#clint's a goddamn mess

[absurdthirst]

Collateral Babysitter {Clint Flood x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 16.3k

Warnings: Smoking, breaking and entering, bodily threats, insults, demeaning language, domestic violence, fear, cursing, enforcers, safety and refuge, Clint being a soft girl dad, anger, baby sitting, threats against children, kidnapping, fighting, angst, knife violence, police, confessions, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal fingering, protected sex, emotional comfort

Comments: When your boyfriend can't pay his debt, Clint takes you as collateral. Getting you away from the asshole that is abusing you and solving his problem with needing a babysitter for his young daughter.

A/N: Debut Clint Flood fic!!!

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Clint Flood MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Clint huffs as he walks up the driveway, his cigarette smashed under his boot after he tosses it down. He exhales the smoke and flexes his fingers, approaching the front door. He swings the bat he had in his hand, smashing the glass, and he reaches in to unlock the door. He strides in, boots crunching the glass beneath his feet, "well, ain't this cute." Clint declares as your boyfriend stands behind you, his arms keeping you pinned against his chest. Your eyes are wide and Clint can't believe your pussy boyfriend is using you as a human shield. "Fuck off, asshole. I already gave you the last of the money I owe." Jenson lies and Clint snorts, swinging the bat, "my boss says you paid the principal. Now you owe him interest. You got it?" He tilts his head, "because he is gonna want some form of payment. Perhaps I just smash your kneecaps?"

You whimper when your boyfriend tightens his grip on you, a sound that mimics fear, but it’s really born out of pain. Your ribs are cracked, you just know it. Every breath is a struggle and it’s only because Jenson doesn’t want to mess you so that no one can tell what a mean bastard he is behind closed doors. You hate him with every fiber of your being and yet you haven’t left. Can’t leave. Tied to him in some kind of sick, twisted way that leaves you putting up with his fits of rage and abuse when things don’t go his way. Which is pretty fucking often. “Don’t hurt him.” You gasp out, knowing that when he heals, he will just take it out on you like it’s your fault instead of his own gambling addictions that have led to this moment.

Clint scoffs, unable to believe you’re defending the asshole. “I appreciate the concern, Princess, but he’s gotta pay his debts. Otherwise I’ll be back. And if he still doesn’t pay…well, I can’t guarantee his safety. So maybe you wanna let go of the girl and face me like a goddamn man.” He says as his gaze flicks from you to Jenson.

You shiver, the dark look in the enforcers eyes is something akin to disgust, but it’s for Jenson. Something that screams that he thinks the man that torments you is pathetic. Your boyfriend growls, pissed to have his manhood challenged and he squeezes you harder, making you cry out in pain.

Clint clenches his jaw at yo[‘]ur cry of pain. You’re hurt. The asshole must’ve hurt you. He huffs and shakes his head, “you got thirty fucking seconds.” He warns and your boyfriend growls, shoving you forward and down to the floor. You cry out, bracing yourself with your hands, “take her. She’s gotta be worth something. Take that whore.” Jenson orders and Clint scoffs, unable to believe he’s giving you away like you’re a used car.

Your eyes widen as you look up at the man in front of you. Horrified that Jenson would suggest something like that. That he would just sell you. “No.” You gasp out, but Jenson growls, “shut the fuck up.” He kicks at you, but you manage to scramble out of his way. “Jenson, you can’t-“

“Shut the fuck up!” Jenson yells at you, his fist raised and Clint barely refrains from swinging the bat at the asshole. “I’ll take her but you get her back when you bring the money you owe.” He decides, knowing his boss will have his ass if he leaves empty handed and honestly, he wants to get you away from this asshole. “Go pack your shit, Princess.” He orders, “you’re coming with me.”

You want to protest, but the angry look on Jenson’s face makes you snap your mouth shut. If you stayed, he would beat you. Stumbling to your feet, you shrink down as you inch past the man, nearly crying as you rush down the hall to grab your things. You have no idea what will happen to you, going with him - but it might be better.

Clint swings the bat in his hand casually like he’s waiting for the bus, and Jenson eyes him, unsure if he’s going to swing. “You giving up your girl to pay your gambling debts?” Clint scoffs, “you’re a piece of shit.” He says and Jenson chuckles, “she’s a whore that I keep around for fun. She used to talk back. Doesn’t anymore.” He smirks proudly and Clint’s upper lip curls. When you appear with your bag, he doesn’t hesitate to swing the bat, taking your boyfriend’s knee out. “Fuck!” Jenson screams and Clint looks at you, “come on princess. You can have her back when you pay.” He reminds Jenson and makes his way towards the front door.

You have no choice but to follow him, eyeing Jenson as he writhes on the floor clutching his knee. Spitting curses and not even worrying about you. Outside, you see a dark car in the driveway and he is opening the passenger door for you apparently, “what is your name?” You ask, stopping in front of the door and nervous about what you are getting into.

He doesn’t respond, “get in.” He orders and you shake your head, “not until you tell me your name.” You order and he huffs, “Clint.” You nod and slide into his passenger seat before he shuts the door behind you. He tosses the bat into the back seat and slides in, turning on the engine. “Gotta take you to the boss.” He says and pulls away from the curb.

You curl in on yourself, huddling near the door as you start to cry. Your ribs ache and it hurts to know that Jenson didn’t care about you at all. You had managed to convince yourself that he just let his anger get the best of him, but you can’t excuse this. You’re scared of what this boss might do to you, what Clint might do.

Clint pulls up outside the house, cutting the engine and he looks at you, how terrified you look. “He’s not gonna hurt you. I won’t let him.” He promises, “and we gotta get you checked out. Get those ribs looked at.” He’s had enough broken ribs to recognize them.

That makes you stop crying. “How did you-“ he snorts, rolling his eyes as he looks over at you. Your hesitant gaze, fearful and heartbroken kills him, but he’s gotta report you to the boss. “You don’t bust as many ribs as I have and not know the signs.” That makes you shrink back, worried that he might be worse than Jenson despite his talk earlier. You’ve learned first hand how someone can be two faced.

Clint sees your fear and that makes his stomach twist. He steps back and shakes his head, “I’m not gonna hurt you.” He promises, “I know my words don’t mean shit but I don’t touch women.” He tries to reassure you, “you won’t be hurt while I’m here.” He vows, “but we gotta go see my boss otherwise I’m gonna get the shit kicked out of me.”

You crawl out of the open door, your bag clutched in your grip as he holds it for you. Probably afraid that you would try to run off. There’s a scar on his cheek, evidence of prior violence and you bite your lip. “Wouldn’t want that.” You mumble softly.

Clint snorts, guiding you into the house and it’s loud, men drinking and playing cards. The TV playing some basketball game. You flinch and Clint moves a little closer to you until he approaches his boss sitting at the table. “What the fuck is this? Did someone order a whore?” He asks the men and you start to shake. “She’s not a whore.” Clint immediately says, “she’s collateral from Jenson. Prick didn’t have any money so I took his girl until he has it.” Clint says and some of the men wolf whistle, others chuckle. “And what the fuck am I supposed to do until then? Fuck her for payment?” His boss asks and you whimper, terrified. Clint huffs, “no. She’s - I didn’t know - he’s beating her up. She needed somewhere safe to go.” Clint explains and his boss snorts, “she ain’t staying here. Looks like she’s moving in with you. You keep her until that asshole has the funds to pay for his girl.” Clint clenches his jaw but knew that would be the case. He nods, “fine. She’s coming home with me.” The men all smirk knowingly but Clint doesn’t want you like that. “Looks like you got yourself a babysitter finally.” The boss declares as Clint guides you outside to his car.

“You don’t have to-“ you start but Clint shakes his head. “Boss will expect me to keep an eye on you.” He tells you but you just shake your head. “He won’t pay you.” You admit, knowing he will be angry when you hang around too long.

““Doesn’t matter. You need help and I need - shit, I need help too.” He confesses, opening the car door for you. “I can’t let you go yet. If he doesn’t pay…I’ll let you go. If he doesn’t pay within a few weeks.” He promises, “I’ll take you wherever you wanna go.

That, combined with naked honesty in his eyes is what makes you get back in the car. Curious why this man needs help. You had heard the joke about babysitting, but you can’t imagine this man having kids.

He gets back in and turns on the engine, pulling away from the raucous house to make his way back to the small house he lives in. The radio is softly playing but Clint keeps looking over at you. You aren’t shaking anymore but your eyes look so hollowed, like you haven’t been sleeping. When he pulls up in his driveway, he gets out and opens your door. You step out, surprised at the quiet, picturesque suburb he’s driven to you. Not the grungy apartment you expected. He walks up to his front door, opening it, and you follow behind, wondering what awaits you in his perfect looking house. “Look! Daddy’s home!” You hear and a little baby, no more than a year old, waddles towards Clint. He picks her up, immediately pressing kisses to her head as she clings to his shirt. “Hey, baby girl. You been good for Jenny?” He coos, looking over at the teenager. “Thanks so much for watching her, Jenny.” Clint thanks the daughter of his neighbor. She’s seventeen and ready to head out to college. “Lemme get you some cash.” He says, reaching for his wallet while balancing his daughter on his hip.

You’re confused, frowning slightly as you watch him pull out money and pay the girl with a smile. “Tomorrow?” She asks, shoving the cash in her pockets but Clint shakes his head. “I’ll give you a call when I need you.” He promises and Jenny smiles before shooting you a curious look but she doesn’t ask any questions as she gathers her bag and waves bye the to the baby Clint is holding. You don’t move, standing awkwardly with your bag as the door clicks closed behind.

The baby in his arms looks at you when Clint turns to face you, “this, uh, this is my daughter.” He reveals, “my wife…she, uh, she was killed the day she was born.” He explains as his heart aches. “So, uh, yeah. Let’s get you settled. I have another bedroom.” He says, reminded of the moment his wife insisted he buy a three bedroom house instead of a two because she wanted more kids. His heart aches at the thought. He was ready to retire, pay off the mortgage with his last job, and enjoy his family but that didn’t happen.

Oh god, your heart clinches at the news that his wife died in childbirth. You relax slightly and you nod. “What’s her name?” You ask softly, smiling at the baby as she looks at you.

"Nancy." Clint's heart aches at the memory of his wife asking for that movie before she was shot. Even if the movie wasn't exactly romantic, he wanted to honor her in any way he can. The baby starts to cry and he shushes her, rocking her in his arms, "I know, baby girl. It's your bedtime." He coos, smiling at her until he looks over at you, "lemme show you to the guest room. You can put your stuff in there. I'm gonna put her in her crib."

“Okay.” You are wary, but a little more relaxed because of the baby. Surely a man who has such obvious affection and love for his baby girl can’t be all bad. He shows you a modestly furnished, yet comfortable looking bedroom. And the best part is that you don’t have to share it with a man who abuses you and then expects sex. Unless Clint wants to take advantage of you being here.

Clint watches you as you inspect the room, it’s obvious you’re nervous, and he wants you to know he’s not gonna hurt you but only time will establish that. “Settle in. Bathroom is next door. There’s leftover pizza in the fridge. Beer if you want it. Whatever you want, just take it. You’re our guest.”

“Unwanted guest.” You murmur softly after he leaves the bedroom with the baby. You wince as you sit down on the bed, and you press your hand to your side gingerly. You can’t believe this has happened to you, you are staying with complete stranger, being held as collateral for a fucking debt your boyfriend incurred. You sigh as you lean back slowly, hissing when your broken ribs protest and you start to cry. This might be rock bottom for you, 

Clint coos to Nancy as he lays her in her crib after changing her and giving her a bottle. “Goodnight, baby girl.” He whispers as she snuggles down, completely unaware of the horrors of the world. He fully intends to keep her that way. Clint leaves her room, the baby monitor in hand, and he makes his way into the living room but he hears your cries of pain. Frowning, he makes his way into the hallway, “you okay, princess?” He asks, calling through the door.

You don’t answer, don’t know if you can answer. Your eyes are closer but you hear the door slowly open. “Princess?” He sounds concerned, not annoyed, but you can’t look at him. Your body hurts too badly.

He frowns when he sees you laid out on the bed, tears on your cheeks, and you look like you’re in agony. “Shit. What did he do to you?” He asks softly, taking a step closer. “Let me help you.”

“He- it was my fault.” You gasp out, eyes pinched shut as you try to breath through the pain. “I - I burned dinner and he just lost control. I shouldn’t have made him mad.” You heard it every time he ‘apologized’ for the slap or the beating.

Clint scoffs, “it's not your fault. Never your fault. He - fuck - I can’t believe he did this to you. I should - fuck - I should’ve smashed his goddamn ribs in.” He growls and sees your eyes widen, “I’m sorry. I- shit. Lemme get you some ice and I have some painkillers.”

“No you don’t have to-“ you start to protest but Clint just rolls his eyes and tuts. “You’re hurt.” He reminds you, as if you’ve forgotten. “I might hurt people for a living but I’m not going to hurt you.” He murmurs softly. “And it’s not like I enjoy hurting people.” He admits after a moment. “Let me help you.” Your eyes open and you see his eyes, expressive and not holding anything back. He looks completely different from the man who had broken into your house to threaten Jenson. Biting your lip, you nod. “Okay.”

He watches you, seeing how skittish you are, and he’s tempted to drive back and teach Jenson what it’s like to have broken ribs. “There’s not much we can do. You’re gonna have to ice and take some painkillers, let them heal. Can I - can I see?” He asks, wanting to see the damage.

“I don’t know if you can see much.” You tell him, but you reach for the hem of your shirt. Lifting it up to show him your stomach right below your bra.

He frowns, seeing the scratches and scraps that cover your skin, “can I touch you?” He asks, wanting you to be comfortable. You nod and he gently presses his fingers to your skin. You hiss and his nostrils flare, trying to keep his anger under control. “I’m sorry, Princess.” He murmurs, “he’s - did he hit you anywhere else?” He asks, pulling his hand away.

Shaking your head, you huff slightly. “No, it was always here.” You admit. “He slapped me once, but the swollen cheek was noticeable.” Now that you are away, you can admit things that you would try to ignore. Even if he pays his debt, which you know he won’t, you aren’t going back to him.

Clint clenches his jaw, unable to believe that anyone would treat a woman like this. He shakes his head, pulling his hand away, "let's get you some ice and some painkillers." He murmurs, "you're safe here. I promise." He steps back, turning to find his well stocked first aid kit.

You believe him, you actually believe him, that’s the thing that amazes you. You watch him walk out and you wonder how he managed to beat people up for a career when he is obviously better than any other man you know. His kid is cute and you’ve always kind of liked kids, although you haven’t been around too many of them.

He tries to keep his fury under control. Clint is a violent man but only to assholes who deserve it. He’s never touched a woman in his life. If he was ever asked he’d rather get beaten up himself. He can’t believe that bastard has hurt you. He controls his temper and comes back into the bedroom with a first aid kit and some ice packs. “This should help but I have some pain meds that will keep you comfortable.”

“You don’t have to do this.” You are a little embarrassed by how much of a fuss he’s making. He huffs and looks at you before he gently starts to place the ice packs on your stomach. You hiss slightly, but the ice helps the ache. “You are very nice to me.” You murmur in awe of that fact.

He snorts, “just being a decent human being.” He clarifies, “and you deserve more.” He insists, “and you’ll be looked after for as long as you stay here. No one will hurt you.” He reaches for the pill bottle, “take two of these.” He orders, handing you a bottle of water.

You take the pills from him without question and pop them into your mouth to wash down with a sip of water. “Thank you.” You murmur softly, leaning back against the bed and watching him with a renewed sense of curiosity. “What made you do this?” You ask. “Beat people up?”

He can’t help it, he snorts. “I didn’t really plan to get into this. Kinda happened. When I was a kid, I would get into fights. I got too damn good at fighting and well, my dad owed this guy money. He heard about me and I - I ended up working for him to pay off my dad’s debt. I wasn’t really planning on making it a career but I was angry at the world and needed money after I paid off the old man’s debt. Kinda stayed in the job until my wife got pregnant then I decided I was gonna quit.”

You bite your lip, feeling kind of sad that he basically had fallen into a life that is obvious that he wouldn’t have chosen for himself. “And then she died in childbirth.” You murmur. “I’m sorry, I hate that you had to lose her.”

He sighs, thinking for a moment, until his eyes meet yours. Glistening with tears that won’t fall, “she got shot when we - I was doing one last job and she was in the car. Some kid - he was the kid of a guy I was paid to beat the shit out of years ago. He came over and pointed the gun at me. My wife - she was brave - she shot him before he could hurt me but his gun went off, hit her and she - fuck - she died. They didn’t think the baby would make it.” He confesses, his voice now near a whisper at the memory.

“Oh my god.” Your eyes widen in horror, making you reach out for him instinctively but you hiss in pain and pull away. “I am so sorry.” You whisper after a moment. “That- that’s horrible. I am - I hate that you had to go through that.”

Clint nods, glancing across the room to the doorway, and he is reminded of his wife poking her head in to check on him when he was painting the nursery. Her soft smile and bright eyes. His throat tightens and he looks back at you, “thanks. She - I miss her every day. Nancy looks just like her.”

“Then she was beautiful.” You can see how much he loves his wife and it makes you wish that one day you can find someone that would love you like that. To miss you when you were gone. “Your daughter is a beautiful little baby.”

“She’s my world.” Clint confesses, “that’s why I got back into the job. I wanted to make enough money for her future before I give up the job for good. I’m nearly done. I wanna give her the world. She deserves it after losing her momma.”

“She already has her world.” You remind him softly. “If something happens to you…..” you don’t finish that thought, don’t want to upset him.

“I’m not gonna leave her. That’s why I’m gonna finish these last jobs and get out.” He clarifies, “but I- I need help.” He confesses, “I have no family here. I need someone to watch her while I finish my business.”

“And that’s why you volunteered to take me in.” You hum, knowing that it’s not exactly self-sacrificing, but no one ever is. “You would trust me to watch her? I’m a stranger.”

He shakes his head, “no. No. At first, it was to make him pay up but then I saw you wince in pain and I just wanted to get you out of there. Now I’m thinking maybe you could help me out until we get you established and away from Jenson.” He offers, “and you seem like you’re a good girl. You just had a shitty situation.”

You can’t help the tears that fill up your eyes. Never having someone who just wanted to help before throws you off. Lifting a hand to wipe away the wetness before he can get annoyed. “I’m sorry.” You mumble. “I’ve- I normally never cry.” You always pretended like Jenson didn’t hurt you, hiding tears and putting on a brave face. Now, you’ve cried like three times in front of Clint.

“It’s okay. Cry if you want. I’m no stranger to tears. My wife was pretty hormonal when she was pregnant. Would cry if she ran out of ice cream.” He chuckles fondly, “I’m never gonna think differently if you decide to cry or laugh or scream. It’s your goddamn emotions.” He says and swallows harshly, realizing he’s said too much.

You stare at him for a moment. “Are you sure you’re real?” You ask after a moment, your voice in a whisper. “I think I might be dreaming you. A handsome, kind man who doesn’t get upset at everything?” You snort. “Must be dreaming.”

He scoffs, shaking his head and looking over at the doorway, “I’m no hero, princess. I am fucked up but I’m trying to be better for my baby girl. And you deserve better than some asshole who hits you because you don’t do what he wants. Let’s get you healed and then I’ll figure out how to get you settled somewhere else where Jenson can’t find you.”

You believe him. And that scares you for a lot of reasons, but you will just have to hope and trust that he means what he says. “Thank you.” You murmur softly. “I think- I should be able to watch her tomorrow if you need?” You know you will still hurt, but it’s always a lot better the next day.

He nods, “I’d appreciate that. I have to go to the store. She needs diapers and I need to do a job.” He confesses, “I don’t - the boss is gonna let me go soon.” He murmurs, unsure if he buys that but he’s gonna try.

“Okay.” You bite your lip. “Just so you know…uh, I don’t have a lot of experience with kids. Babies, I mean.” You admit, wanting to be completely honest. “So you might have to make a list for me or something.”

Clint snorts, “I didn’t know either but you learn fast. Main things are diapers and formula.” He promises, “and making sure she doesn’t bash her head.” He offers you a reassuring smile, “if I can do it, I’m sure you can.”

“You are putting a lot of faith in me.” You joke, the painkillers he’s given you are actually taking the pain away and making you a little sleepy. You wonder what he gave you, but it doesn’t really matter. “Thank you.” You murmur softly.

He smiles, nodding gently. “That’s alright. Now, get some sleep. I’m gonna head to bed. Nancy will be waking me up before I know it.” He shifts to stand up, “if you need anything, wake me up.” He orders and you nod, “I will.” Clint grunts, grabbing the baby monitor, “goodnight, Princess.” He offers, stepping back before he closes your door.

Alone in your bed, you close your eyes and sigh softly. Clint might have broken into your house, threatened Jenson and basically kidnapped you but you think he might have been saving you in reality. “Goodnight Clint.” You murmur before you fall asleep.

****

“Shhhh baby girl. It’s okay. Daddy’s here.” Clint murmurs to Nancy as he picks her up. She’s woken in the middle of the night, crying, and he cradles her in his arms. “Let’s change your diaper and get you some milk, sweetheart.” He coos, kissing her head, “and let’s not wake up our guest.”

You are awake, your ribs hurting, but it’s not as sharp as it was before. Listening to Clint as he murmurs to his daughter through the wall next door. It’s a comforting sound, his voice low and soothing. Making you get up and crack the door open just a bit to see him walk down the hall, the dim glow from the kitchen lighting his path. You see the broad expanse of his back, bare and scared from the life he has led. Watching as he walks with bare feet and a pair of tighty-whities that makes you stifle a giggle as you close the door again. He doesn’t seem so intimidating now.

****

Clint hears you moving around as he lets Nancy hold her bottle, her eyes fluttering as she relaxes, “sounds like our guest is up, baby girl.” He murmurs, watching the door open and you appear moments later. “Morning, Princess.” He greets you, now dressed and coffee brewed, he’s anxious to start the day. “You sleep okay? Hope Nancy didn’t wake you up.”

“I slept well.” You are dressed in a fresh set of clothes, but you know at some point you will need to shower. The painkillers and rest helped and you are feeling better although you will need to be cautious for awhile.  “It’s okay that she did. Wake me up, I mean.” You watch the little girl eat and you look around. “Can I make you breakfast?” You offer.

Clint is shocked by the question and he shakes his head, “you don’t have to cook for me. If you want eggs, there’s eggs in the fridge. Coffee brewed and there’s bread in the bin.” He offers, “this one has been fed.” He smiles at Nancy.

You nod and wipe your hands on the shorts you are wearing, “Will you show me how to change her diaper?” You ask. “And tell me how to make her bottles? Does she eat anything else?” You had thought of a million questions to ask. “Does she nap? I think babies nap.”

He nods, happy to have help after so many months of caring for his daughter alone while grieving his wife. “Sure. She has soft foods right now. She’s slowly having chicken and she has a lot of fruit. It has to be cut up so she doesn’t choke. I can show you. She naps every day for a couple of hours. You’ll know when she’s ready because she gets goddamn grumpy.”

You giggle, his frown almost fierce and he sounds just as grumpy as she must be when she’s needing a nap. “Okay. When she cries and doesn’t want to play she wants a nap.” You agree with a nod. “Cut up her fruit into small bites. Soft foods.”

He nods, “yep. Oh, it’s time to teach you how to change a diaper.” He chuckles, feeling the weight of her bottom and he sets the empty bottle down. “Come on princess.” He walks into her nursery, laying her down on the mat, and undoes her onesie. “First step. Get the diaper out. Second step, unbutton the bottom only. She doesn’t need to be naked for a new diaper. Then you’ll want to remove the diaper, roll it up and put it in the diaper bin.” He says as he shows you the steps. Grab the wipes. Wipe her clean. See if she’s chafing and put some diaper cream on her skin. After that, lift her to put the new diaper on andddd, button her back up. There you go, baby girl. All clean.” He coos, lifting her up from the changing mat.

He makes it look so easy and it’s such a paradox. Such a rough looking man, being so gentle with his little girl. You’ve seen the violence he can bring, but he is cooing and smiling at her. It makes you melt for this man who has managed to take you away from your life of abuse and treat you just as gently as he does her. “That looks easy.”

He nods, “takes practice. Girls are easier. Boys will piss on you.” He says, remembering how he learned that from the baby books. “Now, let’s show you how to make up her bottle.” He smiles, “I, uh, really appreciate you helping me look after her.”

You smile, almost a teasing grin. “It’s almost like that’s what I was brought here for.” Clint frowns slightly and you reach out to touch his arm. “Thank you.” You murmur softly. “I wouldn’t have left, even though I know I needed to.” You admit. “You took me away from that. I didn’t have anywhere to go and you’ve given me a place to be. A purpose for now.”

He stares at you for a moment until his eyes drop to your hand on his arm. His stomach twists with something unknown and he nods, “no woman deserves to be abused. Most men would’ve done the same. I- I would’ve done more to him but my boss told me to just hurt him enough so he could pay up.” He scoffs, “I bet he won’t pay up so I’ll be back there to see him.”

You snort. “He’s not gonna pay.” You tell him confidently. “He’s bragging about not paying. He’s such a dumbass.”

Clint snorts, “sure thing, princess. He hasn’t seen me get nasty.” He chuckles, “he has no clue who he’s fucking with. He will pay.” He promises, “and you - tell me if you wanna go. I can help you out. Get you settled somewhere.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” You remind him softly. “I’ll help you. You need help just like I do. We can help each other.” It sounds like a good thing to you. You need a safe space, time to heal emotionally and physically. What better place to heal than with the last person your ex wants to see.

He nods in understanding, “just tell me if you have second thoughts or something bothers you. I don’t leave the toilet seat up, my wife always slapped me for that.” He teases and he sees you flinch, “shit. Sorry. I meant she told me to stop that shit. She didn’t - I would never - you’re safe here.” He promises, not wanting to trigger you.

You nod, understanding that he would think nothing of a little joke like slapping someone in jest. You used to do the same thing, before Jenson. “It’s okay.” You want to soothe him, and that surprises you. “I understand what you meant. I- I’ll be okay.”

He’s not buying it but he doesn’t push you. You need time, you need to heal, and he will give you all the time you need. “I, uh, I’m gonna get some groceries. Do you wanna come with? Pick out what you like?” He offers, “and I wanna take Nancy to the park.”

It sounds like a nice little outing, almost like a family spending the day together. “Sure.” You nod. “If that’s okay, I mean.” You bite your lip. “I need to uh, get some, uh-“ you sigh. “I need some tampons. Jenson always waited until I ran out to buy more. And I know I’m gonna start in a few days.”

Clint huffs, “what a winner.” He rolls his eyes, “you can get what you need…what you want.” He promises, “when you need it.” He assures you, “take your time to heal and figure out what you want next.” He reminds you just as Nancy wiggles in his arms. “Okay, sweetheart.” He snorts, carrying her to her playpen so she can crawl around. “I got some bills to pay then we will head out.”

“Okay.” You nod. “I’m just- I’ll be here. So you do what you need to do.” You are a little nervous, but you know you need to take care of the baby. The house is neat, but it’s obvious it’s been some time since it’s been really cleaned and you can take care of that for him too.

Clint goes to sit down at the kitchen table, grabbing the stack of bills he has to pay. He’s a little behind where he wants to be, that’s why he took the job to get your boyfriend to pay. He sighs, grabbing his checkbook, and he looks up to watch you try to find a cup for the coffee. “Next cupboard over.” He says, reaching for his pen.

“Thank you.” You open the cupboard to find surprisingly feminine cups. Floral patterns on them and you wonder if they were his wife’s. It would make sense. Picking one, you close the cupboard quietly and pour up a cup. Taking a sip and sighing softly at the rich and bold flavor.

He can already see you’re more relaxed and he goes back to his bills, mentally figuring out what he has to pay out and how much he’s made. He sighs, rubbing his forehead, and he is reminded of why he’s taking these jobs. He wants to focus on Nancy and not worry about money.

You watch him for a moment, always finding it telling the way a man worries. Clint is contained, sighing as he rubs his head. Nancy squawks from the living room and you set your cup down and rush in there to see if she needs you.

He looks up, watching you as you come back into the kitchen with his baby girl in your arms. His heart aches for a moment, knowing it should’ve been his wife standing there. It should’ve been her holding her daughter. He inhales deeply and taps his pen on the table, listening to you talk to her. “I, uh, I’m gonna use the bathroom then we can go.” He says, chair scraping as he abandons the bills and heads to the bathroom.

You watch him walk away, wondering if you did something wrong. He looked upset as he rushed out of the room. “What did I do?” You ask Nancy softly, but she just gurgles at you happily and reaches for your face. You flinch slightly but the baby can’t hurt you, not like a man’s fist. “Do you need stuff to go out?” You ask, like she would answer you.

After washing his hands and then his face, Clint steps out of the bathroom and finds you still holding Nancy. “Gotta check her diaper bag.” He tells you, grabbing the backpack, it’s pink and you smirk at the thought of him carrying that around. Clint doesn’t care because his wife bought this backpack and he checks it, adding some diapers and a bottle before he zips it up. “You ready to go?” He asks and you nod, “just gotta get my shoes.” Clint steps forward to take Nancy, watching you as you disappear into the bedroom.

You actually are looking forward to going out. It’s been a long time since you’ve not been jumpy and nervous about going out. Afraid of somehow upsetting your ex and hearing about it when you get back. You put your shoes on and grab your purse, putting a little of the money you had taken in your wallet for yourself. Not expecting Clint to pay for your necessities. You come back out and smile when you see Nancy cuddled on Clint’s chest, her thumb in her mouth. “I’m ready.” You tell him quietly. “Is she sleepy already?”

“Nah, she’s fine. Maybe in a little bit. She might fall asleep in the car.” He says and carries her to her carrier. She moans at being put in there but settles down after a moment and he looks at you, “you ready?” You nod and he guides you outside to his car. You slide into the passenger side while he settles Nancy in the backseat. “Alright. Let’s go.” He says, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel before backing out of the driveway.

You are quiet on the drive, watching the neighborhood and the houses go by. There is a quiet charm to the area, the type of place where you don’t see so many fights, the cops aren’t called out every weekend. It’s peaceful, “you have a nice place.” You tell him honestly.

He looks over at you, “thanks. I, uh, beat up a lot of people to get it.” He snorts out a confession, “but I wanted to give my wife the best - what she wanted. Just so it was all worth it.” He confesses, pulling onto the main road.

“Your daughter will grow up in a good home.” You tell him, watching the cars go by before you twist around in the seat to look at Nancy. Frowning when you can’t see her because the seat is facing the back of the car. “Why does she sit like this?”

“Because she’d get hurt if we were in a crash and she was the other way round.” He explains, “I - shit - I have a mirror that attaches but I left it at home.” He clicks his tongue, “she will lemme know if she’s know if she’s not happy.”

You laugh. “I think she has no problem making sure you know she’s not happy.” You have heard babies cry, they make sure their displeasure is noted at top volume. “But you’re a good girl, aren’t you?” You coo playfully as you twist your arm around to let her play with your hand.

Clint smiles, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel, and he glances over at you. His heart aches a little for the missing piece of his wife but you aren’t taking her place. She’s still there, in Nancy, in his heart. He pulls into the supermarket parking lot. “Come on, princess. Let’s get some snacks.” He smiles, knowing he usually struggles balancing Nancy with the weekly shop so he’s glad to have an extra pair of hands.

You struggle slightly with getting Nancy out of the car seat, but you insist on doing it. While it’s not like you’re gonna take her anywhere, you need to know how. Nancy watches you with curious eyes and giggles when you pick her up. It takes a little maneuvering to get her out of the car without bashing her head, but you manage and look proud of yourself while you out her on your hip. “Ready.” You promise, smiling at him holding the diaper bag.

He watches you carry the baby, his heart aching a little but he pushes that aside to watch you. “Here, lemme take the bag.” He offers, and you hand it off to him. He nods when you thank him and you both enter the supermarket. “Did that prick let you eat?” He asks, knowing his type would be the kind to not allow food.

Your eyes widen at the question and you shrug slightly, feeling embarrassed. “As long as there was enough.” You admit. “He always had people coming over and it would be rude to not serve them.” You snort as you repeat his words to Clint.

Clint scoffs, “asshole.” He mutters, “that won’t be happening. You pick what you want and you eat when you want to eat. None of his bullshit.” He orders. “And I’m paying.” He says, not allowing room for argument.

“I can-“ he turns and his look is serious. Dark. You would think that he’s angry with you, but you can see that it’s not for you. “Okay.” You nod. “But I’ll make sure that you come home to dinner.” You tell him. “That’s the least I can do. You’ve been living off sandwiches and canned soup, haven’t you?” You ask, having seen the contents of his fridge and cabinets.

He snorts, nodding and he’s a little ashamed, “and fast food.” He confesses, “my wife did all the cooking and when she - I didn’t - it was her happy place. She would bake and cook and - and she’d make this chocolate cake when she was pregnant with Nancy.” He chuckles at the memory, “but you can have control of the kitchen. Whatever you want.”

“That’s different from what I’m used to.” You admit. “Jenson was so particular about food. He only wanted a few things, made over and over again.” You shake your head. “He just keeps sounding more and more like a winner, huh?”

Clint nods, pissed off but he doesn’t let it show. “It’s okay, Princess. Let’s go get groceries.” He says, placing Nancy in the shopping cart and swinging the grocery bag over the handles. “Pick what you want.”

****

Humming to yourself, you swipe a finger through the icing and smile at the rich and sweet taste. The kitchen smells like a bakery and hopefully it’s the perfect finishing touch to dinner tonight. Nancy is in her playpen, dragged into the kitchen because you are paranoid, playing with her blocks and squealing every time something makes her happy or frustrated or sad. You’ve learned over the last week to interpret the sounds and you grin over at her. “Need something, pretty girl?”

She blinks at you until she offers you a smile, making your heart flutter. Clint sighs as he opens the front door. You’ve been in his home for the past two weeks and it’s like you’ve been there forever. He sees your shoes at the front door when he takes his own off, watching you as you learned to care for his daughter. His heart aches with missing his wife but he also is happy to have some life back in the house. He’s working hard to finish up the jobs, wanting to get enough money to retire fully and fulfil his promise to his wife. It’s always “one last job” but this time, he means it. “Something smells good.” He murmurs, stepping into the kitchen and his heart shutters at the sight of you standing there with frosting on your face just like his pregnant wife.

“Hey.” You grin at him as you lean over to pick Nancy up. She’s abandoned her toys the second she heard his voice and is standing at the edge of the playpen. “I hope you don’t mind. I made cake for dessert tonight.” You tell him. “Strawberry.” You hadn’t wanted to make chocolate since he said his late wife made it all the time. You don’t want him to think you were trying to overstep.

He steps closer and bends down to pick up Nancy. “Hey, baby girl.” He coos, kissing her head, “you been a good girl?” He asks and looks at you as he cuddles his daughter. “Strawberry sounds amazing.” He nods, his stomach growling with hunger. “I can grill up some steaks after we get this one in bed.”

“I actually already made dinner.” You admit, motioning to the stove top. “I hope pork chops are okay? I know it’s not steaks.”

He nods, shocked, “yeah. Yeah of course.” He murmurs, “that’s - damn. I’m impressed.” He offers, pleased that he doesn’t just have a quarter pounder and cold fries to eat with his beer tonight.

For the last couple of weeks, he had been insisting that you not cook. That you needed to settle in and recover, but you are all but healed now. Nancy has settled into a routine with you and you want to help out beyond watching the baby and doing a little laundry. “It’s just pork chops, scalloped potatoes, green beans and some rolls.” You shrug. “Nothing too fancy.”

He snorts, “not too fancy? Princess, that’s like Thanksgiving to me.” He chuckles and nods, “thank you. Lemme get her in bed and we can eat.” He says, knowing Nancy had dinner by the dishes in the sink.

“She’s had her bath, but let me get her bottle.” She still likes some milk as she goes to sleep, so you get out the bottle you had made about five minutes before. “Still warm.”

He looks at you in surprise and hopes you don’t see the way his expression softens. It is uncanny how easily you seem to have slipped into his life. “You’re the best, princess.” He murmurs and takes the bottle from your hand, his fingers brushing yours.

You can feel your cheeks heat up from his compliment. Still so unused to nice things being said to you instead of insults and abuse. “I’ll plate up dinner while you put her down.” Even though you could do it, Clint still wants to spend as much time with his daughter as he can. He gets up with her at night for that bonding time since you are with her all day.

He nods, “thanks, sweetheart.” He carries Nancy into her room, getting her ready for bed before giving her the bottle. “She’s good to you, huh?” He murmurs, watching his daughter hold her bottle. His late wife has missed so much. It breaks his heart but Nancy is lucky to have you. You’ve taken like a duck to water being her caregiver. “Good to us.” He adds a moment later, “we are lucky to have her.” He murmurs, imagining life once you have moved on and it makes him frown. He tries to not read too much into it but he sighs, focusing on his daughter and not your pretty smile, the one that’s appeared since you have felt safe in his home.

You plate up the foot and set two settings at the table. A beer in front of Clint’s food, since you’ve noticed he likes to unwind with one. He doesn’t get sloppy though, something you appreciate. One of the many things you’ve come to appreciate about the enforcer that brought you home to hold for ransom. He’s become even more attractive to you now that you’ve seen how kind he can be. Soft and playful with his daughter, considerate of you. You think about how you could help him sometimes, late at night with your hand between your thighs as you imagine being on your knees for him.

He walks back into the kitchen with the baby monitor in hand, and his stomach twists with emotion when he sees you sitting at his kitchen table. For a moment, his mind reminds him of a similar scene with his late wife but she’s gone and you’re here. He can’t compare you, that’s not fair. He will always love his wife but he has to learn to live without her. “This looks fucking delicious.” He compliments you, looking at the dinner you prepared and the smile you offer him has him smiling back.

****

“Daddy’s home!” You let go of Nancy to let her start her unsteady, wobbly walk towards her father after he opens the door. Her first unaided steps had been just the week before and she loves being more mobile. Thank goodness Clint had been there to see it, he had almost cried when she had done it, scooping her up and heaping praises on the giggling little girl. “Say hi, daddy!”

Clint scoops her up, a smile on his face. Nancy makes everything better. Just seeing her. He kisses her cheek and she clings to him. You smile and Clint meets your gaze. “Hey princess. Was she a good girl today?” He asks, his heart fluttering at the sight of you.

“She was a little cranky.” You admit with a laugh. “We played outside and your lovely neighbor mentioned that she might be cutting teeth.” You move to start picking up her toys. “I froze one of the little chew toys she has and she loved it, so I think that might be it.”

He can’t believe how easily you’ve taken to caring to his daughter, the little things you do to help her, and it melts his heart. “She’s been waking up a lot at night. Thanks for thinking of that. I should probably read more baby books.” He sighs, caressing Nancy’s back. “What are you cooking?” He sniffs the air and groans, “smells delicious.”

“Lasagna.” You love how he appreciates everything you do. Especially cooking. You had hated cooking for Jenson because he was so critical and wanted the same things over and over again. Clint just ate what you fixed and praised it. “Garlic bread and a salad to finish it out.” You reach out and smooth Nancy’s hair. “We should probably give her some baby Tylenol tonight, she's running a slight fever from the teething.”

He nods, “that’s a great idea. God, I’m starving.” He groans, “that sounds amazing. Let’s get her settled and we can eat.” He offers, hungry after beating a guy up today who wouldn’t pay up. His knuckles are bruised and your eyes flick to them, making him flex them and hiss. “I’ll get you some ice.” You offer too, and he nods, “thanks, Princess.”

You try not to think about what he does too often, aware that you don’t like it. You have to remind yourself that Clint never even gets frustrated at Nancy when she’s fussy and can’t be soothed. Going into the kitchen, you get a ziploc bag and bust some ice cubes out of the tray to fill it up, wrapping it in a kitchen towel to make it a little more gentle on his hands. The timer for the lasagna goes off and you slide it out of the oven to rest and put the garlic bread in. “Five, maybe ten minutes.” You tell him when you bring him the ice. “Sit with her and I’ll fix her nighttime bottle and get her medicine.”

“You’re too good to us, Princess.” He smiles softly, watching you as you move around his home like you belong here. He sits down at the table with Nancy, her hands gripping his shirt, and he murmurs to her, “you had a good day? You been standing up? Walking around? My big girl. You’re growing up so fast.” He sighs, wishing time would slow down a little so he could appreciate his daughter but life happens and he wants to finish up working like he has so she has a good life.

You listen to him as he talks to her, really talks to her. You noticed when people see a baby, they immediately change their voice. Clint doesn’t. You like that. Nancy loves the sound of his voice. She always listens to him. Making up the bottle, you come back out to the dining room. “Want me to put her down?” You offer softly. “While you ice your hand?”

He shakes his head, “thank you, sweetheart but I like to put her to bed. I haven’t been here all day so lemme say goodnight to her.” He says and you smile, “of course.” He sets the ice down, picking up the bottle with his bruised hand, and he stands up. “Say goodnight, baby girl.” He orders and Nancy babbles at you. “Goodnight, sweetheart.” You coo and Clint carries her to her room, telling her a little about his day - censored of course - while he gets her ready for bed.

You can hear the low murmur of his voice. The baby monitor is off, to give him some privacy with his daughter. You smile as you set the table, setting out his beer and bringing the lasagna over to the table before you grab the premade salad out of the fridge. The timer goes off and you slide the tray of garlic bread out of the oven and groan at the delicious smell. With his hand hurt, you decide that you’ll go ahead and plate up a square of lasagna.

Clint gently shuts the door, making his way back down the hall to the kitchen where his dinner is served. So different from the months of fast food and sandwiches he’d struggle to put together at night after Nancy was asleep. “That looks delicious, thank you Princess.” He murmurs, taking a seat at the kitchen table.

“You’re welcome.” You have your own glass of wine in front of you. Clint had insisted that you should have something to unwind and relax, but you don’t care for beer. “It was no problem at all and I love that you eat my food so hungrily.”

He sips his beer, “because you’re such a good cook. Honestly, there isn’t one bad thing you’ve made me.” He confesses, “you are - you’ve been - I can’t thank you enough for all the help you’ve given me and Nancy.”

You can’t help but laugh. “You literally saved my life, Clint.” You tell him after a moment. “Watching Nancy, helping you, it’s the least I could do.” You’ve had a lot of time to think about what you put up with, and what you had ignored. Realizing what an idiot you had been. “I- I love watching her. I love her. She’s such a sweetheart and….” You shrug, not wanting to say that you love taking care of him too. “I’m grateful you’ve put up with me.”

He nods, watching you for a moment, and his heart flutters, no longer lost to the ache of losing his wife. He feels hopeful and that takes him by surprise. He sips his beer and watches you as you pick up your knife and fork. “I’m happy you’re here. I want - I want to help you. However I can. If you’re ready to go, tell me, but you are welcome to stay as long as you want.” He doesn’t add “or forever” which pops into his mind.

“You still need help with Nancy.” You immediately protest before you realize how pushy that sounds. “I mean- um, I’m- I’m happy to stay and help.” You admit, pushing your salad around with your fork. “I-uh, I like being here with you. And Nancy.” You add quickly. Your crush on Clint has grown from one of slight hero worship for saving you, to full fledged fantasies when you go to bed. It’s a little concerning how sexy you think he is, protective and dangerous, yet so gentle and kind. He’s the kind of man you’ve always wanted and he’s out of reach for you.

Clint is relieved to hear you say that but he’s also scared to pigeonhole you into his home. He doesn’t want you to resent him for keeping you here, being his housekeeper and babysitter. “Well, you’re welcome to stay but if you want to leave, you tell me and I’ll help you. You’ve got some money now so if you wanna go, you won’t hurt my feelings.” He promises despite knowing his heart would be broken to let you go. He dreads coming home to a cold home again. He’s also given you cash weekly for everything you’ve done for him, wanting you to feel like you have the freedom to leave or do what you want.

“I- I’d like to stay.” You admit softly, wondering if he’s tired of you being in his home. “Jenson still hasn’t paid.” You remind him, even though you both know that he won’t. You take a sip of your wine. “Unless you’re tired of me being here.”

His eyes widen a little, his grip on his fork tightening, “no. No. Absolutely not. I just - I never want you to feel like you don’t have a choice.” He clarifies and his stomach twists when your eyes soften, “I know.” He nods, happy that you don’t think he’s keeping you here because of the payment, “you can leave whenever you want. I’ll deal with Jenson.”

Your excuse backfired and you start to eat quietly, a little embarrassed. You can’t tell this man that you want to stay with him because you’re falling in love with him. He’s grieving his wife, his true love. He doesn’t need your emotional baggage. “Nancy needs some more diapers.” You remind him. “She’s gonna need to go up a size.”

He nods, “I’ll get her some more tomorrow.” He cuts into the lasagna and groans when the flavors hit his tongue. “Damn good.” He gestures to the plate, “you’re such a good cook. Can’t believe that asshole didn’t appreciate you.”

You fluster slightly. “You are just tired of eating sandwiches.” You snort as you take a bite of your own meal. It’s good, he’s right about that, and you are happy it turned out. Clint huffs, shaking his head at you. “No, it’s more than that.” He promises and you smile softly.

His heart flutters when you smile at him and he doesn’t know how to stop it. He knows you’re going to want to leave and he doesn’t know how he will let you go. He can’t be selfish. He has to let you go if you want. He won’t be like Jenson and keep you against your will.

After dinner, you make Clint go ice his hand again, insisting that you can clean up from dinner. He normally helps, but his hand is swollen. You’re sure he’s broken something, but you turn on the radio to start washing up, humming to yourself softly.

"I didn't think you'd end up being his house bitch. You never made me fucking lasagna." You freeze, dropping the plate in the water, and Jenson steps closer. "Don't scream otherwise I'll fucking kill the baby after I'm done with you." He promises, "I can take that asshole when he doesn't have a goddamn bat." He chuckles, stepping closer and he shows you the knife he has in his hand. "Don't scream or do anything stupid." He orders, stepping closer until he can wrap his arm around your waist, "fuck, I missed you baby."

Oh God. You whimper quietly, nodding as your breath hitches. He’s in the house, how did he find you? Why is he here? “I- are you going to pay?” You ask shakily, hoping that he will just pay the money and want to leave. You don’t want Nancy to get hurt. His chuckle is dark, low. Making your stomach twist in fear.

"Pay? Fuck no. I want you back though and my fucking money. You're gonna come back with me, not a goddamn sound. You are gonna step back with me and we are gonna walk out the back door." He demands and you whimper, the knife pressed against your neck.

“My stuff.” You remind him but he just squeezes you hard enough to make you gasp out. “Doesn’t fucking matter I’ll get it when that bastard is out looking for you.” Jenson growls. You know that if he gets you out the door, you are in serious trouble. The knife at your throat scares you but your foot kicks the trash can, making it fall over with a loud clang since it’s metal.

Clint frowns when he hears the clang of the metal, wondering if you dropped something, standing up from his bed to walk down the hall, iced hand aching, and he enters the kitchen, “everyone okay, princess?” He asks as he walks in until his eyes widen at the sight of Jenson. The surprise wears off immediately and he huffs, narrowing his eyes when he sees the knife pressed against your neck. “What the fuck are you doing?” He asks your ex.

“You bitch, you did that on purpose, didn’t you?” Jenson hisses, pressing the knife into your skin harder and making you cry out. It cuts into your skin slightly and makes you aware of just how sharp it is. “No! No! It was an accident!” You promise, eyes on Clint, wide and terrified. “You know how clumsy I am. Just- don’t- I’ll go with you. Just don’t hurt the baby.” You beg him.

Clint clenches his jaw, pissed that this asshole has broken into his house. His eyes flick to you, seeing your fear, and the blood that drips down your neck rips a growl from his chest. “Take her then. I don’t give a fuck.” He orders, wanting the asshole to lower his guard.

Your heart drops, eyes filling with tears as you realize that you were just a means to an end for him. No one important if he could so casually toss you back to the hell he had plucked you from. “See?” You wilt slightly, relaxing in Jenson’s arms. “Let’s just go. We can just go.” You beg your ex, tears sliding down your cheeks.

Your ex takes the bait, lowering the knife from your skin, and Clint wastes no time pushing you aside so he can slam into the asshole. His fingers wrapping around the wrist with the knife in hand, controlling it. “Motherfucker.” He growls, “coming in my house.” He knees Jenson in the crotch, making him cry out and loosen his grip on the knife.

You scramble out of the way, wrapping your arms around your stomach and watching as Clint starts to beat Jenson. The knife is pushed away and you lunge for it, wanting to keep it away from your ex. Not wanting to give him a chance to hurt you again.

Clint’s hand is definitely broken now but he doesn’t care as he punches your ex who lunges for him again. He slams him into the back door which swings open and both men tumble to the ground. “She’s mine. I’m taking what belongs to me.” Jenson growls and Clint punches him again, “she doesn’t belong to you, asshole.” Your scream echoes and he hears Nancy crying but he sees red, punching your ex over and over.

The baby. You tear your eyes away from the brawl that has spilled into the backyard, shouting and cursing accompanying the thuds of punches landing to race back to the bedroom. Nancy is screaming, face turning dark as she howls, standing and jumping at the edge of her crib. “Shhhhhh shhhhhh it’s okay.” You promise shakily, even though you feel like crying as you snatch her up and race back to make sure something hasn’t happened to her father.

Clint grunts as Jenson gets a punch in, both men rolling on the ground until Clint straddles your ex. He punches him again, his head lolling as blood covers his face. Seconds later, sirens blast and yells are heard as police storm the house, guns aimed and yelling at you to get out of the way.

“No! Don’t shoot!” You yell, holding Nancy as you rush forward. “He broke in! He tried to kidnap me!” You point to Jenson underneath Clint.

The police keep their guns raised, “get the fuck up!” They order, and Clint growls, shoving Jenson away from him as he stands, hands raised. “He broke into my house. He broke into my fucking house with my daughter sleeping here and put a knife to her neck. What would you do?” He spits out, watching Jenson as he remains on the ground.

One officer looks at you, seeing the blood streaked down the side of your neck, “madam, the man on the ground broke in and threatened you?” He asks and you nod quickly. “He’s my ex. He used to - he beat me. Clint was protecting me.” You promise, not looking at Clint since he had told Jenson to take you. You still don’t understand why he would say that, unless he was trying to trick him. “He was protecting me.”

The officer looks at Clint who nods, “yeah. Yeah. He’s - he broke in. He used to beat her up. She’s been staying with me for safety.” He reveals and the officers nod, grabbing Jensen off the floor. “Let’s take him in.”

Clint’s heart pounds now that the threat is gone and he strides over to you, cupping your cheek while reaching for Nancy. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you apart from your neck? You need to get that checked out.” He rushes out, heart thumping at the thought of you getting hurt.

You let him take his daughter but you pull away. “I’m fine.” You promise, stepping back. “But I’ll- I’ll just go over and have them look at it.” You promise, turning and walking towards the ambulance that has pulled up.

Clint nods, cradling Nancy who has now calmed down and is almost asleep on his shoulder, and he watches you. Jenson is shoved in the back of the police cruiser, no concern given to his injuries and the officers come over so he can give a statement while you get checked out.

The paramedic treats you like you’re fragile, their gloved hands carefully turning your neck and it makes you break. Tears stream down your cheeks as you sob, the realization that he could have actually killed you washes over you. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know that Clint had been trying to keep everyone safe, not giving Jenson any weakness to exploit, but it had been worse than when Jenson had given you over to him. The safety of the little bubble you had lived in for nearly three months had popped and now you were dealing with the aftermath.

Clint is impatient as he gives his statement, wanting to check on you, and Nancy is squirming in his arms. Picking up on his emotions, she is reaching for you when her eyes find you with the paramedics. “It’s okay, baby girl.” He murmurs, “you’re okay. She’s gonna be okay.” He almost tries to convince himself if he’s honest. He sees you crying and his heart aches, knowing you’re upset about Jenson finding you. “Thanks sir. We need her statement now and then you can see her.” Clint nods but he’s not happy.

You are wiping your eyes as the paramedics finish bandaging you up. The cuts are superficial, they tell you, but there is the chance of infection because they don’t know how clean the knife was. The police officer comes over to take your statement and you bite your lip, lowering your head as he asks you to tell him what happened. “I was washing dishes when he grabbed me. I had the radio on, I didn’t hear him come in.” Your voice shakes as you remember how it felt. “He told me to be quiet or he would kill the baby.” You choke out a sob. “I believed him. I couldn’t let him hurt her.”

He nods, his mouth downturned. “I understand. You lived with him before? Is he - did he hurt you when you lived with him?” He asks and you nod, “ye-yes. He would - for any reason. If I did something he thought was wrong, he’d hurt me. Broke my ribs.” You confess and the police officer frowns, knowing you didn’t call anyone for help. Most women don’t. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” He comforts you, “that asshole is going to jail.” He promises, “and he won’t bother you again.”

“He needs to.” He has a few more questions but soon enough you are being helped down out of the ambulance and left feeling like you’re all alone as you watch them leave.

As soon as you’re released, Clint watches you and immediately steps over towards you. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” He asks, needing to make sure you’re okay. “Did they check the cut?” He asks and you nod, “okay. Okay. Shit. Are you okay?” He can’t stop asking even though his knuckles are bloodied and bruised. The skin is broken. Jenson got a couple of hits in too so his eyebrow is cut.

“I’m- no.” You admit softly, shaking your head. “I’m- he could have hurt her.” Your eyes are filled with tears as you look at Nancy. She’s reaching for you, practically flinging herself out of Clint’s arms in order to go to you. You take her in your arms and hold her close, terrified of what might have happened.

She grips your neck, burying her face in your chest to cuddle you close and you start to cry. Clint inhales shakily, imagining losing you after losing his wife, and it has him stepping closer to both of you. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you and Nancy close while the police and paramedics start to leave. His neighbors are outside but head back inside when the police leave.

You inhale the scent of him, cologne worn off, slightly sweaty and the scent of blood mixing with his natural smell. He smells safe and dangerous all at the same time. “I should leave.” You murmur softly. “This is all my fault. Nancy could have been hurt.”

He shakes his head, "not your fault. Mine. I should've made sure he wouldn't bother you again. Shit. I- I'm so sorry, princess. It's my fault. You got hurt because of me." He murmurs into your head.

“No.” You pull back and look at him in confusion. “He came back for me. He - he could have hurt your daughter, because of me. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Clint.”

He shakes his head, pulling back to cup your cheek, “don’t be stupid. He wanted you but he also wanted to hurt me. It wasn’t your fault. It - he needed to be gone for good. I should’ve finished the job when I took you away from him. I didn’t - what I said earlier in the kitchen. I didn’t mean it.” He confesses, “I never would’ve let him take you.”

You bite your lip and look up to his eye before looking back at Nancy. “Are you sure?” You ask. “It’s okay if - I mean, I understand. I’m not anyone to you. You don’t owe me anything.”

He scoffs, shaking his head as he caresses your cheek. “I owe you everything.” He confesses, “you - you brought life back to my house. You have been an incredible help with Nancy. You - I couldn’t imagine my home without you.” He confesses, “I couldn’t imagine my life without you.”

You frown slightly, searching his eyes. “I need to know what you mean.” You admit, your voice cracking slightly. “Because I’ve been trying to push down my feelings for you, I know that you love your wife and I’m not trying to replace her. I could never do that, but you are……amazing and I’m so far down the rabbit hole I don’t know what to do.”

Clint stares at you for a moment, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that drops from your eye. “I love my wife but she’s gone. She’s - I loved her but I can’t spend the rest of my life denying how I feel to be faithful to her. She wouldn’t want that. I have talked to her a lot. At night. Confessing how guilty I’ve felt because of my feelings for you. How I feel like I’ve betrayed her but I can’t stop myself from being in love with you. I think she’d want me to be happy.”

You stare at him, shocked that he just confessed to being in love with you. “You love me?” You ask, almost dumbfounded by the idea. “Not just for Nancy, but for me? To be with me?” You want to make sure that you aren’t misreading things. “Because I want - I want to sleep with you. Have sex.”

He chuckles, “oh trust me, baby. I’ve thought about that too. A lot. Felt guilty as hell because I didn’t know you wanted me.” He confesses, “had a lot of nights awake thinking about what to do. I want you. In every way a man wants a woman.”

You nod, a shiver of anticipation racing through you but Nancy demands your attention as she cuddles into your chest. “This little one needs to go down again.” You tell him. “I’m going to fix her another bottle and put her down. You need to take care of your hand.”

Clint nods, “come on princess. Let’s get you inside.” He says, placing his hand on your waist to guide you back into his home. When he’s inside, he is immediately locking all the doors and checking the windows to make sure the house is secure.

Nancy won’t let you out her down, she has to be held while you fix her bottle but you don’t mind. Everyone might need a little comfort tonight. When you are done, you carry her into her bedroom and sit down in the rocker, letting her hold her bottle while you pat her bottom and talk to her. “I’m so sorry you were scared sweetheart.” You murmur. “Your daddy wasn’t going to let anything happen to you. Neither was I. We love you and we are always gonna keep you safe. Your daddy is the best kind of man for that. He will always keep you safe.”

Nancy settles, her tiny body relaxing as she drinks her milk. You hum and her eyes start to flutter closed. Clint secures the house, his knuckles cleaned up and bandaged, and he leans against the door frame as he watches you with his daughter. “I’ll keep you both safe.” He vows, “until the day I die.” He failed to keep his wife safe and he will never make that mistake again.

You look up, smiling softly at him as your heart thumps in your chest. He looks fierce, determined to keep that vow. “I know.” You assure him. “She is very lucky. And so am I.” Looking down at the baby sleeping in your arms, you rock her for a few more moments before you slowly stand to transfer her into her crib.

He watches as you step closer to the crib and he walks over, stopping you before you put her into the crib. “Sleep tight, baby girl.” He murmurs, kissing her head. He watches you lay her down, her arms lifting above her head, and he wraps his arm around your waist as he watches her. He turns his head to kiss the side of yours, “come on, princess. Let’s let her sleep.” He whispers, guiding you to the hallway. You carefully shut the door behind you, the baby monitor still on the counter, and he pulls you into his chest. “You’re safe.” He murmurs, “I am not going to let anyone or anything hurt you.”

“I know.” You close your eyes and your arms slip around his waist. “It’s okay. He didn’t hurt me. Not really.” You promise. Jenson’s hold over you is truly over and now you will never see him again if your luck holds out. The police said that they wouldn’t need you to testify.

“He will never come near you again.” He vows, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, “I promise, I’ll protect you.” He leans in to nudge his nose against yours. “Did you mean it? Earlier? When you said you wanted me?” He asks, his voice gruff and lower than below. “Yes.” You whisper and he slowly brushes his lips against yours. When you whimper, his hand shifts to the back of your head and he tilts it so he can deepen the kiss.

Your hands slide up his back, feeling the muscles bunch under his t-shirt. He’s strong, hard in a lot of ways, but he’s also gentle. The way he touches you is proof. His tongue slides into your mouth and touches yours, making you moan softly. Eyes fluttering closed and your body warming instantly, turned on by the taste of him.

He groans, loving how you press yourself against him. He needs you now. Clint manages to pull back, his nose nudging yours, and he reaches for your hand. He doesn’t say a word as he guides you to his bedroom. A space you haven’t been in since you arrived but he wants to share it with you now.

“Are you sure?” You ask softly. You know this is where his wife slept. Where they shared a bed. You would understand if he couldn’t share this space with you. You didn’t even go into his room to put up his laundry. You just left it in a basket in the living room and he put it away.

He nods, “I need to have you here.” He confirms, “it’s - I’m ready.” He opens the door and you watch him as he enters, pulling you in behind him. He shuts the door behind you, setting the baby monitor on the dresser, and he turns towards you. You stare at him, chest heaving as your stomach twists, and he surges forward to press his lips to yours again.

It’s like the floodgates have been opened. Both of you are frantic for each other. Pulling and tugging at the clothes you are wearing. All while your tongues tangle together and you pass moans back and forth in your eagerness.

His hand aches but he’s determined to show you tonight how he feels. He grips the hem of your shirt, waiting a second for you to push him away, and he breaks the kiss so he can pull it over your head. “Goddamn.” He mutters at the sight of your bra. Simple but so fucking perfect. His hands immediately slide to find the clasp, needing to see more of you.

You hate pulling away from him, your hands under his shirt to touch the broadness of his back. But you let the straps of your bra slide down your arms and you toss it aside when he unhooks it. Standing in front of him to let him look. You know that he’s not been with anyone since his wife died. He’s not said it out loud, but you know. Honored that he would give himself like this to you, you want to make it perfect for him.

“Fuck. You’re so goddamn pretty.” He murmurs, his hand coming up to caress your collarbone until his hand slides down to cup your breast. “Imagined you so many times. You’re so beautiful.” He leans in to kiss you again, his injured hand cupping your other breast.

You know his hand is hurting, but he doesn’t take his focus off of you. The warm, calloused skin of his palms scraping against your sensitive flesh and making you whimper into his mouth. You’d let him do anything to you right now. You want him so much it hurts. Your fingers reach for his belt buckle, tugging his waist as you open it. Wanting to see him, to see if he’s as beautiful as you imagined.

He groans when your fingers brush the bulge in his jeans. “Fuck, you’re - better than I imagined.” He confesses, ducking his head so he can wrap his lips around your nipple. Your moan has his cock twitching under your palm and he gently bites down.

His mouth is greedy, suckling at your breast and biting down gently. It makes your cunt clench around nothing and you palm his cock harder. “Clint.” You whine.

He groans when you squeeze him through his pants, your hands fumbling to pull his belt free from the loops. He switches over to your other breast, enjoying the way you pant his name while he squeezes the breast he abandoned.

He doesn’t rush, he’s not trying to push your pants down. You, however, are ripping open his jeans and pushing your hand down into his underwear to wrap your fingers around his cock. Groaning at how thick he is. How hot he feels in your hand as you squeeze him. “Fuck.”

“Jesus Christ.” He groans when you squeeze him. Your hand is soft and smaller than his. He pants into your skin, loving how you react when he sucks on your nipple. His fingers trail down your stomach until he’s flicking open the button of your jeans, his fingers hovering over the zipper.

“Yes.” You moan softly. You start to pump his cock, although it’s awkward from the way you have to twist your wrist. “I need you naked.” You beg. “Let me see all of you.”

He grunts, stepping back, and he shoves his pants down, kicking them aside along with his boxers as he tugs his shirt over his head to expose his body to your needy eyes. He loves how you moan at the sight of his revealed flesh and he reaches back to start pulling your pants down your legs.

“God, you’re gorgeous.” You praise, looking at the broad shoulders, the slightly soft belly. There are scars that mar his skin, but it doesn’t detract from his appeal. It adds to it, if anything.

"You looking in the mirror, princess?" He smirks, helping you step out of your jeans. Your panties remain and he doesn't remove those yet. Instead, he grabs you to pull you close, his lips meeting yours as he walks you backwards towards the bed. "Lay down. I wanna taste you. Imagined it too many damn times."

Your eyes widen in surprise, unused to that kind of suggestion. Jenson always alluded to the idea that real men don’t perform oral and you had just accepted it. Although the asshole always wanted it. “Are you sure?” You ask, a little self conscious.

He frowns, “of course I’m sure.” He says, “unless you don’t like it?” He asks and you giggle, “I don’t know.” He scoffs, “lay down on the bed.” You nod, shifting to lay down and he groans at the sight of you on his bed. He watches you as you settle onto his pillow and his hands slide along your legs until he’s hooking his fingers in your panties.

You inhale deeply, your tits shaking as you watch him. He is exploring you, with his eyes and fingers. Your own hand drifts across his chest. “You can have me.” You promise him. “All of me.”

His heart pounds at your permission and he tosses your underwear over his shoulder, pushing your thighs apart with his hands. “Goddamn.” He mutters at the slick already gathered there. “You’re so fucking pretty.” He murmurs, shifts to lay on his belly and he presses kisses along your thighs until his nose nudges your mound.

You watch him, breath suspended as he smells you. Groaning in apparent approval at the scent and you can see his eyes get even darker. “Clint.” You moan, legs shifting slightly and he slides his hands up your legs to move them onto his shoulders. “I’ve got you.” He promises, right before he makes you cry out when his mouth engulfs your throbbing pussy.

He’s imagined this more than he’d ever admit so he decides to devour you. He groans, sliding his tongue through your folds until he is flicking the tip over your clit. His fingers dig into your thighs, keeping you spread for him. “Fuck, you taste good.” He mutters, pulling away for a moment until he dives back in, sucking on your clit.

All you can do is gasp and moan his name, fingers tangled into his hair as he sucks at you. “Clint!” Your hips buck up until he is throwing his arm over you, pinning you into place. “Oh my God. Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.” You beg.

He never wants to stop and he certainly won’t now. His tongue sliding lower to push into your pussy, your tangy taste hitting his senses like a truck. It already has his head reeling and he slides his free hand up to squeeze your breast, needing more of you.

You whine when he pinches your nipple, your hand covering his and encouraging him to do it again. “Oh god, I can’t- it’s so good. So good baby.” You babble as he tongue fucks you. Your hips have started grinding down subtly. “Fuck.”

Your moans and cries spur him on, his mouth ravenous as he tries to devour you with his tongue. “So good. You gonna be good and cum for me, Princess?” He rushes out as a half plea, half demand, and he slides his hand from your breast until his thick digit is pressing into your pussy.

His fingers are large, his hand is large, but the way he curls his finger up inside you has you keening his name. It feels so good, pressed deep and giving you something to clench down on while he latches back onto your clit and suckles. He pumps it deep and presses it against the spongy part of your walls, making stars burst behind your lids as you shake apart with a loud wail.

He loves how you react to his touch, clamping down on his finger and his cock twitches at the thought of how you’ll squeeze his cock. Grinding against the bed, he works you through it, pressing kisses to your clit until he shifts to kiss your thighs, alternating each one for his affection.

“Oh my god.” You pant breathless, giggling as you press your hand to your chest. “I don’t think- I’ve never cum like that.” You admit, reaching out and stroking his shoulder. “How do you want to cum?” You ask. “I need to take care of you too.”

He huffs, “I don’t have to. I’m okay.” He promises despite his cock twitching. “Baby. Lemme take care of you.” You murmur, caressing his back, and he kisses your stomach as he comes back to your mouth. “However you want me. You want me to fuck you? Make you cum on my cock?” He asks, pulling back to look you in the eye.

You look up at him, the scar on his cheek and nose making him look fierce, but his eyes are soft. You know you could tell him no and he would respect that. “Yes.” You whisper. “I want to feel you inside me.”

He nods, shifting to kneel on the bed, “I think I have some condoms here. I - shit - we were gonna use them after Nancy was born.” He confesses and fumbles for the unopened box. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have - that’s weird.” He murmurs, knowing he shouldn’t mention his wife while trying to fuck you.

You reach out and stop him, sitting up to take the box from his hand. “It’s okay.” You promise him softly. “You had a life. A wife. Here in this house.” You open the box and fish a condom from the inside to open. “You can talk about her. I won’t be mad.” You shrug slightly. “As long as you remember I’m not her.”

His heart flutters and he can’t believe you understand how he feels. He decides to focus on you and only you. He reaches for the foil packet, opening it and rolling it down his cock. He groans when he squeezes his length and shuffles closer to your core. “You sure?” He asks and you nod, caressing his arms. “I’m sure. I love you.” His eyes soften and he slowly starts to push into you. “I love you too.” He murmurs, closing his eyes as he feels your velvet walls envelope him.

His jaw is tight, neck stretched out as he hovers over you. You can tell he’s trying to contain himself. He looks gorgeous. Making you marvel that this man wants you. He wants to keep you safe and love you. Your legs slide up onto his hips, letting him sink deeper into you as you both groan at how perfect it feels. “Fuck.” You whine. “Clint….its so good.”

He nods in agreement, moaning your name as he leans down to kiss your chin. “Feel so damn good.” He murmurs, pressing his lips to yours. You moan into the kiss and his tongue slides into your mouth, wanting to devour you as he starts to move his hips.

He starts slow, your hands holding onto his shoulders as he pulls sounds of you. Drinking them down as his cock scrubs your walls and he pulls out slowly to plunge back into you. It’s wonderful, maddening and completely overwhelming. You can’t think about anything else but the way he feels, warm and heavy, surrounding you.

He surrounds you and he loves it, wanting to protect you, needing to make sure you know that he’d never hurt you, or let anyone hurt you. You’re safe now. “Baby, baby. You feel so good.” He groans, kissing your jaw, his hot breath puffing against the damp skin. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

You hum softly, smiling as he rocks into you. “You’re beautiful.” You counter. “Protective, strong.” Your walls flutter around his length as you think about the lengths he went to in order to keep you and Nancy safe. “I love you.”

He groans, heart pounding at your confirmation of your feelings and he nudges his nose against yours. “I love you.” He promises, rocking into you a little harder. Clint shifts his weight to his elbow so he can grip your thigh, lifting it higher so he can push deeper inside of you.

The change in angle feels amazing, making you moan as he pushes deep again. “Oh fuck.” You whimper, your legs tightening around him. “You feel so perfect, like you were made for me.”

“I want you to cum for me.” He murmurs, “tell me what you need to get there.” He orders, wanting to make you feel good. “I ain’t gonna last, princess. You feel too damn good around me.”

You whimper at the dark tone, the urgency in his voice. You slide one hand done to your tits and pinch your nipple, walls clenching down around him. “Harder.” You beg. “Wreck me.”

He groans, loving how you beg him, and he grunts as he starts to fuck you harder. “That’s it, baby. You want it like that?” He asks, watching you pinch your nipple. His fingers dig into your thigh as he lifts your calf onto his shoulder, his nostrils flared in concentration as he fucks you harder and faster.

It’s exactly what you needed. The pace is perfect and he’s hitting that sweet spot inside you that makes your toes curl. “Yes! Yes!” You cry out, not ashamed of what you need. He groans your name again and you feel that burst of pleasure explode inside you. “Clint!” You cry out, eyes closing and your body bucking under his.

You squeeze him so tight, his vision blurs, and he pushes deep. “Fuck. Shit. I’m gonna - baby. Fuck.” He grunts, burying his cock deep inside of you, his cum spilling into the condom as the breath is knocked out of him.

You moan, stroking his back as he shudders and works himself through his pleasure. Watching him as he rides it out. Sure there might be a moment where he regrets this, it’s the first time since his wife, and you know that is a big deal. “Beautiful.” You murmur, in awe is how solid he is.

He inhales deeply, shifting to bury his face in your neck after he relaxes above you. “Fuck.” He murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your thumping pulse. “That was - you know what I want to say.” He whispers, knowing you understand him better than he ever imagined.

“I do.” You promise, reaching up and running your fingers through his hair. “And if you need time, I understand.” You promise. Even if he wanted to send you back to your bedroom tonight, you would understand. “I’m here for you and Nancy.” You whisper. “You saved me, now it’s my turn to save you.”

“I don’t need time. I can’t - she would tell me to love you with everything I am and not feel guilty. I want you. I love you. I just - I need to not feel like - like you could disappear too. Like someone is gonna take you away from me. I wouldn’t survive another loss.” He confesses, pulling back to look at you.

“We could leave Oakland.” You suggest softly. “Move away, start somewhere new. Somewhere where you don’t have to be an enforcer.” You feel like he would want that, but you don’t know. It’s not like you’ve talked about that kind of thing before.

“I - I’d like that. Start over. Give Nancy a chance. Where would you wanna go?” He asks and you caress his cheek, “I always wanted to move to Florida.” He chuckles, “couldn’t get further away. It’s perfect. I’ll get the house figured out and then we will go. Start over somewhere new. Together.” He decides, not even hesitating. It’s his ticket to finally escaping the life he got tangled into. The life that got his wife killed. The life that will eventually destroy Nancy too. He has enough money to make it happen.

You bite your lip as he shifts off of you and you turn to curl into his side. The condom needs to be disposed of, and both of you clean up, but there is something you need to admit to first. “When we left that day.” You start softly. “Jenson lied. He had the money to pay you. To pay his debt.” You confess, looking up into Clint’s slightly confused face. “When you told me to pack, I took it.” You lick your lips. “It’s more than what he owed. But I took his money. It’s in the bag in my closet.”

“Jesus Christ. Is that why he - why he found you?” Clint asks, confused and frowning. When you nod, he swallows harshly, “baby. That’s - it’s a shit ton of money.” He caresses your arm as you lean into him. “I know. He’s gone now so it’s ours. Let’s use it for our new start?” You suggest and Clint surges forward to press his lips to yours. A new start. It sounds perfect.

****

“Nancy, sweetheart, don’t dig too deep.” Clint orders from his fold up chair. His daughter giggling as she uses her shovel to dig a hole in the sand. “She’s fine. Not like she can dig to China.” You tease and Clint snorts, “she has the determination to do it.” You giggle in agreement, squeezing his hand. Your joined hands swing between your fold up chairs, the sun shining and music playing from your portable radio. You and Clint moved not long after that night, enough funds between the two of you to not need to work again so Clint has been enjoying his time with you and Nancy. Learning to live again has been hard but he’s getting there. “I actually, uh, wanted to ask you something.” Clint confesses and you frown, turning your head to look at him. He clears his throat, “I wanna marry you. Been thinking about it for a while and yeah, I want you to be my wife.” Your eyes widen in shock for a moment until you grin, eyes watering. “And I want you to adopt Nancy, if you want. She loves you and I want everything to be official.” You grin, squeezing his hand, “yes. Yes to it all. I want that.” You promise and he smiles, leaning in to kiss the back of your hand until he shuffles closer to press a kiss to your lips. Your smile makes his heart flutter when he pulls away and he looks up at the sky for a moment, feeling acceptance and hope. He’s so glad he took that job that night, he might’ve saved you from your asshole, abusive boyfriend, but you saved him from his guilt and grief. You taught him how to love again.

[crunchybeards]

Hello!! I know that you’re probably very busy with your outside life and art requests and such so feel free to ignore this ask if it’s too much botherrr, but I just wanted to ask you a quick question because you’re like THE Sam Look Outside person to me and I think your response would be very well thought out :D

Soooo you established in your headcanon post that Sam largely didn’t leave his apartment after his most recent unemployment, which makes a lot of sense! Buttt considering that the whole apocalypse thing and that he has TONS of people moving in with him for basically two weeks, how do you think he adjusts? Because like even between those whose presence kinda demands his attention (the kids, Leigh, Dan, Xaria and Monty) and those who might not be as loud but are certainly still THERE (Hellen, Morton, Roaches, Ernest, Papineau), I imagine that it’s a lot to handle, end of the world or not.

Sorry if this was too much text or confusingly worded! I hope you have a great day!!

Hi! Thanks for sending the ask and trust this was not a lot of words, I'm, unfortunately, an absolute yapper about this game🥲 I still do find it crazy that people like my hcs about this game, I fr just think that I'm yapping without any substance or adding nothing new to the conversation so it's nice to know that at least for some that not the case. Also it's not a bother at all to send an ask, I'm genuinely just really so slow to answer asks. But I do love receiving them, really I do :) And I actually hope YOU have a great day! Yeah I'm flipping this one on you. Your day is gonna be goddamn amazing and there's nothing you can do about it, the vibes have been sent.

But uhhh yapping under the cut with a TLDR at the very end:

But to answer your question, I think there would be an initial period of difficulty adjusting to such a large influx of people. Apocalypse or not such a drastic shift in what he'd considered to be his normal would mess with him. I already headcanon him as being an introverted person but not too introverted if you get what I mean. Like he doesn't mind having company, in fact I believe he enjoys having company over considering how quickly you can get the loneliness status in game. Our unemployed king absolutely misses those quick conversations with Clint and some of his neighbours 😔✊

But how Sam responds and adjusts to this living arrangement would definitely be dependent on the rate at which he gets new recruits/ friends and which friends show up. Like if in a run Sam were to get Hellen in the first few days, then Joel then the Rat Baby, it'd be chill. He'd have to adjust to each individual person first before he can even think about understanding the personality of the next person so the order in which he meets and houses these people are important for his reaction. Like Hellen is a very private person so she wouldn't bother him and she'd look after the Rat Baby if Sam ever needed to run errands. Joel is surprisingly self-sufficient, he'd just mind his business and play with the Rat Baby from time to time. Rat Baby already has the other two so it'd be okay too. Sam would just need to cook for them, clean the baby and take care of himself. He'd be okay if not a bit tired from the uptick in responsibility. It would be a comfortable slog through those 15 days as it would be similar to how his life was like previously but with people who would respect his boundaries and provide him with pleasant company. But that's only one party/ friend combination and honestly one of the better ones. There are somewhere between 20 to 140/150 potential party combinations with specific dynamics, interactivity and reactions dependent on the number of party members Sam's housing and how he'd react to all those people.

But that's just an example of the way in which Sam would adjust to a more controlled number of recuits/ friends. The way in which I see it is that dependent on which order he recruits people, that adjustment and acceptance period would fluctuate for all 12 companions (I'm including Rat Baby for this). Since there really isn't a concrete companion recruitment for the game, I'm just gonna use the recruitment rate that's popular in the community. In order of recruitment that's Joel; Rat Baby; Hellen; Leigh; Sophie; Dan; Xaria and Monty; Papineau; Morton; Roaches and Ernest.

I'm not gonna list Sam's reaction to every single one because then this post would just become impossibly long and I'm already gonna post a really long post for another topic so I'll just do the ones that stand out to me.

That prior order of recruitment wouldn't be too overwhelming initially but it'd definitely have Sam beyond exhausted. Xaria and Monty would absolutely have Sam doubting whether or not even letting a single person in was a good idea, I can see him having quite a few mental spirals about them alone, that loss of privacy and comfort in his room would do numbers to his psyche and moral. The kids (Rat Baby included) would have him extremely tired, his sleeping arrangements are crappy enough because of Xaria and Monty, now he needs to be at 110% just to keep Joel from accidentally cutting up Sophie whenever they get into fights. The Roaches would definitely be the most peaceful out of all of the companions because they stay completely out of the way and provide a greater incentive by occasionally giving gifts. They'd definitely be a breather for him in terms of just dealing with more difficult companions as they don't need much and aren't a bother, a nice contrast to the constant chaos and confusion of the other companions. But Sam would absolutely be on high alert 24/7, making his anxiety skyrocket and worsening my headcanoned OCD. That spiral would be inevitable but at least while that happens, the others like Hellen and Papineau would support him through that. At least while Sam spirals, doubting himself and wondering whether or not he should just give up on everything, he'd have a safety net.

It'd definitely be like a hostel/ shelter (I think that's the word in English still not the best at this) situation. They are a found family but they are still individual people with individual needs that need to be met. I headcanon that, despite what the game shows, they all do take turns cooking food from time to time. They rotate chores frequently and even sleeping arrangements are rotated frequently. Which is to say that Sam wouldn't have to deal with the total upkeep of up to 11 (12 if you include Rat Baby) different people with clashing personalities alone. The adults at least seem mature enough to recognise that.

But yeah he'd be tired, he'd be overwhelmed, he'd question whether or not it was a good idea to even let any of them in. His mental and physical health would absolutely decline because he'd be overwhelmed will all of these responsibilities that he'd forget about his own well being. But Sam would recognise that ultimately, as exhausting as it is, he'd love it anyways. He would get better at juggling this. Even when he spirals, his friends would pull him out of that. But his energy levels would be at an all time low but he'd be happy.

Tldr: Depending on the order in which Sam befriends people, Sam's adjustment to them varies. With the total friend/ companion count, that would have Sam constantly tired but appreciative of them although he's constantly on high alert.

[sdv-confessions]

wanted 2 put some headcannons because ive only done mr qi ones queer ones for starters!!

harvey, shane, gus, abigail, and alex are all bisexual elliot, leah, and mr qi are pansexual sandy, caroline, maru and haley are lesbians [for eachother? who knows.] rasmodius is unlabeled. kisses men though sam, sebastion, morris and pierre are gay [pierre and caroline live together there is zero way their not divorced] clint is unforgivably straight but WILL go through heavy questioning. bi-curious moreso willy is asexual krobus, the henchman, prof. snail, and pam are aroace

so sorry but penny is a stereotypical white girl i cant see any life in her 💔 penny is a cryptid that kind of metamorphosized into some girl. she eats artifacts grandpa was always blue. demetrius has a investigation board and robin is worried hes gonna go insane someday

the farmer freaks demetrius out so goddamn much. hes convinced the farmer is some sort of mystic time warper or something but no the world just kind of does that

the green rain isint technically harmful but can mess you up so horribly bad if consumed. sam was the one who found this out.

sam eats mushrooms he finds outside to quote "gamble getting high or dying"

kent and willy have something going on. let that be a gay romance or a rivalry you choose

the only reason lewis is mayor is because the governor and him have a secret gay romance.

shane has a pet lizard he keeps in the chicken coop named snake

sandy and mr qi have a father/daughter dynamic [sandy is the dad]

THIS WAS WAY LONGER THEN I THOUGHT SO SORRY THATS ALL OF THEM, -evil tuesday qi guy

.

[reginaphalangelobster]

If it's okay request/headcanons for odd friendships you think Gamora could have(that she hasn't had in canon)

Could be MCU, Comics any setting for Gamora

Okay so I haven't read the comics so I don't know if these have happened but they just came to mind, love the request!

Natasha Romanoff

They are both kick ass and don't need a man but fell in love with one anyway. They would be suspicious of each other to start with but would just sort of...stare each other down and go "Hm, cool chick". They would train together and show each other their best moves. Bruce and Quill would bond over how awesome their girlfriends are. Ooh, nearly forgot, the family issues, goddamn! Yelena and Nebula would hang out to please their sisters but end up kinda being friends. Gamora and Nat would totally trauma bond.

Peter Parker

Because who can't love that kid? Honestly, he reminds her of Quill so much and she just thinks he's so sweet, not that she'd admit it. The more Quill tells her about himself and the more she learns about the strange little spider kid the more she notices the similarities. Pop culture being the biggest one.

Shuri

Again, kick ass. She loves that Shuri has a strong bond with her sibling. She also thinks the tech in Wakanda is great because it reminds her of all the space tech that she can't find when she's on earth. Gamora totally supports Shuri as Black Panther and helps her as best she can.

T'Challa

I know I said Gamora loves Shuri as Black Panther, she also can't pass up the original. She LOVES the claws, she's still very cool about it though. She gets a long with T'Challa due to his willingness to do anything for Shuri and how he isn't super emotional all the time but can be when it counts.

Okoye

In love with the spear, reminds her of her swords. Okoye is pretty cool and has a fairly blank exterior until someone messes with her family, something Gamora can relate to. Basically, I think Gamora vibes with the whole Wakanda crew.

Scott Lang

A surprising one but she's just comfortable around him. He's like a gal pal even though she doesn't have those. They get along really well and it surprises EVERYONE. She's also really sweet with Cassie and like a mentor to her, you know, when no one's looking, gotta keep up that unapproachable reputation.

BONUS

Cosmo and Lucky MUST have playdates so she sort of gets along with Kate and Clint too.

[heli0s-writes]

kiss each other clean

a/n: Another Pacific Rim crossover because it truly is the best. Reader/Steve/Bucky with a side of Clint/Nat. I am writing comic Clint bc I love him most. Everyone is hot and sad and potentially poly. I am assuming this because of Reasons. Prompt is panic attack, "if only we could hold on" 1.8k words.

moonchild masterlist

Circumventing the Apocalypse makes Atlases.

Clint jokes that your Jaeger—Atlas Ronin—must have sired every Ranger in the Dome. Her namesake, after all, is both a reminder of the weight you carry and the outcome if you’re too weak to lift. The world splitting in half. Monsters streaming out.

Many Rangers lift their weight with so much grace and poise they could be trying out for pageants.

Not you, though. You’re a real crapbag when it comes to keeping your cool. You say that if you’re ever graceful about someone’s knife to your throat, you might as well be eating it. You’ve never tried to be any other way because it keeps you fighting, keeps you alive.

So when Ronin touches back down in the hangar with so much damage that you can hear her joints screech, hear Clint gurgling blood in your head, you’re worse than ever.

The medical staff refuse it when you limp alongside the gurney. They want you in a bed, hooked up to an IV and not plodding after Clint—not threatening to amputate a doctor if they touch him wrong.

But you tell them to fuck off, bursting through the swinging doors of the ICU unit, barely another word out before Barnes is wrestling you back, Rogers on his other side with his brow scrunched.

“Quit it,” Barnes hisses. “You’re making a goddamn scene.”

“Did you see him?” You jerk against them, your shoulder threatening to dislocate. “He’s got brain damage— he seized!” You swipe at Barnes, knee Rogers the side, but they’ve had enough experience handling you that they just take it in silence.

You’re a terror, according to Bucky, but you’re the only one who can make any sense of Clint when he’s drifting. And when Atlas is in play, she’s so close to unstoppable, Pentecost would personally punch out a senator before they shut your Jaeger down.

They need you. And maybe you abuse that power too much as you thrash around again, take your teeth to Bucky’s shoulder. Sometimes when you return to the hangar you’re still too worked up, can’t quite figure out how to leave the fight behind.

It’s much worse when Clint’s been hurt because you defend him how Steve defends Bucky— but Steve’s got some sense out of the field and you can only see red after drops.

They’ve never tried to make you be otherwise, though. It’s easy to see that 6’4” Clint Barton—who can shoot with immaculate precision, who’s more clever than anyone gives him credit for—has been beaten down so badly by something that he walks with a perpetual slump, makes jokes at his own expense like it’s the only way people will find him deserving of their effort. If they can punch him, at least he’s useful.

Steve had to coach that out of Bucky. After the war, he was always shrinking himself, and it killed Steve to witness.

Clint’s harder to reach. You’re soft on him, hard on him, begged and pleaded and threatened him, but he’s mulish and self-loathing. And in the end, all you could do was hold on, drift alongside him, keep him going one step into the future at a time.

You slacken, the adrenaline ebbing away and leaving you a boneless mess. Your face is puffy, eyes hot and wet with tears, gasping for air and digging your nails into your fists.

Steve keeps propping you up, holding you tight by the waist and leading you down the hall. “Come on,” he urges, “that’s enough.”

They take you back to your room, give you water and space and stick to the walls. Bucky crosses his arms, frowning. “You got me good.” He touches his chin to his shoulder where the indents of your teeth still remain on the cotton shirt.

You cover your eyes, the light too bright, the room too much, and manage, “You were in my way.”

“What’s not in your way?”

You shoot Bucky a hateful look and he only rolls his eyes.

“Clint Barton’s not the only person in the world. And he’s not a kid, either. Give him more credit.”

Your chin trembles. “If he dies, he’ll get what he wants.” You glare, bitterly disclaiming, “We’re all gonna fucking die, but if he dies—”

“Stop,” Steve says firmly.

You look away.

You’re not a dog, but you’ve been trained to follow commands for longer than you’d like to admit. And for as much honor as carrying the world can get you, you’re still following orders one way or another.

If you’re the only one who can make a lick of sense out of Clint, Steve’s the only one who can pull you in when you’re spinning off course. Bucky’s the only one who can keep Steve grounded when he’s tearing through the Shatterdome on a warpath to dismantle the Corps one dignitary at a time.

And the strings animating all of you are Pentecost, who owns some part of everyone for better or for worse.

“Natasha will be there when he wakes up.” He raises one eyebrow as if asking you to really make him explain the situation anymore. “He’s more than fine.”

You begin to argue, but Steve cuts his eyes to yours and you resign to rest your elbows on your knees, leaned over in a pathetic lump at the edge of the bed.

You feel sick to your stomach, sick to your bones. You love Natasha for being able to complete the facet of Clint you can’t and don’t want to— and yet still— want to.

“If you could be,” you start, swallowing the same lump that forms in your throat every time, “enough—” and the hiccups that threaten—the gasping fit that always takes over, whites out your vision--

“Get rid of that,” Steve says.

You put your face in your hands. You can kill a primordial beast. You can tear it to shreds and this is the thing that takes you apart.

Steve understands your pain. He used to want to be enough. Used to want to be the only person Bucky ever needed because didn’t that just make perfect sense? They were each other’s brains. Past and present and future and why would Steve let anyone else mishandle Buck? Get too close to him, trigger him into self-immolation? Steve knew all of Bucky’s haunted foxholes, all of his deepest secrets. Anytime Bucky wanted or needed, he could excavate or ignore with Steve. Why entrust him to anyone else?

But Steve learned that asking why he wasn’t enough was as helpful as decrypting alien speech. There was no language for it that he understood. He just didn’t know. But others could do it, and others could pick up what he couldn’t. And in the end, if Bucky needed another shitshow to love more than himself because it’s just wired in him or something, Steve wasn’t going to keep him from that.

Steve felt lucky enough that Bucky could love one shitshow in the first place.

Bucky pats his thighs and you grudgingly crawl into him, wilting on his chest. And this is where everything slots into place, all the things Steve can’t do, all the things Bucky is naturally good at. He can be terse and serious, make his impact known in a couple of phrases, but Bucky could just open his arms and handle the rest.

The three of you quiet, settling in.

“Sorry,” you offer.

Bucky gives Steve a grin, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Whatd’ya think Tasha’ll do when Barton tries to run outta the med bay? Punch him back down?”

Steve hums, “You got the wrong person.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, “Guess that’s you, huh?”

You put your hand over his face in a weak slap.

“She’ll be peeling an apple,” Steve says, “And he’ll start getting squirrely.”

“And she’ll just point it at him.”

“That’s it.”

Bucky taps the top of your head. “Let’s go talk to her. You forget you like someone if you don’t see them for a while. You need to remember that you like Nat.”

“I do remember.” 

“Kissing her on the mouth when you’re drunk doesn’t count.”

Steve sighs from inside of his bones. It truly is astonishing how you and Clint can be the most effective killers inside of a Jaeger but take you out of one and you’re two college fratboys at best.

“Why do you think she chose Banner? I mean, Clint, you know? She could have picked Clint.”

Bucky touches your chin, tilts your face up to his, quiet and serious. “Do you think Natasha wants Clint in her head? Do you think it would be good for him? Would it be good for you to be in mine? Ask yourself honestly if it would be your first choice to be in mine.”

And Steve, more straightforwardly, “Do you want war?”

No, you don’t.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say. “You’re always right, whatever.”

Bucky wipes a dried tear from the corner of your eye, “Don’t forget it.”

-

Clint’s unconscious when you knock. As predicted, Natasha’s by his bed, reading a book with two apples neatly peeled and sliced.

“Hi,” she says, looking up, smiling sweet and small, and sly.

“Hi,” you reply, staring at your shoes, “Thanks for being here.”

“Mhm. Sit?”

You don’t know why you clam up around her. Clint would cut off his own hands if Natasha needed a new pair, and it’s a funny little thing, the way you’re all connected. Clint can’t seem to do anything but annoy Bucky, yet fixes his collar and starts calling everyone ‘sir’ if he hears Steve down the hall.

“You don’t have to stay, you know,” you say dumbly.

“I know.” She smiles again and looks at you, really looks, her eyes big and bright and you get a little lost in them. “He woke up earlier and said he can’t die yet because he didn’t want you to be mad at him. Or you might die out of spite so you can kill him ‘extra dead’. His words.”

And sometimes you're not sure with her—if she says things because they’re true, or if she says them because they’re true enough, and what matters more is you just need to hear them.

She reaches out for your hand, squeezing it, and it takes just about everything for you not to burst into tears again. You can feel her relaxing, ready to let go, but you hold on, and she smiles again. That beautiful, otherworldly smile that almost reads your mind, and suddenly you understand why Clint would cut off his hands for her.

“Thanks,” you say.

Natasha offers you an apple, glancing to the door where Steve and Bucky stand. They're connected, too. In a way you're not, in a way only they know, but you don't seem to mind it anymore.

“Yeah,” she says, and she means it. “Anytime.”

[kansalainen]

so stardew valley dating. this is batshit. i truly did not expect it to put me on blast like this. irl i’m years into a long term mono relationship and had completely forgotten how insane i am with the early stages. start with the fact that initially the only remotely interesting villagers to me were shane and clint (CLINT!!!) to the point where i could not tell the rest of them apart. i was chasing after the only two people in the game with clinical depression trying to give them my first parsnips which they hated. gradually though, after my friend pointed out that harvey was his number one from the get go, i got to know him a bit more, and especially through the yearly check-up cut scene my heart and pussy got on board and he became the first person i bouqueted. things were great for about 1.5 days, i visited him at his clinic and he told me he couldn’t stop thinking about me (!), we went on our little date. then mayor lewis lets me know that If I Just So Happen to want to marry someone i need a mermaids pendant. now this gives me pause. what are you implying? you mean just because i take a hot air balloon ride with a man I’m about to get gay married to him? presumptious much? this alone was enough to make me stonewall harvey for a few days, and to make matters worse i actually stumbled into the guy who sells the pendant in question. and he tells me i LOOK LIKE I HAVE A SPECIAL SOMEONE IN MY HEART!!!! now at this point I’m fully shutting down, my brain starts pointing out potential icks in harvey (like can the guy get a grip and find some self confidence? ffs? isn’t he like ten years older than me? and what’s with the old man clothes… the moustache can work but outta here with the cardigan) and just like that, i could no longer care less about this man. so i start the walk back to my farm, bag full of sea urchin and coral and decidedly no mermaid’s pendant, and who do i meet. sebastian. man i’ve never given a second thought before despite my predisposition for anemic singles in my area! when he’s so anemic and so single! walking in the rain with his stupid all black outfit and stupid emo hair. and obviously he is rude as hell to me when i just try to say hi, and it makes him seem so dominant and stoic and unreachable and sexy. who said that. and this man would not be reduced into a blushing mess if I saw him at an aerobics class. he would be wearing tiny little shorts and a black mesh tank and looking hungover and bored. WHO said that. anyway, now I’m googling sebastian’s loved gifts and suddenly I’m a fucking hibachi chef with the way I’m pumping out sashimi and running it to him, looking all over the goddamn town for him because of course he doesn’t have a job or a routine, and now we’re getting somewhere. in my dreams he’s wearing the frozen tear i gave him around his neck in a choker. I’m buttering up his family too, to the point where his stepdad pulls me aside, talking bout what are your intentions with my daughter. your DAUGHTER girl. I’m trying to make your stepson do to me what gus does to his famous blackberry cobbler. I’m trying to make him take my deluxe bait. I’m trying to have him end up at harvey’s with exhaustion and cover his medical expenses. the crystalarium on my front yard? pumping out obsidian even though the skull cavern isn’t even close to done. your daughter… i mean she does seem like a nice and promising young lady. anyway fast forward, one day i come over to their house with pumpkin soup as i so often do, hoping we’ll be making new memories with our very own soups very soon, and what do i see. WHAT do i see. this emo piece of shit is on the ground, on his back, and on top of him? not me, not abigail, but a motorcycle. stop. he’s talking bout maybe you can join me on a ride ;DDDD and i want a secret fourth dialogue option mod. i want wickedwhims stardew valley. so yeah i walked out of there and dropped 5k, a month’s pay, on a void egg from a scalper in the sewers like i said i wouldn’t do. the next one can go in the incubator the void chicken can wait. jesus christ

[archcr]

@valorsworn wants to let Steve rest his arm over Clint's shoulder .

IT'S LIKE WATCHING A PING - PONG MATCH , only about a billion times more entertaining . tension's rising , expletives are becoming more frequent , someone's currently developing an irritated twitch in the pinky of his left hand . Stark vs Thor . Asgardian mysticism meets a rational tech - brain based on facts and Tony's very own brand of delulu . mix that with shots , beer and wine and you get a nerd - off between Bill Nye the drunk Science Guy and a very built tooth fairy .

you know it's special™ when the two actual hotheads of the team decide to stay out of it .

Clint and Steve have found refuge on the sidelines of the Tower , watching from the bar . Clint , arms crossed while holding a beer bottle that's slowly warming up to room temperature , follows the verbal slugfest with his lips pressed to a thin line , trying his best not to snicker . Cap's arm rests heavily on his right shoulder , half - leaning onto him , while a look of amused disbelief's settled on his face about fifteen minutes ago .

Thor gets to the part when humans were made out of driftwood and Tony looks about ready to throw the whole goddamn tree at his head .

" ten bucks says Stark's gonna pop a vessel in the next two minutes . " Clint produces a tenner from his pocket and vaguely waves it in front of Steve's nose without averting his gaze from the glorious mess . can't miss a single second of this . love island , he can rewatch but this is live and in color and by god ( literally ) so much better .

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Magic and Madness - Chapter Eight

Pain is Pain. It Needs No Description.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> Stephen bears witness to things he should never have had to, and learns the truth.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 4046

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (E) mentions of violence, recording of SA (mostly audio), referenced smut.

𝐀/𝐍 -> A Companion Piece to Multitudes, exploring the relationship of Tony Stark and Stephen Strange. This chapter best corresponds to Multitudes Chapters Twenty-One to Twenty Five- I recommend starting here if you're reading both <3. Masterlist can be found here! I'm aware that we're skimming some of the Nat details - but this project is, after all, largely about Stephen and Stark! ❤️

Check it out below, (beneath the cut because immediate smut) or on AO3 here! Dividers come from yours truly.

<- Previous Chapter (7/46)

My comms system was still in my ear; I’d curled up on the bed and sobbed myself into a fitful, painful sleep, exhausted by the past few weeks and the emotion of the evening.

“-en? Bruce? Is anyone up?”

I blinked slowly, startled, and pressed the button in my ear “Nat? It’s late… What’s happening?”

She took a moment to comprehend the words that fell from my chewed, sleep-slurred lips before responding. “…Clint’s hurt. I… I think he got into a fight with Tony. His stoma… The bag burst. He’s bleeding. He needs help, but he won’t let me in.”

I rolled immediately from the bed, jerking a shirt over my head in a panic. “I’m on my way.” Hesitating, I noticed the pain in her voice, and winced. “Where are you? Are you ok?”

“Just help him, Stephen. Please.”

The call died, and I swallowed thickly, gesturing to my Cloak quickly as my hands started to move.

“Friday? Where are Mr. Barton and Ms. Romanoff?” I demanded as I stepped through, fingers trembling. There was a heartbeat of hesitation that made my heart rate escalate before the AI mercifully responded.

“Mr. Barton is in the bathroom, moderately injured and severely distressed. I recommend proceeding with caution. Ms. Romanoff is not currently available.”

My mouth worked wordlessly, and I scowled at the ceiling. “How can she be ‘not currently available’?” I snapped, sighing in frustration and nudging open the bathroom door, faced with a scene of desolation.

The archer was desperately trying to clean his skin of blood and waste, but the tear along the edge of his stoma continued to flow, rendering his attempts futile. His face was a mess of bruises and lacerations, and I winced sympathetically, hand raised.

“Not you, either. Just leave me alone,” he growled, eyes narrowing furiously as they met mine.

“Clint, even from here I can see that you have a significant mucocutaneous separation, and with the waste both on your skin and possibly being actively released, it is paramount that-”

“I hate this, Stephen,” he interrupted softly, looking away. “I don’t know if I can do this. I can’t let them see me like this. I... I got so angry. Not because I was angry, but because I’m ashamed. I’m a grown man sat in his own shit. I can’t even defend them in a fight anymore. And she- when she came to see me, to help... I couldn’t cope with her sympathy. Her pity. I pushed her, Stephen. I pushed her out of this fucking room and she fell, and I didn’t even check if she was okay. I just shut the door and wallowed in my own goddamn shame.”

My pulse pounded in my ears, shaking fingers curling into fists in fury. I warned you. “I put my hands on at least one of the two people I love most in this world – maybe even both of them. How am I supposed to live with that? After everything they’ve been through, how are they ever supposed to trust me again?”

“Maybe they shouldn’t,” I muttered, my tone sharp and unforgiving, thoroughly exhausted with the events of the day. “I warned you, Clint, not to hurt her – not to hurt them. Haven’t they been through enough? You’re angry, and upset; I get it. Believe me. I pushed away the first woman I loved – the only woman I’ve ever loved – after my accident. I didn’t want to, not really; I was just so, so angry. But I realised, eventually, that the only person to blame for how I took out that anger is me, and Christine was right to leave. Maybe Natasha would be too.” Maybe I would, too.

“Fuck you, Strange,” he snarled, gaze flashing with rage.

“Right back at you, Barton. Now, are you going to come with me willingly, or do we have to do this the hard way? Though I must warn you – a significant part of me hopes you choose the hard way. I’ll treat you because it’s the right thing to do, but Nat and Widow mean a lot to me. I won’t forgive you until – unless – they do.”

There was pregnant pause before he sighed, reluctantly pushing himself from the floor. “You think I don’t know what they’ve been through?”

“No, Clint. You don’t. You haven’t seen what they did to them – I have. It was unparalleled torture.” I hesitated thoughtfully as he stepped towards me, eyes flittering across his face. “…Did they ever tell you that Widow attacked me?”

“What? No. When?”

“The day they woke up. I had to check their internal stitches, and, despite having seen the damage they were left with, I was not prepared for the person I encountered – the one we know now as Widow, but who I thought, at the time, was simply Nat, deeply entrenched in a flashback. The things they said when they were remembering, Clint... The terror in their face when they came around... I’ve never seen anything like it.” I sighed softly, shaking my head, sparks crackling as I began my portal. “And that, Clint, is what you have just forced them to relieve. I don’t care how angry or embarrassed you were; I hope you are ashamed of yourself.”

I called Natasha while Clint was under the knife; I’d opted not to perform the surgery myself, with tiredness and emotions clouding my thoughts. I sighed with relief as the line connected, but found myself blinking in surprise at the sound of Wanda’s voice.

“Stephen? What’s going on? Is Clint okay?”

I hesitated, stunned and panicked into a brief silence. “… Is Natasha?”

She sighed quietly, muttering under her breath. “She’s… Nat has a broken wrist, Stephen. He… He pushed her.”

Wincing again as another wave of fury washed through my body, I growled. “Where are you?”

“It’s okay; we’re at the hospital. She’s… She’s okay. Well, as okay as she can be.”

“You’re here?” I quipped, raising immediately from my seat. “Where?”

“Stephen, would you just calm down? She’s fine. She’s just getting her cast fitted, and then we’re heading back to the compound. And the first thing she’s going to ask me when she comes out of that room is if I’ve heard anything, so please – how is he?”

I ground my teeth, cracking my knuckles in irritation. “He’s in emergency surgery.”

“How’s it looking?”

“I can’t say I especially care in this moment, Wanda.”

She chuckled dryly, the heavy sigh almost tangible down the line. “Yeah. … Okay, she’s coming back. I’ll let you go. Call us when you know more.”

The call clicked out, and I stared at my cell in disbelief, amazed and repulsed in equal measure.

How can she still care? How can she want anything to do with him, after he hurt her like that? Does he deserve her forgiveness? … Does Tony deserve mine?

Lost in my thoughts, I barely noticed the nurse until she stood in front of me. “-Strange? Hi. Um, your patient is in recovery now. Everything went fine; he should be as good as new in a matter of weeks, at most.”

I nodded tersely, pushing a hand through my hair with a soft sigh as I returned to my seat. “… Thank you.”

I knew avoidance wasn’t the answer, but I couldn’t bring myself to return the compound after dropping Clint off in silence, still seething with anger. Instead, I found myself in a bar, drowning my sorrows in shots of something that tasted suspiciously like acetone.

But as lunch approached, I couldn’t stomach the guilt and unease that churned in my gut, and I sighed as I slipped into the empty bathroom, summoning a portal with resignation.

“-one of Nat’s delusions?” Tony scoffed as I stepped through, and I winced.

“Tony, that’s enough,” I warned tiredly. “I understand you’re a little emotionally fraught as of late, but that’s no reason to-”

“Back off, Merlin,” Tony snorted, draining his glass, and I grimace. He stared at the tumbler for a second, then shrugged, dropping it to the vanished wood and picking up the bottle instead. “You don’t know anything.”

Heat flared in my cheeks, and I stepped closer, my ever-present anger bubbling up. “Oh really? So all of this – the drinking more, the lashing out – it isn’t because of-”

“Stephen,” the billionaire interrupted, his gaze finding mine threateningly, surprisingly steady. “Don’t do it.”

I hesitated briefly, wracked with uncertainty. I wish I’d never fallen for you. I finally regret you, just like you wanted. I glanced at Natasha, rolling my jaw. “I really wish I’d never made that bet. I’m sorry, Natasha.”

I can’t. I can’t do this. I can’t be here.

I heard her snort with surprised laughter, Tony’s glare burning the skin of my back as I shifted my hands once more.

“Wong, just… Please. Leave me alone.”

He sighed, hesitating in the doorway. “It… It’s been five days, Strange. You’re going to have to get up at some time. You need to eat. And shower,” he added pointedly, glancing at the hoodie I’d refused to take off, despite the fact that it made me hate myself even further. “A lot’s been happening. At the compound? I’ve been fielding the calls, but-”

“I don’t care,” I snapped, jaw tense as I met his gaze angrily. “I’m done with that hellhole. I’m not going back, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Stephen-”

“No. I’m not-”

“Strange. You need to listen to me. That girl – the one you care for – Natasha? She... Something happened.”

I sat up quickly, all thoughts of self-pity and self-flagellation wiped from my mind by those two simple words. “Is she okay? What did she... What did she do?”

Images of stitching up her multitudes of wounds, of her foot finding my throat, and of her sharp bones protruding through her clothes flashed before my mind, and I flinched. He shook his head quickly, grimacing. “Not her. She didn’t do anything. But... I think she’s going to need you. They... She was... Assaulted.”

I was on my feet the second he finished speaking, growling as my hands moved. “I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him.”

I’m so selfish. I was so goddamn selfish. He hurt her and I was too busy worrying about my own fucking love life to protect her. And now this. She’s been through so much, she doesn’t deserve-

The sound of whimpers and sobs stopped me in my tracks as I stepped through into the entrance hall, all backs turned from the screen by the stairs displaying some form of sordid movie, and I raised an eyebrow in surprise. “... What-”

Wanda jerked me forward, turning my gaze away from the monitor. But it was too late. I’d already seen the flash of her face, the red hair unmistakable, green eyes immediately recognisable despite the tears and swelling of her cheekbone.

The cries set my teeth on edge, stomach churning, and I held back a gag. “Why?” I whispered, and Wanda flinched beside me.

“It... The Winter Soldier. He was a HYDRA agent. He... He hurt Nat. The Cap found him, but the second he was on the property, the doors locked, and this started. We can’t turn it off, or turn it down. I have no idea how he’s doing it, but... We just... We can’t block out the sounds, but we can not watch. We... We can not watch.”

Vision’s arms found her comfortingly as she sobbed, and I flinched, hands beginning to move once more. “I’m getting us out of here. We shouldn’t have to-”

The second the portal began to appear, the sound stopped, and we collectively glanced over our shoulders, anxiety palpable. “It’s over,” Bruce muttered, skin a sickly, suppressed green. He darted for the doors, flesh rippling and morphing as he stepped outside, pulling in air through heavy, heaving lungs.

I just stood, frozen and stunned. “Where... Where is she?”

“She left, Stephen. The last day we saw you. She went to the farm with Clint,” Steve offered quietly, his jaw set. “They’re on their way back now.”

“Tell me you didn’t know.”

I glanced at Wanda in surprise, her eyes vacant as they flicked to me. “How... Why would I? I don’t even know who-”

“This was Tony,” she interrupted softly. “He set it all up.”

My stomach dropped out, and I shook my head violently. “No. He couldn’t. He... He wouldn’t. He’s many things, but he could never... Not something like this. Not so callous. So cruel.”

“He admitted it,” Steve replied, his voice hard. “We sobered him up, and he admitted everything.”

“...No. I... No.”

No, no, no. He couldn’t. He... He wouldn’t.

“Where is he?”

“Rehab,” Wanda snorted with mirth, shaking her head in disgust. “Because he’s a piece-of-shit addict, and apparently deserves our sympathy. But he won’t get any – not from me.”

“Wh… He went? Willingly?” I pressed in surprise, and Cap stiffened.

“He didn’t have a choice. Not after this,” he growled, angry like I’d never seen him before.

“At least he might finally get the help he needs…” I muttered, and Wanda hissed in response.

“He doesn’t deserve help. He deserves to fucking suffer.”

Flinching minutely, I looked away, shamed.

I can’t. I can’t believe that he could do that… I just… I can’t.

Widow – Ashe, as Wanda had informed me quietly - was withdrawn as they poked at their lunch, uncertain and tentative as the entire group watched them uncertainly.

“If you keep staring at me, I am not going to eat,” they snapped, eyes narrowing as they took in the collection and resting on me as I raised my hands innocently with an apologetic wince.

“That’s understandable. But that’s not why they’re staring,” I added softly.

“Then why?” they growled, and Wanda glared at Clint furiously.

“You haven’t told them?!

He curled his hands into anxious fists. Wanda had messaged him a warning on the drive, hoping that he’d be able to break the news to her gently – but apparently, he’d skipped that particular responsibility. “I… I didn’t know how,” he admitted quietly, wincing. “I couldn’t… I can’t.”

“Tell me what?” Ashe pressed sharply, their eyes flicking between the two angrily. Clint ran a hand through his hair, and sighed.

“Tony’s video was the only copy,” he murmured, jaw tight. “But…”

“But Bucky had his own. A suit cam,” Wanda cut in, her eyes lowered. “The second he arrived on the property… He put it on every screen. On a loop.”

I couldn’t help but look away as they glanced around to each of us in turn. “…Where’s Bruce?”

“Outside,” Thor replied quietly, his eyes on his plate. “Being green.”

They nodded slowly, the muscles in their jaw tight. “He saw?” Wanda nodded, and they recoiled minutely. “Who else?”

“Thor, T’challa, Stephen, me and Vision...” she murmured, gesturing at the people around the table in turn, myself included. “Shuri and Steven. A few dozen members of staff.”

“We tried to get it down as quickly as possible, but...” T'challa flinched sympathetically.

“But you cannot guarantee that nobody got a recording,” they breathed, horrified realisation dawning as we nodded as one.

“We'll keep an eye out on uploads within the facility, and the staff have already had to sign non-disclosure agreements prior to this event,” Vision offered. “The likelihood of that video reaching the public domain is slim... But we can’t say it’s not possible.”

“And you have all seen it?” they clarified, looking to the nods and avoided gazes with a wince. I opened my mouth to assure them that I, at least, saw very little, but Thor’s gravelly voice interrupted me.

“Lady Natasha, I... I’m very sorry you experienced that.”

They smiled weakly, nodding graciously. “I appreciate that, Thor. Thank you.”

“I cannot imagine,” T’challa murmured, wincing.

“Horrific,” I agreed quietly, meeting their gaze with guilt flaring in my chest.

I should have been here. I should have protected them. I should have done better. God… I’m such a waste of air. I don’t deserve to be called a man, let alone a Master of the Mystic Arts.

Cap was running worried hands through his hair, the strands sticking up at odd angles, looking haunted, while Shuri appeared almost confident, greeting her brother easily.

“… Well?” Clint demanded after a moment, tugging his partner from Bruce’s embrace where they’d stood trembling since he’d returned, pulling them onto his lap protectively.

Shuri sighed, beginning to pace before the table. “It was very, very difficult. They have instigated one of the most successful mind control programmes I have ever seen.” Pausing, she glanced away, before flicking her eyes back theatrically. “Fortunately, I am a genius! I have cracked the algorithm. It will take time, but I am confident that I can get him back - and soon.”

“Mind control,” Ashe muttered, glancing at the archer, and I flinched at the memory that he, too, had been subject to the cruel experience. “Like…”

His jaw twitched with understanding, and he glanced at the young genius before him. “Does he have any lucidity?”

She hummed, hand wriggling thoughtfully. “Brief periods. We saw him break through now and again. With the algorithm scrubbed, it’s more of a psychological block. It will take time and care to bring him fully back.”

“I want to speak to him.”

My eyes widened in shock, and Steve stepped forward, glancing at Shuri uncertainly. “Ashe, he… He’s still not with us often. And when he isn’t, he says some… Well, some not-very-pleasant things. And a significant number of them are about you,” he added, flinching.

Ashe paled minutely, but shook their head with determination. “I want to try. Please.”

Another glance, and he sighed, then nodded. “It’s your choice. But we’ll be right on the other side of the glass, okay?”

Clint rose as they did, and they took pause, glancing at the archer. “Clint, honey, this is likely not going to be fun for you. Are you sure you want to come? Haven’t you heard – and seen – enough?”

He swallowed dryly, then set his jaw. “I’m going to support you, Ashe. This isn’t about me.”

I can’t believe he really did those things. I can’t believe he… How could he… How?

When they left, I wanted nothing more than to bolt back to my hole, escaping this nightmare and drowning my sorrows in vodka. Oh, that’s ironic.

But Wanda was talking quietly, catching me up on all the things I’d missed, and I winced and hissed sympathetically, giving her as much attention as the turmoil in my brain permitted.

“… And that brings us to now, I guess. I think Lia is still pretty quiet, but…” Her phone beeped beside her, and she glanced down, hand covering her mouth as she let out a soft squeak.

“Is everything okay?” I pressed worriedly, her eyes growing wide. No more pain. Please.

She turned her cell to face me, fingers trembling, and I swallowed dryly before scanning the screen.

I finally asked. They said yes.

“Asked…?” My gaze met hers, confused, and I blinked at the tearful joy shining in her eyes. “… You mean…?”

“He’s had a ring for years,” she whimpered, teeth sinking into her knuckles as she fought to control herself. “I’ve been telling him he needs to do it. He did it. And they said yes!” Her voice rose to a fever-pitch, excitement winning out as she squealed. “Boys! We have a party to plan!”

They entered to a din of squeals and yells, voices tripping over one another as everyone pressed forward to offer their congratulations simultaneously.

“-first wedding in the team, I can’t-”

“-always knew it would be you two! When are you-”

“-decided on a honeymoon yet? I know this great place in-”

Clint snorted, pulling them into his side fondly. “Guys, guys, back off. It only happened a few hours ago?”

“A few hours? What kept you so long?” Cap grumbled, the archer raising a pointed eyebrow.

“Why, he was making love, of course!” Thor thundered, raising his pitcher of beer, ever the discreet one. Steve flushed with embarrassment at the short-sighted question, and Natasha kissed Clint’s cheek lightly, purring in his ear and making him gulp.

“Well?” Wanda demanded, moving to stand before them. “Show us the ring!”

I took in the three entwined lengths of silver, carefully cradling green sapphire and shimmering diamonds, as Natasha blushed.

“Three parts, huh?” I snorted, and Clint blinked in surprise.

“It’s actually… Purely coincidental. I’ve had it since before… Well, before we knew, I suppose.”

“Three years,” Natasha whispered loudly, turning a darker shade of red, and Wanda clapped her hands together in delight.

“That’s so cute!”

Like you didn’t know… I rolled my eyes fondly at the witch’s excitement, smirking.

Clint flushed crimson, scratching his neck, and kissed their hair lightly. “Yes, well… I always knew she’d be the one I wanted to marry. I didn’t see the point in putting it off when I found something so perfect. It matches her eyes exactly,” he added proudly.

They glanced down in surprise before reaching up to wrap their arms around his neck. “Clint… God, we love you.”

He beamed happily, humming his agreement as he kissed them deeply, their fingers winding in his hair with a soft, desperate groan.

“Ahem.”

They pulled apart, red-faced but grinning, an awkward silence flitting through the room before Clint nudged them toward the table, pouring a glass of champagne for each of them before raising his own.

“Thank you all for getting here on such short notice – especially Stephen, who actually facilitated most of that,” he added with a chuckle, nodding his head at me gratefully, but I simply waved him off.

It's the least I can do. I let this happen. I let them get hurt.

“I can’t think of anyone I’d rather celebrate this day with. This day…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “This day is something I never thought would  actually happen. When I made the choice to spare that vicious, teenage assassin, I put my head on the block. But when she looked at me, I knew I couldn’t do it. That I’d never be able to do it.” He inhaled deeply, glancing down at the assassin collective by his side. “It was the best act of defiance I’ve ever met, and I’ve never regretted it, not once. She… Gave my life colour again. It felt like I’d been stuck in a thunderstorm for years, but she was the sun, lighting my way and clearing the clouds. The very first time I woke up next to her, when she crawled into my bed at three in the morning because the nightmares wouldn’t stop… Well, it may sound creepy, but I just lay there, watching the sun rise on her face. And that was when I knew I wanted to marry this girl.”

“But I was so scared. I went out and bought her that necklace, intending to tell her everything. I steeled myself up, went to find her, and she was curled up on the sofa with a book, looking truly breathtaking. But I was… So utterly terrified of losing this beautiful thing that we had, that I’d rather risk her never being mine than risk not having her in my life at all. So I kept quiet… Up until earlier this year. I realised then that life is just too damn short, and I never wanted happiness if it wasn’t with her.”

Gentle and tender, he guided them to their feet, one hand resting lightly on their hip. “We’ve been through… So much together. And I’m dating significantly more people than I ever thought I would be,” he added, chuckling. “But… I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love each and every one of you with every fibre of my being. I am yours, until the day I die.”

They pressed their forehead to his, sniffling, and I smiled fondly as I clinked my glass to Wanda’s beside me, heart aching.

I remember what it felt like to love someone so deeply. So profoundly.

I drained my glass with a wince, immediately pouring another as Natasha spoke quietly.

“We love you too, Clint. We love you, too.”

[mastcrmarksman]

🩸  to  find  my  muse  after  they've  been  in  a  fight. ( from Natasha? )

Was it always only a matter of time before he goes and blow his top off? Barton the hot head, oh don't mind Clint he's a ray of sunshine. This situation right now was a gooey one, a total mess of thing of his own making (he knows), and to have Natasha come searching for him after the blows that came to be, it's embarrasing. Shameful.

What he wouldn't give to be found after a nasty fight with some prick who deserved it. Some scum who was exorting people, who wanted to harm the world and he got to be the hero knocking them on their ass. Putting them away for their trouble in the world. Hell right now, he'd kill for Natasha to have found him after he lost a fight with anyone, Red Skull, Norman Osborn, literally any prick who'd string him up and have Nat come in hot for the rescue.

That's not this. Clint looks away from her only a moment after she's spotted her making her way. Clint's not in the mood for talking about the fight that happened. It wasn't just him and one other person, he might as well have torn the head of half the team. Steve, Hank, Pietro? All the usual candidates he normally butt heads.

It was bad. ❝ I don't want hear it; I KNOW. ❞ It was so bad. He's really reminded everyone that he's an ass, alway looking for a fight. ❝ They send you to be ⸺ ❞ The Clint whisperer, his goddamn handler. He hated that, still trying to pick a fight.

[themculibrary]

Migraines & Headaches Masterlist

As Real as Anything (ao3) - sahiya G, 5k

Summary: “If you’re calling to ramble tipsily at me about something you dreamed up with Ted, I’m going to hang up on you,” Tony mumbled into his pillow without bothering to do anything so pedestrian as pick up his phone. This was what he had an AI for.

The sound he got in response made him shoot up in his bed. It was a sob, but not only a sob. It was a gut-wrenching, bone-deep, sob of despair, and it was coming from his kid. “Tony,” was the only word he could make out. And then again, “Tony, Tony, Tony.”

Desperate Times (ao3) - awesomesockes, whumphoarder pepper/tony T, 1k

Summary: Tony’s attempt to self-medicate away a migraine goes awry and Bruce is left to deal with the aftermath.

D is for Diploma (ao3) - whumphoarder T, 3k

Summary: Between all of his commitments, Peter’s grades start slipping, putting him in danger of losing his academic scholarship to Midtown. Stressed and guilt-ridden about the effect this will have on May’s finances, he ends up worrying himself sick and having a breakdown in Tony’s lab.

Five Times Peter and Steve Conspired to Take Care of Tony (ao3) - sahiya steve/tony T, 40k

Summary: ... and one time Tony took care of them.

Give the Kid an Oscar (ao3) - whumphoarder G, 2k

Summary: Poor kid—he looks utterly miserable. And if anyone should know how much migraines suck, it’s Tony.

gold in the seams of my hands (ao3) - napricot sam/bucky E, 94k

Summary: Six months after the whole mess with the Flagsmashers, Bucky’s life is going pretty well, apart from the headaches. Sam is Captain America, Bucky’s his right-hand man both in the field and in the apartment they now share, and they’re slowly but surely working on getting the Avengers up and running again. For the first time in longer than Bucky can remember, he’s—well, not quite happy, but he’s content. Except for the goddamn headaches.

When Bucky’s headaches turn out to be something stranger and more serious than either he or Sam could have ever foreseen, their evolving partnership and the fledgling team they’re struggling to build are tested by a mission and a mystery that have painful roots in Sam's own recent history. If they're going to get through this, Bucky is going to have to accept a new power, Sam's going to need to learn what coming to the rescue looks like now that he's Cap, and they're both going to have to trust in a partnership that could become something more.

I'll Be Your Safety (ao3) - Paraxdisepink steve/bucky T, 3k

Summary: Bucky's getting headaches from what HYDRA did to him. And there's feelings. And some fluff.

I'll Learn To Dance If You Promise Not To Laugh (ao3) - torakowalski clint/phil, jane/thor E, 10k

Summary: A College AU in which there are long distance relationships, misunderstandings, and no one actually spends any time in college.

In Case of Emergency (ao3) - aliaoftwoworlds G, 4k

Summary: Tony is listed as one of Peter's emergency contacts.

like a lullaby (ao3) - hailfire_73 T, 4k

Summary: Peter gets a migraine and Tony takes care of him

Of All Days... (ao3) - happyaspie G, 4k

Summary: Peter needs to be picked up from school due to a splitting migraine. May is out of town and there is only one other person who had permission to sign him out of class. Tony. Only he wasn't expecting the man to show up with his best friend in the passenger seat. Yay... he gets to meet War Machine while wearing oversized sunglasses and carrying a sick bowl.

Though to be fair, Rhodey wasn't exactly expecting to meet an unmasked Spider-man either...

Pain of a Different Kind (ao3) - arianapeterson19 phil/tony T, 1k

Summary: No, Fury, Tony is not trying to leave debrief because he is bored.

OR

The one where Tony gets a migraine.

Pressure Changes (ao3) - sahiya pepper/tony G, 8k

Summary: Peter is pretty sure he's dying. Possibly of an aneurysm. (Spoiler: He's not.)

Pressure Point (ao3) - ratherastory G, 3k

Summary: Tony gets a migraine. Luckily for him, both JARVIS and Steve are there.

Soft Armours (ao3) - icarus_chained T, 1k

Summary: Natasha, Tony, Clint, Steve. En route to an infiltration mission, they have to work around Natasha's migraine aura. Natasha & Tony, primarily.

Super Duper Side Effects (ao3) - awesomesockes, whumphoarder T, 16k

Summary: The downside of an enhanced metabolism is that it renders most drugs completely ineffective. Captain America accepted this long ago as an occupational hazard. But after Peter sustains a serious injury in the line of duty and the doctors have no way to manage the pain, Steve decides to volunteer as a test subject for Bruce and Tony’s experimental super drug.

However, the soldier ends up getting a little more than he bargained for.

(Alternative title: Original Drug Tester: Steve Rogers)

Three-Day Migraine (ao3) - sahiya G, 8k

Summary: Tony’d had migraines since he was teenager. No one knew why, because no one ever really knew why with migraines. He had a few obvious triggers––red wine, dehydration, and stress. Stress was by far the worst, since it meant they tended to flare up when he could least afford to take time off. He’d tried a lot of different medications over the years, and none of them really worked, but Imitrex at least took the edge off.

So when Tony blinked at the hologram in front of him and realized that it wasn’t going wonky because something was wrong with it but because something was wrong with his vision, he wasn’t too alarmed. Irritated, but not alarmed.

Ups and Downs of Stress (ao3) - anxious_soul G, 3k

Summary: Five times Tony was ill and one of his friends helped him. +1 time he was ill and everyone was there.

Used to the Pain (ao3) - hemingwaysgirl T, 3k

Summary: Tony usually kept to himself when he was sick, never seeking comfort from anyone. He powered through in true Stark fashion, hiding the paleness and dark shadows with foundation and concealer. Sunglasses and fake smiles completed the look and no one ever suspected a thing. Well, no one except Pepper and a certain annoying spider kid.

You caught me at just the right time (until you couldn't) (ao3) - 14million_constellations N/R, 19k

Summary: “I thought Spider-Man didn’t get sick,” Tony said, smiling.

“And I thought Tony Stark didn’t care,” Peter says, now not only looking like death but sounding like it, and Tony frowned. Peter noticed. “Sorry. You do care. I know you do.

--or--

The 5 times Tony realized Peter was sick, and the 1 time it was almost too late.

[mr-tony-stark]

Tony laughed and he reached over and pushed Clint playfully. The photos of that moment would end up online and there would definitely be fans that would start saying they were sleeping with each other because of it. But honestly - those fans would say it anyway. There was already slews of fan blogs and fanfiction pairing up every Avenger were every other Avenger and sometimes all the Avengers. The average person and the tabloids wouldn't think twice about it outside of the two bachelors messing around.

"I said we better not touch and you said sorry," he said. "I assumed that you were sorry because you bought them here and now we couldn't hold hands. That's not mind ready. That's reading context cues."

He could feel them following them. Sometimes he imagined taking them out as Iron Man and doing a big 'oopsie, I thought you were bad guys tailing me' when they complained. But that wouldn't fly in a post Fist New York.

"I hate them too. I hate that I can't just do normal things without them hassling me. And I grew up with this. Anytime I messed up as a kid they'd be there photographing it. Honestly, it's one of the reasons I've always been extra careful about protection. Well one of the many reasons, but even when I've been in longer term relationships I've been so goddamn careful about not having a slip up because I didn't want to put some kid through this." He huffed, blowing upward so that his hair flicked up at front. "And now I'm putting Brandy through it. She's just going to grow up with everyone's eyes on her. I don't know what the universe had against her. Takes her mother. Fills her full of more power than her tiny body can even contain and then makes her whole life lived under a public microscope."

He sighed and shook his head. "I was looking forward to it too. But I booked a nice place for lunch with booths. We can hold hands there. People will leave us alone. Well - except mom. She's probably going to be very pleased about the whole turn of events."

He does another glance around to check out the two that were watching (admittedly) Tony. It was only two, and he wishes for his bow right now. If he hasn't lost his ability to aim (a constant fear when he hasn't used his boy in awhile), than it would take two easy arrows to destroy their cameras. He didn't even need his bow and arrows, he could come up with anything.

Th issue being present here was that Clint had been looking forward to this off day from schedule of physical therapy, regular therapy, and community service and volunteering. The reason being on his off day, he was going to spend time with Tony and Brandy; have what could be a normal day. Do boyfriend-couple thing, hold Tony's hand. (Kate had even got a text about this very fact).

Now he's not, and simply strolling alongside Tony and Brandy in the covered stroller. HE SIGHS OUT LOUD. He can't hold Tony's damn hand because of those men and it makes him disappointed, partly with himself, for looking forward to SOMTHING GOOD. Of course, it doesn't happen. HE SCREWED THAT UP.

All because he wanted to drink. HIS DAMN FAULT.

⸻ Clearly he's made his disappointment along because Tony starts talk. There are two important things to know about how Clint feels as the man brings up two very good points. Breaking down logically all the points as well. ❝ Y'know, you still haven't convinced me you aren't secretly a telepath. ❞ He jokes, but there's a softness to his voice. YOU READ MY MIND, MY THOUGHTS ⸻ Translation to that being, Tony knows him and being known was a nice feeling.

❝ I hate this. I hate them, pricks! ❞ He complains, hand flexing and he thinks about going for it. CLINT WANTS TO. However, he knew that he could not handle this kind of attention right now. Not at anymore than he had received. WE SHOULD WAIT. He wasn't on steady footing, not yet. Every day was a day closer to that, he just had to get through today. If got things done on that day, that was the frosting and the sprinkles. Extra points to getting closer to that, and if he didn't do anything? That's still a day closer. OR THAT'S WHAT JOHANNA TOLD HIM TO FRAME IT .

⸻ He looks at Tony, and he hopes where they were eating they had some privacy, or a table with a tablecloth so he could hold Tony's hand there at least. ❝ I want to, though, too. So you know. ❞ I WANT TO HOLD YOUR HAND. ❝ I was looking forward to that. ❞

But he would be happy with just being out for the day, with Tony and Brandy, and the fact he was feeling alright. DESPITE A LITTLE DISAPPOINTED NOW.

[ao3feed-peterparker]

in technicolor (PODFIC)

by Elusion_Podfics This is a podfic of in technicolor by denigiq Brett sighed and looked down at the folder in his hand. “Your name is Peter, right?” “Lawyer.” “Peter, we haven’t even started talking. Let’s just take a minute to ease up.” “Lawyer.” “Bud, we haven’t charged you with a crime. This is just talking.” “Law. Yer.” Goddamn. (Brett's encounters with Team Red/vigilantes and their weird fucking way of helping) Words: 17, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Daredevil (TV), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), Deadpool - All Media Types, Captain America (Movies), Hawkeye (Comics), The Defenders (Marvel TV), Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen, M/M Characters: Brett Mahoney, and his never ending team of detectives and officers, Peter Parker, Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, the AcaDec Team, Matt Murdock, Wade Wilson, a dickface, a thief - Character, we shall see who else joins the team, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes, Clint Barton, Kate Bishop, some references to the Defenders, Danny Rand, Jessica Jones, Rosalind Sharpe, Margaret Murdock Relationships: Brett Mahoney & Team Red, Brett Mahoney & Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, Brett Mahoney & Matt Murdock, Brett Mahoney & Wade Wilson, Franklin "Foggy" Nelson & Peter Parker, Foggy & All his vigilantes, Matt Murdock & Peter Parker & Wade Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson, Clint Barton & Kate Bishop Additional Tags: Case Fic, Interrogation, Identity Reveal, Police, Heist, well failed heist, Police & Vigilante Team Up, culture clash, Shenanigans, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, Team Red, it's just a mess that entertains me yo, fuck its growing, that was not intentions, Missing Persons, Tracking, Piercings, Academia, an attempt to study this people is made, an 'attempt.', Gangs, Violence, Canon Disabled Character, Lucky makes his grand appearance, Community - Freeform, Underground, Murder, Attempted Murder, Going undercover, Dogs, Ghosts, Spirits, a bitty bit of witches, Illnesses, Hospitalization, Brain Surgery, Podfic & Podficced Works, Podfic via https://ift.tt/SEvKGBw

[avcrymorgans]

Give and you shall also receive!! Pick one of your fave OCs (maybe one you don’t get to talk about much, but honestly feel free to pick anyone!!) and tell me all about them! Their relationships, their storylines, fun facts about them, moments in their story you’re excited to write… whatever you can tell me about them, I wanna hear it!! 🩷

this was sent to me i’m sure months ago, but i am - if anything - the most forgetful . i literally have the memory of a goldfish.

so today let’s talk about tj barton . my feral forest child power ranger with issues .

okay so fun fact i have like a list of characters who he’s similar too but it would take way too long to listen them all.

but like okay basically he’s as chaotic as possible. when he was like 5 he was on a trip with his mom’s sister - so his aunt. they went on this camping trip thing because his parents are superheroes and wanted him out of the city for a couple days.

it turned tinting more then a couple days. they - got into a car accident and his aunt didn’t make it ( sad ) . but five year old tj did and since they were in the middle of nowhere he wandered out of the car .

not that anyone knew this for the longest time but it was all a set up by this alien named nori - she wanted to take over the entire universe but needed to take down thanos first so she was recruiting a group of kids from a young age and would eventually take them in.

so tj lived in the woods. literally until he was 12. he had no clue about the fact that he was missing, no clue about the real world. he was just in the woods. when he was twelve nori took him and the group of kids and planned to train them to be evil. it backfired because they kids ended up becoming a sort of family, realizing how wrong the entire plan was and it led to the creation of THE POWER RANGERS!

la la la, stuff happens. he ends up on earth with you know his parents when he’s 16 and he’s been missing for 11 years. insert total chaos . tj’s inability to follow rules and curfew and his overall fact that he’s a goddamn mess.

he’s also kind of a genius which is lowkey surprising cause he grew up in the woods.

he was lowkey adopted by a bear as usual chaos in stories where kids are raised in the woods. but also not really. his best friend just is basically a bear.

bro is literally a mess. but he’s my favorite mess. he loves music, generally gets along with everyone but also he’s a little shit .

and his best friend is rosella stark (fc: madelyn cline)

he doesn’t really have a love interest because i just haven’t really planned one for him tbh.

oh he’s also clint barton’s son. i probably should have mentioned that.

thank you for asking!!!

also his fc is currently rudy pankow but i change it constantly cause i can never settle.

[veliseraptor]

I hope in the hawkeye show, Clint goes to the Rogers musical and then goes backstage to take a selfie with the actor who plays him

and ideally then sends it to Steve with the note "is this you"*

*yes I know at this point in canon Steve is in the past. I am ignoring it for the purpose of this joke

[mr-tony-stark]

He cried out louder when Clint bit into him, the cry turning into a low moan as he felt the man release into him, filling him again.  He goddamn loved that feeling, and he let his head fall back and his eyes flutter closed as he just focused on that pulse deep inside him.

He appreciated the fact that Clint was in no hurry to pull out.  Despite how quick and dirty this was in the elevator like this, there was no rush for it to be over.  Gradually, as his muscles relaxed he let his leg drop down and he pulled off Clint.  “Thanks,” he said, gently panting. “You’re not half bad yourself.”  He pulled up his pants and used his sleeve to clean the mess off the wall.  The cleaners would really need to go over that, but at least it wasn’t a total biological hazard for them when they did.  And he knew that JARVIS would page them to clean in here once they were out.

“Okay, JARVIS,” he said, wrapping his arm around Clint’s waist.  The elevator started it’s accent once more. “Shit, Barton.  You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Clint looked down at Tony’s cock as he came and then at his face and simply admired him. He was so fucking hot when he came.. it should be illegal to be that hot. When he felt Tony clench around him he moaned as he shoved himself deep into him and bit down on his neck again not giving a flying fuck if it bruised.

He moved his hand and hips through both of their orgasms and moaned loudly as he slowly slowed down and panted as he looked at Tony again and smiled a bit. He moved Tony’s head and kissed him deeply and passionately as he simply stayed inside of him for a minute. “God you look so fucking hot when you cum..”

[morganbritton132]

Can’t stop thinking about SHIELD sending Natasha on an absolute cake walk of a mission to gather intel from the son of a Sokovian baron that spends more times in the tabloids than anywhere else. It was almost insulting to get the mission which makes it more annoying that he immediately clocks her not as a spy but as a reporter, and proceeds to spend the rest of the night feeding her useless information and lies. It’s even more annoying that they both know what he’s doing and they both know that she well aware of what he’s doing.