#Clint Barton Fanfiction

[shewhohangsoutincemeteries]

appreciation

Clint Barton x F!Reader

Prompt: “is that my shirt?”

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

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

Word Count: 1,616

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, seriously. Now stop arguing.”

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

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

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

“Fuck…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck…”

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

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

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

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

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

“You can say that again.”

“Damn.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

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

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

.

.

.

.

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

[ghostofskywalker]

Congratulations! You Just Won The Shock of Your Life At 2 AM!

Clint Barton/Reader

Fictober Day 2 of 31

Words: 870

Summary: The sound of someone in your home puts you on edge, but that surprise soon takes on a more positive connotation when you realize who it was that broke in.

Clint Barton Masterlist

This was how you were going to die, you knew it. Of course it had to be in the middle of the night, by the hand of a masked intruder who would take your life in pursuit of a few perceived valuables and some unfortunate timing. The baseball bat in your hand would be wrenched from your grip in less than a single action, but you had to try and defend what was yours if you were going to die with any glory at all.

Whoever it was currently resided in the kitchen, and you crept down the stairs while trying to remain in the cover of darkness. The light was on, which you found odd to begin with, but chalked it up to a particularly brazen thief who had no qualms about taking care of the trouble that may interfere with their goal tonight, which unfortunately for you, was robbing your house.

Just as your foot hit the penultimate step on the stairs, you heard the sound of the refrigerator opening. Wow, this one really had no shame, didn't they? And you had just recently gone to the grocery store too, so it must have felt like some kind of divine intervention. You were going to die and this thief was going to eat all the donuts you bought for yourself, this truly was a cruel existence.

More shuffling sounds could be heard as the intruder busied themselves in the kitchen, and right before you were about to take those final few steps and face your impending fate, the sound of something hitting the floor echoed through the space, and a string of curses immediately followed it.

Wait a minute, you knew that voice.

Even though you didn't let go of the bat, taking those final steps into the kitchen was a little bit easier now that you had an inkling that you knew who was in the room, and that they were far from dangerous. And sure enough, you were exactly right.

Clint Barton was many things in life, but he was not always the stealthiest, and apparently this was one of those times. Standing in your kitchen, covered in a blood-stained SHIELD uniform, he stared owlishly at you as you stepped into view. "What on earth are you doing in my house in the middle of the night?" you asked, still trying to relax from the short period of time you were convinced that you were going to fully die because someone was in your home.

"I was hungry?" the answer was framed like a question, and you just sighed, though you could feel a smile breaking through the worried grimace you had previously wore. Of course you couldn't be mad at him, he was your best friend and he did in fact have a key, so technically he didn't break in at all.

But you didn't want to let him off too easy, because you did remember specifying that the key was only to be used in extreme emergencies, and this didn't seem like one of those. "So you decided to break into my home and make yourself-" you glanced at the floor to see what he had dropped in better view "-coffee?"

Clint looked sheepishly at the pile of coffee grounds on the floor, from when he dropped the container and the lid popped open. "I wasn't sure, but then I dropped the thing, so I think that decision was made for me."

You smiled at him, noting the tiredness behind his eyes. "I have more grounds in the other cabinet, why don't you sit down and let me make you a cup of coffee and something to eat?"

"Are you sure?" he asked. "I can help-"

But you just shook your head as you pulled a broom from your closet. "Clint, I promise it's fine. I can see you're covered in blood too, so why don't you just sit down and take it easy for a few minutes?"

You expected more push back from him, but was pleasantly surprised when he nodded and sat down at the kitchen table, allowing you space to sweep up the pile of coffee grounds. There were always a few that evaded you, but that wasn't a big deal right now. Clint told you about his mission while you made him a cup of coffee and some leftovers from your fridge (you offered to make him something from scratch, but he wouldn't agree to it, citing all the trouble he had already caused you this evening).

Time passed in the blink of an eye, and soon you were barely able to keep your eyes open. The adrenaline from earlier in the night was completely gone, and Clint could tell. He ushered you off to bed without letting you do anything else for him, and you knew he was right, because you were asleep moments after your head hit the pillow.

Clint was gone when you woke up again (much later in the day than you usually did), but a beautiful bouquet of flowers now sat in the middle of your kitchen table.

There was no note attached, but you didn't need one. You knew how it had gotten here. 

- the end -

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[sarahrogersevans]

Looking Out For My Sister- Clint Barton sister!xreader comfort fic feat. Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff

Summary: Clint comforting Y/N during a rough time

Warnings: fluff, angst, comfort fluff, mentions of mental health struggles a bit if you squint

~Y/N’s Pov~

It was a slow week at the compound and I decided to rest in my room for a little while and as I went to lay in bed I saw Clint outside shooting his arrows doing target practice and as I watched him my mind wandered and I fell asleep on my bed. A few hours later I felt a hand rub my back and I opened my eyes and I saw Clint smiling at me and I tried to cover my face with the blanket and Clint chuckled while rubbing my back gently and said “hey Y/N sweetheart you missed dinner, you doing ok? You’ve been pretty quiet lately.. I’m worried hun.”

I listened to what Clint said and my eyes filled with tears and I cried softly and Clint came to lay beside me and I felt him stroke my hair and he held me close. “I’m having a rough week Clint.. I don’t know how to explain it..” Clint kissed my forehead gently and said “hey it’s ok Y/N everyone has moments like that but you don’t have have to go through it alone alright? But you do need to eat something, so how about I go warm you up some dinner and we can watch your favorite movie since we don’t have any missions today, deal?” I smiled and I nodded my head “That sounds good Clint thank you.” Clint got up and went to the kitchen to go make food and I set up a movie for us to watch and then I got back in my bed to lay down. My thoughts started to become overwhelming and I grabbed my phone to put on some ambience music and I felt relaxed and I closed my eyes just a bit to rest.

A few minutes later while I was waiting for Clint to come back my mind started to wander again and I tried to listen to my favorite song but even that made me cry and I felt so stupid for crying, “I hope Clint will be back soon..” I said to myself as I tried to calm down a bit.

Natasha heard me crying and she came in the room and sat on the edge of my bed and said “hey baby girl you ok?.. I heard you crying and I got worried, what’s bothering you?” I shrugged and said “just feeling pretty overwhelmed..” I saw Nat come sit by me and I hugged her tight and as soon as she comforted me I felt more relaxed. Nat said “hey I gotta go help tony with something will you be ok Y/N?” I nodded my head and said “yea I’ll be alright thanks for coming to checking on me Nat love ya sis.” She smiled back at me before leaving and said “love you too little chick.”

~Clint’s POV~

I was in the kitchen warming up Y/N some of the dinner and I made her favorite dessert I know she loves and after I finished putting that together I started heading back to her room and on my way back I saw Steve Rogers walk by and I nodded and said “hey cap.” Steve nodded and said “hey Clint, I haven’t seen Y/N at training the last day or so is she ok?” I sighed and said “yea she’s just going through a rough time but she’s ok cap I’ve got things handled I’ll let you know how things go.” We shook hands and then I got to Y/N’s room and I set down her food on the table and I kneeled down by her side of the bed and saw she was sleeping again and I caressed her hair gently and I smiled at her and whispered to her “hey my little hawk.. wake up, I’ve got your dinner here for you.” She opened her eyes and looked at the food and she stretched a bit and sat up. “Hey Clint.. sorry I was sleepy again..” she said softly and I kissed her head and said “hey it’s ok you needed it, how are you feeling now?” She smiled and shrugged “I’m ok though I’m pretty hungry oh and I set up a movie for us to watch if you still want to watch it tonight?” I got excited and handed her the food and said “yea of course Y/N! Which movie is it?” I helped Y/N to get comfy by me while she ate and I waited for her to tell me which movie she picked. I saw Y/N grab a dvd box and she said “Lilo and Stitch if that’s ok? Disney movies cheer me up.” I rubbed her back gently and I smiled at her and said “hey I love Disney movies, that’s a good one to watch I’ll get it started while you eat ok?” I pushed play on the movie and I cuddled up next to Y/N as I watched over her and I noticed she finished eating and halfway into the movie I saw she fell asleep on my shoulder and I put my arm around her protectively letting her rest and I smiled knowing she was feeling relaxed and I whispered to her “goodnight kid sweet dreams.”

Hey lovelies!! I hope you like this comfort fic xx♥️🤗 I’m back!!

Tags list

@melaclintbartoncorner

@ginabaker1666

@clintbartonslover

[chaos-and-ink]

Falling Upwards is posted

Summary: Clint’s mind buzzed as he went to work. He turned on music to drone out the voices calling his name. And then he closed the windows to avoid the faces that stared at him. They weren’t real. They were just his mind playing tricks on him. Trying to keep him from being productive. It was just his hyperactive imagination.

[ynscrazylife]

How abt a Clint Barton imagine where reader teaches him how to rollerblade?

teaching clint how to rollerblade (clint barton x reader, can be read as romantic or platonic)

When you suggested that the Avengers go to a rollerblading rink as a team-building exercise, Clint was quite sheepish to admit that he didn’t know how to rollerblade. Natasha burst out laughing at him (because he was so skilled, yet couldn’t get the hang of rollerblading??), as did the rest of the team, but you took pity on him and offered to teach him. Rollerblading was your thing and Clint was your friend, so it was perfect.

He insisted on only going to the rink after hours. The last thing he needed was a video to surface on the internet of Hawkeye slipping and falling on his butt. It took a little convincing of the rink’s employees, but you were their favorite customer, so you succeeded in the end.

You prided yourself on being a good teacher but . . . Clint made it difficult. He was huffing, puffing, and whining everytime he failed to get the hang of it. He did fall more than once and glared, grumpy, when you laughed. You did your best to cover your mouth but c’mon, it was funny!

Natasha also bribed you with money to get some videos of Clint slipping and falling, so you had to do that. The moment when Clint actually got the hang of rollerblading was when he saw you filming him. It was if he was a mother getting enough adrenaline to lift up a car off her kid — he jumped up from the floor and lunged at you.

“No!” You squealed as you tried to turn away. Clint grinned maniacally as he wrapped his arms around your midsection, dragging you back.

“You’re gonna delete that video,” Clint demanded.

“I don’t think so—ahh!” You yelped as Clint knocked into you, sending the both of you sprawling onto the floor.

“You are the worst student,” you grumbled to Clint.

He rolled his eyes at you. “Yeah, yeah. You’re not a bad teacher,” he mumbled.

[lynlee494]

Chapter Two is now out!

Bucky Barnes’s family is indebted to Alexander Pierce, a powerful man who has preyed on him and those like his family for decades. There were only a few years of service left to pay his debt, but recently Pierce's brute Rumlow had been escalating in his violence. Fearing the inevitable and with no where to actually go Pierce can’t reach, Bucky had begun to accept his fate.

Then Bucky’s luck turns when a persistent advertisement for an insanely affordable apartment in Bed-Stuy interrupts his browsing at a bakery, the shop close enough to pick up the free wi-fi from the Avenger’s Tower.

Maybe there is a chance.

****

Clint Barton has a surprise new tenant that he is pretty damn sure there had been no application for. Likely Jarvis’s idea, the AI sparing some processing to help manage Clint’s apartment. Avenging and being a landlord took a toll.

Not a problem except the top floor – Clint’s floor – had been left empty save him for safety reasons. Which meant the only vacancy was right next door. And it turns out the new guy is hot. And maybe kinda in trouble. Which is so his type.

So many ways this can go bad, and Clint is sure he'll find all of them.

[flightlessangelwings]

Kinktober Day 10- Drunk Sex

Clint Barton x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count- 1.2k

Warnings- smut (18+ only), reader wears a dress, pining, clumsy sex

Notes- I always imagine comic book Clint whenever I write him, and writing silly drunken sex with him was a lot of fun! List provided by the lovely @the-purity-pen​!

To say up to date on when I post, follow my update blog too and turn on post notifications @flightlessangelwings-updates​​. Reblogs highly appreciated!

~

You and Clint giggled into each other as you kissed sloppily and stumbled together down the hallway. Alcohol coursed through both your systems after another one of Tony’s parties where you both indulged a little too much. But, it was fine, you trusted Clint to still take care of you even when you were less than sober. And Clint still had enough of his wits about him to guide you home.. Especially after you both shared a look across the room…

All it took was one look, one glimmer in your eye and Clint dropped everything and made his way to your side. You were unsteady on your feet, but you still knew exactly what you wanted: him. You bit your lip as you scanned him up and down, admiring the way he looked when he dressed up a little.

And Clint thought the same about you in that dress you wore, so he leaned in close and murmured in your ear, “Wanna get out of here?”

“Yes,” you breathed.

That was how you found yourself pinned against the doorway of Clint’s apartment, your lips desperately chasing his in a heated kiss. While your tongues tangled together in a clumsy dance, he reached into his pocket for his keys. Inebriated by the alcohol, Clint had a harder time than usual finding his keys.

“Damn keys,” he cursed under his breath. 

You laughed against his lips, “Having trouble, Barton?” you teased.

He growled as he dug into his pocket deeper until he found what he was looking for, “Got it!” he exclaimed cheerfully.

“Good boy,” you smirked, and the fiery look he gave you made you clench your thighs together.

In a flash, you found yourself in his apartment, on your back, with him on top of you. But you weren’t going to complain at all. You welcomed him into your space and pulled Clint down by the collar of his shirt for another heated kiss. You moaned into his mouth as you savored a mix of liquor and his own taste on your tongue while you hastily unbuttoned his shirt.

“Fuck,” you hissed under your breath as you had trouble removing his shirt.

“Not so easy now is it?” Clint teased you right back.

You gritted your teeth together and finally ripped open his shirt. His eyes went wide as buttons flew everywhere and suddenly his chest was exposed. Both of you stayed still for a moment as you realized that in your drunken haste, you just destroyed what was most likely Clint’s nicest shirt. You gasped as you opened your mouth to apologize, but he stopped you.

“That was so fucking hot,” he murmured before he took your lips again, this time even more desperately. 

He swallowed the moan you let out as his hands dipped underneath your dress and grinned against you when you bucked your hips into his touch. Clint rolled up your dress to expose your panties and he broke away from the kiss for a moment to admire you underneath him. Under your dress, you wore thigh highs and the sexiest panties Clint had ever seen. And paired with the glazed over look on your face, Clint felt his cock twitch in his pants. 

“Clint… Please…” you begged as your mind swam. The room felt like it was spinning, but in the best way possible.

Before he continued, something in his brain caught up with him, and Clint cupped your face before he asked, “Are you sure? You haven’t had too much to drink?”

You let out a deep breath as you stared into his eyes, “You know Tony always has the strongest booze… But I’m sure. I’m totally sure,” you bucked your hips against his as both of you let out soft moans, “Please Clint.”

He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the way you begged for him, but Clint couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He whispered your name before he captured your lips once more and fumbled with the zipper of his pants. You clawed at his back as you pushed his open shirt off his shoulders while he freed his cock.

You broke away from the kiss for a moment to admire him above you, and the sight took your breath away. Clint stocked himself as his cheeks glowed red and sweat lined his brow. He looked down at you with the same admiration that you held in your eyes, and both of you instantly knew that it wasn’t just the alcohol that fueled your passions.

“Fuck me, Barton,” you purred as you reached for him and parted your legs more.

He exhaled sharply as a smirk graced his face. As Clint’s vision momentarily blurred, he hooked his fingers on your panties and pulled them aside, and he groaned when he saw how wet you were.

“Fuck,” he whispered as he lined himself up with your entrance and slowly pushed in.

Matched gasps from both of you escaped your lips as Clint slid his cock into your pussy. You threw your head back and wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he stretched you out inch by inch. Curses and moans filled the room as Clint filled you. 

Too needy for more, Clint couldn’t hold back and he immediately pounded into you with everything he had. You screamed in pleasure as your mind swam in the bliss that was his cock and the alcohol that ran through your system. It made you more aware, more sensitive, but it also added to the sensations of him fucking you, and it drove you absolutely wild.

He grunted as he thrust into you over and over again, clinging to you just as much as you clung to him. Clint moaned your name as the room continued to spin while he fucked you, but he didn’t care. It felt like the entire world was out of focus except for you, and at that moment, you were all that mattered to Clint anyway. He snaked a hand between your bodies to rub at your clit, and he growled when you let out a loud scream.

“Clint… Fuck… I’m…”

“Me too…” he groaned as he pumped himself into you harder and faster.

It took just a few more thrusts of his cock for you both to fall apart at the same time. Screams and grunts and groans filled the room as you and Clint came together. Neither of you had felt pleasure like that before, and you were both so lost in each other that neither of you noticed that you were slipping off the couch.

Just as you both reached your highs, you both suddenly came crashing down as you and Clint slid off the couch and crashed onto the floor. Clint wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close as you both hit the ground hard.

“Awww floor,” Clint grumbled before he snapped to your attention, “Hey, hey, are you ok?” he asked with worry.

But he immediately relaxed when you burst out into laughter, “Perfectly fuckin fine,” you replied as you nuzzled into him.

Clint joined your laughter and held you close. He was sure he would feel these aches tomorrow when he was sober, but for now he just wanted to keep you against him. And you were perfectly content to stay in his arms on the floor just the way you were.

[thatfanficstuff]

Perfect Together

Grouping: Clint Barton x Reader x Laura Barton

Warnings: it’s a poly fic obviously but no.

A/N: This is an absolute mess of a fic but you guys seem to like those. And I’m in a weird mood and it made laugh. Enjoy.

If there was one thing the team knew, it was that you and Clint Barton belonged together. On mission, the two of you flowed, seamlessly anticipating each other’s moves. Always turning up right when needed. The two of you could have an entire conversation with a look across a battlefield. Flawless. Made for each other. That’s what you were.

And if it was possible, you were even more in sync during your down time. Always right next to each other, your arms wrapped around one another. Always touching if you were in proximity of one another. His friendship with Natasha never fazed you. In fact, you might spend more time with her than he does.

More than anything, you made each other happy. It was a deep contentedness that comes only from being with your soulmate.

So, when the team was on a mission that went a little south and needed somewhere to keep their heads down for a while, it didn’t faze anyone when the two of you shared a look and a nod and took the pilot seats to steer the jet somewhere. The two of you talked in low whispers that even the super soldiers couldn’t decipher and any inquiries were met with silence or a terse “you’ll see”.

The jet came to a soft landing in a field in the middle of nowhere. No sooner had the wheels touched down than you were turning to Clint and telling him to take everyone inside.

He placed a hand on your shoulder as he stood. “You sure?”

You smiled and gave him a nod. “It doesn’t take two people to secure the jet, babe. And I’m really tired of Tony asking questions. I’ll be along in a minute.” You shared a quick kiss then Clint was leading the team out of the jet and across a field toward a quaint farmhouse.

“Where the hell are we?” Tony asked Steve as they walked side by side.

Steve shrugged. “No idea. Safe house?”

Clint walked inside. “I’m home!” he yelled and the others exchanged a look.

The sound of small feet preceded the appearance of two children that immediately wrapped their arms around Clint’s legs. “Dad, we missed you.”

“Who knew Katniss had kids?” Tony asked.

That question was forgotten as a pretty brunette arrived with a smile, hands cradling her very pregnant stomach. Clint grabbed her face in both hands and pressed his lips to hers.

“What the fuck?” Bucky muttered.

“Little ears,” Clint said without even glancing in their direction. His entire focus on this woman and their children.

Tony narrowed his gaze and pursed his lips. “I think there are some things we need to clarify here.”

That was when you entered the house only to be met with a wall of superheroes as they blocked your view to the rest of the house. Most of them turned when they heard the screen slam. Steve’s brow furrowed as he immediately tried to usher you back outside. “Let’s go outside for a bit, huh?”

You arched a brow at his poor attempt to distract you. “What’s going on here?”

“Momma!” two voices yelled and the team found themselves being pushed to the side by little hands as they headed for you. You squatted to meet them, wrapping them in your arms and closing your eyes to just appreciate being able to hold them for a moment.

You plastered kisses all over both of their faces before standing again. “Where’s your mom?”

“Right here,” Clint answered, lightly pushing Laura in your direction.

You grinned as you moved forward and took her in your arms. You kissed her, perhaps indulging a bit more than you usually would in front of others. But it had been so long since you’d seen all of them.

“Ewww,” the kids finally chorused and you pulled back with a laugh.

Your laughter only increased when you turned to see the faces of your teammates. You didn’t think you’d ever seen Tony looking quite so lost.

Clint smirked and tossed an arm around your shoulders. “Everyone this is our wife Laura and the kids Cooper and Lila.”

“Our wife?” Bucky said.

“Yeah. Got a problem with that Barnes?” you asked, teasing.

He shook his head with a little smile. “No. Just wondering how that works is all.”

“Kids, why don’t you take Auntie Nat upstairs and show her what we did to her room since her last visit,” Clint said offering them an out of the boring conversation. After all, they lived this. They didn’t need an explanation of how it worked. The children grabbed Nat’s hands in their own and dragged her toward the stairs.

You moved into the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee and put the kettle on. “Technically, it’s Laura and Clint that are married.” The two in question nodded as they sat on stools along the kitchen counter. You crossed your arms and leaned against the sink behind you as you waited for the coffee to get done. “Clint and I have amazing insurance through SHIELD. When Laura became pregnant with Cooper, they married so she’d be covered. I went to court and changed my last name so legally I’m a Barton.”

Tony frowned. “So, you two aren’t married?”

“That’s what she just said Stark. Keep up,” Sam snarked.

“I mean, I could have married her but we both wanted to be Bartons since the kids would be,” you further explained.

The coffee finished brewing and you grabbed the pot. After pouring a mug, you placed it in front of Clint just as the kettle whistled. You made deft work of making a cup of tea for your wife. Once you’d served it to her just the way she liked it, you finally made your own cup of coffee. Everyone just stared at the three of you.

“What?” you asked after you’d taken a sip and realized the three of you were still the center of attention. When no one said anything, you sighed. “I really hoped you guys would be cooler about this.”

“It’s not this,” Steve said gesturing between the three of you. “It’s just…you and Clint are perfect together. Throwing someone else in the mix is a surprise, that’s all.”

You leaned over the counter to kiss both Laura and Clint quickly. “We are perfect together, but we’re even more so with Laura. Our life here is perfect.”

You stepped back and turned to your team, crossing your arms over your chest as you did so. Your normal smile pulled into a scowl as you glared at them. “So tell anyone about it and I’ll cut you.”

Clint sipped his coffee before smirking. “And I’ll shoot you.”

Tony scoffed and looked at Laura. “And what will you do? Strangle us?”

Laura smiled and tilted her head just a bit. “No. I’ll bury you. We have a lot of acreage.”

“Holy shit,” Bucky said with wide eyes. “She really is perfect for them.”

Natasha returned just as he said this and huffed a laugh. “They threatened you, didn’t they?”

“They do this often?” Bruce asked.

She shook her head. “No, because they don’t bring people here. But when they do, it’s important people understand the importance of keeping their secret. Compromise my family’s safety and I will cut you.”

“I had cut this time,” you piped up.

“And I had shoot.”

Nat glanced at Laura with a raised brow.

“Bury.”

Nat looked back at the team. “Compromise my family’s safety and I will crucify you.”

You nodded. “That’s a good one.”

“Painful,” Laura added.

Clint hummed in thought. “We could put them in the field with the scarecrow.”

Cooper and Lila walked into the room and glanced at each other. “Are you threatening to kill people again?” the older sibling asked.

“Yep,” you said.

“And we missed it?” Lila whined.

There were a few chuckles from the team but Steve looked absolutely horrified and Tony still appeared as lost as ever. “I’m going out for some air,” the super soldier said before doing exactly that.

Tony glanced between the door and every one else. “I think I’ll join him.”

There was a pause before you sighed. “Is it just me or does anyone else think they’d be perfect together?”

[vilentia]

Two Worlds Embrace

Clint Barton x reader

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the tranquil scene as you sat on the porch swing, gently swaying back and forth. Clint Barton, the man you loved, joined you, his eyes reflecting the fading light. You had been together for three beautiful years, but the past still lingered between you.

As the two of you held hands, the soft breeze whispered through the trees, carrying a mix of emotions. You remembered the day you had met Clint, when the weight of the Blip still burdened his soul. He had lost his family, and you had been his solace during those dark times. But now, a new chapter was about to unfold.

The sound of a car approaching interrupted the peaceful silence, and your heart skipped a beat. A mix of anticipation and anxiety coursed through your veins as you stood up, tightening your grip on Clint's hand. The car door opened, and there they were—the family Clint had lost five years ago.

Tears welled up in Clint's eyes as he saw his wife, Laura, step out, followed by his children. You felt a pang of insecurity, fearing that the rekindled presence of his family would make him question your place in his life.

Clint turned to you, his gaze filled with a mix of emotions. "Y/N, I... I don't know what to say," he whispered, his voice trembling.

You gave him a reassuring smile, squeezing his hand gently. "Clint, they're your family. It's okay to be overwhelmed. Just remember, I'll always be here for you, no matter what happens."

As his family approached, Clint's grip on your hand tightened, his knuckles turning white. Laura embraced him, tears streaming down her face, and his children rushed into his arms. The reunion was bittersweet, a blend of joy and grief.

Days turned into weeks, and Clint found himself torn between his love for you and the deep bond he shared with his family. He spent every waking moment trying to find a balance, but it seemed impossible. Your insecurities grew with each passing day, and you couldn't help but wonder if you were just a temporary placeholder until his family returned.

One evening, after a particularly emotionally taxing day, Clint sought you out. His face was etched with lines of weariness, his eyes filled with an unspoken conflict. He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts.

"Y/N, I need to talk to you," he began, his voice tinged with sadness. "These past few weeks have been overwhelming, and I've been torn between the love I have for my family and the love I have for you."

Your heart sank, and you held your breath, preparing for the words you feared would come next.

"But," Clint continued, his gaze locking with yours, "I can't deny the profound impact you've had on my life. You've been my anchor, my source of strength when I had lost everything. I don't want to let go of what we have."

Relief washed over you, but a trace of uncertainty remained. "Clint, what does that mean for us? What about your family?"

Clint's eyes softened as he reached for your hands, his touch gentle and reassuring. "I don't have all the answers, but I know that I want you in my life. We can navigate this together. I want to build a future with you, but I also want to reconnect with my family. It won't be easy, and it won't happen overnight, but I want to try."

The weight of his words lifted a burden from your shoulders, and a glimmer of hope ignited within you. Love had a way of persevering, even in the face of challenges.

With tears pooling in your eyes, you nodded, your voice filled with emotion. "Clint, I love you, and I want to fight for us. Let's take this one step at a time, supporting each other through it all."

Clint's smile was tender, filled with a mixture of gratitude and determination. "I promise, Y/N, I will do everything in my power to make this work. Our love is worth fighting for."

In that moment, you both knew that the road ahead wouldn't be easy, but the love you shared was strong enough to withstand any obstacle. With renewed commitment and an unyielding bond, you embraced the uncertainties of the future, ready to navigate the complexities of Clint's rekindled family ties while cherishing the love you had found in each other.

As time passed, Clint's family began to notice the significant role you played in his life. Laura, his wife, observed the way Clint's smile brightened whenever he was with you. His children, though initially confused, saw the genuine happiness you brought to their father's eyes.

One day, during a family gathering, Laura approached you, her eyes filled with kindness and understanding. "Y/N, I want to thank you for being there for Clint when he needed someone the most. I can see how much he cares about you."

You smiled, grateful for her understanding. "Laura, I care about him too. I want what's best for Clint and your family."

She nodded, a small smile gracing her lips. "I believe that you bring him a different kind of happiness, a new chapter in his life. I hope you'll continue to be there for him, just as he'll be there for us."

Clint's children, witnessing their mother's acceptance, gradually warmed up to you as well. They saw the love and support you offered their father, and in time, they began to consider you a significant part of their lives too.

While there were moments of adjustment and occasional insecurities, Clint's family slowly came to accept the depth of his feelings for you and the importance of your place in his life. It wasn't an easy journey, but love had a way of bridging gaps and healing wounds.

In the end, Clint's family and your relationship with him found a delicate equilibrium. They understood that your love wasn't a threat to their bond; it was a new connection that brought happiness to their beloved father and husband. And as the days turned into years, you continued to navigate the complexities together, creating a blended family rooted in love, understanding, and mutual respect.

[dispatchvampire]

Close Encounters of the Preferred Kind - (MCU/Justified Crossover)

Part 2 in my wholly unintentional Two Snipers series.

Rating: PG-13

Fandom: Justified/The Avengers (MCU) Crossover (kinda)

Pairing: Clint Barton/Tim Gutterson

Word Count: 2066

Warnings: Fluff (kinda sorta, if you squint), canon level violence, aliens, cussing, a lot of cussing.

Summary: Set after the events of 'Bad Mistakes (I've Made A Few)', this is the second meeting of our fateful couple, with aliens invading, families meeting, and, of course, Tim's long-suffering boss, Chief Deputy Marshal Art Mullen. Life gets messy when worlds collide.

Author’s Notes: 100% did not intend to write a follow-up to BM, but these two don't really do things on my timeline or my schedule. Anyway, the idea of this made me laugh, this is what happens when you introduce your Boo to your people, and everybody had issues. Oh, and the mood board was all me, with picture credit going to their varying photographers.

Eastern Kentucky is not where one expects Armageddon to start, but there it is and there they are. 

“What the fuck am I looking at, Art?” the sniper asked his superior officer as he stared unflinchingly down his rifle scope. When he’d gotten the call that all hell had broken loose in Noble’s Holler, Tim figured it was more methed up psychopaths who were unclear on the local mayor’s penchant for pig sticking. Purple creatures falling out of a hole in the sky with more tentacles than a jellyfish was not on his bingo card. 

“I got no idea,” the older man answered, never once looking up from his binoculars, “but my suggestion is nothing but headshots.” He paused as he loaded his own rifle and stretched out on a bluff overlooking the mayhem next to Tim. To look at the Chief Deputy in his tie and button down shirt, he didn’t seem the type to get down on the ground and dirty, but most folks underestimated him to their peril. The man taught at Glynco and was a badass well before Tim got proficient with a slingshot, much less a rifle.  “Assuming that those are actually their heads.”

“Copy that.” There was nothing quite as satisfying as brass ejecting from the port and watching his target become iridescent green mist. 

Alien invasions were not generally the purview of the United States Marshals Service,  but occasionally, needs must. 

The giant millipedes had massive tentacles and leathery purple skin which was impervious to conventional small arms fire; the only thing that seemed to fell the murderous, marauding bastards was a shot through he presumed was the eye, a target approximate the size of a navel orange, or through the mouth, an open maw about the size of a peach. Luckily, the produce section had never been an issue for Tim. 

He’d been shooting and reloading for the better part of an hour after the damn portal opened up, doing his best to defend Ellstin Limehouse’s normally quiet enclave as best he could. It was the least he could do, even if he didn’t exactly trust the guy. Their interpersonal issues had nothing to do with the welfare of the innocents being set upon by these nightmare fuel monstrosities. 

Correction: “By comparison, my nightmares are a breeze.”

When the first creature fell without his intervention, Tim was startled enough to jerk back from the ledge and take his eyes off the scope, just in time to see the honest-to-God Captain America shield go flying past the end of his rifle, taking out a creature coming up on his flank that he’d missed before bouncing back to its owner with disturbing accuracy. 

“I am entirely too old for this shit,” Art grumbled as he rolled away from the edge to reload his rifle with all the annoyance and irritation of a deluge of Friday afternoon paperwork. 

“I will be goddamned,” Tim murmured reverently as his brain processed what was happening. Creatures began falling left, right, and center as a roaring overhead signaled the arrival of Iron Man while the roaring on the ground was the giant green menace known as the Hulk ripping through these things like they were made of tissue paper. But that wasn’t what held his interest. 

There, big as life and dressed in form-fitting purple and black kevlar, was the luscious not-so-little secret he’d been keeping since his detail in DC. What should have been a routine job a couple months ago turned into a three-night-stand for the duration of the operation, and then some flirty texts back and forth and more than the occasional round of phone sex in the time intervening. None of that could have prepared him for seeing Clint in action up close and personal. 

The armless black suit emphasized every unreasonably pretty inch of the man, from his ridiculous arms that wielded a bow as ably as he hefted his own rifle, shot after unerring shot bounding and leaping nimbly from cover to cover, down to the perfect cupcake ass that fit in his hands just so. Goddamn the man was so pretty he could be considered a potentially lethal distraction. 

“You gonna watch or are you gonna shoot?” Raylan demanded from his right as he stretched out on the ground with a rifle to join the party. The cowboy had been late to the party since he and Rachel had been left to man the office in Lexington, but once gunplay became the order of the day, Tim knew it was only a matter of time before the man in the infamous tan hat showed up. That he was able to convince Rachel, their normally by-the-book and most level-headed colleague, to come out on an alien invasion spoke to the man’s ability to charm the devil himself out of his seat in Hell. 

“Fuck you,” Tim snarled, but without any heat behind it as he took up his position again and began firing once more at the few remaining creatures on the ground below them. 

From start to finish was just under three hours of sustained fire, and when Tim finally rose to his feet to survey the area, the story was told in the sea of expended brass cartridges and rivers of green blood running through the streets of the valley below. Black trucks were rolling in from both sides of the holler with SHIELD logos on them, signaling the cleanup crew. 

“You know what time it is now, right?” Raylan asked with a devilish grin as he doffed his hat to shrug out of his ballistic vest. He’d stripped down to a form-fitting white t-shirt and looked more like he’d been called in from a day off than from a day at the office. 

“What’s that?” Art demanded as the guys helped him to his feet, brushing an annoyed hand over the wrinkles and streaks of dirt that his wife Leslie would likely fuss over later. After she yelled at him about going out on an alien invasion not two months out of a stint at the heart hospital. 

With a shiteating grin and the pop of a peppermint Altoid in his mouth, Raylan nodded toward the collection of superheroes at the edge of the fray, watching the cleanup proceedings begin and talking amongst themselves. “The interagency debrief, of course!” He was off before anyone had a chance to contradict him, leaving Tim, Rachel, and Art to chase after the cocksure cowboy. 

“Can’t get him to even look at paperwork any other time,” Rachel grumbled as they slowly approached the other group. 

“This ain’t paperwork,” Tim replied, though his eyes were on one thing and one thing only. 

Like they had a mind of their own, his feet carried him right up until he was close enough to tap Clint on the shoulder. “How do, stranger.”

The pure joy on the man’s face when he turned around did funny, fizzy things to his insides that he was loath to examine, and were dangerously close to giddy. The man smelled like sweat and looked like heaven, and fuck if all he wanted to do was run his hands over those arms that had held him up against a wall more than once. As it was, he was standing closer than was strictly necessary and well beyond the bounds of ‘just friends reuniting’. The desire to wrap his arms around the man was damn difficult to quell. 

“I wondered if I’d get to see you,” the archer replied with a shy smile and flushed cheeks. “I mean, I’d hoped,” he rambled on, “but then—” he gestured at the carnage behind him. 

For a moment, it was like the world had winnowed down to just the two of them. “I get it. I’m glad you’re here now, though.” 

“Me too.”

And then the moment was broken by the diminutive redhead standing next to them elbowing Clint in the ribs. “Who’s your friend, Barton?” She was equally clad in black, the kevlar skating over and highlighting every single curve and hollow, highlighting both the beauty and the danger that she embodied. 

Rolling his eyes, Clint took half a step back to face her more fully. “Nat, this is Tim Gutterson of the Marshals.” 

Her green eyes lit up as her lips curved into a mischievous smirk. “The hottie you told me about from a couple months ago in DC?” 

The blond’s eyes widened comically as his face shifted from flushed to pale to tomato red with alarming speed. “Real subtle, Nat.” 

If his face felt hot before, now it felt like the skin was melting off of him. The idea of Clint talking about him, to Black Widow of all people, combined with the adrenaline dump of the situation only added to the feeling of surreal dissociation. Feeling a bit cheeky, he grinned slyly as he looked Clint up and down. “Talking about me, Clint? My heart’s a-flutter with curiosity.” 

“Deputy Gutterson, you gonna introduce your friends?” Art’s voice was a bucket of cold water down his back as he suddenly remembered both his location and his audience. 

From Raylan’s grin, he knew he would never EVER live this down, no matter how many terrible situations the cowboy’s penchant for prohibited pussy landed them in, and Rachel? Well, she was the office master interrogator for a reason and he knew damn sure that he would be spilling everything he knew to her before they made it to the Lexington city limits. 

“Chief Deputy Art Mullen, this is Clint Barton of the Avengers and …” he trailed off, uncertain how to introduce the Black Frickin’ Widow. 

She stepped up and shook Art’s hand like a practiced politician. “Natasha Romanov. Lovely to meet you.” 

The older man smiled and, while Tim couldn’t swear to it, appeared to blush like a schoolboy. “Likewise.” 

Not to be outdone, Raylan smoothly inserted himself between them with his hand out and his 1000 megawatt gunslinger charm turned to ‘thermonuclear’. “Raylan Givens, Miss Romanov. Longtime admirer of your work.” 

She giggled. The assassin actually fucking giggled and her nose wrinkled. “You can call me Natasha.” 

Art watched this scene, the four of them talking amongst themselves, with apocalyptic levels of horror dawning on his face. The sheer amount of paperwork Raylan and Tim, hell Raylan by himself most days, generate was enough to fell a small forest. These folks together were an environmental crime waiting to happen. The potential bodycount of a Raylan and Romanoff team-up was nothing short of an imminent violation of the Geneva Convention. “Oh absolutely fucking not.” 

All four heads turned in his direction, Raylan’s mouth already open and ready to rock, but he was having none of the bullshit. 

“You,” Art pointed to the cowboy, “get in the car.” 

“Bu—”

“Nope,” he held up the finger of doom, the finger of ‘unpaid time off if he kept on,’ it 3was one they were all exceptionally familiar with. “Car. Now.” Turning to Tim, he softened a bit. “Say your goodbyes, we have paperwork.” 

Rather than argue, Tim merely nodded, cringing when he turned to face Clint. “Dad says I gotta go.” 

Clint’s smirk was nothing short of wicked and it was suddenly a billion degrees around Tim. “I’ll be around tonight if you wanna meet up.” 

“I’d like that just fine.” Anything else he wanted to say was cut off at a sound he rarely heard outside of the comforts of her mother’s house. A sound that stripped away the years and the edge to reveal a girl much more carefree. Deputy Marshal Rachel ‘I make suspects cry for funsies’ Brooks was standing off to the side and making googoo eyes at none other than the Brooklyn Boys. Captain Frickin America and the Winter Goddamn Soldier were flirting with his best friend and putting their numbers in her phone. 

“See what you did?” Art demanded from behind him as he leaned against the closed passenger door of the sedan that sealed Raylan inside.

“Me?” Tim demanded in affront. “How is this my fault?”

Art’s face was a mask of vaguely amused sarcasm. “You’re a bad influence.”

“Well, now that’s just hurtful. Besides,” he threw his rifle bag in the trunk before slinking into the back seat on the driver’s side and meeting his friend’s eyes in the rearview mirror, “I thought that was Raylan.” 

[shewhohangsoutincemeteries]

to ashes, development

Clint Barton x F!Reader

To Ashes, Chapter Thirty-Five

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

Warnings: angst, fluff, canon-typical violence.

Word Count: 2,313

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

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

You wrinkled your nose. “Oh, gross.”

Clint frowned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You still clear on the plan?”

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

“Y/N…”

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

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

“You ready for this?”

“That’s my line.”

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

***

You were really getting tired of these guys.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do we?”

“You doubt me?”

“I—”

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

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

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

“Clint—”

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

“Holy—”

“Y/N!”

“I’m fine, just—”

“Forget the bitch! Get the Ronin!”

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

“What the hell is that thing?!”

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

“Don’t you fucking dare, Barton!”

“Just go!” he barked back. “Now!”

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

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

“What are you—?”

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

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

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

“Are you insane?”

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

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

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

“It was still really stupid, Y/N.”

“You’re welcome.”

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

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

“Is that a thing?” he replied dryly.

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

***

“Lat—”

“What?”

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

“What?”

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

“Lat– Latveria?”

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

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

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

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

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

“‘She’?”

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

“Lucia von Bardas.”

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

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

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

“And?”

“And what?”

“We’re going to take her out, right?”

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

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

***

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

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

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

“You’re a little magic.”

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

“So, how long exactly is this ride?”

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

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

“I thought I was magic.”

“Magic and despised.”

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

“Curse you and your logic.”

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

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

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

“…How about now?”

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

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

***

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

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

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

Had he… had he been holding your hand?

.

.

.

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

[ghostofskywalker]

My I request a drabble, if you’re still accepting them for tonight, for finding clint asleep next to a full pot of coffee in the middle of the day? -Curious Curios

Ps, I hope you have a wonderful night

hello!! you absolutely can, i love this idea :)

words: 456

clint barton masterlist

The smell of hot coffee carried through the halls as you got closer and closer to the kitchen, and you hoped that you’d find a fresh pot that someone had made in there. And to some degree you did, it was just accompanied by a sigh you weren’t expecting. 

Slumped over on the kitchen island was Clint Barton, fast asleep as he laid his head on his hands. Soft snores were escaping his mouth, and his hearing aids were sitting in front of him on the counter. A full pot of coffee was sitting about two feet away from him, that was what you had smelled earlier. 

You had a good relationship with Clint, and he was one of your favorite members of the team. You would never admit it out loud either, but there were some romantic feelings hovering on the surface of your brain, even though you had never found the courage to act on them at this point. 

Unsure of what to do, you checked the life of the coffee first before proceeding. You reasoned that he had fallen asleep while it was brewing and simply hadn’t yet woken up, and the liquid in the pot was still hot, which meant that he hadn’t been asleep for too long at this point. As you pondered what to do in this situation, you grabbed a mug and poured yourself a cup of coffee, fixing it exactly how you liked before turning back to the sleeping archer. 

As far as you were aware, he didn’t have any meetings or professional obligations today, so you didn’t want to wake him up if you didn’t have to. It did seem really uncomfortable to be sleeping the way he currently was, but you didn’t exactly know what to do about that. 

After looking around, you spotted a fleece blanket laid out across the back of the couch, and you had an idea. Gently tapping Clint on the shoulder, you managed to wake him up enough that you could herd him to the couch, where he instantly fell asleep after laying down, the snores returning almost instantly. Barely two words had been muttered in the entire exchange, and you doubted highly that he’d remember any moment of this when he woke up. You fought back a little laugh as you laid the blanket over him, placing his hearing aids on the coffee table along with a glass of water and a note that said he may have to make a new pot of coffee, depending on when he woke up.

Resisting the urge to place a soft kiss on his forehead, you took your cup of coffee and left the room, glad that he was finally getting some sleep.

[theflashzoom]

HAWKEYE : NSFW Profile

Rating: Mature

Category: M/F

Relationship: Clint Barton x Reader

Words Counts: 623

Character: Clint Barton, Reader

Summary:

🏹Clint has a target and he knows where he wants to point his loads of shots into your favorite spot.🎯

[chaos-and-ink]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love! 💞

I haven't written five fics but uhm, here's my top three (my only three) 😭

As Stable As Water Coming in first, we have ASAW. It's a high school slow burn Stucky fanfic that focusses on Bucky's struggle with Bipolar Disorder, being gay, and his shitty boyfriend Brock Rumlow along with the looming stress of college in the distance. Summary: It’s the summer before his senior year and Bucky’s relationship with his boyfriend, Brock Rumlow, and his mental health are both spiraling out of his control. It doesn’t help that college is looming in the distance and his family is getting more and more concerned for him. Bucky is convinced his mind is careening downhill and nobody can save him. But in the midst of his internal storm, Steve Rogers moves into the neighborhood and the two of them click immediately. Maybe Bucky isn’t quite as alone as he once thought.

You Watched Me Burn My most popular one, a story on Bucky's life as a tattoo apprentice and his abusive boyfriend and boss, Brock Rumlow. Also a slow burn Stucky fanfic, this one is my longest and most supported fanfic so far. Summary: Bucky knows Brock may not seem like the best boyfriend or mentor, but he’s the best Bucky deserves. Brock cares about him. Their love hurts because their love is real. Brock didn’t have to take Bucky under his wing as a tattoo apprentice. And he certainly didn’t have to agree to date him. But he did. Because he cares. And Bucky will cling to whatever scraps of love he can get from the man. Falling Upwards A short one-shot fanfic about Clint Barton's first manic episode. It includes in depth descriptions of how his symptoms spiral out of control and how psychosis and hallucinations affect him. Summary: Clint’s mind buzzed as he went to work. He turned on music to drone out the voices calling his name. And then he closed the windows to avoid the faces that stared at him. They weren’t real. They were just his mind playing tricks on him. Trying to keep him from being productive. It was just his hyperactive imagination.

[filthyfluffyfantasies]

masterlist ┅ clint barton

You’ve reached my masterlist for ( clint barton ). Below is a complete and mostly up-to-date list of pieces I have written for ( clint barton ) and a little list of symbols and their meanings to better help you find exactly what you’re looking for.

♡ Fluff | ♥ Filth | ☁ Angst | ☠ trigger warning needed | ★ Personal Favorite | ϟ Most Read | ☺ Work In Progress | ☻Abandoned

Happy reading, my darling!

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[lynlee494]

Chapter Three is Now Up!

Bucky Barnes’s family is indebted to Alexander Pierce, a powerful man who has preyed on him and those like his family for decades. There were only a few years of service left to pay his debt, but recently Pierce's brute Rumlow had been escalating in his violence. Fearing the inevitable and with no where to actually go Pierce can’t reach, Bucky had begun to accept his fate.

Then Bucky’s luck turns when a persistent advertisement for an insanely affordable apartment in Bed-Stuy interrupts his browsing at a bakery, the shop close enough to pick up the free wi-fi from the Avenger’s Tower.

Maybe there is a chance.

****

Clint Barton has a surprise new tenant that he is pretty damn sure there had been no application for. Likely Jarvis’s idea, the AI sparing some processing to help manage Clint’s apartment. Avenging and being a landlord took a toll.

Not a problem except the top floor – Clint’s floor – had been left empty save him for safety reasons. Which meant the only vacancy was right next door. And it turns out the new guy is hot. And maybe kinda in trouble. Which is so his type.

So many ways this can go bad, and Clint is sure he'll find all of them. Chapter Three now up!