#hawkeye x oc | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shewhohangsoutincemeteries · 8 months

Text

appreciation

Clint Barton x F!Reader

Prompt: “is that my shirt?”

Summary: you borrow one of clint's shirts after a fight leaves yours ruined, and he can't help but show you just how much he likes seeing you wear it.

Warnings: smut, mdni, cock-warming, oral sex (female receiving), fluff.

Word Count: 1,616

follow my fanfiction blog

“You know, if SHIELD wants us to keep doing all these recon missions in plain clothes, you’ve either got to stop blowing our cover, or they’ve got to start reimbursing me for clothes,” you called out drily as you stepped out of the bathroom, flinging your ruined shirt away in disdain. An unplanned brawl had ended with your shirt torn and your jeans stained, and you’d forgone reporting in in person to make a pitstop at your partner’s apartment. He’d drawn the short straw to call it in, and you’d made liberal use of his shower while he patched himself up.

“I swear I didn’t do it on purpose,” Clint called back from the other room. “There were…”

“Honey, if you say ‘extenuating circumstances’, I’m gonna kick your ass.” you replied, grabbing a shirt out of a drawer and slipping it on over your head. Pain thrummed through your shoulder, and you grimaced but otherwise ignored it. The shirt dampened with the wet hair clinging to your neck, the hem of it skirting along the top of your thighs indecently.

“Safe to say I wasn’t, seeing as I can’t even pronounce…” Clint trailed off as he entered, a couple of fresh bandages taped over his ribs. His phone was still in his hand, the screen dark. “Is that my shirt?”

You looked down at yourself for a brief moment, nodding. “Uh, yeah? I don’t have any clothes here, and I didn’t think you’d—”

“That is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You couldn’t help a disbelieving scoff. “Seriously? I—”

The phone fell from Clint’s hand, bouncing on the carpet. He closed the distance between you, took hold of your waist and pulled you into a kiss. His hands bunched in the shirt over your waist, tugging the fabric taught against the small of your back and urging you closer to him. You whined against his lips, your own hands moving to clutch at his biceps. When you parted, Clint spoke a breath away from your lips, a surprising roughness in his voice that sent a thrill right down through the middle of you.

“Yes, seriously. Now stop arguing.”

You laughed as he pushed you gently back against the bedside table. It rattled as it hit the wall and Clint’s mouth met yours again. Wrapping your arms around his neck, your lips parted in a gasp as Clint’s mouth moved from yours to kiss the side of your throat. He lingered there teasingly; his breath hot against your neck as his fingertips trailed up the outside of your naked thighs.

Your fingers ran through his hair as he moved lower, kissing his way down over the skirt to the hem of it. You whimpered as he knelt in front of you urged your thighs apart. “Clint—”

He gave your thigh an open-mouthed kiss, his teeth teasing over the sensitive flesh as his hand journeyed up your other leg. Clint hesitated as he realized you hadn’t had the chance to put your underwear back on, sighing almost reverently. His breath made goosebumps rise on the inside of your thighs. You shivered.

“Fuck…”

“Oh, God, Clint…” you moaned as he buried his face between your legs, his tongue immediately finding your clit. You almost fell back against the bedside table, your hand grasping at the top of the bedhead to your left. Your other hand ran fingers through his hair, the answering ache in your shoulder worth the way he groaned into your cunt. His arms wrapped tightly around your thighs, grabbing at the flesh of them holding you in place under his tongue.

The edge of the wood bit into the back of your thighs, and Clint pushed them further apart. You obliged by sitting on the table, planting one foot on the mattress beside you. Clint rewarded you by sliding a finger into you, his eyes meetings yours from between your thighs.

Fuck, he was good at this. He seemed to truly relish it, and the feel of his bare shoulders pressing up against your thighs, forcing them to stay spread wide, made you shudder. You arched further into his touch with a moan as he reached up to squeeze your breast through his shirt.

Bucking under his tongue, your shoulders falling back against the wall, you heard his too-old alarm clock crack dully against the carpet. Your eyes rolled back behind closed lids, and when you came it was with a drawn-out moan of his name, your thighs quivering on either side of his head.

Before you could even catch your breath Clint rose, a pained grunt quietly leaving him as he pressed a hand to the bandages on his side. Still, he didn’t hesitate to kiss you again, his erection pressing against your stomach as he leaned into you. You shuddered as the fingers of his other hand continued to tease against your clit slowly.

Palming him through his sweats, you smiled as Clint groaned against your mouth, and he broke away to press his forehead against yours. Standing on shaking legs, you gently forced him to turn so you could urge him back onto the bed. Clint snickered as his back met the mattress obediently, but the sound died in his throat as he watched you move to straddle his lap slowly, the shirt riding up on your thighs.

You tugged his sweats down to his mid-thighs, tracing your nails up along his sensitive skin. Clint’s head fell back against the bed as you lowered yourself against him, mindful of his injury.

“So, I got all that just for borrowing a shirt?” you asked, grinding yourself slowly against the length of his cock.

Clint’s hands found your legs, sliding up along them take hold of your hips. “Oh, you’re keeping the shirt.”

You giggled, leaning down and bracing yourself on your good arm to kiss him again. Clint wrapped his arms around your middle, hand slipping up under the soft fabric to spread over your lower back. “And just like that, step one of my evil plan is complete.”

Clint smiled, his nose bumping affectionately against yours. “And what’s the endgame here, mastermind?”

You kissed the underside of his jaw. “I’m going to keep on stealing your clothes until you’re left butt-ass naked and at my mercy.”

Clint chuckled, cupping your cheek and bringing your mouth back to his. He kissed you slowly and long, another wave of delicious giddiness swirling in your belly.

“Downright devious,” he mumbled with a smile against your lips, the words melting into a deep, heady moan as the next slow roll of your hips over his pressed the head of his cock into you. Your eyes closed as you lowered yourself further onto him. His lips caught yours again, moving to your chin, the underside of your jaw, the base of your throat. Clint cursed breathlessly as you began to fuck yourself lazily on his cock. “Shit, baby…”

His hands moved to your backside, massaging the flesh, pressing your body tighter against his. Clint’s lips dusted over your jaw, cheek, and your forehead, your nose crinkling as his lips brushed lightly along the tip of it. The light filtering through the blinds cast his skin in a warm glow, his eyes alight with an affection that warmed the very core of you.

The way he looked at you… the heat in his eyes mixing the way he filled you… the both of them sent a dizzying high dancing up your spine. You barely moved, the two of you near-breathless just from the feeling of him inside you. You lay your head on his chest, basking in the warmth of his embrace and the sun. The next words left you unwillingly. “…Exactly how soon do they expect us to report in?”

Clint groaned softly, his hand sliding up your back. “I was hoping you weren’t going to ask me that.”

You pouted, turning your head to rest your chin on his chest. “That soon, huh?”

You whimpered as Clint pushed his hips up into yours, agonizingly slow. His hand moved into your hair, fisting in the locks as he pulled you into another kiss. This was deeper than the brief, affectionate brushes of his lips, hungrier. More passionate. You moaned into it.

“We’ve got time,” he told you softly, groaning into another kiss as you began to roll your hips against his again. You fucked him slow, steadily, your body tingling wherever it met his. Clint slipped a hand between you, and your eyes rolled back, closing as he touched two fingers to your clit.

“Fuck…”

“Uh, uh, sugar,” he murmured, his other hand cupping your cheek. “Eyes open for me.”

You cursed again, too focused on the building sensation in your core to respond.

“C’mon, baby, please,” he urged, his voice torn with desire and his own steadily approaching release. After teasing each other, after just feeling you squeezing around him, he was too far gone already. “Look at me.”

You forced your eyes open dazedly, lips parting as you hovered inches over him. Clint’s breath tickled your lips, his hands tightening on your hips before you both came, your body shaking over his.

“Damn…” you sighed, letting your head fall back against his chest. Clint chuckled breathlessly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. His arms encircled your waist again, fingers linking together loosely.

“You can say that again.”

“Damn.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Clint snickered, shaking his head against the mattress. “I meant what I said about you keeping the shirt.”

“Good,” you replied with a smile. “Because there is no way I am ever going to give it back now.”

tags: tags: @trekkingaroundasgard @lol-you-thought @ruderavenclaw @wittyforachange @notafraid-bitch-igot9lives @akumune @enna-core @xxboesefrauxx @hearmyharmony @katsies @lipstickandtanqueray @youralphawolf72 @maenji @rhymesmenagerie @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @glossyloner @capitalnineteen @youclickedthislink @s0ftness @castieltrash1 @drakelover78 @queenoftheunderdark @gwianasky

154 notes · View notes

born-in-the-wrong-multiverse · 1 year

Link

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Avengers (Comics) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Clint Barton/Original Female Character(s) Characters: Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov (Marvel) Summary:

Clint Barton hasn't always been the best at reading signals. Or flirting. Or knowing when his ego is appropriately inflated and when it's totally uncalled for. There are plenty of women in his life; some he loves, some he barely knows, and some he would call family. But at the end of the day, there's only one that he falls in love with so wholly, he would sign over the deed to his heart so she could care for it in ways he once believed he didn't deserve.

#hawkeye #clint barton #marvel #fanfic #clint barton fic #clint barton x oc #oc #original character #hawkeye fic #marvel fic #fanfic writring #wip #ao3 #hawkeye x oc

0 notes

saltyfinalboss · 5 months

Text

assorted zigoton doodles (ft. megaton oc) i love this game

#patapon #my art #finalbossdoodles #patapon 1 #patapon 2 #makoton #aiton #gong the hawkeye #general gong #spiderton #ms paint #digital art #general spiderton #my ocs #oc x canon

242 notes · View notes

katemartinismywife · 19 days

Text

☺︎ masterlist ☺︎

☺︎ started: 3/28/24 ☺︎ ☺︎ updated: 4/2/24 ☺︎

☺︎ senior night ☺︎ ☺︎ you're the one: mini-series ☺︎ ↳ part one ↳ part two ↳ part three ↳ final part

☺︎ for you ☺︎ ☺︎ found each other ☺︎

☺︎ baby mama: mini series ☺︎ ↳ part one ↳ part two ☺︎ big ten champs ☺︎

☺︎ just friends? ☺︎ ☺︎ communication ☺︎

☺︎ beach kisses ☺︎

☺︎ falling for you...again ☺︎

☺︎ comfort zone ☺︎

☺︎ surprise - paige x azzi ☺︎ ☺︎ me and you - kk arnold ☺︎ ☺︎ just wanna be yours - kamilla cardoso ☺︎ ☺︎ i'm here - georgia amoore ☺︎

☺︎ ☺︎ ☺︎ ☺︎ ☺︎ ☺︎ ☺︎ ☺︎ more people coming soon!

107 notes · View notes

skytk11 · 14 days

Text

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─��─

๋࣭⭑Big Three Music Headcanons! ๋࣭⭑

☠︎ Crocodile ☠︎

Classical pop music. This man would love classical music like Frank Sinatra, Etta James, and Billie Holiday. I can see him now just working while listening to classical music and in his office smoking a scar bobbing his head a little bit while the music plays on a record player.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

At last (Etta James)

Kiss of Fire (Hugh Laurie)

Born under a bad sign (Albert King)

The girl from Lpanema (Frank Sinatra)

Old Devil Moon (Frank Sinatra)

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

⚔ Mihawk ⚔

I see Mihawk listening to classical music, but more Gothic if he was listening to classical music it would be Something with the piano in it but when we're talking about Gothic I see him Listening to something with romantic goth in it like Tearful Moon, HIM, and mazzy star.

☽༺♰༻☾

I love you more than death (tearful moon)

Kiss kiss kill kill (Horrorpops)

Vampier romance (blutengel)

Slow, love, slow (nightwish)

I love you (HIM)

☽༺♰༻☾

⚝ Buggy ⚝

To be honest, I don't know what music he would like like the genre of music. I don't know. I have a feeling he listens to a lot of different types of genres because he's just a silly little guy like you'd probably listen to Edgy, Silly, And some weird ass music but we love him for that.

⛧☾༺✮༻☽ ⛧ Kiss me you animal (Burn the ballroom)

Boogie woogie Wu (ICP)

No One lives forever (oingo boingo)

HERE COMES THE HURRICANE LEGENDARY

KATRINA (Kevin Jz Prodigy)

Look who's inside again. (Bo Burnham)

⛧☾༺✮༻☽ ⛧

53 notes · View notes

i-am-vita · 27 days

Text

Mihawk Bodice Ripper pt. 2 Sketching

<Previous, Next >

OMG!!! So overwhelmed by all the amazing options for Sapsorrow's Star Dress!!! @fanaticsnail help!!!

I've decided to just warm up and practice some dress shapes. The real deal is going to be the color.

The background sketching is coming out easier.

#Mihawk looks like a Fabio #The One Piece Bodice Ripper Club #bodice ripper #rip the bodice #rip the buttons #one piece #one piece live action #x reader #one piece original character #one piece oc #dracule mihawk #one piece mihawk #mihawk x reader #hawkeye mihawk #sapsorrow au #sapsorrow fan art

39 notes · View notes

sashi-ya · 2 years

Text

𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 ♡ ᴅᴀʏ 14 ➡ 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐃. nsfw .minors dni 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬𝐭! 𝐌𝐢𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐤 𝐱 𝐟! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: Anonymous asked: 𝙳𝚊𝚢 𝟷𝟺, 𝙵𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝙼𝚒𝚑𝚊𝚠𝚔. 𝙿𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚊 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚊𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗? 𝙸'𝚖 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚏 𝙸 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚢𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚒𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚘𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝐓𝐰: nsfw. Mihawk is a priest. is not meant to disrespect any religion. creampie. breeding kink. fucking in the confession booth. 𝐰𝐜: 1k ➡ hentober masterlist

- “Father, forgive me for I have sinned” - “May God, who has enlightened every heart, help you to know your sins and trust in his mercy” - “I can’t stop lusting over a man…” - “Is that man me, (Name)?”

The tiny door that separates you from the priest of your church has always been the representation of how near, yet how far you were for his unusual yellow eyes. You have always been a good person, no sin you committed was too bad either. But, everything changed when suddenly, the tone of his voice and the feeling of intimacy every time you confessed, lightened a different spark in you.

The lustful thoughts while him celebrating the mass flood your mind, his pale hands holding the calyx, those same hands giving you the communion wafer, and how his lips get wet by the blood of Christ…

“I should stop… I-“ you think while tidying the church with the altar boy whose eye is lacking and instead has his face crossed with a scar over his lid.

“Zoro, It’s ok, you can go back home” Mihawk, the priest says. “(Name), I can do confession now if you are still interested” he says, with a peaceful tone. Of course, he has no impure thoughts when looking at you, and is unaware of your sinful ones.

You swallow, your throat becomes dry, and by looking at the ground you nod. You shouldn’t but the devil has tempted you… were you really in need of confessing your sins, or, you wanted to be close and alone with him for at least one last time?

Alone at last, you follow him to the confessing booth. It’s made out of fine wooden, with angels carved and holy representations of your faith. The inside, dark and only decorated by a single painting of Adam and Eve biting an apple, being surrounded by a snake, is where you wait for him to get ready on the other side.

A little curtain opens and again, you can only see his peculiar golden eyes. You instantly start fidgeting with the crucifix pendant that hangs from your collar, it’s time to start.

“Father, forgive me for I have sinned” you pronounce and wait for his classic response.

“May God, who has enlightened every heart, help you to know your sins and trust in his mercy. Go ahead, (Name)” he pronounces, turning the practice holy.

You clear your throat; would it be that bad if you confess your sin incompletely…? “I can’t stop lusting over a man… a man that… I can’t lust for” you whisper, waiting for his sacred forgive.

But, Mihawk takes his time to say anything at all, until what comes out of his mouth surprises you to no extent. “Is that man me, (Name)?” he asks, so nonchalantly.

You widen your eyes, how… is that noticeable? “Yes” you recognize, looking down to your knees in profound repentance. You close your eyes, because you are sure he is gonna scold you, or even worse, kick you out of the church, but, they always say expect the unexpected.

The little door that separates priest from faithful opens with a slight creek. You can see his long black coat covering his whole body, and the semi light of a single lightbulb enlightens just his sharp features.

“Father Mihawk, I-“ you try to excuse yourself. “(Name), you know… this type of sins are not easily forgiven, and I don’t think prayers will be enough” he says, smiling subtly and patting his lap. Your eyes widen, your lips separate. Is he calling you to sit on his legs?

“Come on, come here” he orders, luring you into obeying instantly. “Yes, father” you say, while the long silky material of your skirt grazes against his black alb. His arms surround your waist from behind, locking you in place, slightly pushing you against his own body.

His goatee grazes your cheek, the crucifix hanging over his chest carves a cross on your back; there is no much space to move. His warm breathe plays with the skin of your neck. “Will give you your penitence, alright?” he says, passing his hand from your belly to in between your legs.

“Y-yes, father Mihawk” you moan, rather loudly. And that earns you one of his hands over your mouth. “Shh… nobody has to hear us” he mumbles. You nod, his sleek fingers slowly crawl in between your lips. “Suck them” he commands. And you comply.

While you impurely coat his fingers with your saliva, his free hand reaches for your sex in between the elastic of your skirt. Down, down it goes. You are sure this is definitely one of the worst sins ever committed by a man of God, but, who are you to judge?

Wet and drippy, as your panties are, your core receives his fingers inside. He plays with the bundle of nerves in it, up and down, and around. Chastity apparently is not an obstacle for him to know exactly how to make you reach the holy land of God.

But using his fingers is not the only thing he is willing to do, and, for your penitence to be effective there is still something you have to do… “You will have to receive me inside you” he says, taking his hand of your panties and taking it to your mouth.

Yes, yes.. you want it. Yes, let the sins be forgiven then.

He lifts your skirt just enough for him to access your core, no need to take your panties out, simply moving them to the side. Same for him, he moves his Alb up to uncover his hardness so ready to impale you.

Mihawk uses his strong arms to move your ass just enough for his dick to reach your entrance, and lets you fall over him with no delicacy. It feels so good, your walls clench to his shaft that gets deep, deep into you.

He smirks, looking nothing like a man of God but rather like a demon itself. His hips show no mercy with your uterus, giving you hard violent thrusts that you have to take as silently as possible.

“Do you repent your sins, (Name)?” he asks, squeezing your breasts for a better grip while fucking you. “I- do- nhg… yes, Father Mihawk” you whisper, moaning, whimpering and almost crying from the pleasure. “Very well, you will have to keep all my seed inside you then. Ok?” he grunts, grinning against your cheek.

You blink, his…seed? What is this perversion? He wants to impregnate you? But isn’t that forgiven in your faith? “But, Father Mihawk…” you dare to ask, to even put in doubt his word.

“Hopefully you will get really pregnant from it, come on…” “Yes… father Mihawk… please, please… impregnate me with your seed”

#mihawk x reader #one piece mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #dracule mihawk #mihawk x you #op mihawk #one piece x y/n #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x oc #one piece scenario #sashi ya #mihawk x y/n #kinktober 2022 #kintober #hentober #mihawk smut

621 notes · View notes

swampstew · 1 year

Text

𝕭𝖊𝖉𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

Swampstew Bedtime stories are NSFW and SFW (content warnings on each individual post) posts featuring characters in the One Piece Universe. These is where I keep all the asks I receive, random events I do, and everything in between. This is the masterlist for all stories I write of other characters aside from Eustass Kid though he also has his own section here because duh😌

Raven's Silly Events - event announcements & links to fics

- Kinktober 2022 - hella spicy

- Blind Date Event 2023

- Oh Captain, My Captain Mini Event

- Buggy's Spooktacular Special Halloween Costume Contest Collaboration

- Kinktober 2023 - hella spicy

- Valentine's Day Event

- 1K follower event - Call me on my shell phone ~ 1-800-GRANDLINE BLING

Stoned Situations - random things I come up with when I smoke😌

- OP Blunt Rotation

- Period HCs - Monster trio + Law and Kid vs. your period

#StonedWitchHours

.Killer and Kid, and how their future arc will be linked to Skypeia.

.Kid & Calgara & Skypeia arc holy trinity.

.Kid hates absent pirate idol Shanks.

.Kid's Ambition.

.Killer's Laugh.

.The Florian Triangle Curse.

Character List - every character I've written for thus far.

Benn Beckman

- Taking care of sick reader - poly relationship with Benn, reader and Shanks

Black Leg Sanji

- Taking care of insecure reader - heavy themes: mental health, depression, dysmorphia - Suggestive, poly-ish relationship with Sanji, reader and Zoro

- Voyeurism/accidental walk in head canons with multiple characters - Spicy af

- Blind Date Event ~ Sanji X F! Reader - Picnic date

Buggy the Star Clown

- Oh Captain, My Captain! mini event - simple touches

Cavendish

- Blind Date Event ~ Cavendish X F! Reader - Rooftop Bar Date

Crocodile

- Pet Play HC - Spicy, pet play head canon

- Comforting depressed reader - mental health blues

Charlotte Katakuri

- Face riding - Spicy head canons with multiple characters

- All good things to those who wait - Spicy size kink

Diez Drake

- Oh Captain, My Captain Mini Event - Spicy, bulge

Donquixote Doflamingo

- Oh Yandere! - Spicy & Dark Content

Dracule Mihawk

-Mihawk Pet Play HC - Spicy pet play head canon

Franky the Cyborg

- Blind Date Event ~ Franky X F! Reader - Street racing and star gazing date

Gol D. Roger

- Oh Captain, My Captain, mini event - spicy, multi kink

Eustass Kid

- Say My Name - Spicy praise kink

- Rock Star God - Spicy auralism kink

- Eustass Kid loves to touch you - suggestive at best, mostly fluff

- 200 Follower Milestone - Spicy voyeurism kink

- Voyeurism/accidental walk in with multiple characters, spicy af

- Oh Yandere! - Spicy & Dark Content

- 500 Follower Milestone - Eustass Kid deserves a day off

- Taking care of burnt out reader - head canons, fluff and spicy head canons, Shanks is here too

- Just the Tip - Spicy

- Oh Captain, My Captain! mini event - Spicy types of kisses

- Oh Captain, My Captain! mini event - Domestic intimacy + painting

- Buggy's Spooktacular Special Costume Contest - Sexy Sauron

- Lemon into lemonade - spicy, yandere-type Kid but make it dubious consensual

- Really Really - spicy/suggestive, provoking the virgin loserboy captain

Franky the Cyborg

- Blind Date Event ~ Franky X F! Reader - Street racing and star gazing date

Killer

- Vacation getaway - fluff

- Face riding - Spicy head canons with multiple characters

- Oh Yandere! - Spicy & Dark Content

- Spoiling Killer - Killer deserves a day off

Kyros

- Blind Date Event ~ Kyros X F! Reader - Dinner and Karaoke date

Marco the Phoenix

- Blind Date Event ~ Marco X M! Reader - Beach bar and bonfire date

- Beach road trip - fluff, poly relationship with Marco, reader and Ace

Monkey D. Luffy

- Oh Yandere!

- Oh Captain, My Captain mini event - spicy play

Portgas D. Ace

- Beach road trip - fluff, poly relationship with Ace, reader and Marco

Red Haired Shanks

- Blind Date Event ~ Shanks X F! Reader - Drive-in movie and disco club date

- Taking care of sick reader - poly relationship with Shanks, reader and Benn

- Taking care of burnt out reader - fluff and spicy head canons, Eustass Kid is here too

- Oh Captain, My Captain mini event - Spicy. Subtle intimacy + hiding in plain sight

- Oh Captain, My Captain mini event - angst, lovers to enemies

Rocks D. Xebec

- Oh Yandere! - Spicy & Dark Content

Roronoa Zoro

- BDSM Variety Bag - Spicy, multi kink

- Taking care of insecure reader - Heavy themes: mental health, depression, dysmorphia - Suggestive, poly-ish relationship with Zoro, reader and Sanji

- Voyuerism/walk in kink head canons - spicy, multiple characters

- Oh Yandere! - Spicy & Dark Content

- Blind Date Event ~ Zoro X GN Reader - Carnival date

Sabo

- Blind Date Event ~ Sabo X F! Reader - Arcade date

Trafalgar Law

- Secret Recipe - Law makes hot chocolate bombs

- Something Growing - fluff

- Face riding - Spicy head canons with multiple characters

- Oh Yandere! - Spicy & Dark Content

- Blind Date Event ~ Law X M! Reader - Coffee house date

- Rough Night - Spicy with delayed aftercare

- Oh Captain, My Captain mini event - Sleep, simple touches

- Oh Captain, My Captain mini event - Spicy, Hair

Vinsmoke Niji

- Oh Yandere! - Spicy & Dark Content

Yamato

- Blind date event ~ Yamato X GN Reader - Ramen date

188 notes · View notes

thoraeth · 4 months

Text

A/N: Hello there 🖤 After years of drawing art, I'm writing my first fanfiction. It's SFW and features canon + original characters/events from One Piece anime. Please consider English is not my mother tongue, so I apologize in advance for any typo!

Words: 1800

TW: violence, language, abusive family, morally grey characters, angst, physical self-consciousness.

Synopsis: Business is a war and war is a business: Cross Guild knows it very well. When a good deal shows up and the client requires a marriage of state, someone has to take a bullet for the team. That someone is Buggy. Once again, the genius jester lands on his feet. Ava, the wife he keeps brushing off, won't stop working until 'Buggy's delivery' takes over the Grand Line. But even if Berry can buy your freedom, love is not for sale.

Ao3 link: Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

Chapter 1 - You Do

They all laugh.

A violent, sour burst of laughter runs through the crowded chapel as the groom makes his entrance.

Everyone turn back to get a glimpse of that spectacle: under the bright stained-glass windows, he’s crawling on the floor, rolling over the red velvet carpet.

Two men are walking behind him. One is wearing a wide brimmed black hat, a huge sword on his back. The other, smoking a chunky cigar with a lazy grin, keeps kicking the groom forward.

The trio stops at the altar, leaving the soon-to-be husband on his knees. The poor thing is now a tangle of hair and ripped clothes, wailing in pain. And yet he does nothing to fight back or escape the ruthless amusement around him, he just lowers his head and grows quiet.

A noblewoman comes towards them. She's slender, tall, extremely elegant. She reaches for the smoking man with her hand, expecting a courteous hand-kissing in vain.

“It’s lovely to see you back in Fugu Island.”

“Cut the small talk, Lady Read. Hand over the contract.”

The woman replies with a stiff smile. ‘The manners of this rat suit his hideous scarred face’ she thought ‘Better settle the matter quickly and send these pirates back at sea’.

“In due time. Is this him?” she pointed to the man on the floor

“You asked for the boss.”

“Indeed. And yet, know that I see it…” she giggled “Married to a clown!”

Laughter again. In the front row, guests stand up smirking and whispering to each other. The ones in the middle hold an agitated woman: she's rapidly breathing in her white dress, face hidden under a thick veil. Lady Meara Read grabs her arm and pushes her on the floor, next to her designated husband.

“Crocodile, Mihawk.” Meara says “May we proceed?”

“Let’s make this quick.”

“As you wish, milady.”

“Very well then. High Priest, when you’re ready.”

As an old man in religious attire mutters incomprehensible words, the wedding ceremony starts.

It could have been a normal event, except for one detail: the couple is completely ignored. No vows, no touching, no “I do”. Both the spouses keep their eyes fixed on the ground, absent minded while their companions force gold wedding bands on their fingers. Half an hour later, those fatal words:

“Buggy the Clown, Ava Read, I pronounce you man and wife.”

The veiled woman feels numb and weak, finding it difficult to think straight. It’s her actual wedding and it’s all so sad. Not that she’d ever hope for a fairytale, but this is just bitter. An old dress, those dirty herbs in her hands… and a man who doesn’t even want to be there.

Ava tilts her head to take a look at her assigned companion.

He coughs every now and then and his clown face is swollen, covered in scratches and cuts. She stares at the long blue hair that covers his shoulders and forehead, noticing knots and dirt he probably got from the aisle floor.

The pirate must have felt observed, because he turns his head towards the bride: two stunning blue eyes meet Ava but the sheer rage pervading the man’s face makes her drop her gaze immediately. ‘What if he’s as violent as the other two…’ she thinks, her stomach clenching.

Suddenly Meara and the Cross Guild men are upon them.

“Up, lovebirds, time for business.” the scarred man grunts.

He and his fellow drag Buggy and Ava away, while Lady Meara addresses the rest of the room in a stilted tone: “Nobles of Fugu, our family really appreciated your presence here today. Please enjoy the feast that is waiting for you at Read Manor.”

The guests slowly walk away, leaving the chapel empty, deadly silent. No one’s in sight and negotiations kick off.

“Now that this charade is done, how long till you speak to Celestial dragons?”

“It will take some time, Crocodile. I’ll urge them, but they notoriously take their time to answer lower relatives.”

“They better change their mind quickly.”

“Manners.”

“Excuse him, Lady Read.” the swordsman interrupts “But indeed, we must hurry. We can’t protect Fugu if we are not allowed to move our men legally.”

“What?! You won't do anything until Cross Guild is given clearance again? Pirates could attack anytime!”

“Our hands are tied” said Crocodile, leaning against the altar “you insisted on doing things the noble way.”

“We respected your terms, milady, but there are consequences to any decision.” added Mihawk.

“Right, so you did it all for nothing. Congrats, m-i-l-a-d-y.”

Buggy’s high-pitched voice comes from the altar's steps. He’s sitting hunched over, his cheeks squished against his knuckles.

“Shut your fucking mouth or I'll hook you.”

“You what?” the clown screams “I did what you two told me, I played the fool and behaved. What do you want now?”

“Buggy, please calm down.” Mihawk says gently.

“I'm calm. Very calm. But maybe I should act like my fake wife and pretend I don't exist.”

Ava stands right in front of him and she feels her heart sinking. Ears ringing from the nerves and the sickness, she forces herself to say something but words don’t come out. Meara steps forward, her voice cold and stiff. “You should be thankful to have a noble wife, jester.”

“You all forced me, I needed none of this. You could have just paid normal Berry as a normal person.”

“We are aristocracy, this is the way we seal a deal.”

“Who cares, it's stupid!”

“And yet you’re here because our ancestors married into people who can now save your venture.”

“To hell with you all! I’m out of here.”

Buggy sprints on his feet, but he feels awkwardly weak and dizzy. He tries to detach. Nothing happens.

“Really guys?” he yells, furious. “You’ve put seastone on me?”

Crocodile and Mihawk exchange confused looks. As far as they know, there is no seastone nearby, although Crocodile is now wishing he had brought some to keep that idiot at bay.

Buggy waves and pinches his captain coat, looking carefully around his arms and legs, swearing under his breath.

Mihawk approaches him tensely and grabs one of his wrists.

“Lady Meara, this is not part of our agreement.” His golden eyes pierce the noblewoman as he speaks.

“I couldn’t risk any unpleasant surprise.”

The swordsman shows Buggy his ringed finger. With an angry grimace, the blue haired jester takes his wedding band off and toss it at the two women. “We’re done here.” he says, stomping faster and faster towards the chapel’s doors.

“Wai-”

Meara gasps as Crocodile appears behind her and puts his sharp hook to her throat.

“High rank, low blows.”

“I…I swear…I didn't mean to harm any of you”

The hook presses harder.

“I would have just offered Buggy to rest here for a couple of days…”

Mihawk sits on the altar, planting his black sword in the marble pavement.

“You tried to kidnap a Yonko.” He states solemnly.

“N-no, I just…”

“Having the big dog here would discourage many crews, no doubt.” grins Crocodile. “Unfortunately, that has a very different price.”

“W-would Buggy consider it, if we pay?”

“Oh, no doubt. But save your berry, if you want my advice.”

Mihawk has had enough. He slowly walks towards the exit, leaving a crack in the ground behind him. His fellow joins him right away, pushing away Meara and leaving her shaky.

“You won’t have it your way this time, Read!” laughed Crocodile, relighting his cigar.

The two pirates get out in the open and are welcomed by the intense light of the setting sun.

At the vast harbor in front of the church, there’s an air of peace. Ships and fishing vessels move slowly in a gentle wind, few men still around mending nets. The sea sparkles in warm colors.

While going down the marble staircase, Mihawk freezes.

“You ok, ‘hawk?”

“Mh” he sighed “just a second, I think I heard something.”

“Fuck it. Fuck it all. I’m not going back with those assholes.”

Buggy is tinkering with a bundle of ropes, balancing in the middle of a swinging sailboat.

They said the wedding was fake, a trick to get those bloody nobles to pay fast.

“Seemed true to me.” he thinks “Can I undo it? There must be a way to reverse it...”

“Here you are! I’ve been looking all over the harbor for you.”

Buggy looks up, moving away his messy hair: It’s Mihawk.

The man’s smiling, standing on the dock. There's someone with him, but the clown couldn't care less.

“Get lost. I need some time away from you idiots.”

“I see. But I'm afraid you can't just go your way.”

“Says who?”

“Those six zeros still missing from Cross Guild’s coffers.”

Buggy bites his lips. They hold that fucking ‘you owe us’ thing against him every time. He can't even breathe without permission anymore.

“Anyway, I understand today was tough for you.” Hawkeyes says “So I persuaded Crocodile to let you enjoy a short honeymoon.”

“A what? Oh no, is it that girl there?”

“Buggy.”

“Did you hit your head or something? That was fake! Leave me alone!”

“Buggy, listen.”

“She’s better off here anyway!”

“They hit her.” Mihawk said, raising his voice “I found Meara raging on her. A pitiful sight. She must have given her something too, she barely stands.”

“And… what should I do about it?”

“I know a woman. On an isle, about one and a half days of sailing. Take the girl there.”

“You’re coming too?”

“No. Eat, drink, rest, do whatever you need until she’s ok. A week should be enough, I think.”

“Just so we're clear: then I have to take her in Karai Bari or…” the clown asked.

“You would never put your wife in danger, do you, Buggy? It's safer to have her stay with my friend. Permanently.”

The jester's eyes light up with hope.

“Fine! If you so insist, I'll prove my generosity once again. Ava, get a move on.”

The veiled woman is hesitant at first. “At least he remembers my name” she thinks.

Looking up at Hawkeye, Ava prays his doing is in good faith. She leaves the swordsman side and staggers to the boat, her legs too shaky and unstable.

“Take that stuff off your face, you'll see better.” Buggy croaks.

No answer. The woman gets in slower than an old granny, followed by the angry glare of the blue haired pirate.

“Oh, and don’t go off book. I can find you anywhere.”

“Fuck you ‘hawk.”

“Godspeed, lovebirds!”

Buggy takes something out of the water and the boat begins to move.

The distance between them and the stone dock increases rapidly, as the wind blows into their veils. The jester contemplates the horizon ahead while Ava sits in the back of the ship, none of them saying a word.

She stares at the view they're leaving behind, breathless. The sky has turned an intense blue with thick dark clouds and Fugu Island gets smaller and smaller in the silence of the night. The feeling of wind whistling in her ears, those cold droplets on her skin, explodes in Ava’s chest.

“I could…really live.” She whispers.

It is a happiness so great it almost breaks her.

#one piece fanfiction #buggy fanfiction #buggy d clown #buggy the clown #buggy one piece #one piece buggy #op buggy #captain buggy #cross guild #sir crocodile #crocodile one piece #dracule mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #one piece mihawk #buggy x oc #buggy pirates #grand line challengers

28 notes · View notes

rainnartt · 7 days

Text

Recreation of one of my favorite movie scenes with Gwyneth and mihawk.

#one piece #one piece original character #one piece oc #Gwyneth (oc)#op mihawk #mihawk x oc #one piece mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #dracule mihawk

14 notes · View notes

shewhohangsoutincemeteries · 13 days

Text

to ashes, development

Clint Barton x F!Reader

To Ashes, Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Summary: a development on a mission means it's time to move on.

Warnings: angst, fluff, canon-typical violence.

Word Count: 2,313

follow my fanfiction blog

prologue - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 - 28 - 29 - 30 -31 - 32 - 33 - 34 - 35

Days Since the Decimation: Three Years, Eighty-Five Days

“Holy shit, you got any idea how fuckin’ hard I am right now?”

You wrinkled your nose. “Oh, gross.”

Clint frowned.

“What? It’s seedy as hell,” you waved a hand. “You take me to the worst places.”

You swore, you could actually see him roll his eyes from the other side of the building. “Not exactly poetic, are they?”

The two of you were on top of an old disused warehouse in Harringay, listening with distaste as the men inside discussed their, ugh, merchandise. What was it with men and guns?

The weapons ring you’d fought in Holland Park was still at large, and Clint had spent the last two weeks tracking them down again. Honestly it was a testament to them that it had taken him this long, even without his old SHIELD connections. Whoever they were, they weren’t street level thugs.

…It made you feel the tiniest bit better about them getting the better of you in the park.

Clint had scrubbed through the local police files for any clues as to where they were setting up house. Between that and his own reconnaissance, he’d managed to track one of their prominent dealers to right under your feet.

“You still clear on the plan?”

Nodding, you unhooked the safety hood of your holster. “Yeah. Yeah, I got it.”

“Y/N…”

You looked up with a raised brow, fixing him with a pointed look. “Are you really about to lecture me about not taking revenge?”

Clint met your eye with an almost exasperated expression. “Point taken.”

“You ready for this?”

“That’s my line.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.” you smirked, stretching out a kink in your neck. “Let’s go to work.”

***

You were really getting tired of these guys.

That’s the only thought that came to you as you rolled behind the crates to your left, gun still in your hand. You came to a kneel, your back meeting the wood with a dull thump. They were too prepared, to ready for the two of you.

This wasn’t supposed to end in a shootout. This was supposed to be a quick job, and yet… how did they know about the two of you? They’d mentioned a boss in the park, someone who had guessed you’d been Clint’s back up, but still… they knew you were coming. Not well enough to lay a proper trap, to ambush you before you got inside, but well enough to be ready.

You ducked lower with a curse as wood shattered above you, large splinters raining down on top of you. Thankful for the hood that kept them out of your hair, you exhaled and turned to fire two shots back around the corner. One shot went wide, but you smiled grimly as the second bullet buried itself in a man’s shoulder. He cursed in a heavy Eastern European accent as you ducked back behind the crate.

“Did you have a plan B for tonight, or are we winging this?” you said into your comms. You heard a cry go up among those shooting at you, followed by shouts of confusion and a few wild shots. You winced despite yourself for a second, waiting for a response in your ear to assure you that they’d missed.

“I’m working on one,” Clint replied gruffly, and you released a small, relieved breath despite your faith in him.

“So… winging it, it is then,” you sighed wearily, setting a new magazine into your handgun and adjusting your hold on the grip. “You know, I kinda hate being the one to draw their fire.”

“I’ll make note of it for next time,” he replied dryly, and another gurgling cry went up among the men between the two of you as Clint shot back out of the shadows long enough to take one of them down. He sliced up two – the one you’d wounded and the man closest to him. “Don’t do anything stupid, alright? We’ve got this under control.”

“Do we?”

“You doubt me?”

“I—”

“Fuck this!” shouted one of them – a burly brunette with a greying beard and tattoos scattered over his biceps. “Get one of the pushka out here and end this!”

“Clint—” you said warningly, stealing a glance over the crates.

“Don’t panic,” he warned, and you swore you caught the glimpse of silver in a brief shift of the light to let you know exactly where he was. “You’re not their biggest problem right now.”

“Clint—”

A deafening blast sounded and you fell forward, hands flying automatically to your ears. The crate to your left exploded – as did the wall in front of you, burst apart in a wave of electric blue energy.

“Holy—”

“Y/N!”

“I’m fine, just—”

“Forget the bitch! Get the Ronin!”

You scrambled away from where you’d hidden, throwing yourself behind an old forklift. Too late, you realized you’d left your gun behind, having dropped it when your hands had flown to your ears. Swearing to yourself, you winced as another blast fired. The building itself groaned as they blew another hole in a wall.

“What the hell is that thing?!”

“Just get outta here, Y/N! I’ll distract—”

“Don’t you fucking dare, Barton!”

“Just go!” he barked back. “Now!”

“Goddamn it!” you growled, standing as you heard the men shout that they’d spotted the Ronin above them. You saw the gun – a bazooka-like cannon – turn upward, point directly at the shadowy figure above. “Stubborn-ass-son-of-a—”

The blaster fired, and you swept your arm upward in the same moment. A shield appeared seconds before the energy wave could hit Clint, knocking him to the side. The energy wave just barely glanced off the shield before blowing a hole in the roof and sending debris collapsing down on the men below.

“What are you—?”

“Take the moment, Clint; you can yell at me later!” you spat back through gritted teeth, sprinting towards the group still shielding themselves from falling bricks and timber. “Get out! I’m right behind you!”

Pulling the knife from the back of your belt, you turned it in your grip and plunged it into the hand of the man closest to the crate they’d pulled the pushka from, ignoring the way he screamed. You released it, instead grabbing the first weapon you could from the crate – thankfully, a much smaller hand-gun style weapon – and kept running. A few men managed to get off a few shots before you were clear, and you winced as you felt a bullet tear through your sleeve to graze your forearm.

Feet pounding too loud on the pavement, you made it quickly to an alleyway across the street, tucking your prize under your injured arm as you grabbed hold of the rung of a fire escape ladder with your other arm and swung yourself upwards. You could hear the building behind you continue to collapse as you climbed the ladder, and you winced as a hand gripped yours as you reached the top.

“Are you insane?”

“Are you?” you shot back breathlessly as Clint pulled you up onto the roof beside him. “What the hell kind of plan was that? You were gonna let them shoot you with that thing?”

“I’m faster than I look, Y/N,” he pointed out sourly. “And now they know—”

“They don’t know shit,” you argued. “There’s no way they could see the difference between that shield and whatever the hell they were shooting at us with.”

“It was still really stupid, Y/N.”

“You’re welcome.”

Clint gave you a look that somehow managed to look grateful and exasperated all at once.

“Oh, and I totally get MVP this mission.”

“Is that a thing?” he replied dryly.

“It is now,” you said proudly, finally managing to catch your breath. Ignoring the pain throbbing in your arm, you held out the gun you’d stolen. “Ta-freakin’-da, Barton.”

***

“Lat—”

“What?”

Clint repeated himself louder, but his voice was still muffled by the wood of the door and the spray of the shower.

“What?”

You heard the shower door open and a few dull sounds before the bathroom door in front of you opened. Water dripped over Clint’s bare torso and soaked his hair, one hand clutching the towel slung around his waist. You watched him hesitate as he met your gaze, watched the adam’s apple in his throat bob. “Latveria.”

“Lat– Latveria?”

“This is starting to feel dangerously like a bit,” Clint said dryly, stepping back into the shower stall. You felt heat rise in your face as he closed the door and the towel was thrown up over the top of it. You stood awkwardly in the doorway for a moment before closing the lid of the toilet and perching on the edge of it. “That’s where the weapons are being made.”

“And they’ve made it all the way out here?” you replied, swallowing as you tried to pointedly avoid staring at the shower. The stall was made of textured, frosted glass, and while it granted Clint modesty, you could still just make out his silhouette against the screen. His hands rose to scrub through his hair, his profile turned just barely away from you.

“They’re global,” Clint told you, raising his voice over the spray. “I heard reports of them turning up in New York back before… Fury had someone else working on it.”

“And we just happened to stumble onto them in a park in London?”

Clint’s hands lingered at the back of his neck. “They’ve been making bigger waves lately. Guess she’s been getting a little cockier since the Decimation wiped out half the authorities that could work their case.”

“‘She’?”

Clint’s hands moved down his chest to his stomach, and you lowered your gaze to the floor, face burning. Your thighs pressed together despite yourself. You knew your voice had broken slightly as you’d spoken that one word.

“Lucia von Bardas.”

The water shut off, and you straightened slightly, your hands threaded together in your lap. The towel disappeared into the stall. “Should I recognize the name?”

“Only if you’re trying to be familiar with Eastern European politics,” Clint told you, the shower stall opening after a moment. “She’s a pretty big name in Latverian political parties. She’s got interests in most of the big exporters coming out of that place, including Von Doom Industries. There’s been rumors of her dealing in some… less than legal businesses for a while now. Guess now we’ve actually got some proof.”

Clint stepped out; the towel tucked securely around his waist once more. He seemed to be avoiding your eye, wiping down the foggy mirror with his palm.

“And?”

“And what?”

“We’re going to take her out, right?”

You stood up, and Clint met your eye in the mirror. He sighed.

“That expression tells me you’ve already decided on the answer for us.”

***

“I’m starting to miss Stark’s money.” Clint sighed, settling back into the seat beside you.

“You’re the one who books these oh-so-deluxe travel arrangements,” you pointed out, attempting to find a comfortable position against the firm back of the bus seat. “You’d think with your super-ninja-spy-magic you’d be able to get us a fancier ride.”

“I’m not a ninja,” he told you patiently. “Or magic.”

“You’re a little magic.”

Clint shook his head with a smile; you were sure there was faint color on his cheeks as he dropped his head back against the headrest.

“So, how long exactly is this ride?”

He answered with his eyes closed. “…About two days.”

“Two days?!” you repeated, when you saw his smile grow slightly, you scowled. “I kinda hate you, you know.”

“I thought I was magic.”

“Magic and despised.”

He chuckled; eyes still closed. The bus pulled away from the curb, surprisingly empty. The sky outside was already dark, and the glow of the streetlights passed over the archer’s face. “We’re less likely to be recognized on the bus.”

“Curse you and your logic.”

Clint didn’t reply, and the two of you sat in silence for twenty minutes before you spoke again.

“It’s a little annoying how easily you can fall asleep.”

He smirked; eyes still stubbornly closed. “I’m not asleep.”

“…How about now?”

“Were you always this annoying on road trips?” he teased.

You laughed, closing your eyes too. “Oh, please. You’d be so bored without me.”

***

You opened your eyes slowly, blinking away the sleep still lingering. You hadn’t even realized you’d fallen asleep, but the wide expanse of road ahead of the bus told you you’d left the city a long time again, as did the faint pink glow tainting the deep purple of the night sky. You shifted, brow furrowing as you felt the warmth pressed up against your side and the rough fabric against your cheek. A comfortable weight rested against the crown of your head, and you frowned against the fuzziness still clinging to your tired mind.

Your eyes finally cleared to settle on the color of Clint’s jacket, and you felt his breath fan softly against your hair. You’d fallen asleep, your head falling against his shoulder, and he’d apparently done the same. His cheek was pressed against your hair, his breathing steady and even. A smile touched your lips as you let the sensation of his chest rising and falling lull you back into rest, and you ignored the sensible part of your brain that was trying to remind you that you were supposed to maintaining your distance from him.

Your eyes fell to your lap as your eyelids began to droop, and warmth flared in your cheeks. Your hand was on your thigh, and Clint’s rested beside it, his fingertips settled on the back of your hand. Your skin was warm and tingled under his touch.

Had he… had he been holding your hand?

tags: @trekkingaroundasgard @lovely-dreamer19 @wittyforachange @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @glossyloner @capitalnineteen @youclickedthislink @s0ftness @castieltrash1 @drakelover78 @queenoftheunderdark @lol-you-thought @akumune@xxboesefrauxx @enna-core@hearmyharmony@katsies @youralphawolf72 @maenji@rhymesmenagerie@gwianasky @melaclintbartoncorner @loki-is-loved@whovianayesha @bradfordbantams@alice-the-nerd@fanofallthefics @ace-fandom-dumbass @kaelyn-lobrutto24@twsssmlmaa @earth-pig-fish@meeksmusic83@hallothankmas@justanothermagicalsara@janineb86 @darsynia@rhymesmenagerie @thatwelshbi @lauraashley93@darkwhisperswolf

37 notes · View notes

egoixu · 6 months

Text

no context needed

Credit for Gong with long legs goes to @euvipon

#patapon #zigoton #gong the hawkeye #zigoton oc mentioned #another possible oc x canon shit

48 notes · View notes

marvelwitchergilmore · 10 months

Text

In Love

Summary: Clint Barton x Fe!Reader ~ Turns out, you’ve been keeping a massive secret from Clint despite being his friend and co-worker for the last six years.

Disclaimer: violence, swearing (I think), pining, life-or-death situations, kiss to keep cover, fluff, hand holding, angst, blood, torture, Clint does not have kids or a wife or has ever, 16+ themes (Criminal Minds kinda thing). MDNI - This is your warning - If you read on, you have agreed to read 16+ themes.

The moment you came home your first day in the field, you knew what was to come.

You never fell in love. Never even fell into ‘like’. But the moment you met him…it was game over. Your future self laughed at your younger self.

“I’m never gonna fall in love.” you would say. “I’m never gonna like a boy like that. I’m not going to want someone to come home to. I want my own space. I don’t want anyone by my side. I don’t need anyone but my dogs. They can keep me company when I’m old and grey.”

God, you wished you could be like that again. Despite knowing none of it would be true, you wished you still had those ideologies. That you would never fall in love. That you would never date or marry or want children and turn out to be a Sports Mom with a minivan filled with gear, orange slices and cases of water you got on sale from Costco.

But the moment you saw him…that ideology died. In fact, it burst into a ball of flames.

You had never had that feeling before. That kind of feeling that sent a tornado through your stomach, blood pumping around your body as if you’d just fought for your life in a cross country race and your heart doing somersaults against your lungs that knocked the air out of them.

But the moment you saw him…you had to scold yourself.

And you scolded yourself over and over and over and over again, for years.

Agent Clint Barton was first and foremost your teammate. You could only trust one another to the extent that the other did. Same with the rest of your team.

Without trust, there would be no foundation for anything.

And he trusted you. That much was clear.

Afterwards, you, Clint and the rest of your team became friends and before long, you were a unit. A family.

Each and every one of you knew the other like the back of your hands, except…Clint felt like he was missing something with you.

He knew you were keeping something from him. And sometimes it felt like the rest of the team were trying to keep your secret, too.

Though, you knew that the rest of the team didn’t know for certain about your feelings towards Clint. They knew you but when it came to your love life, you were the only one none of them could figure out. Your cards were kept firmly against your chest.

One evening, Willa (one of your teammates) spotted you in a small cafe getting a drink with a guy and when she saw you Monday morning, she instantly asked you about him. The whole team was there. Were you about to reveal that you have a secret boyfriend this whole time? Perhaps he was your husband and you had 4 kids and secretly owned a private school in Nebraska?

But, no.

“He was just a guy and we had a good time but I don’t think I’m gonna see him again.”

“Why not?” Clint asked you.

“Because the day after I saw him in the park with his girlfriend and their dog.”

“Ooh,”

“I’m sorry, honey.” Willa frowned.

“It’s okay.”

For the next couple of months, you went on more dates. Some were set up by Willa and Jerry (another teammate) and the rest by online sites. And, some were more successful than others but in the end, none of them gave you that feeling that you had when you first met Clint. That kind of feeling, the moment you dropped your bag and closed your front door had you nodding your head and accepting, “Yep, this is it.” as you realised, somehow, miraculously, you’d managed to have a loving crush on someone. But it wouldn’t matter, because he is your teammate.

And, after two years of trying to get rid of your feelings for him, or at least, trying to accept them and move on with your life, Clint sent your heart spirally and fell even harder when yourself, Willa, Jerry, Una and Clint were all sent on a mission together.

It was an extraction.

The host of the gala was a multi-millionaire and would be auctioning off his prized possessions in a secret auction. The gala was simply a front. After all, why would more than three dozen highly wealthy people all come to the same country for “a holiday”.

His prized possessions included a hard-drive that opened the buyer to a world of information surrounding offshore accounts that were used to help free-lance agents that still had ties to any and all government organisations.

Shield included.

Only, after the initial smooth sailing, things took a turn.

“It’s not here.”

From the other side of the bar, your eyes met with Clint’s and you spoke into your drink as you lifted it to your lips. “What do you mean it’s not there?”

“I mean it’s not here.” Jerry told you down comms. “The harddrive. It’s not in this room.”

“Then where could it- oh no.”

“Oh no? What oh no?” Clint asked.

Willa turned her back to the column. “It’s in his jacket.”

“What do you mean it’s in his jacket?”

“Ten O’clock.”

Low and behold, there the host stood, the silver USB stick in his hand, smiling as he waved it around three other potential buyers.

One of them went to touch it and the host pocketed it before he could, smiling before removing his jacket and handing it to his butler beside him who folded it up and began to walk away with it.

“Where’s he taking it?”

Willa lip-read what she could from the conversation.

“His bedroom.”

“His bedroom is heavily guarded.”

“You don’t say.”

“Guys, what are we going to do? We need that hard drive.” Jerry’s voice rang through.

“Someone needs to get his attention.” Willa replied.

“How?” you asked.

“I have an idea.”

Moments later, Clint was by your side.

“What are you-”

“Just trust me. You can punch me later.”

You placed your hand in Clint’s as he led you to the dance floor and suddenly you were very aware of your own skin. It was an odd feeling.

“Just do what I do. But backwards. And in heels.”

“Thanks, Fred. What exactly is your plan here?”

Clint’s eyes met yours. “He looks in your direction every 45 seconds. I’m going to give him an excuse to make his move.”

You yelped in shock as Clint pulled you flush against him, his hand flexing on your lower back.

“Just trust me?”

You caught the sincere look in his eyes and all you could do was nod.

It worked.

Just as Clint was moving you around the dance floor, your mind going elsewhere, there came a tap onto Clint’s shoulder.

“May I cut in?”

“Of course.”

Clint pressed a kiss to your cheek, quickly whispering in your ear. “Flirt. You look beautiful, by the way.”

You smiled and nodded as he walked away, letting your hands slip from his and into the host’s. And, after flirting for the length of a song, feeling his hands go lower down your back, your own hands stopping him, he finally walked you up the stairs and towards his bedroom.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got eyes on you.” Clint spoke down comms.

You looked over your shoulder as you climbed the grand staircase with the host’s hand at your back, and you saw Clint to the left of the dance floor, watching you carefully.

Once you found yourself with the host, alone, in his bedroom and the guards told to clear away and take their break for an hour or so, you made quick work in knocking him out, finding the jacket and removing the hard drive.

Only, once you left and met Clint outside the bedroom door, a new to duty guard came around the corner.

“Just follow me.” Clint took your hand in his as he pocketed the hard drive into his jacket.

You only got half-way walking down the hall when the guard, who had peaked in on the host, came back out and shouted for you both to stop.

Of course, you didn’t.

You both ran instead.

Then an alarm was pulled and every guard the host paid seemed to be after you and Clint.

“What are you going to do?” Willa asked as Clint pressed something into her hand as he ran past her and out of the door.

“We’ll meet you back at the safe house.” Clint told Willa. “Just take the hard drive and get it to Jerry. Una, tell me you’ve got the van ready.”

“Ready. I’ll meet Willa and Jerry at the extraction point.”

“Good.”

And for the next ten minutes, you and Clint were running through the streets and back alleyways of the town, running in separate directions for a while before bumping into each other down a side-ally.

Footsteps were coming closer and the sound of bullets were flying through the air.

“They don’t know what they’re aiming at.”

“But they’ll find us soon.”

“If we run out now, they’ll shoot at us.”

“So what do we do?”

“I don’t know.” you looked at him, breathless, before looking back down the alley.

Then it hit Clint.

“I have an idea but I need you to trust me. Like, really trust me.”

“Jesus Christ, Barton. Just get on with it.” you finally called out as he tried to prevent the inevitability of his plan - despite you not knowing what it was.

The footsteps were drawing closer and for a moment they stopped, a light flashed down the alleyway and voice talked before the running continued.

But none of that registered in the moment because your brain was short-circuiting since Clint’s bright idea was to kiss you.

His hands came to your face and he could feel your hands on his arms, ready to push him off and probably punch him. But you didn’t. And, rather than the kiss being stiff and awkward…it was unlike any other.

One of his hands still remained by the side of your face when the light shone down the path but his other came down your body, sending goosebumps in their wake, before he pulled you against him and he stepped closer pressing you between him and the wall.

Your own hands travelled up to his neck and pulled him closer but once the footsteps died away, the kiss slowly came to an end leaving you both breathless against one another.

“I think it worked.”

Clint nodded, swallowing hard, as he looked at you.

How had he never noticed the reflection of the stars in your eyes before?

“I think it did. Are you gonna punch me now?”

Clint watched as you paused for a moment.

“Not right now. But if they come back, I might.”

“We better go?”

You nodded. “We better go.”

You had to push yourself along because you knew, if you didn’t, you’d kiss him again and he’d simply kissed you to avoid getting caught, right? There would be no dire consequences after that kiss.

But all Clint could do was scold himself as you both made your way back to the safe house. How had he never noticed the stars in your eyes before? Or how, in the morning, the rays of the sun shone back just as bright? He also scolded himself from allowing himself to emotionally indulge in the kiss he shared with you. You are his teammate. And he knew himself.

He couldn’t let his heart get involved, or else there would be dire consequences.

Initially, things felt…awkward. But, after four years, it was just an old memory, right? And, yeah, sure, the memory would be revisited from time to time whether independently or shared…kinda. Mostly, this was when the team would have drinks one night and would be talking about love lives and first kisses and worst kisses.

“Alright, alright, alright. I’ll give you that one.” Una said, swirling her bottle of beer. “But kissing to avoid something, that can't work, can it?”

“It can.”

Your mouth spoke the words before your brain could stop you.

“And how would you know?”

You caught Clint’s smirk as he looked down to his beer.

“I just do.”

“Oh, really?”

“Come on, tell us!” Willa cried.

You shook your head with a suppressed laugh. “I’ve said too much.”

“No, come on!”

“Maybe some other time.”

“No fair.”

“Okay,” you smiled. “You tell us about what happened with Derek and your ‘worldly knowledge’ and I’ll tell you my story.”

Willa narrowed her eyes at you, playfully. “You play a clever game.”

You just sat back and smiled.

But despite all of this, four years on, neither you or Clint had seemingly changed. But he still felt like you were hiding something from him.

Except, he’d find out soon enough. And not in a way either of you hoped he would.

This time, you’d been called in on your day off.

“What’s going on?”

Clint turned around from the monitor and was at first taken aback from your clothing. Usually, you wore black pants and a black t-shirt to work or a work shirt or, if the situation called for it, sand coloured cargo trousers and a breathable t-shirt. Though, that was usually when having to attend a military base outside of cooler weather.

Instead, you wore a cosy jumper and dungarees that had paint splatter all over them, including your white pumps and small freckles of pain on the baby hairs that had escaped their cover of the hair bandanna.

Clint also spotted the remnants of nail polish in your cuticles and light paint on the side of your hands.

“We’ve just got- have you been decorating?”

You looked over yourself. “Oh, yeah. Felt like a change. Anyway, what’s going on?”

“We’ve just got wind of a hostage situation. We can’t make verbal contact with the abductor but they did send this out.”

It was a note.

And it was through that note that led you and Clint making an extraction which was initially successful until you did a final sweep afterwards only to be knocked out when you spotted a door had been left ajar and the lights turned off.

Clint, after not hearing your reply, came in after you.

And that was how you both ended up waking up inside some beat down old home that had probably been designed in the 40s.

His voice was hazy, but you heard Clint call your name. You also tried your best to take in a breath but was only met with a damp stench and the feeling of your lungs crushing you into shock.

“Take it easy, he hit you pretty hard.”

After a few minutes, you finally gained some normality in your lungs but the sting was still there.

“What happened?”

“After he went all sleeper agent on you, I came in and found you unconscious. I was trying to wake you when he stuck something in my neck.”

“I see you got the peaceful option.”

“Funny.”

“Where the hell are we?” you asked, trying your best to look around.

“I don’t know. I haven’t heard any cars so I’m gonna take a guess and say we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“Well, that narrows it down.”

“Did you see who took us?”

“No.”

“Would you like to?”

You and Clint snapped your heads to the open space in front of you both.

Out from the shadows appeared the guy who you had seen just before his gun came across your head and your body hit the ground.

The man walked from one side of the room, to the other, screwing in the light-bulbs beneath the lampshades causing both you and Clint to squint at the brightness. You’d both been submerged in darkness for quite some time.

“My name is Jack. I know, how original. It was actually my mother’s father’s name. Named after my grandfather, grand ol’ Jack. Lived till he was 92. Always said the best way to survive was to always tell the truth. That lies weighed on the soul. And to have a small shot of whiskey before going to bed. Said that was good for the heart since it quietened the mind.”

“Really touching story,” you cut him off. “But why are we here?”

“Don’t you get it?”

You and Clint looked at one another. Had you both missed a part of this conversation?

“I tried to save those people in the warehouse.” Jack told both of you as he straddled a chair. “People in this world need saving from themselves. People are dying younger than they ever did. And it’s because of all the lies. The lies they keep from their parents, and their children and themselves. It’s all crushing their soul. And I knew…” Jack smiled, wagging his finger. “I knew the moment I saw you down there that yours was being crushed the most.”

“Saw me?”

Jack stood from his chair. “I was in the corner office, on the top floor. It has an excellent view. Whoever has that office next will love it. The accents on the wall, ah magnificent.” Jack kissed his fingers before continuing. “But it gave me a good scope. I understand not everyone will…agree with my methods, per say.”

“No, because you took people hostage.” Clint pointed out.

“I was trying to save them! And I was finally getting through to them until those SWAT guys pulled out my team.”

“Again, because you had taken them hostage. And now you’ve taken us hostage.”

“This world needs saving!” Jack yelled. “It needs saving from the lies people tell and the secrets they all hide.”

“Alright!” you yelled out before calming your voice. “Alright. So…the world needs saving? Jack, do you really think you’re saving it…by killing people? The hold-up down on 9th? That was you, right? Those people you let go-”

“They let their souls free. They told the truth.”

“So, if we-” you looked at Clint before turning back to Jack. “If we tell you the truth, will you let us go?”

“Yes.”

For a moment, the feeling in the room got lighter. Maybe there was a way out after all.

“But you’ll only lie. No, you…your secrets are too big to just give up freely. You…you’re a take em’ to the grave kinda gal. So, no. I won’t let you go. Not until I know that it’s the truth.”

“How will you know?”

Clint regretted asking the question.

“Because she’ll be begging to tell me. You both will.”

Neither of you knew how much time had passed but the spots from the light were getting duller and bigger.

“No, no. You can not sleep yet. You haven’t freed your soul.”

“Why do we have to free our souls?” you asked, the taste of blood coming to your mouth. “What if I don’t want to be saved? You said it yourself. I’d rather take mine to the grave.”

“Oh, but you don’t. Not really.”

Jack had been circling you and Clint for a while, as if he were a hunter, teasing you - waiting for you to beg to be killed.

“No, I can see it in your eyes. The eyes never lie.”

Jack levelled himself though he wasn’t close enough to knock out. His hands gripped your thighs as he hummed, annoyance clear in his expression as he tried to figure out your secret.

“Perhaps you killed someone? No, that isn’t it. Maybe you ran away? Have a secret family? No, that’s not it either. The eyes never lie to me. What is it? What are you not telling me? What are you not telling yourself?”

Clint called your name and Jack saw the slightest change in you. So slight, in fact, even you didn’t feel it.

“It’s him. It had something to do with your team. No, teammate. It’s him and just him.”

Jack pushed against your thighs so he could stand up straight. Quickly, he made his way over to Clint and circled him.

“What is it? What is it about you, huh? What has her secret got to do with you? Let's see if we can find out.”

You heard the snap of a switchblade as it opened and the fight for Jack to steady Clint but before he could make the first cut or slice, you cried out.

“Stop! He doesn’t know! He- he doesn’t know. Please…just…just don’t hurt him. Please.”

Jack looked over to you and Clint’s name escaped your lips, both in pleading and question.

“Oh…oh, this runs so much deeper than just a secret.”

You lowered your head for a moment. The pounding in your heart was only made harder by your own silent cries telling you to not say anything else. But there was a chance you’d both die, so why not tell him? Right? Maybe it would save your lives? Or would it only give Jack more ammunition to use?

“Doesn’t it?”

“Please…don’t.”

Jack knelt in front of you and gently touched your cheek before moving his hand down and grasping under your jaw, forcing your head up.

“Tell me. Let me free your soul.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks, your heart crushing your lungs inside your chest.

“If you don’t tell me, I will only hurt him more. And you don’t want to hurt him. Tell me. Help me save both of you. Tell me. No, tell him.”

Jack moved your head, forcing you to look at Clint with tear stained cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Clint. I’m so sorry.”

Your name came from Clint’s voice, barely above a whisper.

“You can admit it,” Jack said your name. “You committed the most heinous act an agent such as yourself can do, didn’t you? You created a danger, not only for him, but yourself.”

Clint said your name again, trying to move his hands only to find them still shackled to his chair.

“You fell in love.”

You took in a breath, the beating feeling in your chest, turning into a stabbing feeling against your lungs. Your head remained down as you squoze your eyes shut, more tears escaping from your lids, down your lashes and onto your lap.

“Please…”

You didn’t even know if Jack could hear you, but you pleaded with him anyway.

“We need to hear you say it.”

You remained silent but then-

“Say it!”

Jack’s hand came to your face and pushed you to look at him.

“Say it! Say it!”

You continued to plead with him until he pushed you back further and you screamed out.

“I fell in love! I fell in love! Please! Stop! No! Please! I-I fell in love! I fell in love with him! Please! I-I fell in love with him. I’m in love with him!”

Jack stopped and waited a moment before pulling you back so all four legs of the chair were on the ground and he finally removed his hand from your face.

“And there it is.”

He was smiling. The look and sound of fear in your body had pushed him further but the defeated look on your face…that couldn’t be bought. That had to be created, by his hands.

Clint looked between Jack and you and he didn’t know what to be more worried about. What Jack could possibly do to you next, or the fact that even he knew you were telling the truth to Jack.

You were in love with him.

But he didn’t have long to sit and think about it because flashing lights suddenly came from behind the thick fabric that covered the broken windows, blocking out the light of the day and night.

“No! No!” Jack shouted. “I still need to save them!”

It all happened so quickly, Clint barely caught the fact that Willa had rushed inside, Una arresting Jack and detaining him. Willa rushed over to Clint as Jerry came over to you.

“How did you find us?” Clint asked Willa as Jerry came behind you and picked the locks of your handcuffs.

“Are you okay?”

Jerry knew it was a stupid question, even when you didn’t answer him.

“A dog walker called it in. Said they could hear someone yelling as if they were in pain. He also knew no one has lived in this house since 1982.”

As Willa picked Clint’s handcuffs, Jerry had managed to get you out of yours and without looking back, you darted for the door.

“Wait, wait,” Una called after you. “We need to wait for the medics.”

“Can you take me to the hospital?”

Una looked you over. She could see the clear look in your eyes. You didn’t want to stay here for another second.

“Don’t you want to wait for Clin-”

“Now?”

Una nodded, radioing into Willa who was standing behind Clint, letting Jerry finish unpicking the locks.

“Sure, I’ll call ahead.”

“Thank you, Willa.”

Hoping into the passenger seat, you shut the door as Una climbed into the driver’s seat and took off down the road and to the local hospital.

“What happened in there?” Una asked you as she flicked her eyes from the road to you and back again.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Even with your hand shaking, you pushed your fingers across your face to try and wipe away the tears.

By the time you arrived at the hospital, you were taken to a separate room where Una stayed in the waiting room, filling out your forms. Your hands were too shaky to even hold a pen and you could just about remember your own name.

The doctor ran multiple tests and pushed the small cuts together with closure slips.

“You’re all good but I’d like you to remain here for a couple hours, just in case there’s any change.”

You nodded and quietly thanked the doctor as she left.

There were patches of dirt on your hands, as well as blood and old tears where they washed away the stains.

After an hour, Una came in only to leave a few minutes later since she was called back to base to interrogate Jack. And, as she left, you slowly lowered yourself down on the hospital bed and, despite the noise in your head, you fell asleep.

A few hours later, a nurse came in and woke up.

“You can go home now, honey. We’re gonna need this bed.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” you tried to get up quickly but the nurse only laid a hand on your shoulder.

“It’s okay, honey. Take your time. I read your chart, you took quite the hit. Your friend is waiting for you in the waiting room to take you home.”

You nodded, swinging your legs over the side.

“Here. Take these for the headache.”

“Thank you.”

“No worries, honey.”

By the time you had grabbed your jacket and started walking down the hallway, you stalled when you saw who the nurse was talking about.

If you had the energy, you probably would have run in the opposite direction. But you didn’t. You were tired and if the nurse hadn’t woken you, you probably would have slept for the next 24 hours.

“Una was gonna come but I fought her for it.” Clint tried to smile but he could see your’s was just forced.

“Look, what happened-”

“Clint, please…I– I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to go home.”

“Okay.”

The drive back was silent and awkward and by the time he pulled up, you looked at him for as long as you could stomach (which wasn’t long) before opening up the door and thanking him.

And, the moment you pushed your key inside your door, you thought you were safe. That everything was finished for the day and you could deal with it tomorrow.

But Clint got out of the car and called your name.

“Wait!”

He took the porch steps two at a time and when he finally reached you, you forced yourself to look at him.

“I need to say something.”

“You don’t have to say anything, Clint.”

“But I want to.”

“Please…I’d…I just want to forget what happened today. Please…I can’t do it again.”

“I know you’re scared and watching what he was doing to you…I was scared, too. I am. I am scared.”

“Clint,” you could see the look in his eyes and you shook your head. “No. Don’t. Don’t say anything you’re gonna regret.”

“The only thing I regret is not telling you earlier.” Clint told you. “Then maybe none of this would have happened.”

“Clint-”

“I-”

“Please.”

Your hand flew to his chest and he stopped talking. “Please. Whatever you’re about to say…please wait. Wait for the right time.”

Finally, you looked at him and his hands came to the top of your arms, stroking downwards before holding you close.

“Please…just wait.”

“Okay.”

That was all he said before kissing your head and saying it again.

“Okay. I’ll wait.”

By the time you woke up in the morning, your mind had stilled and before it could get loud again, you started painting again. All of your furniture was covered and two out of the 6 walls you had planned to paint had been cleaned, stripped, sanded, coated and painted.

And, just as you started on the third, a knock came to your door.

“I just want to help.” Clint told you. “And, let’s be honest, last time you tried decorating this place on your own, you nearly knocked yourself out with paint cleaner.”

You, for the first time in the last 48 hours, smiled.

“You can take the kitchen. There should be some new cupboards to keep you company.”

“You’re finally changing them?” Clint asked, entering the kitchen, his tool belt around his hips.

“I am. Picked them out last week.”

“Thank god.” he said. “I hated the last ones.”

“Same.”

The rest of the day ran smoothly enough, despite what the last couple of days had revealed. Clint informed you that you and him both had the next two weeks off before either of you could go back into the field. He also helped fix the kitchen cabinets to the wall as well as install your new oven. You could have done it on your own, but having someone else there made it easier. Clint also helped you move around the heavier furniture and, when fixing the wiring to the lightbulb, he held the ladder steady under you so you wouldn’t fall.

And for the following two days, neither of you mentioned anything about what happened with Jack. It was like nothing had ever happened in the first place.

Until Clint decided he couldn’t wait anymore.

It was easier, before the kiss, to shut off his feelings for you; that worry, that concern, that joy that exceeded more than just the smile of friendship. But after, they became much more clear. He saw the stars in your eyes and the light in your smile. He was more than just amazed at your talents of being an agent. Of course, those who joined Shield all had similar talents, but there was just something more about you. More to be figured out, more to learn, more to be desired and most of all, more to be loved.

He couldn’t wait any longer.

Sure, he’d been called stubborn before but now he was impatient. He’d let time slip by for six years and in that time there had been moments where he wanted to call out from the top of buildings that his feelings for you were more than that of a friend, of a teammate. But he couldn’t.

There was always a mission or a job to be done or a date that got in the way. And now, there had been a raging lunatic that, if Willa and the rest of the team hadn’t landed when they did, could have killed you. He’d set your soul free, you’d been able to tell your secret. What was to stop him from not letting the rest of you go? What was stopping him from shooting you where you sat or using your life against his?

Nothing.

Because Clint couldn’t free himself. He couldn’t free himself from his chair or the shackles that kept him there. No matter how many times he called out your name or shouted for Jack to stop, he couldn’t free himself. He couldn’t get there. He couldn’t stop Jack from doing whatever he wanted to the women he fell in love with all those years ago.

But he could do something now.

So, as you stood beside him in the kitchen measuring out a plank of wood to fit on the wall above your stove, Clint looked at you and finally told you what he’d been wanting to tell you for years and what he was about to tell you two days ago before you begged him to wait, you not fully knowing whether he was going to reject you or tell you that he loved you.

“I’m in love with you.”

Whatever you had been saying about the plank of wood and how you needed to get some more sandpaper from Home Depot quickly came to a stop as you stumbled over your words and looked at him.

“What?”

“I’m in love with you.” Clint repeated.

“No, Clint. Don’t-”

“I’m not just saying it because of what happened.” Clint assured you. “I should have told you years ago but I kept making excuses. But, after what happened, I don’t want to be able to find an excuse. I nearly lost you because I didn’t tell you sooner. I’m not losing you again. I’m in love with you.”

You were stunned to say the least.

“I know, two days ago, you told me to wait. I was going to tell you when I got to the hospital but they told me you’d just fallen asleep. And then you told me to wait when I dropped you off and maybe I should, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to miss a chance to tell you again.”

Again, you were stunned into silence.

“I’m in love with you.”

“I’m dizzy.”

That was all you could say. All the information and realisation of every action made in the last six years all hit you at once.

Swiftly, Clint pulled out one of the bar stools and you sat down holding your head.

“You’re in love with me?”

“I’m in love with you.” Clint repeated.

“You’re in love…with me? Me? The woman sat in front of you? Me?”

“Yes. I am in love with you.”

“Have you inhaled paint cleaner?”

Clint chuckled and pulled out a chair himself, sitting with his knees locked into yours before he took your hands in his.

He stated your full name, “I am in love with you. And have been for the last six years.” Clint also stated your birthdate, star sign, address and badge number. “Does that clear it up?”

Your heart was beating in your chest so fast you thought it might actually explode.

“Clint, I…I need to know you’re not just saying this because of what happened.”

Clint gave a small nod. “I have an idea but I’m gonna need you to trust me. Like, really trust me.”

You nodded and a moment later, Clint’s hands had moved from yours to your face, cupping your cheeks before pulling you in for a kiss.

It was gentle and loving and unlike any other kiss you had experienced before. Other guys had taken what they wanted, forced the kind of kiss they wanted out of you. But not Clint.

Somehow, he conveyed every emotion he could into the kiss and you couldn’t help but feel your mind wander back to your first kiss, down the side alleyway. That felt real. You had to convince yourself it was fake but this, and that, was real.

It was all real.

For a moment, you felt Clint smile into the kiss as your hands gripped at the collar of his checked shirt to pull him closer. A smile which you returned.

“I’m in love with you.”

“I’m in love with you, too.”

Clint smiled and kissed you again, and again, and again.

Despite everything that had happened, and everything that you had previously thought, you had come to realise that maybe it wasn’t so bad to learn to love and accept love in return. And in the years that passed, despite the dangers the job put you both in, it was nice to come home and be greeted with a familiar face and a warm embrace and to have a family you could both call your own.

102 notes · View notes