#Hawkeye Fanfiction

[unholyhelbig]

Would love some Kate Bishop angst

Title: Past Tense

Ship: Female!Reader x Kate Bishop

Wordcount: 4027

Summary: Kate Bishop returns to her hometown unexpectedly following some bad news. She's shocked when she runs into you and struggles to grapple with her past choices.

Warnings: Funerals, hurt/comfort, drinking, work injury/ burns, spelling mistakes and grammar issues (I'm sure)

[A/n: Hello! Just a little disclaimer, this is probably going to be the last thing I can publish for the rest of the month. I've got a massive work project, I move this coming weekend, and it's my birthday at the end of the month so my time is quite limited. But things will pick up again next month]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Day had barely broken over the horizon, but the world around you was impossible to ignore. There had been snow the night before, something that everyone believed was too cold to be possible. A thin layer of ice had encrusted each car before the soft, powdery type had built up on windshields and culminated under tires.

Large, wet flakes swirled around you and despite the gloves that clung to your skin, they didn’t do much for the numbness in your fingers as you fumbled with the keys to the coffee shop. Moisture had wicked through the fabric, and you hastily took them off before flicking on the house lights.

It was just past 5am and the usual crowd of early risers were soon to arrive. You made quick work of starting all the machines, the cooling cases and the manual grinder. Your baker had been in earlier, filling the displays with various muffins, baked goods, and sweets. A smooth cinnamon scent filled the air and warmed you all over.

“Son of a bitch!” the muffled exclamation formed a smile against your lips.

MJ was bundled up in a sweatshirt, a flannel, and a heavy winter coat over that. Her boots were caked in dry snow. There was a deep red blush against her nose and her cheeks that accompanied her scowl.

“Language, there are children present.”

“We’re the same age!” Peter protested as he pulled himself through the back door. He was dressed in less layers but sported the same winter complexion. He shook the large flakes of snow from his sweater, mumbling “Son of a bitch.”

It was cold enough to warrant you closing the shop. Most of the schools and the businesses in town had called for a snow day, something that didn’t happen often in Connecticut. Frigid temperatures were expected. Below freezing was a way of life and the world didn’t stop craving warm coffee to thaw them out.

This fact was proven when you flipped the open sign and the typical crowd of tired eyes started to line up at the counter. Peter typically had too much energy, so MJ took up the register while her counterpart flitted around and filled the orders. Most were to-go.

You’d known these people for years. They’d come in with a habit that was unmatched by the weather and the any other obstacles thrown at them. Before you opened up ‘The Grindhouse’ you’d gone to high school with them.

Through all the proms, and the homecomings, and the house parties that left you vomiting in the yard amongst their parents’ flowerbeds. Since then, you’d grown up and couldn’t stomach more than a few shots or two glasses of wine, tops.

They’d grown up too, those who had stuck around town. They had families and businesses much like yours. You had homeroom with the accountant that had helped you hedge your money in the correct places, and you made the same bacon, egg, and cheese English muffin for the star football player that blew out his knee senior year.

“Welcome to Grindhouse,” you said distractedly at the sound of the bell above the door, working on clearing the fallen grounds from under the espresso machine. The rag was damp and the floor was already coated in little brown specs that needed to be swept up during a lull.

“What can I get started for you?” MJ asked in her usual cadence.

“Just a plain black coffee, please.”

Your body froze at the sound of the voice, hair falling into the gaze that you refused to lift. There was a strange mix of emotions in the pit of your stomach. That voice, with it’s familiar rasp was one you hadn’t heard for years. Nearly a decade. But it couldn’t be her, could it?

She’d left for New York right after high school. The last you heard, she’d become a doctor. An unrivaled cardiothoracic surgeon that flitted around the world wherever she was needed. There was no reason for her to be back in this small, freezing, end-of-the-earth town.

“That’ll be 2.25, we have cream and sugar on the far wall, but if you need anything don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you.”

It was her. It was most definitely her. There was a crispness to her voice that you’d recognize anywhere. The last you remembered; it was whispered with a quickness that rivaled her hands. Her hands were everywhere. They were warm and calloused and gentle.

There was a sudden bubbling heat against the side of your hand. You hissed through your teeth and pulled back from the espresso machine. There was a large bubbling welt on your skin and a string of curses ready at your lips.

“Jesus, y/n are you alright?” Peter was at your side in a moment with a wet, clean cloth that he had run under cold water. “Do you need the burn kit?”

“No, no. I’ll be alright. Thanks Pete”

He was so attentive and clocked you with a worried stare but you reassured him with the squeeze of his shoulder with your good hand. If you were going to fly under the radar before, it would be impossible now.

You glanced over the counter, pressing the cloth even closer. Your suspicions had been confirmed by the tepid gray stare that met yours. Shock simmered behind Kate Bishops gaze, a steaming cup of coffee in her hand.

Suddenly, you felt dizzy. She looked a bit older in the face, more experienced. There was life there, a form of living that had lowered her shoulders and sealed her lips. The Kate you knew was a bumbling mess- but med school had effectively changed that.

“y/n,” She regarded you.

“Hi, Katie.”

That lopsided, sloppy grin was still the same. It reached her eyes and brightened them. You cradled your hand and reveled in the silence. Peter and MJ had frozen in place, flicking their eyes from you and then back to her.

“Want me to take a look at that hand?”

“What are you doing back in town?”

The two of you spoke at the same time and dissolved into nervous laughter. You shook your head. “I thought you were a surgeon?”

“I know how to treat a burn, y/n, don’t insult me.”

You often prided yourself on your strong will. If you had a weak one, it would have been impossible to build this coffee shop up from the rubble that it once was. Kate Bishop, Doctor Kate Bishop, had a way of melting your resolve.

Peter shoved the small plastic first aide kit into your hands and shoved you forward. There was no choice to hide your stumble other than a confident stride towards her. She led you to one of the tables that spanned the windows at the storefront. They were lined with frost, a biting cold fighting to get its way in.

Kate had about a half-inch on you and radiated a type of warmth that was unmatched. When she grabbed your sleeve and dragged you to a sitting position right across from her, you were practically putty in her hands.

“I’ve been keeping tabs on you.” She spoke without looking at you, unlatching the kit and pulling on the blue latex gloves with practiced ease. She couldn’t see the look of shock on your face. “This place is beautiful. I remember when it was that pizza place.”

“Ah, pizzapocalypse. Who would have thought that a combination shooting range and Italian restaurant would fail?”

Kate chuckled and tenderly pulled your hand closer. Her touch was barely a whisper against your skin, strands of black hair falling into her eyes. She examined the angry red mark. It had already started to blister. The espresso machine was kept at unbelievable levels of heat.

She grabbed one of the wrapped applicators, using her teeth to tear away at the wax paper. Kate squeezed a small dollop of burn cream onto the end. You hated the cloudy clearness of the substance.

“I’ve been keeping tabs on you too, you know?”

“Have you? This might sting a little bit. Do you want a countdown?”

“No, just do it I’m a brave- Fuck!” She’d already started, and you gave her a vicious glare. She shrugged with that infuriatingly perfect grin of hers. “I thought you were in New Zealand for some medical internship.”

“New Hampshire, actually. Not as exciting, I know. It was going well, but Eleanor died.”

There was a tightness to her voice. Typically, you looked away from anything involving wound care. If you were to get a shot, you’d stare at a small spot on the wall that interested you. Drawing blood was more of the same, it was just harder to ignore the needle in your arm.

Kate was working hard at the bandage in her hand and finally pulled it apart. Despite the frustration etched into her features, she applied it with a certain level of care. You didn’t’ say anything. Your hand was throbbing uncomfortably.

“She was old, we knew it was coming and pancreatic cancer, well, it’s a bitch by the end and Susan asked me to fly in for the funeral. How could I say no to that? Flying in for my mothers funeral when I was too busy working to witness her descent?”

“Katie,” You breathed out.

“That should be healed up in a few days. Make sure you change out the bandage.”

You couldn’t��� get a word in edgewise before she started to shove the contents of the case back into their proper places. The chair made a horrible scraping sound that you felt in your teeth. Kate grasped her coffee, colder than it was a few moments ago.

“Thank you for… this. I’m sure it’s delicious.” She had her hand on the door. Her quickness was unmatched. Both in and out of the OR, from what you had read. But she paused, looking at you for a moment. “I’m proud of you, y/n. This place is great. Really.”

Kate had vanished into the whiteness of the blistering day. You watched her navigate the snow with ease. Eleanor had died. How could you live in such a small town and not have heard about the woman’s passing?

The Bishop family was always a private bunch, and with Kate moving right after high school graduation, you hadn’t any reason to go past those wrought iron gates. Kate’s older sister would stop by for a hot drink once every other month or so, but you saw her coming from a mile away and selfishly hid in the back.

Eleanor had died.

There was a softness to her that you remembered fondly, a memory of Kate and you as children in the heat of summer. You’d been stung by a wasp and cried and cried until Eleanor rushed into the yard and scooped you into her arms.

Much like Kate had just done with her soft ministrations, she fixed you right up by applying a mix of warm water and baking soda. An old family remedy, she said. The venom had stopped screaming and the tears eventually stopped for both you and Kate.

Eleanor was a kind, if not private, woman. One that you thought of daily when you clocked the photo of High School Graduation on the dusty bookshelves in your living room. Your own mother hadn’t attended, but Eleanor was right there. She was right there.

“Who’s the girl?” MJ drawled out, leaning heavily on her hands, a goofy look on her face. Peter was next to her, doing the same, both eyebrows raised.

“Kate… She” You picked up the plastic first aide kit. The two of you had a habit of not sitting still and it was better to move to replace the supplies then let them sit out here. Besides, a customer could walk in at any moment. “We were engaged.”

Peter shot up “What?”

“It was a long time ago, it’s not important.”

“You were engaged, I think that’s important. How old are you?”

“First, rude, second; old enough. And really, guys it’s not a big deal. Both of us moved on. Life happened.”

They exchanged a look that, in the past, had never meant anything good. MJ had her arms crossed over her chest and Peter leaned heavily on a broom he had grabbed, hugging it lose to his chest. You rolled your eyes, attempting to ignore them both was impossible in a place this retrospectively small.

“I don’t know, boss. The way she was looking at you… maybe neither of you really moved on.”

“I write your paychecks; you understand that right?” You turned to face them. “Kate and I are done. We have been for a long time. She made that very clear when she gave the ring back and I refuse to push the matter.”

It was collecting dust on your bookshelf next to the photo of your graduation. It was a small emerald, green box that you hadn’t opened since you resituated the diamond ring. It had been stupid to propose, a last-ditch effort to get Kate to stay. She’d said yes. And then she said no.

The baker’s old Subaru wouldn’t start because of the bitter cold. It sounded like an old wife’s tale that made you chuckle to yourself while reading the text that popped across your screen.

Before you had hired him for the long nights, you’d done the baking yourself and it wasn’t a horrible chore. You’d just have to down some caffeine and slam it out; trays filled with mini cakes, with quiches, donuts and cheese tarts. It was like a methodical science project with the bonus of eating the food that didn’t look edible.

It was midnight by the time you’d pulled the first couple trays from the large industrial oven and exhaustion was starting to bay its head. You weighed the option of going home and just spreading out the pastries in the case.

All thoughts of sleep left your mind when a rapid banging filled the store. The front glass doors were being tugged upon. And while you were more than willing to die in this coffee shop, being robbed was not the way you wanted to go. There was less than three hundred dollars in the register.

You grasped at the broom, your hands covered in flower and caked on the bandage that was applied earlier. Another round of bangs as you tried to stay low and reach for the cordless phone. There was a silhouette outlined by the gray white of the snow.

Doctor Kate Bishop.

She’d given up on her breaking and entering and pressed her forehead against the glass, her breath fogging it up. It was hard to tell, but you were sure her eyes were clenched shut. There was a brown paper bag in one hand that looked suspiciously like a large bottle of alcohol.

Your grip was tight on the broom, even as you felt confident, and a little sad, about opening the door. Kate fell forward and a blast of cold enveloped you. She made a small noise at the back of her throat, regaining her posture.

“Were you going to sweep me to death?” Kate asked, “I brought whiskey.”

“Here I thought you weren’t going to come back here with the way you ran out earlier, and now you arrive with gifts?”

It was a low blow, but she had shrugged her shoulders with her goofy grin and snow in her messy hair. “Come drink with me, just for a little bit in our old spot. Don’t make me play the dead mom card.”

Saying no to Kate had always been hard for you. It had been hard when you were children and she dared you to jump from high places, always stopping you by the collar of your shirt before either of you got hurt. And it was especially hard to say no to Kate in your teens when she would kiss hot trails against your throat, marking them with bruises. Not that you were rushing to deny her.

“Really?” You asked, “Aren’t we a little old to be caught sneaking booze in the gym?”

Both of you knew for a fact that the side doors leading into the school would always be open. There were no alarms, or flood lights, because it was a small town and nothing bad ever happens in a small town.

She jutted out her bottom lip into a pout “Y/n, my mom died.”

“Okay, alright. Let me lock up.”

Kate stayed quiet on the three-block walk to the school. It was shrouded in darkness, an inky black despite the swirling gray of the night sky. Your high school had been the largest in the county; two floors filled with classrooms. You’d stuck to the same ones and Kate was the life of the party wherever she went, the bright spot in an otherwise dingy room.

The bottle of alcohol dangled by her side as your footfalls crunched over ice and an ugly brown slush of snow. It felt normal, almost, walking with her. Being with her. Staying in town was a brave choice after being dumped and equivocally left at the alter. You had powered through the looks and the whispered accusations. But some part of you was relieved she’d chosen this interaction to take place in the middle of the night.

When you’d gotten to the double doors of the large gymnasium, Kate’s boot slipped on a particularly nasty spot of ice. Instinctively you grasped her arm and righted her. She thanked you silently before pushing into the warmth of the space. The motion censor lights flicked on and you squinted against them.

“They built a new one, you know? A gym. I think they still use this for craft fairs. Fundraisers. But all the big stuff is off site in this state-of-the-art center.”

Kate blew out a breath, shaking her head. “Remember when Tommy Shepard broke your nose with a basketball?”

“Yeah, I do. I also remember sneezing right after and spraying him in blood. Everyone else was grossed out except for you.”

Kate dropped onto the large eagle in the center of the floor. Her legs were stretched out in front of her, and the bottle was idling between them. You let out a small groan as you joined her. Neither of you had ever been bold enough to inebriate yourselves in the crest. Instead, you’d hide behind the fold-out bleachers that were pushed against the walls, but this would do.

“That stupid EMT wouldn’t let me get on the ambulance with you.” The seal on the bottle cracked viciously, much like your nose, as she unscrewed the cap.

“And I told you I didn’t need to go the hospital. I think I was a liability, though.”

Kate laughed, taking a deep gulp from the bottle. It hit the back of her throat and she hissed in response before thrusting the whiskey your way. You took a smaller sip, let it coat your tongue and burn your stomach.

The mood had stilled, and she took another swallow before setting the bottle between the both of you like a vice or a buffer. You couldn’t decide what.

“Eleanor had very specific instructions in her will. She… shit, she planned her whole funeral out before she died in her morbid meticulousness. She picked white lilies, and a beautiful black casket. She already had a plot of land picked out in her family plot. Music picked out. A fucking guest list.”

You fought the urge to reach out and comfort her. So, you grabbed the bottle instead and gulped down a bigger heaping than before. The amber liquid was dipping down behind the black wrapper.

“The only thing she didn’t do was write her eulogy. No, she left that up to me as one last fuck you because that’s how she operates. She didn’t’ ask Susan to write it, or my dad. She asked me because I’m the one that left home. I’m the one that left her.”

The worst thing you could do was agree with Kate Bishops dead mother. And you didn’t, really. You’d always been happy for Kate. This town was too small for her and the lives that she saved were plentiful. But some selfish part of you understood where Eleanor was coming from.

You were possibly the worst person she could go to with this issue and by the frown on her face, she knew it too. For the longest time, you were there for each other. And if Kate had called out of the blue and asked you to go to New Zealand or New Hampshire, or whatever; you would go.

She’d do the same, you were sure. One call, one letter and she’d be here. But neither of you were brave enough to reach out and heal the wound that festered between you. You pulled your knees up to your chest, rested your chin against them with a quiet breath.

“Maybe you don’t need to write anything. Maybe you can just… say how you feel.”

“Yes, because that has worked out so well for me in the past.”

“Fair point, but she was your mother, not a fling. Even if you don’t have a script planned out, it’s worth just feeling the moment. No matter how shitty that moment is.”

Kate inhaled and held that breath in her chest for a few seconds before pushing it out. Her eyes searched you in a probing way that made your skin prickle. Blush started to claw its way up your throat. You’d blame that on the alcohol, you always were a light weight and it showed in your complexion.

“Is that what you think you were?” her voice was a low and raspy whisper “a fling?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“You never say anything you don’t mean. All you’ve ever done is calculated and well thought out. You’ve always had a plan.” She looked down at the frayed edges of her jeans, playing with the strings to avoid looking at you. “You were my everything.”  

Your voice was a quiet murmur. “Katie,”

She reached out, her warm hand wrapped around your wrist in a tender display of affection. Her eyes met yours and it was the longest the two of you had stared at one another without breaking eye contact. Your stomach was a pit of nerves and heat.

“That scared me when we were young. It fucking scared me out of my mind how content I was with you. I was ready to risk everything, to settle down in a small house and wake up every single morning next to you.” She drew in a sharp and shuddering breath “But we were young, and I hadn’t lived life and that scared me even more.”

“I know, Kate, I know. I shouldn’t have proposed, and I certainly shouldn’t have put either of us in that position. You were right to turn me down. You were right to move on and fight for the future that you deserve.”

Kate sniffed, using her free hand to wipe away the few crystalline tears that dripped across her cheeks. You found yourself pulling her close, letting her sob into the crook of your neck as you held her, your arm wrapped around her center to stabilize her.

Things were boiling over and the tension that had been weighing on her shoulders since she’d first shown up in town started to slowly drain. She missed her mother, she missed you, and that wasn’t something you were willing to process on the crest of the school’s gymnasium.

Kate’s fingers were curled into the fabric of your shirt, and eventually, she settled. Her nose was cold against your pulse point and the bottle of whiskey had been long forgotten. As self-centered as it was, you wished you could hold her forever. Feel her touch on yours for something other than a reminisced sadness.

“If you asked again,” Kate mumbled into the collar of your shirt “If you asked me again, I would say yes.”

“I know, Katie. I know.”

[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.”

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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

[bigbadripley]

heyo can I geta mf uhh kate bishop x dom!f!reader with a strap? just good old pwp

Like Water (18+)

Pairing: Sub!Kate Bishop x Dom!Fem!Reader | Minors DNI!!  ⚠️

Warnings: PWP drabble, strap use, Kate the Fountain, mommy dom

Title from "Water" by Kehlani

"That's a good fuckin' girl." You praised as Kate came on your strap. You held her hips to the bed and buried it deeper, watching as she writhed and cried out, wetness splashing against your pelvis. 

The only thing on your mind was making it happen again and again as you continued to fuck her through it, refusing to give her a breather. She took you so well, swallowing the whole shaft into her tight cunt. "Cum for me again, sweet girl." You coaxed. More breathy moans left her lips, her legs began to shake, and her tits bounced. She was closer than you thought.

"Fuck, mommy. Don't stop, please." Kate pleaded. You were happy to oblige, and she came undone within seconds of you pistoning harder. Another gush hit you, and you smiled at her back arching. You could do this all day.

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Broken by Jonah Kagen

Summary: Grief is a funny thing especially when you ignore it and let it fester. It can scary and vulnerable like a ticking time bomb that is ready to explode and hurt anyone it it's way.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warning: angst with fluff, grief, death of a major character, drinking, self-harm?

December 3, 2025

Kate was surprised to wake up to an empty bed at 0200, no less. At the beginning of her relationship with the Black Widow, she was used to it, but now she depends on her girlfriend’s warmth to keep her asleep. There were some exceptions when they were both on missions. However, they weren’t on missions and sleeping in their shared New York City apartment for the first time in 2 weeks. Kate needed Yelena. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and noticed the dogs were missing, too. “Where did you run off to?” Kate asked the darkness. Throwing on a sweatshirt, she exited their bedroom. Yelena was easy to find. The Blonde was sitting on the kitchen bar with an open bottle of vodka and the dogs at her feet, fast asleep.

As Kate approached, she noticed the lack of shot glass or glass. Yelena was drinking straight from the bottle. The archer stood before her, leaning against the countertop that separated them. No one spoke. They sat in a heavy silence as they waited for the other to break it. Kate observed her girlfriend; her green eyes weren’t red, her cheeks weren’t blotchy, so she hadn’t been crying. Her jaw wasn’t clenched, so angry was out of the option. But her eyes had a far-off look as if she was staring directly through her. With a sigh, Yelena took a long sip from the bottle. “You should be sleeping, malen’kiy yastreb (little hawk),” she broke the silence. The nickname never failed to spread warmth through Kate. “You have a busy day.” That was true. She had a meeting with Sam, training with Peter, and a lunch date with Geer and Fanny. She quickly stopped at the Sanctum to meet with American and Steven.

But Yelena’s day was just as busy. A meeting with Sonya to go over the next round of Widows that needed to be saved, checking in on some Widows that lived in the city, and a phone call with Melina. “I couldn’t sleep without you,” her honestly made Yelena smile, but it was short-lived. It was a delicate dance when trying to figure out how to help the Black Widow. Sometimes, it felt like a balancing act, carefully walking on a type of rope over a sold-out crowd. But Kate was patient; she wasn’t the world’s best archer because she was impulsive. “Do you want to tell me why you’re sitting here with the dogs and a bottle of vodka?” But her question was met with Yelena taking another sip from the bottle. It was wishful thinking that she would get an answer, but she tried to rack her brain. Did Sonya say something about the last mission they were on? No. “If you don’t want to talk or come back to bed, can we sit on the couch?” She asked, offering her hand.

Yelena stared at the stretched hand in front of her so intently it was like she was trying to diffuse a bomb. With a sigh, she took it and allowed Kate to lead her to the couch, not forgetting the bottle. Once she sat down and was comfortable, Kate laid her head on Yelena’s lap and dragged a blanket over her. The Blonde was staring down at Kate, one arm thrown over the edge of the couch with a tight hold on the bottle. With her free hand, she ran it through Kate’s hair and traced a scar on her temple she received from the Battle of New York.

It was something they both did, tracing the scars that the other wore. It was a simple reminder to both of them of how fragile life was and how quickly they could have lost each other. Yelena’s touch was soothing, and Kate was fighting the pull of sleep. “If you could change the past,” Yelena said. “Would you?” The question forced Kate to stay awake. It was a difficult question that did not have a straightforward answer. To Kate, time travel seemed dangerous. It was a necessary evil for the Avengers to bring those like her girlfriend back from Thanos’ first snap, but it had too much power. It was why the Time Stone was guarded.

“I don’t know, Lena,” Kate finally answered. “What if I go back and change one little thing, and it changes my life now.” She would have never needed to pick up a bow and arrow if she saved her father. “Is the past what’s got you so upset?”

“Do you know what day it is?”

“December 3, 2025,” she answered. “What’s so special about today?” The Black Widow smirked.

“As an Avenger super fan, I’m disappointed,” Kate rolled her eyes. Kamala was the Avenger know-it-all. “It’s Natasha’s birthday,” the archer sat up so quickly she almost hit her head against Yelena’s. “You almost made me spill my vodka.” She deadpanned.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Kate asked. Yelena sighed, moving her shoulders up and down. She went for another sip, but Kate grabbed the bottle to stop her. Green eyes sent daggers to her, but that didn’t deter Kate. “You do everything for a reason, Yelena,” she whispered. A pin could be heard if it was dropped in their apartment; not even the dogs stirred from their sports. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She repeated.

“Because I’m broken,” it happened rather suddenly; Yelena ripped the bottle out of Kate’s hand and threw it against the wall. The glass bottle shattered, spraying glass and vodka on the floor and wall. It woke the two dogs up, and they scattered to see the commotion. “Fuck,” Yelena hurried off the couch and began to pick up the glass pieces. The shock Kate had worn off.

“Fanny, Lucky, upstairs and stay,” the dogs obeyed the command, but Kate saw Fanny hesitate. Quickly, Kate approached Yelena and put her hand on her shoulder. The Blonde shrugged it off.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she repeated. Blood started to form on Yelena’s hands as she squeezed the glass shards in her hands.

“Baby, stop,” Kate said. “Stop!” The archer used enough force to push Yelena away from the glass. The Black Widow didn’t put up much of a fight as her back rested against the couch. “It’s okay,” Kate reassured, kneeling before her. “I’m going to clean this up and clean your hands.” There was no response from the Blonde as tears swelled in her green eyes.

It was quick work for Kate to clean up the glass, wipe up the vodka, and then grab a first aid for Yelena. The Blonde was still in the same spot; no tears left her eyes. “Can I see your hands, baby?”

“I’m fine,” but she allowed Kate to grab her closed palms and open them.

“I’ll try to be careful and quick, okay?” She began pulling the shards of glass from her hands and cleaning the cuts. “You’re hurting,” she whispered. “But you show no sign.”

“Cause I’m afraid to give in, break down, and waste your time,” she said, staring at her hands, wincing slightly when Kate had to dig out a challenging piece, but the archer blew on the cut to ease the pain. “You wouldn’t believe me if you knew the things that crossed my mind.” Kate finished cleaning her hands and wrapped them with a bandage. With the serum in Yelena’s veins, Kate knew the cuts would be healed by the time they went to bed. It was mostly for her own sanity that they were protected. Kate kissed each one of them and then traced the bandages. She kept her touch soft and gentle, causing Yelena to breathe shaky. “I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve it.” She stuttered. The hitch in her voice caused Kate to look up at her girlfriend as tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Tell me,” Kate kept her voice steady and calm when a deep turmoil raced through her. “What don’t you deserve it?”

“Your help or for you to tell me I’m worth it, but I don’t deserve it,” Yelena sobbed. “I need your hand but don’t want to burn it. Please,” she pleaded. “Pull me out of the fire.” Kate brought the Blonde into her arms and switched positions so she was sitting on the couch and Yelena was on her lap. Her face burrowed in the crock of her neck, and Kate felt every tear. Kate never witnessed Yelena break down. There were times when a nightmare shook her to her core, and the only way for her to go back to sleep was if Kate held her tight. She had to get a bullet dug out of her shoulder, and she squeezed Sonya’s hand so tight she almost broke it.

But this was the first time it was unfiltered, vulnerable, and letting down all her walls. Her hands twisted in the fabric of Kate’s search, and she cried. Kate hugged her tight. “I want my sister back. I want more time.”

“I know, I know,” Kate repeated, rocking her back and forth. “You’re doing so well, baby. It’s okay.”

“W-what?” Yelena questioned, pulling back slightly. Her hands rested on Kate’s shoulders, staring down at her girlfriend. “I don’t understand.” Kate smiled, whipping away her tears with the sleeves of her shirt.

“You need to cry, Yelena. You need to cry, grieve, and feel,” she whispered. “No need to hold it in anymore. I’m here. I’ll catch you,” Kate promised. “Just fall, sweetheart, just fall.” Yelena blinked down at her, eyes laced in confusion, and Kate saw a few tears fall onto her shirt.

“Okay,” she lowered her head to rest on Kate’s shoulder, and tears began to fall. There was a song Kate’s father used to sing when she struggled to sleep. She’s long since forgotten the words, but she remembered the tone. Kate hummed that song until Yelena fell asleep.

*

When Yelena woke up, her head was throbbing, and it was past the usual time she usually woke up. On her nightstand was a tall glass of water and a bottle of painkillers, with a note from Kate. She said she was meeting with Sam and would be home right now. Some of her felt guilty that Kate was canceling her plans, but she wanted to be with her after the night she had.

Yelena never allowed herself to break like that. There was never time. The Red Room was always watching, then she was freeing Widows, and finally, she lost five years of her life, which led her to work with Valentine. Kate was the only person besides her sister who felt safe to let these walls down.

Sighing, she got out of bed and walked downstairs. Lucky was the only dog that followed her. It was a long night; Fanny deserved a few extra hours of sleep. She walked down the stairs and over to the record player Kate got her for her birthday. Putting on a record, she began to stretch out her sore muscles.

The question she asked Kate haunted her. Would she go back in time to change the past? She could stop the Red Room from ever gaining power or give Melina and Alexei a chance to betray Dreykov or save Natasha. But Kate was right; how would going into the past affect her now?

She was lying on her back when Lucky walked over to her and stared down at her. The one-eyed Golden Retriever had his tongue out and was looking a little confused. He was probably thinking why she was on the floor. Yelena chuckled, reaching up to pet his head. “Were both upside down?” She whispered.

Lucky barked and began to lick her face, which caused Yelena to laugh. Her sadness and guilt began to fade away, especially when Fanny came running down the stairs to join her friend. Not even the door opening pulled the dogs away from their missions. “Having fun?” Yelena sat up, pushed the dogs away, and stared at her girlfriend. Lucky went to investigate the bags the archer set on the floor. “How are you?”

“I’m,” she took a moment to go over everything. “Sad, but I’m okay.” Kate nodded, picking up the bag from the floor.

“Well, I got something if you up for it. Your favorite mac and cheese, a gingerbread house to decorate, and a few of the Bond movies,” she stacked everything on the counter. Yelena smiled and whipped the dog drool off her face. She brought the archer into a hug.

“Thank you, malen’kiy yastreb (little hawk),” she mumbled. Kate kissed her forehead.

“Always, sweetheart,” she smiled. “If you’re broken, I’ll help you fix every crack until you feel worthy of all my love.” Yelena kissed her girlfriend’s cheek. Unfortunately, Yelena’s past wasn’t kind to her. It robbed her, stole from her, and beat her down to rebuild whatever they broke. However, it got her to meet Kate, and she was excited for the future, but she wished her sister was here to see it. Happy Birthday, Natalia.

[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.

[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.🎯

[sspoiledmelk]

he’s just a guy

[chooseyourownavenger]

[START] [ABOUT AND WARNINGS] [FAQ]

IRONHAWK/ I’d like to be pregnant

“I would love to at least try to get pregnant.  Are you sure you’ll be okay with not knowing which of you it is?  I don’t want jealousy over that being the reason we break up,” you say.

“Whoever you have the baby with, it will be both our baby,” Tony assures you.  “I just really love the idea of experiencing the pregnancy.  You know - ultrasounds, feeling them kick - all that kind of thing.”

“I want to do the trying bit,” Clint teases.

“I need to get my birth control taken out,” you say.   “Maybe a check-up - make sure everything is working?”

“Well, we can practice until then,” Clint says.  “Right?”

You book in to see your doctor about taking out your birth control straight away.  You’re told it can take between three and eight months after you have the implant taken out to get pregnant, so for three months, the three of you have to try and relax and tell yourselves not to expect a positive pregnancy test immediately after you have sex.

To help keep yourselves in the mindset, you just call all sex; practice.  Even if it’s the kind of sex that had absolutely no way of making a baby.  In those instances, one of you always jokes that you definitely need to keep practicing because of how bad you are at it.

It helps keep things light and saves any kind of a disappointment because you aren’t pregnant yet.

When the three months are up, something shifts in the three of you.  That night there’s almost apprehension about what may happen.  You take off your clothes and turn away from them like you’re shy about them seeing you.  Clint comes up behind you and kisses your neck.  “What are you doing?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” you say.  “Tonight just feels important.”

He tilts your head back to look at him.  “It’s not practicing anymore.  We’re actually trying.”

You take a breath and kiss him, your tongue flicking out to meet his.  You turn in his arms and he starts backing up to the bed, pulling you along with him as he sheds his clothes.  Tony comes up behind you, already naked.  He kisses your neck and you break the kiss with Clint and lean back to kiss Tony.

Tony kissed you hungrily.  One of his hands goes to your breast while the other presses between your legs and toys with your clit.

You moan and rut against his hand as Clint sits down in front of you.  You move forward, straddling Clint’s lap.  The archer’s calloused hands run up your side and he leans forward and pulls one of your nipples into his mouth.  You moan and sit, in his lap, your hands tangling in his hair as you let your head fall back against Tony’s chest.

Your skin prickles like there’s an electric current running just under the surface.  You rolled your hips so Clint’s shaft slides up and down the lips of your pussy.  Your slick coats his shaft and he groans into your skin.

“Fuck,” you gasp.  “I want you both.  I want both of you to come inside me.”

  Tony pulls away and grabs the lube as you push Clint onto his back.  Clint wraps his hand around his cock and taps it on your clit twice before guiding it into your sopping cunt.

You moan, arching your back as you push down on his cock more.  Tony moves up behind you and starts rubbing lube along the place where you and Clint are joined.  His finger pushes inside you.  You mewl at the stretch and clench around them both.  They both still as you adjust and Clint pulls you down into a kiss.

Tony keeps moving his finger in and out of you and adds another as Clint continues to kiss you and moves his hips in shallow thrusts.  You break the kiss with Clint and throw your head back with a loud moan.  “Please, Tony,” you beg.  “Please, just fuck me.”

He takes his fingers away and lubes up his cock.  There is a burn at your entrance as he presses the head against Clint’s shaft and starts to penetrate you.  You mewl and grit your teeth and he slowly eases in.

When he’s in as deep as he can go and you feel completely stretched and full, both men start to thrust.  Heat blooms in your core and spreads out through you like treacle.  Your edges feel soft and you have trouble keeping your eyes open.  Tony’s hand pushes into your hair and he pulls it, as one of Clint’s hands slips between your body and he starts to rub your clit.  It’s too much, your body seizes up all at once as your orgasm tears through you and you cry out.

“Fuck,” Tony grunts. “Gonna break our dicks.”

Clint laughs breathlessly and even as your body shudders with your orgasm you can’t help the laughter that bubbles up inside you.  They keep fucking you, their hips snapping in tandem.  Their thrusts become erratic and their moans become louder.  You feel another orgasm building and when Clint pinches your clit, it crashes down on you again.  The clenching of your cunt pulls Clint over with you and he thrusts up hard as he releases inside you.  You moan and let your head fall onto his shoulder, squeezing your cunt like you’re trying to milk them both.  “Come, Tony.  I want it.  I want both of you mixing inside me.”

“Yeah, baby.  Gonna get you pregnant,” Tony growls.

That sends you over again, your body shudders as it washes over you and brings Tony along with it, his come mixing with Clint’s.

They hold themselves inside you until their cocks still and then carefully slip out of you and collapse on the bed beside you.  You curl up in a little pile and they both put their hands on your stomach.

“It won’t have happened yet,” you giggle.

“We know,” Clint says.

“But we’ve started trying,” Tony adds.  “And that’s enough for now.”

It takes another few months to get pregnant.  In the first month, everyone is relaxed about it, but by the third, Tony is freaking out.  When you finally get that positive line on a pregnancy test the three of you are delighted.

Tony becomes ultra protective of you, researching all the do’s and don’t of pregnancy.  If you even thought about touching a piece of brie he’d start freaking out.  Clint, on the other hand, is super excited.  He can’t help telling everyone he came in contact with the new news about the pregnancy.  If he went out alone for any reason - even the one time he went out on a mission - he always came home with a present for you and something for the baby.

Each new thing you learned about the life growing inside you, makes you feel more connected to it.  At twenty weeks you find out you’re having a girl.  At thirty weeks the team throws you a huge baby shower.  It’s exciting and yet at the same time, you feel as normal as you’ve felt since you’ve gone down this path with Clint and Tony.  The press hasn’t caught wind of any of it, so it’s just the three of you, making your lives feel so completely normal, despite the fact they aren’t normal at all.

You wake up early a few days before the due date with a wet patch on the bed and leaking fluid.

“Tony,” you say as you shake Clint awake.  Clint sits up suddenly in a defensive position and looks around confused.

“What’s going on?” Tony asks as Clint seems to relax and goes to grab his hearing aids.

“Either I just wet the bed or my water broke,” you said.

“You’re water broke?” Clint says, jumping out of bed.  “What?  We gotta go!”

“Just chill would you?” you say.  “I’ll call the hospital and find out what to do, can you change the sheets?”

A call to the hospital and a shower later you are back in bed while Clint and Tony continue to freak out.  You’re told to stay put until your labor starts but to call back in six hours if it hasn’t.

What follows is a day of sitting around trying to rest as much as you can while absolutely nothing happens, and then four extremely painful hours where your labor progresses so quickly that by the time you make it to the hospital there isn’t even time to consider drugs before you have to push.

Thirty minutes later your daughter is in your arms and two men look so in love beside you gazing down at her.

“Look at that little bean,” Clint whispers.  “She’s perfect.”

“You did it, honey,” Tony says.  “I’m so proud of you.”

You’re exhausted and elated and so in love and ready to start the next chapter of your life to start with your family.

~ END ~

[renner4real]

You open the door and he’s standing there fixing his hair and taking a deep breath before you open it.

He doesn’t know you’re standing there and you can’t take your eyes off of his strong hand slowly running through his hair.

[finnicks]

( fic ) two immovable stones

two immovable stones

mcu (hawkeye) | yelena/kate + lucky; teen, 200 words Kate does her best not to disturb Yelena and Lucky as they sleep.

[unholyhelbig]

How about a bartender!Kate in which Kate is a new employee of the bar that reader frequents on bad days and Kate is one of the first people not to sympathize with her and just full of banter. I just think a cocky bartender Kate would be … neat

[This is 18+, if you are a minor DO NOT INTERACT]

Title: Two Fingers of Whiskey

Ship: Female!Reader x Bartender!Kate Bishop

Warnings: Top!Kate, Bottom!reader, Dom!Kate, Sub!reader, light dom/sub, finger sucking, Fingering (r receiving), Hate fuck (?) yeah, this is a hate fuck.

[A/n: Go easy on me, I haven't written smut since my Pitch Perfect days & I've been under quarantine for the last five days, I've got brain rot & did not proofread.]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Kate began to expect your visits. Her eyes would drift to the novelty Miller High Life clock that was hanging on the wall. Six pm. Twice a week you’d wander into the bar and let out the haze of smoke and Dior Fahrenheit. Your eyes would search for hers with the same amount of ferocity, and Kate would try to swallow back the pride that was resulted by your hatred.

It started out as hatred, anyway.

Kate Bishop had made it a point to listen to people and their problems. Being a bartender at a seedy basement establishment was more than mixing drinks and cracking open frothy beers. She’d been told her first week that she was a half-bit therapist, and had laughed it off until she was listening to stories of corporate drabble, sudden deaths, and quiet loveless frustrations.

It had been two years since she started the nightshift at Copper’s, and she could spot the sadness from miles away. She could spot that frustration too. Kate became admittedly bored with the way her life had fallen into routine, so when a certain energy presented itself, she pushed.

Kate loved to push with you.

You’d looked tentative when you’d first entered Copper’s, your gaze moving across the dark green paint, the booths that were sticky. Your nice shoes had crunched over broken peanut shells and a certain film covered the walls, the stained-glass lamps over each table. Your hand tightened on your bag, and that gave Kate a sick sort of satisfaction. You took note of her nametag, not customed, a small label being printed and taped over an existing name.  

She admired the way you carried yourself with such assuredness after allowing for one moment of doubt. Instead of turning around and going back out onto the busy city streets, you took the two steps down and carefully sat yourself at the far end of the bar.

“We don’t have anything fancier than a house white.”

“Boston Lager?”

You’d lifted a perfect eyebrow and Kate nodded stuffing the rag she’d been using into her back pocket before reaching into the cooler and pulling out the dark amber bottle. She used the edge of the counter to pop the cap off, not caring where it landed. Foam dripped across her fingertips, and she forbade a coaster when she set it down in front of you.

Two sips before you spoke. The first was tentative, and the second was assured. Kate watched carefully as your throat worked at the drink. She frowned in the dark light, trying to rush away any inappropriate thoughts of her lips against an expanse of skin.

“I’m not pretentious.” You said, setting the bottle down.

Kate hummed. It was a non-committal noise. She picked up one of the glasses, still warm from going through the dishwasher, and went on wiping the detergent spots from the clear surface. Though, she saw you frown out of the corner of her eye and bit back her reaction.

“Seriously. You offered me wine.”

“You don’t like wine?”

“No. I like wine; I just don’t like when strangers presume that I like wine.”

Kate couldn’t help but smile at this. She replaced a glass and grabbed another one. The frustration on your face was admirable, and you seemed to balk at Kate’s direct attention. You fidgeted and began to peel the edges of the dark blue label on your drink, only where the condensation had allowed easy removal.

“We have house white, darling.”

“White Horse, then. Straight.”

Kate scoffed and set her second glass down. If she had been worried, truly worried, that you were going to do something stupid she would give you a few more watered down beers and send you on your way. But she liked the way you wanted to spite her. It made her fingers twitch. She pulled the bottle from the second shelf and counted two fingers of whiskey.

You took it back in one gulp, breathing through your nose before taking a tiny sip of your beer to quell the burn. Kate was infatuated with the way you sat straighter, the way you flashed her a small cocky smile. I can take the hard stuff.

“Rough day, then?” Kate sighed and filled your glass again, calling your bluff.

She leaned against the counter and watched you watching her. It gave her a sick pleasure, nudging you like this. She wouldn’t’ go far, really, she just needed to have some break in her normal routine, and you seemed like you needed a few things to forget yourself.

“The roughest.” You leveled her with an apprehensive stare. “You care?”

“Not particularly. But I’ll listen.”

“You’re an ass.”

“I’m an ear.” Kate made a sweeping motion with her hand “be my guest, sweetheart. You can vent to anyone in here.”

It was just the two of them. Sure, in about an hour, her usual crowd would rear its head. There were only three others that frequented, and they lingered by the one pool table and ordered two pitchers of the cheapest beer. They left Kate alone and she left them alone.

You contemplated her offer for a brief moment, letting out a labored breath as if Kate was burdening you instead of offering relief. “I have a shitty client. Very demanding.”

“What do you do?” Kate tried.

“I’m an archivist for the city of New York. Cold Cases mainly. There are hundreds of thousands of physical case boxes that reside in basements and closets just waiting to be digitally entered.” You threw back your drink and tapped the side of the glass. Kate took the hint and poured until the buttery liquid coated the bottom.

Kate had to admit; that was quite the job. It sounded like a lot of sadness, however, that wasn’t what you carried on your shoulders tonight. Annoyance was the overarching emotion that was expressed on your delicate features.

So, the bartender did what she did best, she didn’t’ ask about what was in the boxes. She wasn’t privy to know. She wanted to know what about the boxes bothered you to the point of drinking close to a handle of liquor in a seedy bar.

You answered before she could ask “corporate bullshit. They want us to enter all of these cases for the pure purpose of shelving them electronically. I mean, we don’t even have a cold case unit anymore. But some of these… you can tell the leg work wasn’t done. The boyfriend did it. The jealous co-worker, it’s all written so plainly that I stupid archivist that should be working at a museum can see it!”

“Wow.” Kate said.

“Wow?”

She hummed again, this time after you swallowed your drink, she took the glass and threw it into the plastic tub. It made an empty hollow sound. Kate grinned at you in this infuriating type of way that made you want to kiss her or slap her. Either way, you shifted uncomfortably.

“What do you want me to say, sweetheart? That’s a shit situation, yeah. But there are shittier ones.”

“You are such an ass.” You repeated your earlier sentiment. She smiled brighter.

“That’ll be $15.00 even.”

Despite her difficulty, you dug through your bag until you threw a twenty on the counter and mumbled that she keep the change. Kate watched as you left that day and the smile never left her face. She liked you, she thought. And more than anything, she knew that you would be back. There was something about Kate’s lack of caring that got to people. There was no sympathy, only agreement.

 Two days later you were back inside the grimy interior of Copper’s. It took Kate a second to recognize you. Instead of nicely pressed clothing, you were in a pair of gray sweatpants and a t-shirt that had the band ‘Rush’ scrawled across your chest. Kate didn’t’ let her stare linger. You sat in the same stool, and Kate felt your eyes rake her up and down.

“Have you lodged a formal complaint against me?” Kate asked.

“No.”

“Good. Then what can I get for you, darling?”

You ordered the same Boston Loger as before and Kate complied, not even offering the cheap box-wine they served in a chilled glass just to make it taste a little more worth-it. Strands of hair fell into your eyes and Kate clenched the dishtowel in her hands a little harder to keep herself from reaching forward and brushing them from your stare.

Kate couldn’t hold her tongue, and that annoyed her. The first time she saw you, it was so easy to grate on your nerves. This time, you looked slightly broken, and even Kate had her limits when it came to bothering the patrons.

“What’s wrong?” Kate asked.

“Do you care what’s wrong?”

“If I’m honest, not in the slightest. But you seem bothered, and I’m the only one around the listen.”

“How long?”

Kate raised both of her eyebrows and lilted her head to the side like a confused animal. She had both of her palms pushed up against the bar, a tank-top with the logo of the establishment stretched across her chest. Your mouth was dry, but you didn’t take a sip of your drink. Kate watched as your fingers delicately circled the opening of the amber bottle. You blinked at her, eyelids heavy.

“Excuse me?”

“How long are you going to be alone here?”

She blinked to make sure she heard you right. She had someone coming in to relive her in about an hour but was more than happy to sit here and talk with you until that time. It seemed like you had other ideas, and part of her was curious about that. It shot straight to her core and warmed her cheeks.

“You’re not going to murder me, are you?” Kate teased.

“And add to all those boxes I have to archive? Please.”

Kate cleared her throat and started to work at the back of the apron at her waist. It seemed frantic and you finally lifted your drink, downing it in a few gulps. You needed to let off some steam, it seemed, and Kate was more than happy to provide. After-all, she was a bartender and her job was to listen- to provide. Kate rationalized all of this before she had her apron off.

“Would you look at the time?” you stood, reaching into your pocket and pulling out a ten. “I’m running late. Keep the change, darling.”

Kate paced back and forth along the length of the bar, muttering things to herself. She deserved that, really- she did, but it had been three whole days and she was still sufficiently pissed off that you had thrown her attitude right back at her. That wasn’t allowed.

No one had ever done that to her before and you’d made her stomach roll with attraction and even anticipation with just a few simple words and insinuations. Sure, you tipped well, and you drank and then left, but she didn’t actually want to admit that she was having fun talking to you.

And more than anything, she didn’t want to admit that she was flicking her eyes to the clock on the wall, getting only a slight bit of relief when it passed your usual time. Today, however, you did show up.

Kate could feel the tension in her jaw as she watched you walk through the doors. The scent had become familiar to you, something she could tell by the way you breathed in deeply, grounding yourself.

You wore tighter clothes, and Kate struggled not to rake her eyes up and down your figure, the way the fabric hugged every inch of you. The sweatpants and t-shirt were gone, instead you had on a dress with a long slit running up the side, exposing tanned skin.  She focused on the way you walked, the way you leaned forward on the bar, pressing your cleavage forward.

“This isn’t going to work twice.” Kate said, crossing her arms over her chest.

She was admittedly sore over your teasing, despite how well-earned it was. And that tight dress did look stunning on you. Even the low smoggy haze of Coppers she shivered at the thought of tearing it off of you, of moving the zipper down the small of your back and kissing up your spine.

You cleared your throat. “I actually came here to apologize.”

“Did you, now?”

“Yes,” You said through gritted teeth as if it physically pained you to say the words. “You were right… the first time we met. My problems seem big, but compared to other things, they’re not detrimental. Even though I was mad, teasing you like that was below me.”

“Oh, I’m not so sure much is below you.”

Kate raked her eyes up and down your body. Your cheeks heated and you let out a groan. Because damn-it, she was so infuriating, and though you’d come back to the bar a second time to drive her crazy, it seemed to have the opposite effect.

“I have the keys to the boss’s office.” Kate offered deviously “No windows and a desk.”

Kate watched you swallow hard, contemplating her offer. She twirled the keys around her ring finger expertly and when you finally nodded she felt herself lean against the counter, close enough to where her lips brushed yours, the warmth was all encompassing, electrifying.

“I need to hear you say it, sweetheart. What exactly do you want?”

With hesitation you forced the words through your lips. This was wildly out of character for you, usually prim and proper and not demanding things from a strange bartender with ghostly blue eyes and expert fingers. “I want you to take me into that office and fuck me until I can’t walk.”

Kate smiled, closing the gap between the both of you with a breathless kiss, her tongue invading your mouth. You moaned into the simple gesture before she pulled away. “All you had to do was ask.”

With a chivalrous gesture, Kate took your hand and guided you easily down a large step behind the bar. You’d never seen this side of things, and though you hadn’t expected anything breathtaking, it gave you a better view of the empty establishment.

You didn’t have much time to contemplate as you were guided through a narrow hallway that had an employee schedule posted on the wall, and a few boxes of unopened liquor. There was a citrus scent that invaded your senses and soon you were out of the cold and in a small office that looked as if it hadn’t been touched in months.

The hum of the cooling units was drowned out and a warmth caused bumps to rise against your skin. Kate had you pushed against the door in a matter of seconds, her mouth back on yours, a knee between your legs, shoving them open. Desperately, you tried to grind down, alleviating some of the heat in your core.

Kate’s hand came up to grip your chin, disconnecting her lips from yours “We’re impatient, aren’t we?”

You could only whimper in response, the corner of Kate’s mouth lilted up into a semi smile, too much like a smirk for your liking. The expression did things to you. Here was this cocky bartender that was too content for her own good- yet, in this moment, you would let her have you in any way she wanted.

“I’ll fuck you senseless on the desk, but only if you can be patient. Can you do that for me? Can you be a good girl?”

“I… yes.”

“What was that? I thought we talked about you using your words, sweetheart.”

“Can you please fuck me on the desk? I’ll be a good girl.”

That seemed to be enough. Kate slid her hands around to the back of your thighs and lifted you with an unnatural bout of strength, a noise of surprise escaping your lips. You had seen her arms a few days earlier when she was in that tank-top, but she had settled you on the desk effortlessly, standing between your legs.

Kate’s mouth nipped at your jawline, sucking perfect bruised circles against your skin that she soon soothed with her tongue. You didn’t mind her marking you, though you mentally made a note to pick up some concealer on the way home. She made quick work with the zipper at your spine, pulling it down to the warm air. She slid your sleeves down your shoulders, exposing your breasts to her prying eyes.

She took a moment to admire you, giving your hip a small squeeze. You took the hint and lifted off the desk just enough for her to pull the rest of the fabric away. It dropped to the floor. Kate smiled at you, drinking you in. “Wow”

“Wow?”

Kate hummed and returned to working at your chest. This time she went lower, nipping at the sensitive skin around your nipple. You dug your fingers into the fabric of her shirt, letting out a groan of pleasure. Her fingers were testing at the waistline of your underwear, not quite dipping past the elastic.

Kate’s tongue was so warm, so encompassing. You arched your back, not denying her access to any part of you. Her expert hands finally pushed past the barrier of fabric, running up your entrance.

“Oh, shit, darling. You’re so worked up.”  Her words vibrated against you, and you struggled not to buck forward, to press into her lingering touch. Kate seemed to sense your frustration. “uh-uh, we’re being patient, remember? If you want release, you’ll have to beg for it.”

Beg? You weren’t the begging type. Unfortunately, you weren’t in the position to do anything but what she demanded. The thought of Kate inside of you, even in the smallest capacity, was driving you insane.

“Kate,” You hummed her name.

A sound got stuck in her throat at the sound of her name pushing through your kiss-bruised lips. She edged the end of the noise, almost phrasing it like a question. She didn’t want to give herself away, how much seeing you like this got her wet.

“Please, I need you inside me. I need to feel you.”

Before you could get out another word, she pushed a single, teasing finger inside. You fell forward, pressing your nose against the small of her neck with an exasperated breath. Kate painstakingly added another finger, pumping in and out of you with a method to her madness. You bit into her shoulder, not enough to hurt, but enough to muffle your noises of satisfaction as she swiped her thumb against your clit.

Kate’s other hand returned to your breast, squeezing and toying. It sent pleasure straight to your core, and Kate could feel you begin to tighten around her. She slowed her movements. “Beg,” She commanded.

“I’m going to cum,” you whispered into her shoulder, grasping fruitlessly at the fabric of her shirt, trying to pull her as close to you as possible.

“Are you?” She asked, slowing her pace.

“I… Kate please let me cum, I can’t hold on much longer I-“ another moan escaped you, and it took you a few breathes to compose yourself to some sort of semblance. “please”.

“That’s a good girl,” Kate praised, returning the circular motions to your clit. “Cum for me, sweetheart.”

That’s all you needed to hear to unwind for her. You clenched around her fingers, chills running from your core to every inch of your exposed body. A guttural noise of pleasure was silenced by Kate’s lips against yours, her throat silencing you as much as she could. Satisfaction rushed through you, aftershocks of her movements twitching through you. Kate withdrew herself from you, a self-assured smile on her lips as she moved them up to her lips and sucked them clean, never breaking eye contact with you.

“I need a drink,” You breathed out, words trembling. Your forehead pressed against hers, still panting, still recovering from her expert touch.

Kate scoffed, shaking her head “We don’t have anything fancier than a house white.”

[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

[bigbadripley]

❝ did i say you could speed up? fuck me slowly like a good [chosen term] or i’ll make you stop completely. ❞ and ❝ please let me cum. i’m a good [chosen term]. ❞ Chosen term being bunny, sub being Kate and strapped reader plessss

Take It Slow (18+)

Pairing: Sub!Kate Bishop x Dom!Fem!Reader | Minors DNI!!  ⚠️

Warnings: PWP drabble, strap use, reader's a daddy dom this time

Dom/Sub smut prompts

You had been at it for nearly an hour, watching Kate's ass as she lifted and went back down on your strap, tight pussy swallowing it up so well. Each time she went up, a thicker sheen of her wetness slicked over it. Kate began going faster, searching for relief, but you grabbed her ass quickly to stop her.

"Did I say you could speed up?" You asked snappily, digging your fingertips into the soft doughy cheeks. Kate whimpered and shook her head. "Fuck me slowly like a good little bunny, or I'll make you stop completely." 

Kate continued upward, doing exactly as you said. Her dark hair flowed over her soft back, almost begging for you to tug it, flip her over, fuck her mercilessly, but no, this view was too damn gorgeous. Through her whines, she weaved the word "daddy" over and over. 

"Please let me cum. I'm a good bunny." She pleaded. The painfully slow pace was to keep her from release. 

"I guess you've earned it, haven't you?" You asked rhetorically. "Cum for me, then, and don't forget to tell me how thankful you are." 

In response to your permission, Kate started picking up her pace, quickly rutting the fake cock into her cunt, causing her ass cheeks to clap together. The pitiful whines turned to groans of pleasure as she inched closer to relief. 

"T-thank y-y-ou," She cried just before she started to cum. Her legs shook, and her body quaked over you, finally reaching purchase after denial for so long. She hunched forward and held your knees to steady herself as she came down from her high. 

"Good girl." You praised, watching as the cock slipped out of her glistening hole. "Now let me taste you." 

[arlana-likes-to-write]

A thank you for saving me

Summary:  Yelena and Kate found you on a mission to free a Widow still under Red Room Control. You soon find yourself in a relationship with the archer and Black Widow but Thanksgiving spent at the Barton's farm makes you worried that your not enough for them. Laura is there to help.

Word Count: 3.6k 

Warnings: Past abuse, torture, mention of Natasha’s death, Reader was with HYDRA, fluff 

The outside world was confusing. It was loud. It was exhausting. But you were grateful to be alive. Yelena and Kate found you in a warehouse in Germany while they were trying to free a Widow. You were tied in a chair; bleeding, bruised, and your arm broken. Well, that was what they told you. You didn’t have memories of how you got there but you woke up in their safehouse. After you healed, you helped them save the Widow that they were after. Once the Widow was saved, Kate invited you to their shared apartment in New York City. That was 9 months ago. For the first time in your life, you had a safe place to live because of that your mind and body began to heal. You remembered that your parents gave you to a man that you met a park. They were after you because of your ability to manipulate sand particles. You were forced to work for the organization. It was hard trying to put all of that behind you but Yelena and Kate were very helpful.

*

You were laying on the couch mindlessly watching the snowfall as you ran your hand through Fanny’s fur. Lucky was laying at your feet. You were the first one awake in the apartment. Truth be told, you awoke from a nightmare and couldn’t go back to sleep. You heard boards creaking as the other residents in the apartment awake. It was Yelena. She was lighter on her feet than Kate. Fanny didn’t stir when Yelena walked into the living room. “Good morning, dorogy.” You gave her a tired smile. “Another nightmare.” She said, sitting down next to you. You nodded. “Why didn’t you wake us up?” The Russian asked. You shrugged looking back out the window.

“Didn’t want to bother you.” Your voice was rough from disuse. Yelena took your free hand in yours.

“We are here for you.” You nodded. “Do you want to help with breakfast?” She asked. You nodded again. Yelena kissed the back of your hand. You blushed as she stood up and walked into the kitchen. When you first met the archer and the Black Widow you knew right away that they were dating. You didn’t know a lot but picking up clues and body language was part of your training with HYDRA. The relationship between you, the Black Widow, and the archer was new, about 4 months. It was another thing you had to get used to. Fanny whined as you got off the couch and joined the blonde in the kitchen. She handed you a bowl to mix. Pancakes were a go to breakfast food in this apartment.

“When are we leaving for Iowa?” You asked, mixing the batter. For Thanksgiving, the Bartons invited Yelena and Kate to their home. The invite extended to you, which you were a little nervous about.

“We are leaving at 5.” You nodded, passing the bowl to Yelena.

“Are you sure you're okay with going?” She asked. “We can have Thanksgiving here.” You shook your head.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll be okay.” You didn’t want to change your girlfriend’s plan because you were a little anxious to go somewhere new and meet new people. You heard Kate walk around and downstairs. The dogs immediately ran over to her to say good morning. She gave them equal amounts of attention before making her way to the kitchen.

“Good morning,” she said, kissing you and Yelena on the cheek. She turned on the coffee pot. Coffee wasn’t for you but both of your girlfriends loved it. Once the coffee was on, she came back and wrapped her arms around your waist, resting her head on your shoulder. “How did you sleep?” She asked. You knew you couldn’t lie because Yelena knew the truth. The Black Widow turned her back to use the stovetop. You sighed,enjoying the feeling of her arms around you.

“I had a nightmare,” you mumbled. “I’m sorry I didn’t wake you up.” You felt her shake your head against you.

“You’re okay. I’m proud of you for even telling us.” You smiled, even though she couldn’t see it.

“Breakfast is ready.” Yelena said. “Break it up you two.” Kate let go of you and you turned around to see the archer roll her eyes. “Can you grab the syrup, solntse (sun)?” Yelena asked. You nodded, opening the fridge and grabbed the syrup. You joined your girlfriends at the table as they told you about Barton’s Farm. You were excited but your nerves were all over the place.          

*

You determined that Thanksgiving was the strangest holiday, all in the name of some guy that killed and conquered a bunch of people. According to Lila, it was more about family than the history behind it. The Bartons were nice and welcomed you into the family without hesitation. Nathaniel was fascinated with your ability and wouldn’t leave your side. Once food was eaten, you helped Laura with the dishes. You joined the rest in the living room. Kate and Yelena were on the couch and sat on the floor in front of them. Right away Nat sat on your lap. “Squirt, leave the poor girl alone.” Clint said to his youngest.

“I don’t mind.” You smiled, taking off the necklace you had. It was a gift but you weren’t sure who gave it to you. He held out his hand and you dumped the sand in his palm. “What do you want?” You asked.

“A star,” Lila said before her brother could answer. You nodded, waving your hand over the sand. The particles began to move and you carefully crafted the sand into a star. Once it was solid, you flew the star around the living room and around Lila. You brought the sand back to his hand. The next hour was filled with requests and you were happy to fulfill them because for once your powers were used to make people laugh instead of hurting them.

*

A nightmare woke you up. You quietly got out of the bed but you heard Kate wake up. “Where are you going?” She asked, her voice low from sleep.

“Just the bathroom,” you whispered, pushing some hair behind her ear. “Go back to sleep.” She nodded, closing her eyes. It wasn’t a total lie. You went to the bathroom first to splash cold water on your face. You wanted to go back to bed and curl up against your girlfriends. But you knew you’d slip back into another nightmare and you didn’t have the energy for that. Plus the room felt too small. On quiet feet, you walked down the stairs and into the living room. You walked over to the boxes that Laura had Clint bring down. Laura wanted to decorate for Christmas. Christmas, another holiday you didn’t understand.

You opened the top box and found old Christmas pictures. It was dated last year, the year Yelena and Kate met. The archer and Black Widow told you their story. You flipped through a few of the photos, most only having the small Barton Family. Until you came across a patch with a new addition. Someone you only met through stories. Natasha. You smiled as you looked through the photos. They all seemed happy.

“I wondered when you’d be up.” The sudden voice caused you to drop the photos and turn around with a quiet yelp. The mother of 3 was standing there with a smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Do you want some tea?” She asked, walking to the kitchen. It took a minute for your brain to register her sudden appearance but you followed her into the kitchen.

“How did you know I was going to be up?” You asked, sitting down. She placed two cups on the kitchen island while the water boiled.

“You aren’t the first person to be plagued by their past to be brought into this home.” She put tea bags into the mugs. “And something tells me you won’t be the last.” You smiled

“Your family does seem to attract strays.” She playfully rolled her eyes.

“Don’t remind me.” She poured the boiling water over the tea bags and set out sugar and honey. “So a nightmare.” She guessed. You nodded, mixing in some honey in your tea. “Do you want to talk about it?” Did you? Kate and Yelena always asked you about them.

“I don’t know how.” You whispered. You stared into the tea. “Kate and Yelena want me to talk about it and I try but this is all new to me.”

“What is?” She questioned. You were quiet for a moment. Most of the times you don't remember the nightmares that plagued you at night, only the feeling.

“A family.” you said. “People that care about me.” You sighed, shaking your head. “Sometimes I think I don’t deserve them. They’ve done so much for me and I feel like I’ve done nothing for them.” They saved you. They gave you a home in the city. They showed you everything you missed.

“Have you ever thought they don’t want anything from you?” Laura asked softly. “They just want you and that’s enough for them.”

“What if that won’t be enough one day?” You voiced your fears. “What if one day they really see what I am?” You shook your head. “Then I’ll have nothing all over again. I want to do something for them.”

“And what are you?” You didn’t answer. You were a lot of things. A killer. A monster. Hell your own parents gave you away because they didn’t want you anymore. Laura sighed. “If you want to do something for them, maybe I can help you plan a Christmas outing.” You perked up at them.

“Yes, please.”

“Alright, here’s the plan…”

*

Phase 1: Decorations and Christmas Tree

Laura said the first part of the plan needed to be timed carefully. It had to happen before December 3rd because of Natasha’s birthday. So you decided on the 1st, the day after you got back from the Barton’s. You woke up early, made a fresh pot of coffee, and began getting the Christmas decorations they’ve collected. You didn’t trust yourself in the kitchen so you figured you could go out for breakfast, something you’ve never done. You went back upstairs to your shared bedroom. Yelena woke up from the door opening. You gave her a smile and slipped back into bed behind her. “You are in a good mood.” She mumbled. You buried your face in her neck.

“I thought we could go out and get breakfast then maybe pick out a Christmas tree and decorate the apartment before Kate leaves.” The archer was assigned a mission while you were in Iowa, leaving tomorrow. Yelena rolled over on her back to look up at you.

“That sounds wonderful, solntse.” She paused. “That’s a lot of social interaction, are you going to be okay?” You really hated how caring they were.

“I’m the one who suggested it. I’ll be fine. Now,” you kissed her cheek. “Go get ready. I made coffee.” Yelena smiled and got out of bed. You turned your attention to the archer. You cuddled up against her back. “Katie, wake up.” She groaned, burrowing her head deeper into the pillow. “Come on, we got a Christmas filled day.” She opened her eyes at the mention of Christmas.

“Christmas.” You rolled your eyes.

“Yes Christmas but you have to get up.” She groaned.

“Fine since a pretty girl is telling me to get out of bed.” You blushed, slapping her on her chest.

“You are such a dork.”

*

Kate decided on bagels for breakfast. It was quick and easy so you could make it your next destination, a Christmas tree farm. Yelena held your hand as you walked through the pine trees. Kate led the way since she was the only one that had any real experience of picking a tree. “Why are you doing this?” The Black Widow asked. You looked at her.

“I’m not doing anything.” You said. It was mostly Kate that planned your outings. “I just wanted to have a fun day with you guys.” Before Yelena could say anything, Kate called out, “Hey guys, what about this one?” You dragged Yelena to where Kate was.

“Good pick malen'kiy yastreb (little hawk).” Yelena said, kissing Kate on the side of the head. The archer looked at you.

“It’s perfect.”

*

You and Yelena were in charge of getting the tree into the apartment while Kate ran to the store for a surprise. You set up the tree and Yelena started the batter for sugar cookies. “What do you think Kate is getting at the store?” You asked as you pet Lucky. Yelena sighed.

“You never know with her.” You laughed and went into the kitchen. You helped cut the dough into shapes and put the cookies into the oven when the door opened. Kate was wearing a Santa hat and carrying shopping bags in her arms. You went to help her as the dogs ran to greet her.

“What did you get?” You asked. She snatched the bags out of your hands.

“It’s a surprise.” Her surprise was plaid matching PJ sets for you, Yelena, her, and the dogs. Once everyone was dressed, the tree and apartment was decorated and the cookies were made. Kate even bought you a stocking while at the store. Everything was done and you were exhausted. Home Alone 2 was on the TV as you laid on the couch, your head rested in Yelena’s lap. Her fingers running through your hair lured you to sleep.

“Today was good,” Kate said.

“Yeah,” Yelena whispered, looking down at you. “It was.”

*

Phase 2: Dealing with Grief

Dec 3rd, 2026  

You were home alone with the dogs all day. Kate was on a mission and Yelena was well you weren’t sure where she was. She left early in the morning and turned off her phone. You worked on their Christmas gifts, played with the dogs, finished a few books that you started but still your mind was on the Black Widow. You even called Laura and she talked you off the edge. It was 10:30 when the apartment door opened and the Black Widow walked in. Fanny was the first to greet her. You stood up from the couch watching as Yelena petted the American Akita. She closed the door. “I was worried about you.” You finally said. She took off her winter jacket and hung it up.

“I can take care of myself.” She said, walking into the kitchen. She opened the fridge, pulled out a bottle of vodka, and began to drink straight from it. Patient. It was the advice Laura gave you when dealing with an emotional Black Widow.

“I know you can,” you said. “You're the strongest person I know.” She stopped at your words for a second but she continued to drink. “But you don’t have to be strong alone. I’m here.” The Russian stared at you as you walked over to her.

“I’m fine.” She said.

“The drinking straight from the bottle says otherwise.” You said, putting your hand on top of hers. “You have been there for me every step of the way; the good, the bad, the ugly.” Her bottom lip started to quiver. “Let me be there for you.” She didn’t say anything. “Please.”

“I miss her so much.” You nodded as her green eyes started to fill with tears.

“I know you do.” You said, pulling her into a hug. She cried against your shirt. You brought her down to the kitchen floor and rested your back on the counter. You held your girlfriend as she cried and cried. Soon her breathing evened out and you looked down to see her eyes closed, her fist gripping onto your shirt. You smiled and let her sleep.

*

Phase 3: Ice Skating and Christmas lights

“On a scale of 1 to 10, how busy will Bryant Park be?” You asked, looking up from the book you were reading.

“About 25.” Kate said. She was finishing a mission report for Sam. You thought about it. Your choices were Central Park or Bryant Park. You’ve been to Central Park already and you wanted to see the Christmas village set up in Bryant. But you did not want to deal with crowds. You sighed.

“Do you guys want to go?” You asked. Yelena stopped working on her Widow Bites.

“What?” She questioned. You put your bookmark in the spine and stood up, stretching your back.

“Yeah, let’s go!” You said. “Apparently, it’s the place to be in New York City for Christmas.” Kate closed her laptop.

“Are you sure you want to go?” You weren’t but you nodded.

“Yup!” You smiled, popping the ‘p’. “Let’s go.” You missed the way Yelena and Kate looked at each other as you ran upstairs to change.

*

It was busy. Maybe not a level 25 but a 16. You held on tight to Kate as you voiced your want to go ice skating. The weather was a little overcast so the ice wasn’t as busy. “Have you ever gone ice skating?” Kate asked as you sat on a bench to put on your skates. You nodded.

“Once for a HYDRA assignment.” You said. “I went on a date with a scientist they were interested in.” Yelena put a confronting hand on your shoulder. “They had me kill him after the 3rd date.” You rarely opened up about your missions with HYDRA.

“We’ll make better memories today.” And you did. You spent hours on the ice and at the park. You drank your weight in hot chocolate and eat just as many sweets. After you were done, you walked the streets of New York to look at the Christmas lights. You were buzzing with sugar running through your veins. But you were happy.

*

Christmas Eve

Yelena knew something was off with you. She was happy that you were leaving your comfort zone of the apartment but she was hoping it was for the right reasons. The plan was to spend Christmas in the city this year. The Barton's and Alexei and Melina were visiting. But tonight it was a quiet night. You were upstairs getting dressed while Yelena and Kate were putting the final touches on dinner. “Should we say something?” Kate asked. The Russian sighed.

“I think we need to.” Kate nodded. “I’ll take the lead.”

“Probably for the best.” The archer admitted. Yelena smiled as you walked into the kitchen. You were wearing a red dress with black leggings. “Whoa.” Kate mumbled.

“You look beautiful, solntse.” You blushed.

“Thank you.” You helped set the table. Dinner was amazing and desert was a simple cheesecake. After everything was cleaned up, presents were passed around. Christmas Day was going to be busy. You got Yelena a new vest and knife with the Russian words yubov', zdorov'ye, and schast'ye which translated to love, health, and happiness. For Kate, you got her a necklace with a bow and new arrow heads. They got you new books to add to your collection, two new sweatshirts because you were always stealing theirs, and a new locket to hold the sand.

“Solntse,” Yelena said, once you returned from changing out of the dress into one of the new sweatshirts. “Is there something you want to talk to us about?” The sudden question made you freeze.

“Yeah because you were different this month, not a bad different.” Kate added quickly. The Black Widow glared at the archer.

“We just want to make sure your okay.” Yelena clarified. She watched you play with the string. Finally, you sighed.

“It was hard.” You admitted. “But I did it all for you two.”

“Why?” Kate questioned. “We would have been happy just sitting in the apartment.” You throw your arms to the side.

“Exactly for that reason,” you said. “Sometimes I don’t think I deserve you guys.” You sat down on the couch with a huff. Yelena and Kate walked over to you, hoping you would continue on your own. “You guys literally saved my life and I look at everything you’ve done for me and I compare it to what I do for you; it doesn’t add up.”

“You don’t have to do anything for us.” Yelena said.

“You just being here and healing is enough.” You frowned.  

“What if I when one day that’s not enough and I lose you?” Your voice cracked at your confession. “I can’t lose you. I-” you paused, letting out a shaky breath. “I love you both too much to let you go.” It was the first time you said those 3 words.

“We aren’t going anywhere, okay?” Kate said, grabbing your hand and Yelena’s. Yelena took yours to complete the ring. “It’s us three against the world.” You finally smiled.

“You are a light, solntse. It’s why I call you sun. Never doubt that for a second.” Yelena said, squeezing your hand. “And I love you too.”

“I love you.” Kate said, bring you into a hug. You ended up falling backwards onto the couch, laying mostly on Kate. But the archer didn’t seem to mind. “You are stuck with us. I sincerely apologize.” You laughed, hiding your face in her neck.

“Merry Christmas.” Yelena said.

“Merry Christmas.” You smiled. You remembered what Laura said to you after you planned all of this, ‘All of your life you’ve experienced pain and everything given to you had a double meaning. But Kate and Yelena love you. And that love has no double meaning. That love is special and you should cherish it forever.’    

[ynscrazylife]

Kate x teen sister yes yes yesssss okay I don’t really have the best ideas but I second you writing something for that so I’m going to give it a shot and suggest maybe like maybe her sister tries being superhero-like to get kates attention bc she’s been so busy getting into the hero world but like reader obvs isn’t prepared for that kinda stuff and then yeah Kate helps them out from a risky situation and then it’s all nice (albeit a bit of a rant from Kate abt her sisters irresponsibility) and sisterly resolved! Yeah again I’m not good with ideas and don’t usually rec but I love Kate Bishop too much to let it pass

Jealousy, Jealousy

Summary: Your big sister Kate comes to the rescue when your attempt in being a vigilante gets you in trouble.

Warning: Reader gets captured and beat up (not too descriptive)

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

Main Masterlist | MCU Masterlist

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

Jealousy was an infectious, suffocating disease . . . And unfortunately, you had caught it.

As much as you tried to help it, over the years, jealousy over older sister had seeped in and invaded you over the years. It was subtle, silent, at first but lately, it was attacking with full force and twisting up your insides. By now you were aware of it, and knew it wasn’t good, but what was there to do about it? You were jealous. It was a fact.

Jealous that she had become a star archer, could fence so well, was a master in martial arts, and got to go off to that fancy, expensive college. You were pretty good at martial arts too, as Kate needed a partner to practice with at home when you guys were younger, but not as good as her. Other than that, you were pretty average at everything else, at least, in your mind, that is.

All this jealously spilled out one day when you were visiting your mother in prison and were updating her on your life. You hadn’t spoken to Kate since finding out she had gotten your mother arrested. She tried to explain, but you were too overwhelmed, too shocked, to listen.

You were recounting to her how of course Kate had become a superhero and was working with the one and only Hawkeye when she interrupted with: “You can be a hero, too, honey.” Her voice was sweet, a little too sweet, but you didn’t pick up on that — wouldn’t notice it until later.

This made you stop and blink. “What?” You asked dumbly.

Eleanor smiled. At the time . . . It seemed sincere. “You want to be a hero, do you not?” She asked with an innocent shrug.

You couldn’t deny that the idea had run through your mind. That kind of job must not only be exhilarating, but also rewarding—getting to help people, change the world, and work with other heroes. Work with Kate. Get closer to her. It was the perfect opportunity to bond with her, though you shoved that feeling aside. Why did you have to be the one to reach out to Kate? To get her attention? Couldn’t she reach out to you?

Your mom always had a knack for knowing what you were thinking. “Maybe,” you admitted, suddenly feeling small. You didn’t think anything of it and just wrote it off as anxiety.

“You can be a hero, Y/N . . . You can help me. It’s horrible in here, honey. You can free me,” Eleanor said, moving closer to the glass separating the two of you and putting her hand against it.

You furrowed your eyebrow in confusion, but mirrored her action. “How?” You asked. It never occurred to you that you could help your mom.

“I’ll give you the number of the woman I’ve been working for, Valentina. She could use a smart agent like you. Do some good for her and then . . . You can get Valentina to get me outta here. She’s a little unhappy with me right now, but I know you can show her that none of it was my fault,” Eleanor exclaimed.

It was intriguing — but something felt off. The name Valentina . . . It was familiar. “I think Kate said—” You began.

“Kate’s confused,” Eleanor intervened, a little sharply. When she saw you start to pull back, she quickly continued. “She’s misguided. So is Hawkeye. They misunderstood our work. Valentina can show you—how her agents have helped people. Tell her I sent you.”

If she wasn’t your mother, if she was anyone else, you’d be more suspicious than you were. But you were inclined to trust her, she was your mother. And you and Kate didn’t really get along. So you decided to give it a shot, see if Valentina was really helping people or not.

Of course, when you contacted her, the lies spilled off her tongue so quickly and easily. The proof she showed you — it was an elaborate web of fakes. You were being manipulated, although you didn’t know it at the time, by both your mom and Valentina. You were convinced that you could help both her and innocent people, so you started doing missions for her . . . Which is how you ended up captured by Kingpin’s allies.

You were sitting, tied to a chair with your wrists and ankles handcuffed and duct tape over your mouth, glaring at your captor who was holding your phone. “Let’s see how much you mean to them, dear,” the man mocked, and then proceeded to dial Valentina’s number.

On the last ring, she picked up. “Did you do it?” Valentina asked neutrally.

You watched the man like a hawk as he brought the phone to his lips. “We’ve captured your little agent,” he said gleefully in a sing-song voice.

Your glare sharpened and you heard Valentina curse. “Let’s say . . . 25 grand?” The man said.

You were sure that Valentina had the money, so imagine your surprise when all she did was scoff. Your gaze shifted to the phone, missing how the smile on the man’s mouth grew wider.

“You think I’m going to pay that amount of money for a rookie agent who got herself captured?” Valentina could clearly be heard saying. There was some shuffling, as if she was moving the phone, and then she muttered to someone nearby, making you strain to listen: “I knew she’d never make it if I had to make her believe that she was saving helpless people.”

You could barely believe your ears as you were forced to listen to Valentina mock you, eyes wide and cheeks burning in embarrassment. The man, though, he loved this. He was eating it up.

“You lied to her, then? To recruit her, I suppose?” He guessed, keeping his eye trained on you. You could feel his taunting glare and it just fueled the burning fire inside you.

“It’s none of your business,” Valentina snapped, before forcing a breath. “Look, the girl knows jack shit about me so there’s no use in questioning her—” She laughed. “—just have your fun with her and dump her somewhere, alright? I have no time for this, I’ll get what I want from you another way.”

“We already knew you were interested in us when you sent the girl here — but openly admitting it? That’s bold, especially with who our boss is,” the man said, not paying attention to you anymore.

“Kingpin’s dead, everyone knows that,” Valentina said, and then laughed again. “Have fun with your toy. I know I did, while it lasted.”

With that she hung up, having no clue that you heard all of this. Meanwhile, your mind was reeling . . . How could she give you up like this? What did she mean by you knowing “jack shit”? She told you a lot about herself and her business . . . Unless it was all lies . . .

You let out a muffled, angry scream through the duct tape. You had had an inkling that something was off with your mother’s story — especially about Kate being confused and misguided — since the beginning. Hell, you had been weary of her ever since she had been arrested, as you never knew the full reason why. You had never wanted to know, you still clung to hope that your mother was who she says she is, that your world wouldn’t be thrown upside down like Kate’s was.

Well, now it was definitely on a rollercoaster. Everything was shattering into tiny pieces that you weren’t sure you could put back together, and all you could do was blame yourself. God, you felt so stupid, so useless.

The dread set in when you looked up from where you had been staring at the floor and the man was walking towards you, still smiling like the Cheshire Cat. No one was coming for you.

“We’re gonna have some fun, darling,” he sneered.

It was hours later when you started to hear crashes and bangs. You looked up at the door curiously — what was going on? Who was here? You got answer when the door burst down and, to your surprise, two purple-clad heroes entered.

“Y/N!” Kate cried, immediately running over to you. She removed the tape from your mouth and then undoing your bindings. Clint stood at the doorway, watching silently.

Your eyes widened and you ignored the sting on your lips. God, you never thought you’d be so happy to see her. “Kate . . . How did you know I was here?” You asked — confused, but grateful.

“A friend of ours used to work with Valentina — she has connections and, uh, ways of discovering things,” Kate answered cryptically. Honestly, you didn’t really care about how she found you.

“She lied to me,” you mumbled, shifting your gaze to your lap, embarrassed. “Mom told me that by working with Valentina, I could help people . . . Help her. They both lied to me.”

Kate’s heart broke as she listened to you. Despite your strained relationship, she was your big sister. She’d always look out for you. “Yeah . . . I’m sorry you had to find out the hard way,” she murmured softly, petting your hair to soothe you.

Your gaze slowly found Kate’s. You had expected her to be mad at you for falling for this, but instead all you saw were tears and regret. “I wanted to be a hero like you,” you admitted, shaking your head in disbelief. “I was stupid to think that I could do that.”

“Hey, you can be a hero, Y/N. You just need the right training. Clint helped me become a hero and now . . . We can help you,” Kate assured you.

You just shrugged, still caught up in Valentina’s words. Kate decided to let it go for now, as the last thing you needed was to feel like she was persuading you into something.

“I can already tell you’re a great kid, like your sister. You were brave even to go up against these guys. Let us help you, okay?” Clint said in a soft tone he’d usually use with his kids.

You nodded slowly and Kate smiled warmly. She wrapped her arm around you, supporting most of your weight. Clint came to your other side and they both helped you walk out of there.

You knew it wouldn’t be easy to repair your relationship with Kate, but at least it was a start. You were safe with her and Clint and found yourself leaning into her. She cared for you. She loved you. And you loved her. She was family—your big sister, your protector.

“Thank you, Katie,” you murmured to her as the three of you walked out.

“No need to, Y/N/N,” Kate said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll always be here to save you.”

And so it began — the green envy started to seep away.

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[multi-fandom-oneshots]

If (S)he Be Worthy (Part 3)

A/N: Sorry this is so short but I did want to show their first meeting from Clint's POV. The next chapter will move the story along more. Thanks for y'all's patience.

Part 1 & Part 2

At first Clint had been pissed. Already wounded from their raid on the Hydra Research base in  Sokovia. Despite Dr. Cho’s cradle making him good as new Cap still had this stupid rule of downtime for a minimum of 48 hours after a major injury. He hated being benched, it reminded him how human he was. He was on a team of super heroes, gods, and he was just a carnie flunky with some sharp sticks. So when he heard the alarm to assemble he rushed to the war room, Cap’s orders be damned. 

Then Cap had put him on babysitting duty! For fucks sake any SHIELD lackey could sit in a hospital  room with an unconscious civilian. So he sulked in the corner as he watched over the unconscious woman in the hospital bed. He thought she might have been pretty if she hadn’t been beaten all to hell. She had two black eyes, a stitched up cheek and a split lip. He hoped silently that her lips would heal without a scar, she had nice lips. He huffed then, this is what he had been reduced to, objectifying a hurt woman—how old was she? Shit, she was basically a kid, only 24. He was a pervert. He was berating himself about being an old lecherous man when she bolted upright gulping in air like a fish out of water. 

He didn’t want to alarm her even more, so he stayed still and watched, he’d step in if she needed him to but he doubted a strange soldier lurking in her room would help calm her nerves. Surprisingly she calmed herself and then did the last thing he had expected, she was ripping off her leads. She didn’t even blink at ripping out the IV, didn’t even give her now bleeding arm a second look. He moved then and she immediately noticed his movement. 

“Holy crap, you’re Hawkeye! Ugh I wish I had my glasses so I could ogle you properly.” The girl spoke, her voice raspy but not unpleasant. 

Clint fought back a smirk and crossed his arms, and if he flexed a little as he did so then oh well. He was only human, and the poor girl had been through a lot, might as well offer her a bit of comfort in the form of his toned arms. The girl then tried to climb out of bed ranting about Jane Foster and that spurred him into action. He grabbed her shoulders firmly, hoping he didn’t hurt her but he needed to get her back into bed. She was not well enough to be walking. He had heard the doctor’s talking about concussions and hemorrhaging and he was no doctor but he knew all that stuff was not good. So he gently but firmly pushed her back into bed. She tried to shove him off her but he barely even registered her attempts. She was arguing with him, about how she needed to get to her friend but he ignored her and just held her still. 

“You need to stay in bed. You’re gonna make yourself sick. Sudden movements and concussions don’t mix”. Clint frowned, realizing the girl wasn’t even listening to him, still ranting about Foster and jack booted thugs and Thor. 

“Thor is taking care of Jane, he’s taking her to an undisclosed location where she will be safe and the rest of the team is handling the Hydra operatives that invaded the lab.” He said forcefully, willing her to snap out of it and listen to him. Name dropping the alien god must have worked because she finally looked up at him with comprehension. And then she started to hyperventilate, realizing just how close to death she had come.  

Clint grabbed her face, spoke soothing words, hoping to talk her through her panic. He looked into her eyes, speaking in hushed tones. It took everything in him not to lose himself in those blue doe eyes, to stay in the present, but those blue orbs pulled him in like a riptide, he was man who didn’t know how to swim and he was drowning in her. He reluctantly released his hold of her cheeks once she had calmed down, subtly pressing the call button, hoping the nurse could give her something to help her calm down. 

The nurse came in and scolded him but he couldn’t seem to care, all his focus on the woman in the hospital bed. As the nurse gave Darcy some medicine to help with her anxiety he remembered the message Thor had asked him to pass on. 

He cleared his throat and hoped she was still lucid enough to comprehend his words. “Thor said he would come visit you as soon as he returned. Said no one was to speak with you about the incident until then, whatever that means.” He muttered that last part, still grumpy about being left out of the loop. 

She was clearly feeling the medication because she smiled at him like he had just told her she had won the lottery. 

“Oh, you don’t know?” She teased. He held back his frown of annoyance and just quirked an eyebrow at her. 

She yawned, clearly fighting off sleep, “I’m a princess”. 

Clint’s mouth opened, but he didn’t know what to say. It was rare that someone could render the archer speechless but Darcy had seemed to do so without even trying. He had read her file, nothing in it hinted at any ties to anything interesting, especially not being royalty. He studied her as she slept, trying to ignore the surge of protectiveness he felt for the girl in the bed before him. He had just met Darcy Lewis but one meeting was all it took for Clint to decide that she was special, and he was going to figure out why.