the other brushes over the already dampening strip of your underwear. His chin rests just above your shoulder, lips whispering against your skin, and you can feel the slight thrust of his hips into yours, signalling that ever-growing arousal.
"Baby," he says again.
His voice is low and rough, and you can feel his hardened need press against your rear as those fingers slip through the top of your underwear. They travel down, circling your clit as your head sinks even further against his shoulder. A breathless gasp spills from your lips as he brushes downwards, sliding those two digits between your folds to spread the moisture that he finds gathered there. Small bolts of electricity burst through your body as he caresses your centre again.
The contact is slow. Exhilarating. Clint takes his time, needing to hear every sound that you utter. To know that he is the one making you feel this good, and that he's not alone.
Calloused fingers continue to stroke your clit. Those hands - hardened after years of working in the circus, and even more spent wielding a bow - are nimble. Able to provide the perfect pressure against your rapidly soaking core, and massage the spot that has you breathing heavily, hands raising to grasp the forearm that locks around your front. Nails dig into his skin, but he doesn't seem to care. His skin is lightly tanned after a past spent working repeatedly underneath the hot sun, and he smells faintly of sweat and shampoo.
Not that you can blame him. It's so warm in this apartment, even without the fact that his firm body is pressing you right up against the oven, lightly heated by the resonating from the stove plates on top. Not enough to burn, but enough to feel the faintest beginning prickle of perspiration across your skin as he knowingly strokes another fire to life in your centre.
The curse pours out of you accidentally. However, that single word hosts all that he needs to hear. Arousal. Lust. Surrender. All perpetuated by the pathetic grinding of your ass back into the mound of his stiff cock. He chuckles in response, pleased, but the sound still lacks the majority of his usual past mirth. You sink back into him as his hand delves between your folds, pushing his fingers inside of you until you are writhing while the heel of his palm presses against your swollen bundle of nerves.
Heat runs through your body as he fucks you with those long, perfect fingers. The angle is perfectly curved - because this archer is nothing if not utterly precise - and he repeatedly brings them into that spot deep inside of your aching core. Brushing repeatedly against the patch of something rough and coiled deep within your cunt. God. The sensation is delicious.
How long have you wanted him to touch you like this? How many times have you imagined how he'd feel, firm chest against your back and hot breath on the nape of your neck, taking your body in any way that he wanted? And now, it's a reality, and you can't believe that you're still trying to talk yourself out of this.
No more.
Your head twists, mouth turning upwards to search hungrily for his own. A groan vibrates from within him as your urgent kiss presses against his lips, and the sound nearly has you melt. It's as if everything inside has turned to jelly, and only Clint is keeping you whole. Him, and the glorious pace of his fingers as he pumps them in and out of your needy core. He kisses you back, all a harsh mixture of teeth and tongue. Forcing you to open your mouth fully to him and leaving you gasping. It's filthy and delicious, and you can feel yourself dripping onto his hand, so aroused by the action that your body tremors, letting out another wanting ache for his length.
"God," he rasps, voice low with arousal. "You're so wet for me. Look at you, baby, being such a good girl. Fucking yourself onto my hand. Christ."
His arm slides from your waist, journeying down and back to grab a handful of your buttock. He kneads the cheek almost roughly, but that other hand doesn't stop working itself into your cunt. You can feel how soaked you’ve grown. Almost dripping. The wet sound of his fingers deep inside your soaked cunt fill the air.
"Did you wear this dress on purpose?" he asks, hips gently rocking against yours as his spiral of lust takes over. "Did you know I'd take one look at you in the doorway and want to fuck you then and there? Are you trying to kill me, sweetheart?"
Yes. No. You can’t remember.
Not when his touch has heat curling in the pit of your stomach. Simmering within until you can feel it spreading through your veins. It’s thick and lusty, and you can only pant and reach down to grip the oven door for support. Your hands tighten upon it, knuckles straining, and it groans slightly as it tips marginally open. Clint pushes you harder against it. The hand squeezing your ass travels up to the small of your back, gripping your hair while he breathes another open-mouthed kiss into your own. Fuck. 
You can feel it building inside of you. The climax. White-hot and throbbing. It spreads across your skin, trailing scorching tingles in its wake. Another whimper escapes your lips as Clint ruts against your rear, hissing between his teeth. His fingers continue to work within your core, pounding against that one spot that sends jolts of electricity crackling across your skin. You can feel the pressure bubbling within, driving you higher and higher, right up to the looming peak. 
It ripples. Low and mounting, as his fingers twist further into your hair, yanking it back so that he can inhale each whimper that bursts from your lips with his. You can feel yourself soaking his fingers, the delicious quake of the orgasm beginning to shudder through your body. As you spiral upward - moving blissfully ever higher to the edge - Clint coaxes you on with rasped words of praise and hungry kisses. It’s too much. 
His smell. His taste. His touch. 
All of it sends you right over the edge. Breaking apart on his glorious fingers with a lingering cry. He guides you through the orgasm, fingers leaving your hair so that his arm can wrap around your front once more, gripping your shoulders as he holds you close while you pant and groan, the sounds distorted by the uncontrolled tremble of climax. A rush of slick flutters through your core, roiling in response to the blissful release, and further coating the digits pushed within your throbbing pussy. Your body pulses as the orgasm shudders straight through you.
When the leftover pangs of climax die down, Clint slowly retracts his hand. It slides free of your panties. Glistening fingers lift from the underskirt of your dress to rest upon your hip. His other hand leaves your hair, lowering to settle on the opposite side of your waist. Clothes rustle as he turns you back to face him. Those hungry eyes - deep, powerful blue - rove over every line of your features, drinking in the reflection in your own expression.
He steps forward, leaning to press his lips more gently against yours. Your arms slide up and around his neck. Clint’s hands flit across your clothed back, pulling you in. So close that his hard chest brushes right up against yours, and you can nearly feel the heavy thud of his sturdy heart through his skin. He kisses you hard. Almost roughly. As if he wants to consume you.
And he does. With his unignorable smell, and his touch, and his taste. 
It washes through you. Almost as heavy as a drug. Rendering you utterly compliant as his body guides yours, moving you slowly away from the countertop and the oven. You are blind to where he’s taking you, only focusing on his mouth as he presses you to take step after step backwards, until something unyielding butts against the back of your thighs. The kitchen table.
No affirmation is needed. Clint’s hands slide around the underside of your legs, and then he is lifting you upwards. Jolting you onto the table so that you tip backwards, gasping slightly as his fingers skate your panties free. He lifts them free with flourish, and tucks them into his rear pocket with his signature curled smirk. One eye dips in the briefest wink, and for a moment, he looks a little more like his usual self. Free from all the stress and worry that has populated his recent life, as he steps closer - between your parted legs - to slowly reach up and pointedly unbuckle his belt. 
His right hand glides down his zipper. The left just presses flat against the bulge of his trousers, rubbing in a light circle in a vain attempt to relieve some of the ache. You can nearly see the need pulsing from within. It swells, and how much he wants you is clear and aching across his face. It sends another bolt of arousal to your already soaked core. Fuck. You just want him inside of you already. To be able to feel him within, pumping himself inside of you.
It's all you can think when he finally reaches in to pull his cock free. It bounces clear of the waistband of his boxers, and your throat grows instantly dry. You've had him inside of you before, but every time you see his thick arousal, it's like it's the first time. The perfect length and width, slightly curved. Uncircumcised, so that when his foreskin peels back, the slightly purpled head looms outwards. Clint watches how your eyes bore into his cock, and a small smirk grows upon his lips.
"See something you like, sweetheart?"
Before you can answer, he shifts inward. A low moan bursts from your lips as he rubs the tip of his cock over your aching cunt. It slides between your folds, roughly massaging your clit. His beaded precum perching upon the point spreads, mixing with the slick wetness seeping from your centre. He plays it around teasingly, his sharp gaze drinking in how you writhe and gasp under him. The tabletop is cold between your back, and your hands travel down, fingers curling underneath the ledge for a hold as something coils in the pit of your stomach.
As he continues to tease you, another low rasp rumbles from his chest. "God. You love that, don't you? Do you want me to make you cum with my cock? Have it stroke your clit until you can't take it anymore, before putting it in and giving you exactly what you need. You'd like that, wouldn't you? To have me fuck you so hard that you forget all of those silly ideas of stopping."
All the while those filthy sentences spit from his mouth, his cock continues to sliding through the glistening lips of your pussy. It only further addles your mind. The words bring a new need to your core, and you can't think of anything else. Just the need to have him make true on his suggestions, and to push himself greedily inside of you. The mere idea - accented in Clint's hoarse tone - has you climaxing again. Panting and crying as your body shudders, cunt flexing as it desperately tries to clamp down on a cock that is not actually inside you.
The wet sound of your arousal becomes more pronounced as Clint continues to rub himself through your slick folds. Fucking you without being within. But you want him to, and so, through needy cries, you beg for it. Pathetically whimpering for his length. And happily, he obliges. A grating moan spills from him as he pushes himself inside your throbbing core. Clint's eyes flutter closed, heavily lidded with pleasure, as a low exhale hisses from between his teeth.
The feeling of him inside of you again - thick girth stretching your walls - is heavenly. It grows as he moves, slowly hollowing out before sliding carefully back in. You can feel how his swollen head pops in first, the shaft coming easier afterwards. It's a delicious sensation. One that sings through your cunt and spreads fire in your veins. Your toes curl as his hips stroke into you again. His hand trails down your leg, wrapping one around his waist. Keeping you close to him.
"What was it that you said?" he murmurs, the words rough. "That we shouldn't do this anymore. That we should stop. Do you still believe it?"
His cock presses deep inside of your cunt. Burying himself right to the hilt, and his fingertips trail lovingly over the smooth skin of your calves. You'd shaved today - before coming over, that was - because a part of you had known that you'd ended up in this position. That as much as you thought you should attempt to refrain, there was no way that you could. Not when you'd felt this before, and knew just how good he could make you feel.
"No!" you gasp, lifting your hands to stroke down his hard stomach. The fabric of his t-shirt is warm under your fingers, and the hem flutters as Clint carefully ruts again. Letting you feel him. "I don't want to stop."
"That's good, sweetheart," he replies, voice hitching slightly. "Because neither do I."
And then, in one firm stroke, he slams back into you. Shearing through your walls and sheathing himself so deep that you can feel the heavy pulse of his cock within you. A jagged cry erupts from your mouth at the sensation of being filled, but there's no time for words or any other response. Not when Clint finally begins to fuck you properly - vigourously - with his handsome face twisted into a firm snarl.
Underneath, the table shudders with every jolt of his hard waist. Clint's body is tight. Firmed and strong from years of training. Sunlight pours into his golden brown hair as he works himself above you, a light sheen of sweat growing across his forehead due to the humid apartment. He looks beautiful. Concentrated and controlled, just like when he draws the bowstring back and aims to shoot. And like every other target, he hits each of your marks with brutal precision.
The glorious impalement of his cock has your eyes rolling and whimpers bursting from your lips. Filthy and repetitive, the slap of skin on skin fills the room. The pressure within you - a gorgeous, simmering heart - builds with each perfectly angled thrust. His swollen cock collides again and again with that spot deep inside. The rough patch deep within your cunt that elicits you to writhe and pant, stoking the heat that fills you up to the peak. All the while, Clint hangs over you, illuminated and glowing in the fading evening light.
Those blue eyes bore into your face, his pink lips parted, as he drinks in the sight of you coming undone underneath him. Your keening cry rings through the air. It echoes off dusted countertops and walls of exposed brick. Clint curses as he feels you clench around him. The spat swear is aggressive, accompanied by the tightening of his hands upon your calves. He pitches in further, managing a few more fervent pumps. You can feel how hard his cock is, and the shudder that ripples through the length as arousal overcomes him.
The desire to fill you - to push himself in so deeply that stars burst behind your eyes - is too much for him to hold back. As the Avenger jolts forward, hips stuttering with finality, his cock flexes. Warmth floods your core as his release pumps into your ready cunt. The sensation has you moaning again, and the image of his hot cum dribbling out of your still-filled cunt invades your mind once more. It's a filthy image, but one that almost sends you straight into orgasm again. Feeling the shudder of your walls, Clint's hand tightens upon your thigh.
Nearly growling, he leans forward, trying to push himself inside a little more, while his body spasm with the last few jerks of release. His eyes flutter closed - lashes temporarily obscuring those blue irises - as a small smile graces his lips. The urge to reach up and touch his face swells within you. To stroke a finger down that angular jawline, and feel how he responds underneath your touch. But you're not sure how he would take it.
After all, you're not quite sure what this is.
Clint offers no explanation as he pulls out. Wetness drips down between your legs as he does, and you do not miss the way that his eyes fix on your core. There's pride in the way he looks at your exposed cunt. An apparent satisfaction in knowing that it is his cum that leaks out of you. Still, you can't quite be sure what this means. If it's just him seeking release, or something more.
His touch leaves your leg, gently lowering it back to hang off the edge of the table. You take a few seconds to breathe. To collect both your energy and composure. Once it feels somewhat intact, you push yourself silently upright, and smooth the bunched up skirt. Clint, having taken a step back, just continues to watch you curiously. With his head slightly lowered, gaze angled upwards, something about him seems more boyish and uncertain. It's a hard look for a man - an Avenger in his thirties - to pull off, but somehow, he does. It makes you nervous, and so you search for a distraction.
That comes soon enough.
Nose wrinkling in disdain, you sniff the air. "Is something burning?"
He pauses, as if confused, before his gaze darts backwards. Upon the stove, blackened mince sits. You can only raise a brow, arms crossing over your chest in a manner that is slightly disapproving.
"I turned it off!" he proclaims defensively.
A sigh brushes from your lips as you push yourself off the table, aware of the slight shake in your legs. Your tone is forcibly casual, and it grates in the air between you. "The plate was still hot, idiot. You could have moved it off."
This time, his brow arches, except the gesture is more playful than irritated at your name-calling. "So could you, sweetheart, bit you were a little distracted."
The slight twang in the endearment sends another pang of arousal to your already filled core. Bits of Clint drip out of you, and your eyes snag on the panties sticking out from his back pocket. Holding out a hand, you try to adopt a firm expression. Attempting to ignore the fact that he was just working himself over you minutes ago.
"Can I have those back, please?"
Something drops in his expression. It surprises you. Those eyes blink, shifting away in a sudden bout of uncertainty. You can see how his teeth snag upon his lower lip, rolling it between them. "You're leaving so soon?"
... Did he not expect you to?
Your voice holds both that thought, and the accompanying hesitation. "Do you want me to stay?"
It was new. He had never asked you to before. Nowadays, you left quickly after the sex. Almost scurrying away. Too afraid that if you stayed, something would ruin your friendship. That you'd go too far and make things awkward, because you were quite confident that Clint didn't feel exactly the same. Because, while you knew that he reciprocated your lust, love had been an entirely different matter.
However, now it feels different. As if something has been tugged from your vision, and you can finally read him better. Allowing you to see that the desperation twisting his face is not just for some gratuitous sexual release, but for your company. For your companionship. And that he wasn't able to figure out how to ask you to stay without any other lead into the topic.
"Yes," he says, after a beat of nervous silence.
Your throat is a little dry too when you respond. "Sure, I'll stay."
And so, your mouth curls into a slow smile as you stand a little straighter, putting more strut into your step as you cross to pull a take-out menu from the drawer, with the retrieval of your panties forgotten. He approaches from behind, arms encircling your waist, chin resting upon your shoulder, as you tug it open. His body is warm and welcoming, and you feel yourself relaxing back into his chest. Sinking into Clint's embrace is a way that you have never allowed yourself to do until this moment.
Heat warms your palms, and your heart pounds nervously within your chest. All the same, you can't help but be happy. It reflects in your tone as you speak, trying not to sound completely giddy.
"The mince is unsalvageable. How about we get a pizza?"
Warm lips press again your temple, and his voice holds a smile. "That sounds good, darlin'."
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Clint/Taglist: @missedregrets @multiyfandomgirl40 @startrekkingaroundasgard​ @zemosugarbaby​ @allhailkingboba​ @fandomess-x2 @az-alvilag-ironovendeke​ @natashadeservedbetter @giggles75th​ @silverqueen28​ @ally22042000​ @jardinsecos​ @blue-moon221​ @Hibiscusgardenia @liadamerondjarin​ @cat998877​ @fandom-freak-16​ @afraid-to-be-me​ @agent-catfish-kenobi​ @viviace @punemy-spotted​ @thetempleofthemasaigoddess​ @the-lil-spud​ @childishlittlebeer @deliciously-nerdy​ @greeneyedblondie44​ @reejero​ @deanhisbaby​ @adoringdanvers​ @trashywritestrash​ @lestrangeoblivionblr​ @alltoofunny​ @Blue-Moon223 @i-neverasktwice​ @liz-owl​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @Dreaming-myLife106 @lovelylostminds​ @captainrexstan​ @lov3vivian​
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wandas-sunshine · 2 months ago
"If you'd just leave me alone that'd be great" + Clint Barton
Prompt: “If you’d just leave me alone that’d be great”
Character: Clint Barton
Warnings: Descriptions of panic attacks, some severely unedited angst
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You were livid. Beyond that even. Maybe that was selfish; Being angry with Cling when it wasn’t even really his fault. But how else should you handle the terror thrumming through your veins?
When you’d started seeing Clint, you knew about the dangers of his job. He made sure of that from the very beginning. You knew just how often he laid his life on the line for the safety of humanity as a whole. It was always so attractive to you knowing that you were dating a hero in the purest form of the word, but you were bound to worry. After all, that was only natural when he came home beaten and bruised more often than you cared to think about.
You were grateful to be with someone so attentive as well, so constantly aware of how you must be feeling when he was facing danger head on. Your messages never went unanswered for long, your calls never unreturned. Just a little bit of patience, and he’d check in with you as soon as he could.
So you were patient, you waited all day long. A handful of messages and one phone call for the day. After no response from the time you woke up ‘till the time you laid down for bed, you were reasonably concerned. You woke up the next morning with worry simmering in your stomach, and hope floating in your chest. You would hear from him today, you were sure of it.
Morning brought more of the same results. Panic was settling in now, and you called a few more times. You tried Natasha’s number too, then Coulson’s until finally you were left with one daunting option.
You paced your room so many times that you were convinced you’d wear a hole straight through the floor. Every ding of your phone sent you into a flurry, a predictable chain of events; Hope that it would be Clint, fear that it would be bad news, and then crushing disappointment when it was only your friends checking in on you.
You couldn’t control your thoughts as you called numbers and searched the news channels. You kept calling, leaving voicemails until voicemail boxes were full. Maybe you were being too overbearing, but you didn’t care. Finally you gave in, sitting on the floor with a tearstained pillow clutched tight against your chest. You tapped the contact, giving in to the terror and facing your worst option. The name flashed as your phone began to ring.
N. Fury
As the hours dragged on, you found yourself growing used to your calls going unanswered. You were helpless, trapped with nothing but the worst case scenarios in your head. You loved being in love with a hero, it was a constant reminder that the world was in good hands. But this was simply too much to handle. The next few days ran together, a mess of tears and nightmares broken up and held together by protein bars and coffee.
Somehow, with all of the knowledge you had of Clint’s life outside of your relationship, with all of the missions he’d gone on in the past, you had never properly given any thought to what would happen if you lost him.
Your phone said it had been nearly a week without hearing from him. Your tears had run dry, but the sobbing never seemed to stop. It was mid-afternoon maybe? Sunlight tried weakly to filter through the closed curtains. You were simply staring at your phone, not looking at anything in particular. There was a knock at the front door, loud and sharp. You ignored it, but the silence only lasted a few minutes before it came again. Three loud raps, slow and steady. Persistent. You refused to move, you weren’t entirely sure if you could move at this point. The quiet lasted longer now, and it was oddly stifling.
You were sure that whoever had come was one, but then it came again. This time was louder, practically rattling your eardrums. So you dragged yourself to your feel, all of your stiff joints and underused muscles screaming in protest as you trudged to the door. The fourth round of knocking was cut short as you pulled open the door.
Standing there, right in front of you, was none other than Clint. He was beaten and bruised, but most definitely alive and on your doorstep.
“You’re here.” You whispered, not entirely sure how to feel. “You just show up now? After all of that radio silence?”
As you asked the questions, tears once again pricked your eyes, and sheer panic and rage settled in your chest. He couldn’t even be bothered to leave a message? Couldn’t be bothered to ease your worries. You thought he was fucking dead for god’s sake. He let you believe you were going to be all alone again. Had he thought of you?
“Come on, let me explain. (Y/N), please.” He tried to step inside, but you didn’t budge. Tears were free falling now, sliding down your cheeks and dripping off your chin as you gasped for air. You shook your head frantically.
“No! I don’t...don’t wanna hear it. If you’d just leave me alone, that’d be great.” You whimpered. You pushed the door closed with shaky hands. You leaned against the door, sinking to the floor and hugging yourself tight as you let the sobs wrack through you.
Clint listened from the other side, each sob and gasp for air making his heart shatter in his chest. He ached to hold you and fix it all. It was his fault that you were crying, his fault that you were scared. He’d let his guard down, gotten himself caught on a routine mission.
“Please let me in, baby. I need to see you.” He begged. You clapped your hands over your ears. Everything was too much, even the sounds of your crying was too loud, and every inhale hurt your chest. The room felt like it was spinning as you scooched out of the way of the door so he could swing it open. There was a pause as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Then he was at your side, knelt close enough to be in your line of vision but not touching you just yet,
“I’m so sorry. It was an accident, I promise. I didn’t mean to leave you alone. I didn’t mean to keep you in the dark, I’m sorry.” He mumbled slowly, finally bundling you against his chest. Your hands fisted into his shirt, as if you would lose all of your sanity otherwise.
Clint had helped you through plenty of panic attacks, he knew how to help. He rubbed slow circles into your shoulder, gently reminding you to focus on the feeling. He continued talking, throwing you a rope to pull yourself out of the spiraling thoughts.
It was a handful of dragging moments before you found that the terror had subsided, and the crying was giving way to exhaustion. You leaned closer to him, not able to force words out in this state. You’d scold him more in the morning when you had more energy.
“I’m not leaving. I love you.” Clint promised. You nodded weakly. With his arms secured tightly around you, and his familiar scent wrapping you up tight, you knew that he meant it.
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