#clint is a dumpster fire and we love him

[cuddles-with-dragons]

Avengers incorrect quotes?!

Steve: You disgust me.

Clint: *eating a kitkat sideways* I realize this and don’t care.

Thor: I will send my army to attack! Thor: *releases a dumpster of raccoons*

Thor: You know, there's something weird going on with your face? Natasha: What? Thor: You’re smiling! I didn't know you could do that?

Natasha: I’m never donating blood ever again. Natasha: The second you walk through the door, it’s just one invasive question after another! Natasha: ‘Where did you get it?’ 'Why is it in a bucket?’ I mean, do you want it or not?

Steve: What can therapy do for me that screaming in my car for 30 minutes can’t?

Bruce: There's nothing worse than people using big words they don't understand. Steve: I photosynthesize with this.

Clint: We have a problem. Steve: Let me guess, you caused it? Tony: Gimme a sec, I'm not drunk enough to listen to this yet. Bruce: And it's another Tuesday, your point? Natasha: Would shooting you solve this problem? No? Then shut up. Thor: If you mean the fire, that's our solution to last week's problem.

Thor: If this plan goes down the drain, where should we regroup? Bruce: The afterlife, I guess.

Bruce: I'm gonna need a human skull but you can't ask why. Clint: Only if you also don't ask why. Clint: *pulls four pristine human skulls out of his bag* Bruce: ... Bruce, grabbing a skull: This one will do.

Bruce: Throw lamps at people who need to lighten up, and throw handles at someone who needs to get a grip! Clint: Throw a refrigerator at someone who needs to chill! Tony: Throw scissors at someone who needs to cut it out! Steve: Throw a clock at someone who needs to get with the times! Natasha: Throw matches at someone who needs to get fired up! Thor: Throw a brick at someone to kill them.

Bruce: If you got arrested what would be the charges? Tony: Theft. Thor: Disturbing the peace. Steve: Aggravated assault. Natasha: Arson. Clint: All of the above. In that order, probably.

Tony: Are you trying to give me a fucking aneurysm? Natasha: Pretty sure we all are. Bruce: I wasn't. Thor: I was. Steve: I was trying to stop them, for your consideration. Clint: I just cause aneurysms naturally.

Bruce: Go and tell Tony why you insisted on putting a normal-sized carrot in a bag of baby carrots. Clint: Bruce: Do it, tell him what you told me earlier. Clint, stuttering: I-it's because... th-they need adult supervision... Tony:

Tony: Your smile? It makes my day. Pepper: Your happiness? I live for that. Natasha: A room? Get one. Thor: Hotel? Trivago.

*The Squad is on a hike* Natasha: It’s beautiful out here. Steve: And quiet. Tony: Too quiet. Clint: Did we lose someone? *cut to Thor with a bear in a headlock*

*Something crashes* Tony: Shoot- Steve: *running into the room in a panic* WHAT FELL?! Thor: *walking by the room calmly* What died?

Kidnapper: I have one of your friends. Tony: Which one? I have seven. Kidnapper: The loud, annoying, rowdy one who never shuts up. Tony: Which one? I have seven. Clint, distantly: HEY!!!

Thor: I wasn't injured that badly. The doctor said all my bleeding was internal, that's where the blood's supposed to be!

Bruce: I hate taking off my glasses, because without them, my vision goes from Full HD all the way down to buffering at 240p and I just can't handle that.

Thor: I WOULD DESTROY THE WORLD FOR YOU GUYS! Bruce: Okay, can you do the dishes? Thor: No!

*at a zoo* Thor: What are they in for? Steve: Thor, this isn't prison. Thor: So they can leave? Steve: No, but- Thor, pointing at a meerkat: I bet that one murdered someone.

Bruce: I just want someone to take me out. Natasha: On a date? Clint: With a sniper gun? Thor: Both if you're not a coward.

Thor, Clint & Bruce: *screaming* Natasha: *runs into the room* What's wrong, Bruce?! Thor: Wait, why are you asking Bruce that when Clint and I are also here? Natasha: Because Bruce wouldn't scream unless it's an emergency. You two scream whenever you have the chance.

*Squad reactions to being told ‘I love you’* Thor: Thanks fam! Clint: Oh no. Bruce: *cries* I love you too. Natasha: Sounds fake, but okay. Steve: *A flustered mess* Tony: Can I get a refund?

Thor: *trying to buy a Father's Day card for Odin at Hallmark* Thor: Excuse me, do you have any that just say "You are my dad?" Associate: Well, I- Thor: How about "You impregnated my mother?" Associate: No... Thor: You know what, I'll just get a blank one. Thor: *writes* You are a father. This is a day. Here is a card.

Steve: Accidentally indulged in too much ‘free time’, turns out I've been reported missing for over sixty years and presumed dead by most local and national authorities.

Clint, bleeding out on the ground: Blood loss? No, I know exactly where it is.

Thor: What did you order this morning? Bruce: What do you mean? Thor: I heard you answer the door, and I sensed food.

Clint: .. .----. -- / … --- .-. .-. -.-- (translation: I'M SORRY) Natasha: What's that? Clint: Remorse code. Natasha: I'm even angrier now.

Bruce: Synonyms are weird because if you invite someone to your cottage in the forest, that just sounds nice and cozy. But if I invite you to my cabin in the woods you’re going to die. Tony: My favorite is explaining the difference between a butt dial and a booty call. Clint: It’s called connotations. Steve: Try this one on for size, “Forgive me, Father, I have sinned” vs “Sorry, Daddy, I've been naughty." Natasha: Great news! Language is now banned!

Loki: Twilight Sparkle was the main character because she represented the element of friendship— Clint, tied up: PLEASE, I JUST WANT TO SEE MY FAMILY AGAIN! Loki: I'M NOT DONE! Loki: And Rainbow Dash was the sporty girl—

Natasha: I’d kill someone if you asked me to. Steve: I’m pretty sure you’d kill someone even if I didn't ask you to.

Tony: Hoodie pockets are so great. I can fit like three sandwiches and a grenade in there and my hands are still warm.

Clint: We need a distraction. Steve: Is anyone here good at jumping up and down and making weird noises? Thor, whispering: My time has come.

Steve: Do you have a bobby pin? Natasha: Yeah. *searches in her hair* Natasha: Oh, no, wait. I’m not a nine-year-old girl.

Bruce: New challenge! Don't say stupid shit for 24 hours!

Bruce: So oxygen went on a date with potassium, it went... OK. Tony: I thought oxygen was dating magnesium, OMG. Bruce: Actually oxygen first asked nitrogen out, but nitrogen was all like NO. Clint: I thought oxygen had that double bond with the hydrogen twins. Natasha: Looks like someone's a HO. Tony: NaBrO. Steve: I'm done with all of you!

#the avengers #tony stark #natasha romanoff #clint barton #bruce banner #thor odinson #steve rogers #loki laufeyson #pepper potts #avengers shenanigans #marvel incorrect quotes #fucking idiots

[omg-just-peachy]

Omg this was sooooo cute.

…and now I’m thinking of times the rest of the team lets Steve and Tony get away with breaking the “no kissing during missions” rule: when one of them is hurt and they can’t get to safety right away 😈

Imagine Tony being hurt and Steve cradling him and giving him gentle little kisses to try and make him feel better while the team is hiding out. No one would dare try and enforce the rule (maybe Clint does jokingly and gets scolded lol), Tony appreciates Steve rebellion in this regard💔💔❤️💔

ahhh ty <3 here is another snippet, this time of a mission gone wrong and everyone worrying...

****

"Tony? Sweetheart, it's just me, okay? I'm going to set you down over here, alright?" Steve's words were blurry, sounding just far enough away that Tony knew it was Steve, but very little else. He heard himself groan, the sound followed by more muted words.

"He's... He's going to be okay, right? Isn't that what the doctor said?" Natasha that time, and Tony was feeling more awake by the minute.

"He said he hoped that would be the case. It won't be until we talk to Helen that we can really know for sure. The arc reactor shouldn't sustain that much water damage and he was already so..." Steve stopped, his voice thick.

"He'll be okay," another voice chimed in. "It's Tony, he's always okay." There was an edge to that last part, broken and breathy in a way that Tony was unfamiliar with Bruce being.

"Our Man of Iron will be right as rain as soon as we're home," Thor said, and Tony could almost picture the uncertain frown creasing his eyebrows.

Clint cleared his throat. "Yeah he's... he'll be..."

A silence hung thick and heavy throughout the room, and Tony wanted to tell them not to be so fucking dramatic, that he was right here in the room, but his head was so heavy, his chest felt like it had an elephant or five sitting on top of it, and he was fairly sure he couldn't string a coherent sentence together if his life depended on it.

His life probably did depend on it.

There was a quick squeeze just then, a pressure at his wrist followed by more muffled words. "I'm not going anywhere, okay? I love you." A lighter pressure, more sure this time. Steve, again, Tony knew, deep down, that only Steve could pair words so heavy with a kiss so light.

There were more words after that, muttered, muted conversations that Tony's brain couldn't focus on, followed by silence. Then, the sound of Steve's voice, always Steve, every time Tony could maintain consciousness long enough to focus.

It wasn't until he felt something hot and wet on his face that Tony was able to muster the strength to finally, finally pry his eyes open, blinking up at Steve from beneath a haze of heavy medication.

"Damn Rogers, no need to cry over spilled superhero," Tony heard himself say. There was another long silence, followed by the sound of more sobs, relieved this time, he was almost positive. "That was terrible, even for me. Dad joke dumpster fire."

"...Tony? You're... You look— You're okay?" Steve fumbled to get the words out, exhaustion and worry painting his beautiful features.

"Someone got to me just in time," Tony said, and did his best to grin charmingly up at Steve.

"Tony, it was so close, I almost... you almost..." Steve stopped himself.

"But I didn't, and you did," Tony reassured him. When Steve reached over to cup his cheek in his big, warm palm, Tony couldn't help but lean into the touch. Couldn't help but let Steve kiss him all over, from his lips to his cheeks and his nose and forehead, like he was cataloging every part of Tony, looking for some missing piece.

"You're okay," Steve said, more sure this time.

"M'okay," Tony agreed. "Little banged up, head's too fuzzy for me to be my usual charming self."

"You're always charming," Steve said immediately, making them both smile.

"S'why I love you. Hey, no one better give us any shit for kissing this time," he added, leaning up and pressing a quick kiss to Steve's lips.

Steve looked confused for a minute, then shook his head in disbelief. "You're not really still talking about—"

"I wouldn't be if you would get over here and kiss it all better," Tony quipped.

Steve kissed him, long and slow and full of enough reassurance for the both of them, the hospital machines beeping all around them, a sigh of life, a promise that Tony would be just fine.

#stevetony #stony #steve/tony #my fic

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

With Eyes to See and Ears to Hear - Chapter 13

‘Wrong (...)’ - October 13th prompt. The boys earn a nickname.

Check it out on AO3 here, or under the KR :)

A soft growl continued to chastise me in my ear, and I turned down the volume with an irate roll of my eyes. I get that they’re not happy that I ‘lost’ him, but chiding me like a petulant infant isn’t going to solve the problem. I’d considered telling Fury that Daredevil had got to the collar before I had, but I couldn’t add to the target on Matt’s back for my own convenience. Instead, I swallowed my annoyance and padded the rooftops, willing to ride out the cold night until I could crawl back into bed with my love. Who… Was sprinting toward me. “Matt?” He stumbled minutely as he registered my presence, head jerking toward me. “Clint?” “What are you-” “Move!” he snapped, grabbing my hand and jerking me along with him as shadows rounded the corner he’d appeared from, a writhing mass of movement indiscernible in the pre-dawn light. I let him spin me and drag me in his wake, losing my way quickly in the unfamiliar streets of skirting Hell’s Kitchen. My eyes raised with a scowl as the first raindrops peppered my cheeks, mildly annoyed but not actively inconvenienced – until Matt’s pace faltered as the deluge quickened, his head casting about in a panic. “I can’t see in this. You’re going to have to lead us.” “Me? But I don’t-” “Just get us down to street level. I’ll be able to guide you more easily from there.” His face turned toward me, jaw set with shame beneath his mask. “I… I need your help, Clint. Please.” I cast around quickly, mind whirring through vague memories of infrequent scoping, and grasped his hand once more. “Come on.”

It took three rooftops for me to find the building I knew was around here somewhere, rasping out an exclamation of relieved delight as I skittered to a halt, rainwater obscuring my vision and clouding my eyes. “Fire escape. It’ll get us down to street level.” He nodded, trusting me completely as I guided his had to the ladder, letting him swing his leg over first and drop out of view before sparing a glance over my shoulder. The mass of shadows was nowhere to be seen, but I wasn’t naive enough to think we could relax. His footsteps rang out on the metal rungs, and I followed quickly, descending floor after floor behind him until I almost slammed into his motionless frame, lost in the repetitive movement. “Matt?” “Damn ladder won’t budge,” he grunted, and I peered around him to see his arms straining against the jammed device, shifting to one side to give me room to help. My own hands joined his in the effort, but the metal only creaked and groaned, not giving any inch to our force. Matt stepped back, panting lightly, and tipped his head towards the edge. “How far down?” “Ten feet or so. Dumpster directly below us,” I added, peering over the raising, squinting in the dim light. “Think it’ll take our weight?” We looked up in unison at the sound of footsteps ringing out on metal, an impossible number all echoing into one another ominously. “I don’t think we have a choice.” “No, I don’t suppose we do.” “Together?” “On three.” We counted under our breath, voices barely audible over the footsteps getting quickly closer.

“Ow.” “Shh.” “You’re on my leg!” “Shut up!” “It h-” “Clint! Be quiet!” Matt’s lips were somewhere near my ear, his hipbone digging painfully into my thigh and one of his arms twisted awkwardly against my spine. I fell silent obligingly, breathing softly through my bloody lip and trying not to gag at the scent of garbage and sweat. There was a repetitive sound of feet landing on the ground, Matt’s fingers clenching against my waist in the following silence. Eventually, though, he let out a soft sigh, head falling back. “They’ve gone.” “Great. Can we get out of the trash now?” He snorted softly, the arm beneath me contorting painfully to slide free. “Ow.” I sat up slowly, rolling out the pain in my shoulders and assessing myself carefully. “Nothing broken. Let’s-” I interrupted myself with a yelp as my knee gave way, agony searing through the muscle and bone as my leg crumpled beneath me. Matt’s hands moved accordingly, catching me before I could return to the malleable ground, moving to cradle me against his chest. “It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Nat was rumpled and dishevelled when she opened the door, but her eyes widened immediately when she took in the state of us, smeared with food residue and rainwater, stinking to high heaven, Matt’s arm around my waist the only thing holding me upright. It had been a hard slog to our nearest confidante, my leg aching and unable to bear my weight. Matt had baulked at my suggestion, arguing we should take a longer route to a nurse he knew, but I didn’t know how long I could handle the pain – especially not with my ribs aching from his arm clamped hard around me. No… Nat’s our only choice. “… Come in, I guess,” she sighed, stepping back to hold the door open, running a hand through her bed-messed hair. “Nat, sweetheart? Who’s at the-” Steve stepped out of the bedroom, bare chested and yawning, eyes first growing large at the sight of us, then narrowing at Matt. Even without the cowl, his suit was immediately recognisable, and Steve’s muscles tensed instinctively. “What on Earth is going on here? Clint? Why are-” “It’s old news, honey,” Nat muttered, kicking the door closed and pressing a kiss to her lover’s forehead gently. “I’m sure they’ll tell you everything, but right now, these boys need our help.” Cap hesitated only briefly before nodding, stepping aside to let us pass. “I’ll get the first aid kit.”

“And that’s who they work for – The Hand,” Matt muttered, head resting against my shoulder as Nat finished cleaning the minor scrapes to my now-bare legs. My knee was badly bruised and strained, but mercifully not broken; that didn’t stop Steve from ordering me off work until it was fully recovered, however. “I’d not long finished a job when they found me. It was pure dumb luck that I ran into Clint.” “You’ve known he was Daredevil – both of you – and said nothing?” Steve clarified incredulously, eyes flicking between Natasha and I. “You’re working his case!” “And he’s not a bad guy!” I retorted hotly, struggling further upright despite the bone-weary exhaustion settling into my body. “He doesn’t hurt people, Cap. Not like we thought, at least. He’s just looking out for his city. It’s exactly the same as what we do, only on a smaller scale. And hell, he got the collar I lost tonight. Probably stopped more bad guys than I have. I didn’t think I had the right to haul him in for that, and I stand by that decision.” “And you?” Steve added emotionlessly, his gaze turning to his partner. Nat considered the question briefly, watching Matt and I for a moment before replying. “I’ve never seen Clint this happy, and I trust his judgement. But, that aside… I met Matt before Barton ever knew him. I figured it out, and I left him alone. Clint here was once ordered to kill me… Sometimes orders are wrong,” she added, voice soft as her hand squeezed mine. “He isn’t hurting anyone. I don’t regret leaving him alone, or not telling the team who he was.” Steven sighed, pacing the room with a hand scrubbing over his face. “You know if Director Fury finds out-” “He won’t.” “If Director Fury finds out,” he continued, eyes cutting to me warningly and making me wince, “I’ll have to feign innocence. I can’t be a part of this. I’m supposed to be your Captain.” My mouth worked wordlessly for a moment, Natasha’s grin eventually triggering my own. “You’re not going to turn him in?” Steve sighed again, kneeling in front of my vigilante thoughtfully. “… No. I’m not. I trust yours and Natasha’s judgement, Barton. If you say he’s a good guy, I’ll believe it. But if he ever proves otherwise…” he added, raising a finger warningly, and Matt chuckled softly. “Thank you, Captain Rogers. I appreciate your trust in me, and I’ll-” “Not in you,” Steve interrupted quietly. “I have faith in these two. They’ve never let me down, and I don’t have reason to believe they’ll do so now.” His eyes hardened minutely, gaze on Matt’s face. “But if you betray their confidence in you, there will not be a second chance. Do you understand me?” Matt nodded quickly, his hand on my side tightening minutely and betraying his anxiety. For all his kindness, it was very undeniable that if it came to hand-to-hand combat, Cap would probably be able to beat the crap out of any of us without breaking a sweat. “Right, you’re done. I’ll let you crash in the spare room if you promise to wash the sheets when you’re up. I’d demand you shower first, but…” Nat’s eye cast over me, taking in my swollen kneecap and half-closed eyes. “I don’t trust you not to drown, to be honest.” She glanced to Matt, frowning minutely. “And you? Where are you hurt?” “I’m fine,” he muttered – hissing softly when I shifted against him in preparation for getting up. “… Okay, I may have broken my collarbone. But I’m fine.” Nat sighed, shaking her head. “You’re made for each other, dumpster bros.”

I tucked my carefully bandaged vigilante tentatively against my chest, trying not to disturb the sling holding his arm close to his chest and sighing softly. “I’m sorry. This is all my fault. I… I didn’t… I should have found another way.” He snorted, nuzzling closer against me, leg draped over my own, uninjured one. “Clint… If it wasn’t for you, I’d probably have been beaten to a pulp, or worse. I owe you my life.” He made a soft, contented sound, hand trailing my chest lightly. “I’d show you my gratitude, but…” “But we’re both exhausted, aching, and smell like garbage?” Another soft chuckle, and he pressed a kiss to my throat gently. “Exactly.”

@flufftober

#fanfiction #mine #fandom: marvel #flufftober2023 #ship: Clint x Matt #writing bingo #writers on tumblr #Rating: E #J speaks #October 13th

[snarkythewoecrow]

hi there what are your favorite ships in different fandoms and how did you found out about them and why did you fell for this ships

Okay, so let me think…

Going back to my Twilight days, even though I’d love to forget, I have to say that I’ve always been into Jasper with anyone—mainly because he’s got some issues, and between his struggles with control and his empathic abilities, writing him was always so fun. And weirdly, my favorite pairing for him actually was a crossover. I liked him with Harry Potter, female or male Harry, both were great.

In Torchwood, I shipped Ianto and Jack because they were perfect together, and you can’t convince me otherwise. Though… my favorite ship might actually be Owen/Ianto, as I love the combination and the potential for enemies to lovers. Owen is just so crass and abrasive but such a softy underneath. Also, he is a doctor, so great for hurt/comfort tropes. And Ianto paired with him, with the way he could sass and annoy Owen, but also, damn, Ianto was hurting in so many ways, and both Owen and Ianto had experienced such loss, losing people they loved. So yeah, I loved bringing them together. 

Sherlock, I think I always shipped John and Sherlock, as they were just so great together, though I could be particular with how they were written. I have exactly one fic for that fandom, but I did love it. 

Harry Potter, oh what a fandom and so many mixed feelings. Let’s see, generally, I think I ship Hermione and Sirius or Hermione and Remus the most? Though that said, speaking crossover fics? I tend to like a lot of things, usually ones that are mixes of MCU and HP, especially soulmate fics. I have written a Sam Wilson/Harry Potter that I actually adore.

Sandman is very easy, I love Dream/Hob, and I have no reasons other than they offer so many possible takes, though I have yet to write them. And I am pretty drawn to The Corinthian/Dream/Hob, too, so yeah, that’s something I’m pretty into also.

Then we have the MCU, and that is pretty much fair game, though Brock Rumlow and Jack Rollins are two of my favs, especially when it’s softer than you expect. I love Brock/Darcy with a passion. So good and worth reading some if you haven’t. I have written one for them already. Then I think Steve/Bucky/Tony is my other standby favorite, as that ship doesn’t make me choose. Oh, and Steve/Clint is undervalued, and more people need to get into that—though I enjoy the more comic take of Clint with Steve, where Clint is a hot mess of a dumpster fire. 

Oh, and Supernatural, I actually gasp never liked Destiel! Sorry, it never clicked for me. Instead, I ended up shipping Sam with Lucifer, idk. Apparently, my brain is dysfunctional, and I didn’t really care who Dean was with.

And for The Old Guard, which I have written one ficlet for, I will say that I love Joe and Nicky with my whole damned heart. Like, damn those two for being such romantic saps. Like how could anyone listen to Joe wax poetic about Nicky for 2 minutes straight before kissing him like he didn’t need air and not love them? 

And then, finally, we get to 911, which all canon ships I adore. How can you not? This damn show owns my heart. But Buck/Eddie are definitely the ring leaders, rulers, the ones holding fucking court over all the other pairings right now. Like those two idiots with their single brain cell bouncing around between them, like shit, how can you not them? Buck is a mess, and Eddie is his fucking person, his home, his safe place to rest and hide from the world. And I think Buck is, in some ways, the purpose and the compass that Eddie needs to stay moving forward and not get lost in the storm.

#anon asks #anon #snark talks

[cruciatusforeplay]

Clint Barton:

#hawkeye #hawkguy and other costumes #hawkguy #clint barton #dumpster fire #clint is a dumpster fire and we love him

[bluebird-imagines]

Hi :) can you do all the members(separately off) with a s/o who doesn’t really like their music?

[I can for sure give it a shot! This is my first ask so i do hope you enjoy it ^_^. Also I apologize for taking so long, my second vaccine shot kicked my butt]

Prompted: S/O who doesn’t like Gorillaz Music

Trigger Warnings: I can’t think of any for this one. Maybe I should state my horrible 2D accent! I apologize in advance. Of and I bring up the s*x, m*rder, party song. But all and all I don’t think there is anything else. Anyway enjoy!

~Murdoc Niccals ~

Let’s start this off with, at first he doesn’t even realize that you don’t like the Gorillaz music. He never even pieces two and two together. Why might you ask? Well for the first while you tolerated it for the Bass players sake.

After a few months, you decided it would be best to maybe leave Kong whenever the band you as practicing or rehearsing. You did a lot of stuff in this time. Coffee, read some good books, even went bowling on your own a few times. It was just nice to get away from that horrid music.

You didn’t have anything against the band members themselves! All of them were nice, it just you found the songs to be tedious and annoying.

When Murdoc finally started to take notice, he would ask you why you would avoid the band. Not seeming to understand the distaste of their masterpieces.

You lied most of the time, saying something stupid like “oh I am meeting up with friends” or “oh I would just be in the way”.

After a few more months, Murdoc finally forced you to sit and listen to their newest album. Mainly wanting to get your take on it before the official release.

You didn’t even get halfway through the first song before standing up and tuned off the player. You honestly felt like your ears would jump off your head if you ever heard that again.

“What the Bloody hell was that for?! We have like 43 more minutes to go”

“Murdoc, I don’t know how to tell you this. But babe…your music is a flaming hot dumpster fire and I don’t like it”

“……what? Why the hell are you with me then if you don’t like our music?”

“Because I may have underlining daddy issues according to the internet, but in reality I really love you Mudz…for you!”

“So playing bass isn’t sexy….underlining what? No wait getting away from the real point here. You never heard if Feel Good inc.? Or you know Clint Eastwood?Those were some of our best songs! What about To Binge? Empire ants? Any of them.

“Hmm, Feel Good inc? Let’s see it’s repeats itself a lot. Clint Eastwood? Haha other then the opening your song had nothing to do with Clint Eastwood. You posted To Binge aka forced 2D to sing it. Empire Ants? It just sucks”

“You suck! Are music is an art! It’s great! you are the problem here.”

“Never said I was! Your music is an art and it makes a lot of people happy. But to me, my ears did like it…but I can say this, I do like you a lot Murdoc.”

“ I am pretty great! Fine no more of our music…around your at least. But maybe sometimes”

“I can handle sometimes”.

~Noodle~

Noodle would completely understand your distaste for their music. She understands that not anyone is up for what they produce and she thinks that is okay!

For her as long as you don’t listen to any overly annoying songs around her. She really doesn’t care what you listen to.

She does however like to get your input on songs, even if you don’t like them. She just likes hearing different peoples ideas.

But with that being said, there is a 100% chance that she may try to convert you into liking Gorillaz. Of course, just simply by showing you different songs they have done. Like Punk or Humility, Feel Good inc. or El Mañana. Hell she has even shown you Latin Simone.

When she realized she was doing this, she quickly backed off and apologized.

“Sorry (Y/n). I didn’t mean to do that…I just kind of got excited and thought you would like the different genres we have done.”

“It’s okay Noodle, you realized your mistake! Honestly it’s not that the songs themselves aren’t inherently bad…it’s just well Murdoc’s bass playing is well…pretty bad in my opinion”

“Oh? How so if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Well to me it sounds like well, a crusty old man who doesn’t know how to cut his nails and proceeds to scratch the surface of everything he touches. Also while we are at it 2D’s singing is really hard to understand!”

“Well Murdoc does forget to clip his nails from time to time and he doesn’t seem to like using a pick for his bass. But now you confused me with 2D”

“Listen I love you all! Especially you Noodle, but ooo boy, if you guys weren’t careful in sex murder party…it kind of sounds like 2D is singing dissolve the kids…which isn’t a pleasant image”

“Ah, I see what you mean, anything else?”

“Nope! Your guitar playing is wonderful! Love everything about you! Just your band is a bit much at times haha”

~Russel Hobbs~

Much like Noodle Russel would understand that their music wasn’t for everyone. Everyone was entitled to their own opinion. For example he was really into rap and it took a while for him to talk the whole band into listening to it.

Regardless unlike Noodle or Murdoc he wouldn’t make you listen to a single song of theirs if you didn’t want to.

Of course you would every now and then for their demo’s you just wouldn’t voice your opinion on it, since you couldn’t stand it.

Russel would also try his best to get into music that you like! Of course, if he doesn’t like one of the songs you like, you make a mutual agreement to not play it around him.

He even at one point turned it into a game that he really enjoyed playing with you! It was a game that helped the both of you set up playlists!

He would pick one of his favourite songs, if you thought it was okay, it went into the playlist. If he liked one of the songs you picked into the playlist!

“Okay how about, this song?”

“Let it go…from frozen? Really, we ain’t putting that in the playlist”

“Yeah you are right it was a stupid idea, it’s just been stuck in my head.”

“Haha fair enough, how about Rainforest by Noname?”

“Hmm, that’s actually not a bad one! We can throw it in! Alright space jam?”

“What is with you in movie songs tonight? Yeah we can throw in space jam”

“Sweet!”

“I can’t believe space jam beats our music out in that mind of yours…”

~Stuart “2D” Pots~

At first, 2D can not wrap his mind around the fact that you hate their music. More so he has never really had someone be with him for well just him before. Most of the one nightstands he had in the past was because of his popular singer status.

He does try his very best to get you into their music, of course, walking the fine line between shoving it down your throat and giving you air to breath with your own tunes.

That being said though, he doesn’t overly mind the fact that you like your own selection of music. He does find some of your songs enjoyable.

When he realizes most of the bands travel playlist consisted of a few of the bands own songs. He secretly takes the phone and changes up the playlist. He removes the Gorillaz songs and replaces them with songs you like.

Although you don’t like the bands music, that never truly stopped you from liking 2D’s singing. When he found that out he made a special song just for you. One where it was only on his keyboard and singing. He keeps it hidden so Murdoc doesn’t find it.

“(Y/n) I made yew something!”

“Oh sweet Satan please don’t tell me it was breakfast and that you burnt down the kitchen again!”

“What no! Besides that was a one time fing and I got a four month ban from going in fere fanks to Russel”

“Sorry…shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. What did you make 2D? You seemed really proud.”

“Oh well Um…I know yew don’t like our music and all…but I uh, I made yew a song, do ya want to ‘ere it?”

“Of course 2D, just because I don’t like your music, doesn’t mean I can’t be supportive of you”

“Well, this song isn’ really goin’ to be on an album, because I made it for yew”

“Aww 2D you didn’t have to~”

“But I wanted too!”

After he plays the song, you state that you adore it! This puts a huge smile on his face!

#stuart pot #gorillaz #gorillaz x reader #2d x reader #murdoc x reader #murdoc niccals #noodle x reader #Noodle #russel hobbs x reader #Russel Hobbs

[searchingfor-affection]

Part One // Lost

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2576 Genre: Angst Warnings: Cussing, not smut but mentions nsfw insinuations so minors dni pls

Lyubimaya moya: Russian for my love Soundtrack: Ain't Got Nothing But the Blues // Ella Fitzgerald, Joe Pass Since I've Been Loving You // Led Zeppelin

You sat in the compound alone. A piping hot tea nestled in your hands as you stared into the space. Loneliness possessing you and silence surrounding you. Every part of your body felt cold, it seemed to reject the possibility that she wasn’t here. It was like your every cell called out trying to bring her back but she was gone. You had never attached yourself to someone in such a manner and yet you found yourself lost. Lost and searching, watching and waiting, hoping that she'd slip into your bed, her bed, and cuddle up beside you. Every time a door opened you rushed to see if it was her. Public places were the worst, in a sea of faces, you found yourself looking for hers all while knowing you wouldn't find her.

one week ago

You had spent 12 months in deep cover, unable to contact anyone for fear of jeopardising your mission and you couldn't tell what was worse, the waiting, watching the news while trying to find anything you could about the Sokovia accords. You remember scrolling through article after article, refreshing the wiki page almost daily, grasping for any news of what was happening in the compound but what you had found was all civi reports, nothing substantial. You considered leaving the mission, taking all the information you had found, and just hightailing it to the compound. Nevertheless, you completed your mission, you were patient and you stuck with S.H.I.E.L.D only to return to an almost empty compound, an empty room, and an empty bed.

The Avengers didn’t exist anymore. Steve, Nat, Clint, Sam, Wanda, half your team, the only family you'd ever known, was gone, and half left behind in emotional ruins. During your debriefing, as the account of your own loss was relayed back to you, you felt yourself stand a little straighter. Your body tensed up, head to toe as if it could act as a physical wall between you and the grief you were feeling. It worked. your clenched jaw was the leash holding back your tears, your knuckles were white as they gripped each other behind your back.

No, had been a silent chant in your head forbidding you from crying.

When you arrived, the compound was empty except for Rhodey who greeted you with tired eyes, carried by weary shoulders.

“Then there were two,” You smiled as Rhodey brought you into a hug.

“Did Fury kick your ass for sending that letter while undercover?” He asked almost playfully.

“No, everyone was too busy basking in my glorious triumph… and then enlightening me on this dumpster fire," You sighed, gesturing to the building behind your friend. "I'm sure he'll get it when there's time. Who's left?"

"Tony, you and me."

"Do we know where Nat is?"

"Ross is head hunting everyone who opposes the bill. Speaking of which, did they make you sign it?" You walked inside and made your way to the living room.

"I have three weeks to 'sign or resign', I believe were his words. He wouldn't headhunt me apparently cause I am not classed as an 'enhanced individual'."

What he doesn't know, can't hurt me, you think to yourself.

"That's pretty generous, what will you do?" You sat on opposing sides of the lounge room couch.

“Depends,” he could hear your answer before it came. Rhodey considered himself your older brother biology be damned. He wanted to protect you from this mess, but some things he couldn’t fix.

“On whether or not I can find Nat, if I should even look.” A heavy sigh left him before he responded.

“I don’t know where she is, Christ, no one does. All I know is you are the only reason she stayed so long.” He saw how you wilted then corrected yourself by straightening your posture

"She's gone," the only two words you could think of. "She's gone," you felt tears threaten to break through the levee you had built when Ross had dropped the accords on the desk in front of you.

Silence trapped you and you felt Rhodey wrap his arms around you. You didn't notice the tears falling down your face till he spoke.

“Hey, hey, hey, you’re gonna be okay, Y/n.” During the years that James had known you, he had seen you battle a number of traumas. He had heard you scream before your body pulled you from a nightmare. He had watched as missions weighed down your shoulders and seen the words of your enemies play in your head and through it all, he had watched you stand straighter, taller, stronger. He watched you root yourself in the love of the people surrounding you. This, this was different. It was different because the soil which nourished those very roots was gone. All the strength that had held you up through the years had disappeared and now the wind had toppled you over. You were the same tree, strong and sturdy but despite all that strength and durability, you were left lying on the side of a busy road after a storm. Nevertheless, you pulled yourself together and stood so Rhodey could guide you to your room.

"Right next to mine, so if you have any issues, just knock or message me. We'll get through this."

After awakening from his own nightmares, nightmares of these accords, and the loss of his legs, new fuel to the fire, he wandered out to the living room to see you, Cheetos to your left, and a cup of tea to your right, playing Mortal Kombat.

A deep voice boomed throughout the room “Fatality.”

Wordlessly, he picked up a controller and sat next to you.

“Ready to get your ass kicked kid."

“It is my duty to inform you, Lieutenant, that the only ass about to be kicked is yours," you laughed, giving him a moment to join the game and pick his character.

"How are you... dealing?" You asked after a few rounds of getting your ass handed to you.

"One day at a time," he sighed. "Honestly sometimes it's more that I'm not dealing at all, just ignoring it all, I guess. I gotta be in meetings with Ross weekly at the moment so I can't afford to 'not deal'."

"That sucks."

"It really fuckin does. Wait... how did you do that?" He said after you had figured out a special move. "Have you been letting me win?"

"Not entirely sure and possibly," you snickered as he paused the game to look at the controls.

"Want to hear something kinda dumb?" he said not taking his eyes away from the screen, still fiddling with his controller.

"Always."

"When it gets lonely and everything is too quiet, I have a video which is basically a compilation of all of the videos that everyone took during game nights and missions. Just a big compilation of all our shenanigans and I let it play in the background and sometimes when I can't sleep, I just watch that shit, over and over. It's like a bad movie that I can't tear my eyes away from." He laughs, and you both return to the game.

"I don't think that's dumb." You say spamming his character to death.

"You're right, the fact that you can spam that move so damn easy... that's dumb." You laugh at his outburst, happy for the mood shift. "I can send it to you if you want."

"I think you're just bad at losing and that'd be great thanks." You laugh choosing the same character for the next round.

"No, if you have to spam to win then you suck at winning," He makes to steal your controller but you whip it away.

"No sir, winning is winning and all I do is win."

Slowly, night turns to morning and that deep booming voice calls another win for you.

“Kitana Wins... Fatality.”

“Dude... when did you have time to get so good at this?!”

“I was born this good, we both know that.” You playfully punched his shoulder as you both laughed.

At some point, you put the controllers down, and fall asleep.

Two weeks later

Many nights were spent like that. Dueling through the dawn, trying to decide whether or not to sign the accords. You technically didn't count as an enhanced human. You had one week left to decide.

Some part of you, a rather big part of you if you were being honest was still considering trying to find Natasha. You often caught yourself wondering if she missed you as much as you missed her.

Did she get my letter in time? Is she ok? Where could she have gone? and so many other questions were constantly running through her head. Would she want to see you? Would she care if you did or didn't sign the accords? Were they together or had they been separated? you knew Scott was on house arrest, similarly with Clint but where were Sam and Steve, and most importantly, the question driving you insane, where was Natasha?

Every fiber of your being longed for her, burned for her. All you wanted was to see her mischievous smirk, to see the sparkle in her eyes when she thought of something brilliant, to feel her strong body against yours, and to feel her hands on your hips. You wanted to hear her laugh as you trained together, for her hand to slap yours away while she cooked. You missed being surrounded by her, you missed her vibrance. It felt like it had been an eternity since she had called your name. You were left feeling vacant. Her absence was explicitly obvious almost everywhere you went. You cooked breakfast without roaming hands. You laid awake, alone, and cold at night. Sometimes though it was as if you weren’t really there at all. During the nights you found yourself unable to sleep and watching Rhodey as he played Doom or Skyrim or as he practiced Mortal Kombat, you'd just sit with your head leaning against his shoulder, whispering to yourself two Russian words over and over.

"Lyubimaya moya."

Four Weeks Later

Nothing felt warm, not the hot cup of coffee in your hands, not the couch beneath you or the blanket on top of you. The sun was dark, and music was replaced with a harsh static. An emptiness radiated from you, an emptiness and a dangerous silent stillness. You had signed the accords and it felt like a mistake. You couldn't look for her now and Ross wasn't stupid enough to send you after her. You were talking to Tony again though. You weren't sure how you felt about it, you could see his angle and understand his intentions but this still felt like a mistake.

So you ignored that feeling and returned to training. You trained harder than ever before and fought stronger than ever before. Rhodey trains with you then you both grab yourselves KFC after. It was one of your many rituals. He could see as you hardened your heart and as you transformed your levee into a dam, capable of holding so much more than before. He was unsure if it was a good thing but certain it was necessary. All he could do was be there for you and likewise, you were there for him.

Soon you’re even back in the field, attending press events, parties, and council meetings although, much to your distaste, there is more of the latter. Every now and again between missions, you send a letter to Nat's safe house in Budapest, knowing she wouldn't be there but hoping maybe it would find her. In your most vulnerable moments, when all you feel is your simmering anger and upset at the situation. In moments where 'Why didn’t you come and find me? Take ME WITH YOU!' were all you could think of in moments when you wanted to be angry, when you wanted her to answer for her absence. Then you remembered the decision she had stood beside. You remembered her unmoving and unwavering love and you felt less angry and more as if you were going to combust. You just wanted to see her, even if from afar, just a glimpse of her fiery red hair. Just so you could remember how she truly sounded when she first whispered “Lyubimaya moya.”

You felt as if you were forgetting her, as if all you remembered was the cold and missing her. You wanted warmth to spread through you once again. You wanted to slap her shoulder playfully, call her a liar and kiss her. You wanted to moan her name and hear her whisper dirty things in your ear. You wanted to hear her faint sighs of pleasure, her grunts as she fights, her laughter as she teases. You wanted to hear her complain of hunger before suggesting she eat you. You wanted to see her gasp with surprise, pleasure, and pain. You longed to hear the string of Russian profanities erupt from her after she stubs her toe. You wanted to see the creases in the corner of her eyes as she laughed, her analytical stare as she helped you train. You wanted to see her expression when she noticed you teasing her across the room. You wanted to feel her hand in yours, hear the adoration in her voice as she tells you, you’re beautiful. You wanted to feel her stare for longer than she should. Whenever some cocky intern hits on you, you want her to waltz up to them out of the blue and let them know who you belonged to. You want her so badly that you see her everywhere. You can almost feel her arms wrap lovingly around your waist. She feels so close and yet so far away. That's the worst part you think, feeling lost, as if belonging is out of your reach, as if most people who you once called friends are strangers again.

So, you train, you train and train and train waiting for her to waltz in and whisper, “Lyubimaya moya, you’re overworking yourself. Come, let’s have a bath.” She never comes, and you train till you pass out. Rhodey now has a nurse on standby because he has had to carry you to your bed more times than he can count. He worries and you find yourself always apologising.

Tony has started to employ your help with his tinkering, solely to keep you busy and unbeknownst to you, Pepper and Rhodey look for her, and every time they think they’ve found her she slips away.

It’s been a year and you've given up because if Natasha Romanoff doesn’t want to be found, you won’t find her. It's as simple as that. It’s been a year and no matter where you search or how many times you whisper 'my love', hoping she appears with a resounding ‘Lyubimaya moya’, it never comes.

It's been a year and you finally have the courage to step into the room you once shared with her. It looks like no one has touched it since she left. On the end of the unmade bed, tucked slightly beneath the sheet was an envelope. It had a thin layer of dust and when you picked it up you almost burst into tears.

Scrawled in her rushed handwriting were the words you wanted to hear most, "Lyubimaya moya"

#Natasha romanoff #Natasha #Romanoff #Romanova #Natasha Romanova #Natasha Romanov #Romanov #Natasha x Reader #natasha x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x reader #Natasha romanoff x fem!reader #x reader #wlw #Mcu #marvel #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #wlw marvel #wlw fic #wlw fanfiction #angst #Black widow #black widow x reader #black widow x female reader #Black widow x fem!reader #natasha romanoff #Natasha romanoff x female reader #x female reader #woman loving woman

[lyricalvillain]

Clint Barton

Okay so in preparation for the Upcoming Hawkeye show’s debut on Disney+ I wanted to examine  the differences in MCU’s Clint Barton and Comic Book Clint Barton.

I’d first like to say that Clint, like a lot of other characters, didn’t get a lot of screen time and because of that wasn’t fleshed out very well. In fact the closest we got to Comic book Clint’s personality in the films was during Age of Ultron.

There’s a lot that was done (and not done) with Clint in the films that bugs me. The first being that 

Clint Barton is Canonically Deaf.

Clint was first depicted as deaf in the comics in 1983 after a fight with Crossfire caused him to have permanent hearing loss.

Since then, Clint is depicted in multiple comics with hearing aids (He even has the bright purple aids in the Avenger’s game, come on MCU get with the program!)  In other books they utilize ASL, and other visual queues to portray this. It brings me a lot of joy, because inclusion matters.

Thankfully in recent screenshots of the show, it looks like Renner is wearing a hearing aid. We can only hope this will be a retroactive fix in the show and also crossing my fingers that it’ll be well represented.

Clint is a Human Disaster

His catchphrase in recent (2016 and on) comics is legitimately “Okay, this looks bad.” While he is incredibly competent, and they definitely portray that in the MCU if nothing else, he is also a giant walking dumpster fire. He’s carefree, rebellious, snarky, chatty and cocky as hell. I hated how he was only slightly snarky in the films and we didn’t get to see the human disaster we have come to know and love in the comics.

He is depicted as having self worth issues, he trains very hard to be able to keep up with his superpowered teammates and has had quite a few stints where he leaves the Avengers to make a name for himself outside of the group. He is constantly harangued by villains, allies and civilians as being a “reserve avenger” or “Barely an Avenger”. And it does get to him, which is so relatable.

In ToS Bucky notes that he seems to survive off of luck, however his luck is also fairly horrible in day to day situations.

Clint is Terrible at Relationships

This kind of feeds into the previous point but really it's a dig at AoU’s Secret Family and the whole motivation of running off on a global killing spree in EndGame. 

Clint was married to Bobbi Morse (Mockingbird), shortly after they got divorced and she is mentioned often in the comics. He’s also dated a LOT of his teammates. The Black Widow, Wasp, Scarlet Witch to name a few. He has a type, and can’t seem to hold onto a lasting relationship, and certainly doesn’t have children of his own.

The family he has in the MCU, while sweet, felt more like a scapegoat for why Clint and Nat weren’t romantically involved.

Lucky the Pizza Dog and Kate Bishop

Luckily (Heh) MCU is fixing these gaps by introducing Lucky in the upcoming series as well as bringing in Kate Bishop. Who is an absolute delight.

Kate was actually around during the Civil War arch in the comics and was the one to convince Clint to condemn Iron Man and his support of the registration act (Accords). And while the Avenger’s were disbanded and he passed his mantle off to Kate.

These additions show a caring side to Clint, his innate goodness.

Despite his criminal origins, he doesn’t just go on killing sprees (COUGH ENDGAME COUGH) He’s very much against the killing of people and very much for incapacitating and arresting them. He shows distaste in Tales of Suspense: Hawkeye and the Winter Soldier when Natasha kills a bunch of bad guys.

He didn’t mean to adopt a dog, and he didn’t mean to adopt a human either, but here he is being a dog dad and a mentor. 

Clint Can and Will Fall Asleep Anywhere

What it says on the tin folks. Clint has fallen asleep during heart felt conversations, after having been captured and tied to a chair, to name a few recent instances.

He's also clinically addicted to coffee.

All in all it looks like Disney is incorporating more of the source material into the MCU and will be giving characters depth retroactively. Which is a good way of going about it. Introduce a character via movie to build interest and then the show will have guaranteed viewers. 

#hawkeye #clint barton #mcu #marvel #marvel comics #kate bishop #lucky the pizza dog

[drgrlfriend]

#3 and #13 for the writer ask game!

3. What’s a fic idea that you have but haven’t written yet?

I have a few Winterhawk ideas that have been percolating. One is a fic heavily inspired by the song "Creep." It's Bucky back at the Tower in the immediate post-CA:TWS period, just kind of lurking around and watching all the Avengers. He sees Clint as this amazing, beautiful, strong, warm-hearted person and he's just dazzled by him. And then he comes to know the flawed Clint Barton dumpster fire we all know and love and idealized worship turns into actual love.

13. Have you ever received hate on a fic? Oh, for sure. I've gotten better about ignoring it, but I remember long ago I got in an epic flame war in my comments with someone. I can't even remember which fic or what their issue was, the only thing I remember is when I said, "You really need to be more polite in interacting with people" they said, "I'm in customer service and I've never gotten any complaints about my interactions!" and I laughed and laughed. Now at least when I get a rude comment I have people (cough, cough, *you*, cough, cough) to whom I can bitch on Discord and they sympathize and it's all better almost immediately. :-) I also have the bad habit of lurking in the bookmarks for my fic, and proving that old saying of, "You never hear anything good about yourself by eavesdropping." That said, my all time favorite bookmark is one that just said, "Long as fuck, but well-written." I'll take it.

#random #fanfiction #ask meme #author meme

[not-close-to-straight]

All I ever wanted from MCU Hawkeye was to be more like MF’s Hawkeye— argued by most fans (including me) to be his finest run, and now that it FINALLY looks like we might getting some of that sprinkled in… like you said, I feel like it’s too little too late? Why didn’t you use that source material that from the start, instead of doing it at the end after you’ve already established his character over a decade of films to be someone completely different. I’ll watch the show because of my nostalgia for my favorite comic book character, but I can’t help but feel like it’s pandering at this point. Like they’re trying to do whatever they can to make him likable after he went on a very competent killing spree. People give Wanda flak for creating an alternate reality to channel grief, but people tend to gloss over the fact that Hawkeye killed what was probably hundreds of people in actual reality. Though either way, I think we can all agree that Lucky the Pizza Dog is flawless— look at this face!

I didn't even know who MF Hawkeye was when I first got into fan fiction and I couldn't figure out why I was getting comments on my fics like "actually Clint's blond" or "where is his hearing aid", but after doing a little research and a LOT of reading, I fell in love with MF version. He's hilarious and an absolute dumpster fire and has so many struggles to overcome, he's so not a super hero but he is absolutely a hero and I adore him.

I started phasing him into a few of my fics but now I'm pretty sure he's all I write unless I'm working on a bonus chapter for an existing fic (like SAS or MTW) or if the Renner version works better for size wise/personality

And you're right, people really did demonize Wanda for the whole "created a false world and trapped all these people" and don't get me wrong, homegirl deserves the flak for it BUT HAWKEYE HAD A SERIAL KILLER TOUR OF NORTH AMERICA AND NOBODY SEEMS TO REMEMBER IT.

And that is actually an excellent example of how Women Pain is generally seen as hysterics and an over reaction and harmful to everyone while Man Pan is seen as "well its part of his redemption arc so it's fine" and that is yet another reason why we should burn the patriarchy

[gyoju]

we deserve to see this on hawkeye series

black widow spoilers!!!!!!!!!!!

since clint had been killing numorous crimicals between IW and EG there are so so many killers out there can’t wait to kick clint’s ass outta him

when yelena jumps in and goes, “I’m HeRe To KiLl YoU!!!” and then clint is not even surprised that he’s like “oh. yeah, of course. get in line.”

just imagine yelena getting involved in the chase between the hawkeyes and trickshot(barney i hope... i love the blindspot plot awa fraction’s run) and she’s not even sure how the hell did she end up running along with the guy she’s trying to kill and

yelena : who’s the ginger after us?!!

kate, absolutely casual : nah, he's just clint's older brother. aka trickshot.

yelena : wut his OWN BROTHER is trying to kill him???!!!!

clint, picking up an arrow from his quiver and aiming backwards : not that unusual, isn't it? *releases*

*a loud bang from the behind*

yelena : DID YOU JUST SHOOT AN EXPLOSIVE ARROW AT YOUR OWN BROTHER????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I WOULD DIE IN HAPPINESS IF I GET YELENA BEING DRAGGED INTO THE LIFE OF CLINT BARTON AKA HAWKEYE, HUMAN DISASTER, WALKING DUMPSTER FIRE then clint is just “well, welcome to my world” and then kate taps yelena’s shoulder and says “you’ll get used to it.”

#hawkeye #clint barton #kate bishop #yelena belova #marvel studios #i can't help it

[vaguelyrotten]

So you like Dumpster Fire Clint Barton...

So Matt Fraction’s 2012 run of Hawkeye showed what he does when he’s NOT being an avenger. In Fraction’s words he’s a “crap-sack tire fire of a human being.” He is. He’s a hot freaking mess but that’s why we like him. If you enjoy this walking dumpster fire and want to read more, check out the following:

Ales Kot’s 2014 run of Secret Avengers (Vol 3)

I love Kot. I love Walsh. This story is fun (MODOK and Coulson!) Maria Hill is a badass and Clint acts like an idiot but isn’t. 

Hawkeye vs Deadpool

There’s Clint, there’s Kate. There’s Deadpool (who is a huge Hawkeye fan.) They keep the fact that he’s deaf and also the Skycycle returns!

Thompson’s West Coast Avengers run:

The latest West Coast Avengers run and bloody brilliant. Seriously ended too soon. It has almost all of my favorite characters. They’re filming a reality show and the feel of the comic is a lot like Parks and Rec. Clint is still a disaster and definitely not the adult in the situation. 

Generations: Hawkeye & Hawkeye

A one shot, good Kate/Clint content. Tales of Suspense: Hawkeye & the Winter Soldier

I love Rosenberg’s writing so much. More dumpster fire Clint with a side of Done With Life Bucky. (Also I love me some Winterhawk content)

Hawkeye: Freefall

I said I love Rosenberg so here’s more! This ended way too soon. This Clint is a little less of a disaster but still makes some really stupid decisions. 

Gwenpool Holiday Special

This is the Variant cover but it features Kate and Clint. Throw in Deadpool and Santa and you’ve got a fun mix! That’s it! That’s what I’ve got! I’ve decided not to include titles where yes, he’s funny, but he appears for the most part in someone else’s book (IE - the recent Black Widow run or Loki: Agent of Asgard.) Avengers: Millenium gets an honorable mention for the ‘I’ve seen you eat a fruit pie from the trash’ panel though as a story it’s not one of my favorites. Occupy Avengers has some good moments but is a lot more serious (and same thing with the recent-ish Avengers: No Road Home.) If you think I’m missing something, please let me know! I started this at 2 AM and words were hard. And if you haven’t read Matt Fraction’s Hawkeye - Start there! If people come to me for comic book recs, 9 times out of 10 I start them with this one. It’s a super hero story that doesn’t focus on being a super hero story because this Clint is just a regular guy. You don’t need to know decades of storylines to follow - so this is a great jumping in point!

#hawkeye #clint barton #kate bishop #hawkeyes #deadpool #hawkeye freefall #hawkeye vs deadpool #tales of suspense #west coast avengers #generations hawkeye and hawkeye #dumpster fire clint barton #secret avengers #comic book recommendations #avengers #bucky barnes

[m4st4rd]

i would die for you, clint barton (clint barton x oc)

a/n: HI I’M BACK with a stupid little drabble. the talented @obwjam has reignited my love for comics!clint barton so i wrote a fic of him and an oc. i haven’t proofread it and the ending super sucks but i still managed to churn out about 1900 words so enjoy!!!

i’ll proofread/edit in the morning lol

brig is nb; they/them pronouns pls 

They’re scared, and Clint gets it. He’d be scared, too, if there was some weird giant searching for him. He’s no stranger to the feeling of fear. But when he’s the one causing it, it feels terrible. 

   Brooklyn is in shambles. A new supervillain group tests their weapons on a bank in Bushwick, the Avengers are on the case, a city block is engulfed in chaos and violence. And Clint Barton is searching for a 3-inch-tall person who’s hiding in the alleyway of a Dunkin Donuts.

   He sighs and kneels down, peering under the dumpster. Huddled in the dark is the shaking borrower, who stares back with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. They look like crap: covered in dried blood and dirt, their clothes torn and ratty. But the little guy is stubborn as hell, and hurls a pebble in his direction. They miss by a long shot. He would’ve laughed if the city wasn’t on fire.

   “C’mon out, bud,” he says. A faint boom! rattles the world behind him. “It’s not safe under there. Are you lookin’ to be caught? A rat, an alley cat… God forbid, there might be a human who ain’t as nice as I am.” With a nervous glance behind him, he sees Kate dart past, notching an arrow and letting it fly. “Not to mention that the city’s comin’ apart.”

   They shout something back, and Clint can barely piece together the words leave and alone. It’s not helpful, though, that they’re so small and covered in shadow. And the fact that he can see their teary eyes in the dark is not helping his conscience. Another explosion shakes the earth, and the borrower lets out a wail that he does hear. 

   They’re both getting frantic. He softens his face, puts a pleading look into his eyes. “Please,” he calls. “I can keep you safe.” 

   The borrower doesn’t get to respond. A scream rips through the air, and he’s made up his mind. He jumps to his feet and drags the dumpster back, only getting a glimpse of the sheer terror on their tiny face before he scoops them up in a fist and tucks them into a jacket pocket. It’s not ideal, but if it means they won’t be crushed or eaten, he’ll take it. 

   They’re writhing, and he ignores it. The feeling of them shaking against his chest forms a pit in his stomach. They’re scared, but at least they’re safe.

   The rest of the battle zips by like a blur. Clint spends it shielding the borrower, dodging rubble, and praying to whatever gods present for this little guy to not be so terrified of him. Their shaking has stopped for now, but they’re stiff as a board and flinching with every move he makes. When the fight dies down, he’s left nursing a wound on his shoulder and cupping his hand around his pocket. He’s gotta get out of there, and fast.

   His free hand finds his comms, and he sends a quick farewell message to Kate. She responds quick, familiar beeps filling his ears: Get home safe. See you soon, Hawkeye.

   The message brings a smile to his face, but it disappears when he remembers his job. His day isn’t over yet. 

   He runs his way home. 

   The apartment greets him with blinding fluorescents and a mess on his coffee table. Things that are normally hangover-induced nuisances are now pushed to the far corners of his mind as he limps to his counter. 

   His fingers dive into his pocket, and he does his best to be gentle, but with the little guy swerving away from his hand, he ends up tangled around their limbs, pulling them out in a quivering heap. They’re a pitiful sight; their tiny face is tear-stained, and once they lock eyes, the poor kid flinches back into their protective huddle. 

   They’re speaking, and fast. That much he knows. Their voice is buzzing away. But he can’t understand anything that's coming out. He gets the gist of what they might be saying: there’s a pleading look in their eyes, and their lip is quivering. He doesn’t like this feeling.

   “Hey,” he whispers, cupping his hands closer around the tiny body. “Hey. Look at me.” He nudges their shoulder. They’re practically humming with anxiety. “C’mon, calm down, buddy. You’re okay.” 

   They aren’t making any progress like this. Clint lowers his hands to the countertop and the borrower stumbles off, clutching their chest and scrubbing the tears from their eyes. “Look,” he says softly. “Not touching you anymore, see? You’re fine. You’re okay.”

   He watches with a pang in his heart as they cry for a bit, hugging their knees to their chest, and takes the time to look them over. Their hair is dark and matted, their clothes patchy, their face young, but thin and gaunt. This isn’t the same stubborn little guy he’d met an hour ago; this is someone who is absolutely-fucking-terrified of him. He can barely deal with crying people at his own height; he can’t even begin to comfort someone who’s three inches tall.

   Reasoning sets in as they clear their eyes of the last of their tears. Even if he was well-intentioned, he did sorta… take them. Grab them up and stick them in a pocket. If some giant had done that to him, he’d be pretty scared, too. 

   “Do you understand me?” he tries. The tiny head snaps up, and the kid babbles something that vaguely sounds like sorry and don’t hurt. “No, no, I promise I’m not gonna hurt you… Fuck. I was — I was just tryna keep you safe!” It’s hard to read lips on such a small face, but he gets the gist of it, and it hurts like hell.

   This isn’t working out so great. “Let’s start over, okay? I’m Clint. Clint Barton. And I — I can’t hear you all that well.” 

   That gets them to shut up. The fear disappears from their face, replaced by sheer bewilderment.  (Yeah. As if they’re the one that should be surprised.) They scrub their eyes and stare at him in awe, and Clint can’t help but chuckle. “Weird, I know. But we can figure somethin’ out, alright? You okay to talk? Or just… shake your head, yes or no.” 

   That gets a timid nod. “Great. Good. Not hurt, are you?” A shake. “Thank God for that.” Now we’re getting somewhere. But Clint needs to ask them questions, and he needs to get answers. How is he supposed to talk to someone smaller than his finger?

   His mind is racing. Sign language! It’s a long shot, but just maybe he can get through to them.

   “Do you understand this?” His hands move slow, just in case. But it doesn’t go the way he’s hoping. The borrower shrieks and falls back, and they’re both back to square one. “No, hey, wait! It’s okay!” He signs while he speaks, and the kid watches every move he makes with terrified eyes. “Look — it’s a language! My name is Clint. C-L-I-N-T.” Each letter is deliberate, and with each second, the little guy uncurls from their protective ball. “Now that I’ve told you my name, will you tell me yours?”

   They both fall silent. He holds his breath and watches the tiny face with a furrowed brow. It’s small, almost impossible to see, but there’s a hint of hope in their eyes. He’s so overcome with joy that he doesn’t notice them open their mouth.

   “...ig.”

   He freezes. “Sorry, what?”

   They wither back. “Brig,” they say, louder this time. Their voice is muffled and nervous, but it’s there. And Clint can’t stop himself from smiling. 

   “Brig,” he repeats. “That’s B-R-I-G. See?” He grins. They’re still cautious, but they watch his hands with curious eyes as he signs their name. “It’s nice to meet you, Brig.”

   Good! This is good. Clint can see them coming out of their shell, little by little. They look unsure, but their hands twitch in time with his. “There’s so much you can say with just your hands! This is hello, and this is goodbye. Yes, no, please and thank you— I can teach you, if you want!”

   The magic is gone, and Brig snaps back into their defensive huddle. “T-teach me?” they squeak. “But… would mean…” They glance around the kitchen, eyes widening as they take in the sight. They’re so small compared to everything else. “What about… home?”

   He’s overstepped his boundaries. He kneels to get closer to their level. They reel back, a gesture that goes unnoticed in his concern. “Was that where you live?” he asks. “Near where the fight was?”

   They’re quick to nod. “Left… a bit,” they say. “Rats.” The last syllable is loud, clear, and bitter. “Got caught… the fight.” Brig shrugs, looking nervous and embarrassed. “And by you.”

   Clint frowns. A place like that is dangerous for someone of their size, but he’s in no place to argue. “Is there anyone you stay with? Any family or friends you can go back to?”

   Now they’re silent. His heart plummets when they grimace and look away, a sadness creeping into their eyes. Realization crashes over him when they shake their head.

   He hadn’t thought of that. 

   “You don’t have to stay,” he says gently. Guilt lingers in his chest as he leans back, too, suddenly self conscious about his hands. “I-I can get you back home if you need me too — I can’t imagine it’s all that safe, but if that’s what you want…” The borrower is tense, and Clint is cursing himself for being so hopeful. 

   Finally, after a minute of mulling it over, he gives a resigned sigh. “Damage Control is cleaning the place up,” he tells them. “They should be done in a week or two, okay? You can stay with me, but when they’re done… I’ll bring you back.” Every word hurts more than the last. “Only if you want to. How’s that sound?”

   The kitchen falls silent. Clint’s heart is beating fast, and he bites his tongue as conflicting emotions flicker across the tiny face. “I-I can bring you back now, if you like,” he stammers. “Ya don’t have to stay. A-and you don’t have to tell me exactly where you live, but I can just drop you off and you can be on your way and we’ll b —”

   “I’ll stay.” 

   This time, the little voice comes out strong. “You — you will?” he says.

   They nod shyly in response, and he can piece together what they say next: “Just… back… my feet.” Just until I’m back on my feet. 

   He can live with that.

   Clint’s heart swells with triumph. He can’t remember the last time he was this happy. There’s no explaining why he feels this way. “O-Okay. Awesome. Welcome home, Brig.”

   He glances back at the mess in his apartment, then to the mess of his clothes, too. They’re both covered in dust and blood, but neither care about it as Clint laughs. “We should probably get cleaned up first, though. What do you say?”

   He’s smiling. And for the first time all day, Brig is smiling, too.

   They’ve got a lot of work to do.

#giant/tiny #g/t writing #marvel g/t #clint barton #deaf!clint barton #oc #borrowers #mustard writes #i keep saying i'm gonna make a part 2 but look where that's gotten me #its 1am #my writing #oc: brig

[avengerscompound]

The Surrogate - Chapter 1

The Surrogate:  A Clintasha Fanfic

Masterlist

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Clint Barton x Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Word Count:  3305

Rating:  E

Warnings: Injuries, smut (M\F, oral sex, vaginal sex, public sex)

Synopsis:  A freak end of the world incident leads to meeting your two best friends, Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff.  While your friendship with the two Avengers is anything but conventional, they are your all-time favorite people.  When you find out that Clint and Natasha want to start a family but have exhausted all their options, you realize your powerset might allow you to give them what they want.  Having your best friends’ baby might seem like a good idea on paper, but when you are as close as you, Clint, and Natasha are, will doing something so intimate mean feelings get a little mixed up?

A/N:  Just a reminder as this is a new series you must tell me (preferably by ask) that you want to be tagged or continue to be tagged.

Chapter 1

The sky was on fire.  Everything around you was chaos.  People running for their lives and parts of buildings crashing to the ground.  You were trying to not let the crowd drag you along with them because all you could think was there was nowhere you could go right now that would be safe and if you were going to die, you didn’t want it to be at the bottom of a pile of corpses.

You ducked down a side alley that stunk of trash but was blessedly empty of people.  As you took a moment to decide what you would do next, there was a cry from above you and a figure rocketed down from the side of the building, managed to grab hold of the fire escape just long enough to dislocate his shoulder and slow his fall, before landing on top of a dumpster with a loud crash and rolling onto the ground.  You rushed over to the figure that seemed to be trying to struggle to its feet.

“You probably shouldn’t move,” you said, crouching down and pushing him back a little.  It wasn’t until that moment that you realized this was an actual Avenger.  Not just any Avenger either, Hawkeye, one of the original ones.  You wondered what he was doing in your town and if there were any other Avengers here.  If there were, maybe you weren’t as doomed as you’d originally thought.

“Gotta,” Clint groaned trying to push you back off him.  “Need to get back.”

“You’re an archer and at the very least you’ve dislocated your arm,” you reasoned.

“Not dislocated,” Clint groaned, rolling onto his side.  “Broken.  And some ribs.  Might have bruised my spine.”

You helped him to sit up and furrowed your brow.  “I might be able to help you,” you said.  “A little anyway.  Help you get back.”

“What?  You a drug dealer?”  Clint asked, pulling his arm in against his side.

“No,” you said. “I’m enhanced.  I need you to kiss me.  And not like a peck.  With your injuries, it’s gonna need a full-on make-out session just to get you up.”

Clint’s face did not hide his emotions at all.  He furrowed his brow in confusion, then widened his eyes in surprise.  His lips pursed together as he considered if you were telling the truth and then a large smile broke out on it.  “If you wanted to make-out you just had to ask.”

You leaned in and licked your lips, wetting them well before bringing them to the archer’s.  The spark happened immediately as your powers engaged.  People often thought it was that spark that happens in stories where two people who are meant for each other finally kiss and fall in love.  The first time it happened you’d even fallen for that and you and the guy had ended up dating for a year too long before you realized that maybe there was no such thing as fate, and if there was it could go fuck itself because you weren’t spending another day with that jackass, destiny be damned.

Clint made a soft choked sound and his hand went to your hair drawing you in closer and deepening the kiss.  It was good really.  Even if he was caught up in the feel of your lips against his, and that spark that ran between you it would help with the process.  You teased your tongue into his mouth and he let out a moan as they started to actually do their job.

You were a healer.  Your powers worked perfectly in your own body.  You never got sick, if you cut yourself it would heal instantly.  One time you had been riding a bike and hit a rock.  It sent you sprawling and you heard a loud crack in your shoulder and a flare of white-hot pain.  People had come running to help but when you got back up, there had been absolutely nothing wrong.  Not even a scrape.

They didn’t work so perfectly on other people.  You’d figured out through some accidental trial and error that it worked through bodily fluid exchange.  Kissing could work on cuts and scrapes, but you’d normally need to donate blood to get to the level of healing Clint Barton currently needed, and that only worked if they were a compatible blood type.  There were other ways that worked better than kissing of course.  None you wanted to do right here in the street with a complete stranger even if you could talk him into it.

You swirled your tongue with his and licked over the corner of his mouth, dragging the kiss out as long as possible.  When you finally pulled back, his bruises were gone and most of his cuts.  The arm was definitely still broken but he seemed to be holding it a little better.

“Holy shit,” Clint said.  “I - uh -”

“You aren’t in love with me,” you assured him.  “Don’t worry.  Go save the world.”

He pulled himself to his feet and grabbed his bow from where it had fallen a few feet away.  “I wanna talk to you when all this is done.”

“If you save the world, I’ll meet you back here,” you agreed reluctantly.  You didn’t know if you'd just plunged yourself into deep water by outing your abilities to an actual Avenger or if he was stuck the ‘true love’s kiss’ groove and you were going to have to knock him out of it, but either way, you were dreading it, even if it did mean the world was safe.

You left the alley not long after Clint and ended up sheltering in a tunnel while you waited out the battle.  As the sounds of fighting and explosions died down and the sky began to return to its usual blue, you dared to set back out again.  Clean up crews and emergency services had arrived and it was a little difficult evading them, but you eventually made your way to the alley.

Clint was waiting for you alone.  It looked like he'd seen a medic.  His arm was now in a sling and he had stitches in his cheek.  “Was starting to think you weren't gonna show,” Clint said.

“They aren't letting people back into the hub of the damage,” you explained.  “Had to sneak past a bunch of barricades.”

“Well, aren't you resourceful?” Clint said playfully.  “You got anywhere we could talk?  Preferably where I could also get very, very drunk?”

“I doubt anything is gonna be open around here,” you said.  “Might have to go further out.”

Clint nodded and the two of you walked out looking for a bar together.  He was limping a little and you considered offering your services again, but the looming conversation held you back. You didn’t want to add fuel to the fire.

By the time you did find a bar that was open you had hyped up the conversation so much in your head, you were fairly sure he was going to either propose or send you to the raft for being unregistered and breaking the Sokovia Accords.

“Shots?”  Clint asked as you went into the busy bar.

“Yeah.  Definitely,” you agreed.  “And get food.  I’m starving.  I’ll find a table.”

It took a while to find anywhere to sit.  It was like half the city had decided to drink after the events of the day and this was the only bar open.  You ended up having to share a table with a group of women who seemed to already be halfway to fully drunk.

“So,” Clint said, placing a tray of shots on the table and sliding into the booth beside you.  “Enhanced, huh?”

 “Yeah,” you said and took your first shot.  He’d gotten Kaluah of all things, though you were grateful for the soft warmth of the coffee liqueur over a harsh burn of something like whiskey.

Clint chuckled and took his own shot. “Gonna make me beat it out of you, are you?”  He teased.  When you didn’t answer he shook his head and continued.  “How’d it happen?”

You shrugged.  “Don’t really know exactly,” you say. “I got sick as a kid, and they put me on this drug trial.  I got better and I don’t think I’ve been sick since, but it was such a long time between the trail ending and me noticing that I could actually heal myself that I can’t say for sure it was that or something else.”

You both took another shot and Clint scratched at his arm like it was annoying him. “So just healing?” He asked.

“That’s not enough?”  You shot back.

He laughed loudly, throwing his head back.  “No, that’s plenty.  More than I’ve got,” he conceded.  “You’re pretty defensive you know?”

You sighed and sunk back into the chair.  The alcohol was already making your head feel fuzzy and you were worried you were going to get into a fight with Hawkeye right in the middle of the bar.  “I can just see how this conversation goes.  You’re either gonna convince me to join the Avengers or you’re thinking about the kiss and that spark and you wanna ask me out.”

“That kiss was pretty great,” Clint teased.

“I know, it’s the powers,” you said.  “People think it’s some kind of soulmate thing.  I’ve had stalkers because of it.”

Clint waited as you took another shot.  One of the bar staff came over and put a plate of sliders and curly fries down and you both started to eat.  “God, I needed that,” Clint said with his mouth full.

“You did do a lot today,” you said.

“Yeah, I saved your ass and you won’t even date me,” he teased.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t date you,” you argued.  “I just don’t want an Avengers stalker.”

“Don’t worry,” he said.  “I mean, don’t get me wrong, if you wanted to kiss me again, I wouldn’t fight you off, but I get it.  It was something to do with the healing.”

“Yeah,” you said.  “Energy transference I think it is.”

There was another pause and you both took another shot.  You were drunk now, you knew it.  Normally you would be more careful about drinking this much with a strange man but there had been so much today, and he was an avenger.

“Why don’t you want to be an Avenger?” He asked.

You sighed.  “I’d be useless.  What am I gonna do, follow you all around and make-out every time someone gets a scratch?”

He laughed.  “That’s the only way it works?”

“It’s a bodily fluid exchange.  I could have spit in your mouth, but I thought that would be hard to talk you into,” you explained.

Clint laughed and held his side.  “You kidding? I normally have to pay people to do that.”

You completely lost it laughing.  “Oh my god!”

“Alright, alright, don’t make me laugh,” Clint said.  “My ribs are still busted.”

“Want me to help with that?” You offered.

He looked you up and down and chewed his bottom lip.  “Dunno.  Next time we make out, I want it to be because you want to make out with me.”

You giggled and heat rushed to your face.  It was not a reaction you were used to but then you weren’t used to good looking superheroes hitting on you either.

“So, if it’s bodily fluids, would blood work?” He asked.

“Blood works best,” you said.  “But I can’t keep myself bleeding long enough to do a bleed into their wound thing, and if it’s a blood transfusion, they still have to match my blood type.”

“Well that could still be useful,” he said.  “Maybe you are the same blood type as some of us?  You could come and see?”

You sighed and picked up the last shot on the tray.  Since you got your powers you had wanted to help, but they were so limited you hadn’t been able to find a way to do that and have it actually work.  You gave blood regularly and hoped that might have led to some of the miracle recoveries some people go through, but apart from that, there wasn’t much you could do.  At least agreeing to go with Clint to see if you might be able to help was something you could do.

“Fine,” you sighed.  “I’ll go with you, but I warn you, my powers are so limited.  I doubt it’ll come to anything.”

“Great,” Clint grinned and put his arm around your shoulders.  “Now, to trying to get you to want to kiss me for real.”

You laughed and drank the shot.  Clint went up and got more drinks.  This time just a pitcher of beer for the two of you to share.  Whether it was the alcohol, the stress, the thrill that he was an Avenger or maybe that he seemed to be a completely likable dumbass, you weren’t sure but it didn’t take long until you were locked together, kissing passionately and finding yourself getting more than a little bit turned on.

You were practically sitting on his lap as his hands slid up under your skirt.  The spark that ran from you to him, was like a hot current, pulling you to him.  He moaned into your lips, completely uncaring that there were people around you.  It was likely that part of that was due to the fact you’d been at it for so long his bones were knitting, but he was definitely as turned on as you were, you could feel his erection every time he pulled you closer to him.

You gripped his thigh and he broke the kiss and began sucking on the pulse point under your ear.  “I want to fuck you so fucking bad.”

“My place was in the fall zone,” you whined.

He gripped your thigh and pulled you so you were almost straddling him.  “Bathroom,” he growled against your ear.

You nodded and he pulled you to your feet.  The two of you stumbled to the bathrooms, making out against the wall as you waited for one to become free.  As soon as it did, Clint pushed you inside, locking the door behind you.  He was still sore you could tell, but even with the broken arm and ribs, he managed to lift you up onto the sink.  You spread your legs and he dragged your panties down.  You were already soaking for him, and he dropped to his knees and ran his tongue up your cunt.  The spark you felt as your powers engaged ran hard through your cunt, making you jerk your hips.  You braced your arm against the mirror and gripped the side of the sink as Clint held your legs apart and greedily sucking on your folds.  He moaned loudly and his tongue pushed inside of you like he was trying to drink you up from the source.  You rocked your hips against his face and he began to focus on your clit, sucking and biting at it.  He thrust two fingers inside you and fucked you hard with them.  With the current that was running through you, you were barely holding it together.  You panted, your head resting back on the grimy glass of the mirror above the sink.  Clint’s fingers moved inside you, dragging over your g-spot again and again.  You weren’t sure you were going to be able to hold yourself up and your legs kept wanting to snap night around his head.  He held them apart and kept going and with a loud cry, you came, gushing on his face.  He let out a moan to match your cry and lapped up what he could.  He stood and began to fish around in his pocket.

“Jesus, I think my ribs have healed.  Should have eaten you out in the field,” Clint teased.

“What kind of girl do you think I am?”  You laughed.

“Fucking filthy one,” he growled.

You grabbed him by the belt and began to unfasten his pants.  “Clint,” you said, still breathing heavily.  “I’m on birth control and I’m a healer.”

A slow smile played over his lips and he pulled his cock out.  “Well, then,” he said and thrust deep inside of you.

You both moaned, the spark returning again.  There was a banging on the door and you buried your face in his neck.  “Fuck,” you giggled.  “Gonna need to be quick.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” Clint teased, playfully.  “I can do ‘quick’.”

You burst out laughing and let your head fall back, he held you close and started fucking you hard and deep.  He shoved you up against the wall with every thrust and you bit into his shoulder, moaning into his skin.  Your fingers dug into his back and you braced a foot on the wall.  Everything came together perfectly, the place, the person, your powers, how deep and hard he penetrated you, you lost yourself to it.  Your body spasmed and clenched and you came again, holding yourself as close to Clint as you could as it shuddered though you.  He thrust hard into you, holding you in place as he came.  “Fuck,” he groaned as his cock pulsed with it’s released.  “That was…”

“Mm-hmm…” you hummed and he slipped from within you.  “The healing thing always makes it more intense.”

“How come it’s done nothing for my ears?”  Clint asked as he tucked his cock back away.  “I mean, everything it’s been working on, but I still have my hearing aids on?”

You shook your head as you straightened yourself back up and pulled up your underwear.  “Don’t know.  The worse the injury or illness the more exchange has to happen.  I can’t do things like regrow body parts.  It does nothing for scar tissue.  And the older the injury the less likely it is to work at all.”

“Huh,” Clint said and there was another banging on the door.  “You ready?”

You nodded.  “Yeah, better let the people pee.”

The two of you walked back into the crowded bar.  “You coming home with me?”  Clint asked as he took out his phone and tapped around on it.

You shrugged.  “I guess.  I mean, I don’t even think they’ll let me near my place.”

“Cool,” Clint said casually.  “To the roof.”

You furrowed your brow and looked at him.  He just pointed the way so you followed after him.  As you reached the roof a large black military jet approached and then hovered above you both.  The back end of it opened up and it began to lower itself down, when it was within reach, Clint jumped up into the back and leaned over, holding his hand out to you and helping you scramble inside.

You followed him up to the cockpit as the back end closed again.  “Thanks for coming to get me, Nat,” Clint said, kissing the redhead at the cockpit on the cheek.

She scrunched up her nose and ruffled his hair.  “What was I supposed to do?  Leave you here?”

You watched them as you took your seat and buckled yourself in.  There was an easy affection between them and you realized, they were together.  Together-together.  You’d just helped Hawkeye cheat on Black Widow.

Bile started to bubble up from your stomach and you weren’t sure what to do.  You could keep it secret and let it eat at you forever, or you could tell her and she’d probably stab you.  It wouldn’t kill you, but being stabbed still hurt and you didn’t want it to happen.

Your conscience seemed to be in control though.  The words bubbled up and burst out of your mouth completely out of your control.  With a yelp and covering your mouth with your hands, you shouted; “Clint and I just had sex!”

// NEXT

#clint barton #natasha romanoff #clintasha #clint barton x natasha romanoff x reader #clint barton x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #clint barton x natasha romanoff #clintasha x reader #hawkeye #hawkeye fanfic #black widow #black widow fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #smut #pregnancy #the surrogate

[takexeveryxshot]

Let's take a shot!

Hi and welcome to my Clint-Barton RP blog. Below you will find rules, verses and a bit about the Muse and Mun. (Will be updated along the way)

About the Muse:

Clint is an Orphan that, after an abusive childhood, joined the circus along with his brother. He lost his hearing in the wake of his father's abuse and trained to become a marksman under the tutorlage of the 'swordsman'.

After Clint refused to help the carnies steal any longer his tutor attempted to kill him. Clint escaped and joined Shield where he became a top agent and later part of the Avengers team.

Clint genuinely tries to care about people, especially his friends and neighbours. He suffers from PTSD due to his missions and childhood. It's possible for him to slip into a depressive episode and it's a good thing he's got people like Kate and Lucky looking out for him.

Rules:

1. I don't interact with people below the age of 18.

2. Be nice. If you have a problem, talk to me about it. My DM's are open

3. Negativity against any of my partners will not be permitted and blocked without warning.

4. I reserve the right to be selective. If I don't think writing is working out please don't try to pressure me into it.

5. Threads will all be in there separate universes unless previously discussed.

6. Triggers will be tagged accordingly. While I have none, please make me aware if I am writing about something that you are uncomfortable with in our threads.

7. No God modding.

Verses:

One last shot: This is the MCU-Version of Clint. He's still deaf here and uses hearing aids as well as Lucky will be a constant companion. (Thread depended if Laura and the Kids will be a factor.)

My life as a weapon: 616-comic Clint. The sarcastic, slightly depressed human dumpster fire we love.

AU-Verse: (to be continued)

About the Mun: Hi, 26 year old, she/her pronouns, and you can call me Speedy. If you have questions? Ask :)

You can also come and find me @imhawkeyetoo

#clint barton rp #hawkeye rp #marvel rp #rules

[cruciatusforeplay]

Black Widow #6 (2014) by Edmonson & Noto

[image ID: three panels from a black widow comic.

Panel one is of Natasha and her companion sitting in a cafe looking out of the window. Several other people in the café are also staring out. Through the window a man has landed sprawled on a car. Above him the word "CRASH" is written.

The second panel is Clint Barton sitting up on the bonnet of the car. He is wearing a white t-shirt with a purple target on it and has a band-aid across his nose. He is covered in glass shards. In the background people are staring shocked.

The third panel is Natasha looking directly at the reader with an unimpressed look on her face and her fork lifted halfway to her mouth. Her companion has a speech bubble which says "that looks bad." Over Natasha's shoulder, Clint is seen walking away and whistling, seemingly unharmed. End image ID]

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