#ask-clint-barton

[togrowoldinv]

Falling for Christmas

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

When you wake up from an accident, you don’t remember who you are. A local ski lodge owner helps you find yourself

Note: Yes, this is based on the very cheesy movie on Netflix with the same name. Some big plot differences, but cheesy all the same. Enjoy!

Natasha Masterlist 1, Natasha Masterlist 2, Natasha Masterlist 3, Main Masterlist

Your life was perfect. You had everything you wanted. And everything you wanted came easy to you. So, why are you waking up now in a hospital bed so confused?  

The doctors try to calm you down, but you keep incessantly asking why you are here. It isn’t until a beautiful red headed woman walks in that anyone answers your question. 

“Hey, you’re okay,” the woman says. ��You just had an accident.”  

“What kind of accident?” You ask. You feel a pounding in your head. Undoubtably, you feel sure you have a concussion.  

“A skiing accident. At my lodge,” she says. She walks further into the room and asks the doctors and nurses to leave you be.  

“Thanks,” you remark.  

“No problem. I’m Natasha.” She holds out her hand for you to shake. You take it and feel a shock of electricity in your veins.  

“Hi Natasha. I'm- I- well-”  

“The doctors were worried you might have had some amnesia.”  

You shake your head and drop her hand. You have no idea who you are. The beautiful woman, Natasha, excuses herself to talk with the doctors again. They come in to tell you that you can stay here or go stay at her lodge until someone comes to claim you or you get your memories back.  

“No offense, but I don’t know you,” you say.  

“Well, you don’t know anyone,” Natasha counters. You want to make some snarky reply, but she keeps talking. “Maybe coming back to the lodge will spark some memories for you. We have plenty of extra rooms.”  

“That would be good for her. She needs to get into a routine doing normal things,” the doctor explains. “Natasha will take good care of you.”  

“Thanks, Monica,” Natasha says. The woman nods and leaves the room.  

After a couple of hours, you are discharged from the hospital. Natasha drives you to the lodge in an old truck. Part of you wants to ask for more details about this woman, but the other part of you is just ready to sleep and try to forget this is happening.  

“So, we’ll set you up here,” Natasha says, opening the door of a suite. “My sister stays here a lot when she’s in town and she’s picky, so this is the best room in the place.”  

You manage to smile at that. Natasha walks further into the room and you follow her around. She tells you she’ll bring you some clothes to wear and to call her if you need help with anything.  

You turn in for the night without much fuss. The next morning, you put on some of Natasha’s clothes and go to the lobby.  

“Good morning,” Natasha greets you. She is wearing a sweater that looks extremely cozy. You’re not sure why your brain thinks about how it would feel to hug her while she is wearing it.  

“Hey Nat,” you say. She smiles at the nickname. “Is there coffee?”  

“Oh, yes,” Nat chuckles. “Caffeine addict Clint over here couldn’t live without it.”  

“I’m Clint,” the man working the front desk tells you.  

“I’m-” you stop, still not sure what your name is. “Sorry.”  

“No worries,” Nat reassures you. “Let’s get you that coffee.”  

You follow her into the dining area, but she keeps walking to the kitchen. She enters with ease and greets several people on the way to the back.  

“Danvers, I need your best cup of coffee,” she tells a tall blonde woman. The woman grins. 

“Coming right up, Romanoff.” She turns around with a mug full of coffee that smells amazing. “Special guest?”  

“Something like that,” Nat replies. “This is Carol the head chef.”  

“Hi,” you say to her. Your eyes catch a pendant necklace resting against her skin. “I love that necklace.”  

“Oh, thank you. My wife got it for me when our daughter graduated medical school,” Carol explains. Her smile is the brightest one you’ve ever seen.  

Natasha takes you to the sitting room where a fire burns and there are walls of books.  

“I have to take care of some things, but you make yourself at home. Feel free to explore the lodge. We have horses around back and whatever you’d like to eat or drink is on us,” Natasha says.  

There’s a comfort you feel around her that you really can’t describe. But you’re sad to see her go. Though she walks by throughout the day, you feel like you didn’t get much of a chance to see her.  

Dinnertime comes and she finally gets a moment to stop. She plops down in the chair across from you and smirks at the way you fell asleep in the chair with a book open.  

“Hey,” she says gently trying to stir you awake. “Sleeping beauty, it’s dinnertime.”  

“That’s a good name for her,” Clint says. “Especially since you think she’s cute.”  

“What? I don’t- it’s not-”  

“You totally think that,” the newest member of the team, Kate, pipes in. “As you should though. She is beautiful. And hopefully single.”  

Nat raises her brow at the girl. “Should I tell Yelena about this exchange?”  

“Please don’t,” Kate says, her face going white.  

Everyone laughs at that and you stir awake. You're met with a smiling Natasha.  

“Hey there,” Nat says. “Join us for dinner?”  

You expect to go the dining room, but Natasha leads you to the next building over. She opens the door to reveal a Hallmark level decorated living room and kitchen.  

“This is where I stay when I’m at the lodge,” Nat explains.  

“You don’t stay here year-round?”  

“I have family in Ohio, so I spend some time there in the summer.”  

“Your sister?”  

“She actually spends time all over the world, but my parents live in Ohio. It's glamorous,” she jokes. “Carol made us some dinner.”  

“Aw man, I thought you would be cooking,” you tease her. 

“Oh, you do not want that,” she replies, throwing her head back laughing. You don’t remember, but you have a feeling you haven’t made anyone laugh like that lately.  

Dinner is going smoothly with small talk and Natasha telling you about the wildest things that have happened to her since running the lodge. But you’re interrupted at dessert time by a knock on the door.  

Nat excuses herself and opens the door to be met with three children tumbling through it.  

“What are you guys doing here?” Natasha asks excitedly. She hugs the older two kids and picks the youngest one up. “How is my namesake doing?”  

“So good, Auntie Nat!” The little boy says. You watch on with a smile, but something twinges in your gut at the sight of family. He catches your eye and points to you. “Who’s that?”  

“That is Auntie Nat’s new friend,” she explains. She tries to put the little boy down, but he hangs on tight. The girl, maybe a preteen, sticks close to her as well. “These are Clint’s kids. Cooper is the one too cool to be here, Lila is the best girl, and this guy here is Nathaniel.”  

“Hello,” you tell them.  

“Hi, sorry for interrupting dinner,” Lila says. She seems sweet.  

“No worries at all,” you say. “I think I'm going to head back to my suite.”  

“Oh,” Nat reacts. She puts Nate down after some protesting by the kid. “You don’t have to leave. They just only see me a few times a year, so they get excited when they do.”  

“That’s sweet,” you say. There is that twinge again. “I think- um- I think my brain is trying to process some stuff so I just-”  

“Need some space?” Nat asks.  

“Yeah. Thank you for today, Natasha. I had fun.”  

“Of course,” she says, helping you to the door. “Oh hey, if you hear anyone calling you Sleeping Beauty I might be to blame.”  

“I’m not even going to ask,” you joke. Natasha chuckles and you try to memorize the sound. 

The next few days go by without anything too exciting happening. You meet Carol’s wife Maria, Clint’s wife Laura, and even Natasha’s sister makes it into town. You really like Yelena.  

And you find yourself now sitting by the fire with all of them. Carol and Maria sit close together. Clint and Laura do the same, watching their kids play. Natasha sits by herself, but close to where Yelena and Kate are snuggling tentatively.  

“So, you don’t remember anything?” Maria asks you.  

“Not really,” you say. “I just get gut feelings. Like seeing you all with your families, I think I have family.”  

“I’m sure you do,” Laura says. “We’re your family in the meantime.”  

“Yeah. We are always here for each other,” Carol adds.  

“Speaking of,” Yelena starts. “How are you doing this holiday season, Natasha?”  

You figure she is referring to the lodge or maybe the busyness of the season, but when Natasha’s eyes drop you realize there is something more.  

“I’m good,” she says. No one believes her. Not even you. 

“Natasha,” Clint begins but he’s interrupted by Nat.  

“I just said I'm fine. Can we drop it?”  

She stands up and disappears into the kitchen. The group sighs and you look around confusedly. Something more is definitely up here. You excuse yourself and follow after Nat. You find her placing cookies on a tray.  

“Hey, are you alright?” You ask her. She wipes a silent tear from her cheek. “Sorry, obviously you are not. But I wanted to make sure you weren’t not okay all alone.”  

“That’s kind,” Nat replies. “I- it’s hard for me to talk about.”  

You nod. Although you don’t remember your life, you’re sure you have your own set of things that are hard to talk about.  

“You don’t have to talk about the sad parts,” you say. “But if there was any joy in there it is probably worth telling. Tragedy is only tragic because it was once beautiful.”  

“Poetic,” Nat teases. You smile at her. She feels comfortable. She takes a deep breath. “I was married. Very happily. And she- um- she got sick a few years ago.”  

“I’m so sorry,” you say, placing a hand on her shoulder.  

“She passed away last fall,” Nat says. “I actually didn’t even celebrate Christmas last year.”  

“That’s understandable.”  

“Yeah, but I realized it made my friends and family miserable too. So, I tried to be more festive this year. It wasn’t going that great until I met you, but now I feel like I have a reason to celebrate again,” Natasha explains.  

“Yeah?”  

“Yeah,” she says. “I know it sounds fucked up to be glad you ended up here with no memories, but-”  

“No, actually I am glad I did too. I’ve met so many wonderful people. Especially you.”  

You are standing close to each other now. Nat starts to lean in, but she stops a couple inches shy of your lips.  

“I don’t know if you are with someone, so if you are I don’t want to cross that line,” she explains.  

“Oh, yeah. No, I guess that makes sense,” you say.  

“We should get back out there.” 

The next few days are lighter on your heart. You spend time with all of the wonderful people you’ve met, and get geared up for a Christmas Eve party that the lodge always hosts. You help decorate, prepare food, and pick out clothes for everyone to wear.  

Walking into the room now you see Natasha standing by the bar. She looks breathtaking. She thinks the same about you.  

“Wow,” Nat says, approaching you with a grin. “You are beautiful.”  

“I can say the same about you, Natasha.” A blush hue finds its way onto her cheeks.  

“Looking good, SB,” Carol says, her arm interlocked with Maria’s.  

“Told you the nickname would catch on,” Nat says.  

The party is going well for a few hours until a man you don’t recognize, the doctor you do recognize, and a woman that seems strangely familiar enter the lodge.  

“Y/n!” The woman calls out to you.  

Everything clicks. Your name, your family, who you are. And your girlfriend.  

“Wanda,” you say.  

“She does remember!” Wanda says to the doctor. She pulls you into a hug. Funny, it doesn’t feel like it used to.  

“What’s happening?” Carol asks. “Monica, you know her?”  

“I do, Mom. These folks were looking for our Sleeping Beauty. I treated her at the hospital and knew I’d find her still here,” Monica explains.  

“We can go home now,” Wanda says, pulling your hand. “Pietro, get the car running.”  

“Wait, I'm sorry,” you say. “Natasha.”  

“Who?” Your girlfriend asks.  

“Hey,” the redhead steps into your view. “Y/n. That’s a good name.”  

“I guess so. Although, I liked being a princess.”  

“Ah, you’re still a princess,” Nat says. She looks at you with sadness in her eyes. “Go on now.”  

“Thank you for everything,” you tell her. And then turn to the group. “Thank you to all of you.”  

Wanda pulls you away before you can say any true goodbyes. You go with her and the three of you end up at the resort just down the road. Your parents own this, you remember.  

A few days pass, but you don’t feel that normal. Things felt better at Natasha’s lodge.  

She feels the same way. Things were better with you there. Clint comes in to find her slouched over the counter.  

“You should reach out to her,” Clint says. “ 

“She has a whole life,” Nat says. “Apparently a big one.”  

She had looked you up on Google and went on a deep dive of your social media presence. The daughter of hotel mogul, she felt sure you didn’t want her in your life. But, god, is she wrong.  

“Kind of breaking HIPAA here,” Carol eavesdrops and speaks. “But Monica told Maria y/n has another appointment before she leaves town.”  

“When did everyone decide to eavesdrop?” Nat asks.  

“When you fell in love with her,” Yelena replies, seemingly appearing out of thin air. “Go get her.”  

Natasha nods. She wants this. She drives across town and parks out in front of your dad’s resort not caring that her truck might get towed.  

“Y/n,” she calls after you, seeing part of you slipping into the elevator. She runs and slips in just before it closes.  

“Natasha?”  

“Hi,” she says. “I needed to see you.”  

“I’m listening.”  

“I couldn’t let you leave. Not when I’m falling in love with you,” she says. “And I know you have Wanda, but-”  

“Actually, we broke up,” you say.  

“Oh.”  

“Yeah, we never made any sense,” you explain. “Continue about the in love with me thing.”  

“Right,” Nat says. “Maybe I should just kiss you?”  

“That would be perfect.”  

Natasha takes your face in her hands and leans in. She wastes no time deepening the kiss and your knees threaten to buckle beneath you.  

“Come home with me, y/n?” Nat asks when you break the kiss.  

“I’d love to, Natasha.”  

[augustvandyne]

Hey! could you please right a natasha x wife r? Idk if you remember when the avengers have to take refuge and they have to go to clints house (he's reluctant bc he has a secret family only nat knows about)? well could you write it so it's actually nats family that no one knows about? and she's super reluctant to take them there

everyone's alive and no one knew she had a family (not even clint) and the timeline is SUPER wack bc plot twist, yelenas already there. the avengers are hurt nat didn't tell them and they're kinda mad too

nats wife doesn't like having them there bc it's her home and they're putting them all in more danger then they normally are in. the kids don't like them either bc they 'take their mom away' or something like that (but the kids adooore their aunt yelena)

this is super long I'm sorry but the idea has been plaguing my head and I feel like it would be fun to read about. thank you and have a great day!

hi! yes! don’t worry about it being too long, i’ll listen to and write whatever thoughts you have.

safehouse

You and Yelena were baking a cake when pack of Avengers came piling through the front door.

You were expecting Natasha later in the week, and alone. Not with the danger that is literally standing in your doorway.

That was the best part of this place, there was no danger. Nat left work at work, and when she came home all she focused on was her family—you, Yelena, and your two lovely children.

So you were definitely surprised, and not happy, to see the other five Avengers.

You walk further into the living room, and when Nat sees you, her face is immediately apologetic.

“Babe—“

“Who are all these people?” Yelena comes and stands beside you in the living room, staring up at all the men.

“This is Steve, Clint, Tony, Thor, and Bruce. They’re my friends,” Natasha shrugs.

“Uh, no, we’re not your friends now,” Clint crosses his arms with sass.

“They’re the Avengers,” You correct your wife. “And they shouldn’t be here.”

“Listen, I wasn’t going to even bring them here, but—“

“It’s our fault, ma’am,” Steve interrupted.

“Oh, here we go,” Tony throws his hands in the air.

“What?” Steve whines.

“First the language, and now the manners. Good god,” Tony rolls his eyes.

“Okay, take it elsewhere. More preferably, back to where you came from,” You fake smile, earning a glare from Nat.

“Where are the kids?” Nat asks, and you get the feeling she needs to talk. Alone.

“Upstairs in the playroom. Yelena, why don’t you take them outside to play on the swing set?” You ask sweetly.

“Ah, gotcha,” Yelena gave a look to Natasha that said, good luck.

The kids say hello to Nat, made faces at the men still in your living room, and then squealed with joy out the door because their mama is home.

You looked away from the door and back up at the Avengers once again. Nat softly grabs you by the arm and pulls your towards the other side of the living room.

“What are they doing here, Nat?” You lean closer, your foreheads slightly touching.

“I had no other choice,” Natasha’s raspy voice makes it hard not to forgive her.

You sigh and purse your lips.

“Really,” Nat insists. “If there was any other choice, I would have made it. We just got into a little trouble, and need to camp out for a few days.”

You made a vow not to ask what trouble she was in, so you kept your mouth shut when she says this.

“Okay. But if there’s even a little bit of damage to the house, they are paying for it,” You lift your head up and walk back towards the group, Natasha following close behind.

Nat glances your way, then back at the boys, “We can stay here. But only for a few days.”

“So this is where Lady Natasha goes every time she takes off,” Thor nods.

“Yes. A home we didn’t even know about?” Bruce shakes his head.

“I can’t believe you never told me,” Clint looks genuinely hurt when Nat looks at him. “I thought we were friends.”

“Yeah, what he said,” Tony puts his hand on his chest.

You roll your eyes and head back to the kitchen before the cake burns, letting your wife deal with her friends/fellow Avengers.

You finish the frosting Yelena had started, and ice the cake once it comes out of the oven. You then start on dinner. Something easy everyone can enjoy—pasta.

Dinner goes about as well as you thought it would.

Nat and the kids catch up. She just saw them a week or so ago, so there isn’t much to catch up, but you love watching Natasha play and talk with the kids.

You try not to laugh as the kids keep making faces at the guys.

Your daughter starts to kick Tony in the shin, to which him and your daughter start having a staring contest.

“Okay, what are you guys doing?” Nat asked.

“Your tiny agent keeps kicking me,” Tony says, never taking his eyes off the smaller girl.

“Okay she’s not an agent, and it’s probably because you take her mother away every chance you get,” You sighed with frustration. “Good she’s kicking you, maybe you’ll leave then.”

“Y/n—“

“I’m sorry,” You look at your wife. “I said it was okay, even though you’re putting us it more danger. But, I will try to be civil, but only for Natasha.”

“Thank you.”

Later in the night you had assigned everyone to places in the house to spend the night.

Yelena had volunteered to spend the night with the kids, so at least two people could bunk in there, and it was fine by you because the kids adored Yelena.

So two people slept in Yelena’s room, you had one in the living room, and two in the guest room downstairs.

“They are mad at me, you know?” Nat brushed through her hair.

“They’ll get over it. It’s a safe house,” You wrap your arms around her waist from behind. “You are supposed to keep it secret.”

“I know,” Nat turns so you two are face to face. “I love you, and thank you for letting us stay here. We’ll be out of her in two days, tops.”

“Good,” You plant a kiss on the side of Natasha’s mouth.

“But I might not be back for a while,” Nat cups your cheek in her hand.

“I had a feeling,” You look down.

“I’ll just have to make it up to you.”

“How about you start now?” You lift a brow and squeal as your wife picks you up and puts you on the bed.

Danger aside, you loved having your wife back in your arms, and you were granted with just that from this crazy mission.

[unholyhelbig]

any chance for a kate x reader angst?

Title: Firecrest (Part 1/???)

Ship: Female!Reader x Kate Bishop

Wordcount: 4075

Summary: Kate Bishop and y/n have an unspoken agreement that revolves around being enemies with benefits. But when Kate's new mentor is someone Y/n is very familiar with, things become complicated.

Warnings: Mentions of sexual activities, fire, mentions of childhood abandonment, horrible grammar (I don't proofread lol), and things I'm sure I'm forgetting.

[A/n: how about enemies to lovers angst? How about Enemies to lovers with a little fake dating sprinkled in there? Let me know if this is something you all would like to see continued!]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Your mother had the in-depth beauty of a street dog. Her features were angular, yet soft and welcoming. People were often tempted to reach and run their fingers through her fur. But she tended to gently correct. She had the perfect demeanor for a government spy. However, you had always known her as a brilliant biochemist. Alluring in her brilliance.

The soft lights of the city shaded her face in the back of the taxi. The air had warmed significantly, but the low hum of the air conditioner made you pull your suit jacket close to your breast. The maroon had felt like too much at first. But the impressed nod from the woman next to you was enough to ebb away any doubts.

Your mother popped open her compact and swiped her finger against the corner of her mouth, taking away the smudged gloss that wasn’t noticeable in comparison to her presence. There was not much you feared in this world, but her wrath. Her annoyance. Her disappointment. None of which she flashed often.

“Remember what we talked about, y/n.”

“Of course. Would you like me to repeat it?”

She snapped the compact and leveled you with amusement. Her eyebrow lifted, the start of a smile at the corner of her lip. She couldn’t be serious. You made eye contact with the taxi driver in the mirror. He showed the same amusement that your mother did, yet somehow, hers stung more.

A groan escaped you, but bled into the mantra that was drilled into you for the past two weeks. “I will be the perfect lady who is grateful for the success of Lance and his political circuit.”

“And?”

“I will not start anything I can’t finish with Katherine Elizabeth Bishop, And I’m an adult perfectly capable of handling myself.”

“That wasn’t part of it.” Your mother corrected softly. Her hands were suddenly on you, smoothing down the lapel of your suit. “But It’ll do. Mostly, because we’re here.”

Eleanor Bishop often held her galas in the historic buildings of downtown Manhattan. There were small pamphlets lingering by the extensive hand-carved doors. They’d detail the rich family that had built it from the ground up. The architecture was always admittedly beautiful, and Eleanor had a subtle, expensive taste.

This venue was no different; stretching hallways and men in suits that mirrored yours in a tasteful black. Your mother never stepped ahead of you, instead holding a hand out and helping you from the back of the taxi. You’d left a generous tip, careful not to shove your hands into your pockets.

“This used to be a museum for fine arts and culture. The last I heard; the city was going to tear it down but made it a historical site. They use it for banquets now, I suppose.”

“Oh? You’ve read the informational booklet, then?”

She jabbed her elbow into your ribs and mocked a scowl. “No. I robbed it. How do you think we paid for your college tuition, kiddo?”

That was an exaggeration. You were 90% sure- maybe 75%. Bobbi Morse was a force to be reckoned with, and that was something you had learned from a young age. She’d let you sit on the counter of her lab while she worked, and you’d watch her with absolute awe.

Your mother had taught you, without fail, a variety of fighting skills. Starting with Aikido and ending with Taekwondo. She was a master at her craft, both in the field and in her lab and had worked with you since you could walk to train you in the same.

“Mm,” You hummed your response, “Which priceless painting did you take?”

“It was a vase, smart-ass.”

You pulled in a breath to retort before effectively being rendered silent by the performance hall. Eleanor Bishop had gone all out for the benefits that she backed. This was a vast space that was adorned in white sheer and glittering lights. A slideshow of the sponsored bird sanctuary flashed on the televisions scattered throughout the space.

There was a band on the stage, string instruments that you could feel in the center of your chest. The low notes shuddered through you as you took in the crowd. There were few that you actually recognized, usually hazed in expensive alcohol and lingering by the food, or some form of fresh air.

“It’s ironic that it’s about birds, right?”

She leveled you with an unimpressed look and squeezed your shoulder fondly. It didn’t take long for Lance to make his way over to the both of you. His eyes lit up and a smile spread across his freshly-shaved face. He gave you a small wave, gently exiting the conversation he was having with a congressman, a millionaire, or an architect that was just the right amount of desperate.

Lance Hunter had stolen your mothers heart when you were ten years old. You always assumed it was the accent, but the more you got to know him, the more you understood his charms. Lance had never forced things with you, had never claimed to be your father.

There were quiet moments when he’d join you on the wrap-around porch of your family home and just sit. The two of you would watch the way the sun dipped behind the horizon, sipping on syrupy cans of soft drink. Eventually, you talked to him, and he listened with diligence.

“My girls,” he said, placing a chaste kiss against your forehead before sidling up next to Bobbi. They had effortlessly matched in a deep and royal blue that contrasted the ignited red of your own suit. You were the perfect epitome of a political family.

Eleanor Bishop had given you a brief nod of the head, signifying your presence. It was a silent warning told through blackened eyes: Behave.

Her diligent attention was enough to split your family up. You preferred to linger away from the stuffy socialites. Bobbi and Lance were required to mingle. You plucked a flute of bubbling champagne from a passing tray and moved towards one of the elegant support beams decorated with what you now learned, was real foliage.

The floral scent tickled the back of your throat, so you took a generous swallow and let the alcohol warm your stomach diligently. There had to be something interesting around here, away from the rest of the party. A plague or two that would further explain the venue.

A burst of forced laughter greeted your parents as they sidled up next to Jack and Eleanor. Lance had produced some campaign buttons, which the group took without hesitation. You had to admit, he was loveable and politician-worthy.

“Look at us, we match.”

You swallowed back a groan, not bothering to look over. A small noise still escaped you, and the grumble conveyed your exact disposition towards Kate Bishop. Disgust. Annoyance. The slightest bit of attraction. She overwhelmed your senses with her crisp, winter scent.

Eventually, curiosity got the better of you and you glanced over at her. She was in red too, incredibly vibrant against her soft expanses of exposed skin. The dress had a dipping neckline, revealing the freckles that created constellations against her collarbone. She beamed with irritation. You’d never admit that she was captivating.

“I thought you were given explicit instructions to leave me be.” You said between gritted teeth.

She hummed and grasped the drink from your hand. Kate was calculated in her movements, wrapping her lips around the smudge of lipstick that you’d already created on the rim of the glass. She didn’t break eye contact, those slate orbs boring into you.

“We both know you’re the most interesting thing at these parties.”

“I’m not falling for your… charms, Kate Bishop. Your mother may have bought you out of our consequences last time. But, I have more at stake.”

She scoffed and set the now empty glass down on the nearest table. You knew damn well that Kate wasn’t absolved of accountability after your run-in a few months back. She held herself differently now, and it was a minute expression of her posture that caught your attention.

There was a small split at the corner of her lip, and a healing bruise just at her hairline. She’d attempted to use makeup to cover the abrasions, but you had a trained eye. You were your mother’s daughter. These were defensive wounds. And for just a moment, you worried that the Bishop’s had a heavier hand than you’d anticipated.

But then, Kate’s muscles flexed and her head lilted to the side, dark curls splaying over her shoulders. She had grown stronger. It wasn’t noticeable, or at least, it shouldn’t’ have been. But you knew every inch of her body and despite your forced separation, she’d grown steady of herself.

“Why should I be punished, when you’re the one who set the curtains ablaze.”

You leaned close enough to feel her body heat. To her credit, she didn’t step back. A ghost of a smirk was on her lips. You snarled your words. “And who’s fault was that?”

“I don’t see how I was supposed to know you’d get trigger happy with your powers when I went down on you.” She gave you a cocky pout. “Is that a new thing, or have you never been able to handle yourself in moments of pleasure?”

You couldn’t stop yourself from grasping at the strap on her dress, pulling her closer to you out of a burst of anger. The phantom look of confidence spread into a full-blown grin. You were exasperated, the familiar heat burning just under your skin.

It was true, you’d lost control for just a moment, with Kate Bishops head between your legs, one hand buried deep in her mess of tangled hair. As an orgasm washed over you, thighs shaking, your other hand had drifted too close to the drapes and had caught them ablaze.

Despite the both of you being adults, you were separated within an instant. Dragged embarrassingly away by your respective parental units after the fire was put out. The last you’d seen of her was reflected with the flashing red lights of a rumbling fire engine.

Kate had a devilish look in her eyes. “Harder, baby.”

“Ladies,”

It was a resolute sound that had you pulling apart as if she was a toxic entity. In your book, she was. Both hands landed in your pockets and the two of you looked sheepishly at Eleanor. She’d been keeping an eye on you, you were sure. And had made a direct line to you the second Kate had given you that salacious look.

“Good evening, Mrs. Bishop. It’s a pleasure to see you.”

Kate coughed out something that sounded like ‘Kiss ass’ and covered it up with a doe-eyed look of innocence. She may not have been afraid of her mother, but you were terrified. Bobbi had a soft hand. It commanded you like a weapon, and you were happy to do what you were told.

Your own punishment had consisted of heavier training. Both mentally and physically to perfect control that you’d had mastered years ago when you were nothing but a girl with streaks of tears dripping from your chin. The fire had been too strong then, overwhelming and horrible.

“Good evening, Miss Morse, I trust you’ve found a way to entertain yourself during the benefit that isn’t antagonizing my daughter.” Before you could answer, she turned her attention to Kate. “And you. I specifically allowed you to bring a guest in attempts to keep you away from Bobbi’s little arsonist.”

She had been under the full impression that you’d taken a zippo to the hanging drapes. It was the white-hot flames that leaked from your own fingers that had done the damage. Kate was thankfully tight-lipped about the fact, and you let the socialite think whatever she wanted. She hadn’t pressed charges.

Kate pulled her shoulders back, almost looking offended at the name you were tagged with. Almost. “Clint got stopped at the front for an autograph, mom. I’m just biding my time.”

“Bide it somewhere else. We’ve talked about this.”

Eleanor gave you a tight-lipped smile that had noticeably softened compared to the venomous expression she held for Kate. A light squeeze was delivered to your arm. It had always scared you how quick she could switch like that. Her shoulders pulled back as she wandered back over to her group.

Lance lifted his chin in your direction. Silently asking if everything was okay, and it was. His quiet reassurance brought the heat licking at your stomach to a bubbling halt. Why you cared more about Eleanors disposition towards Kate, then her acidity directed at you, was beyond something you were willing to confront.

“Who’s Clint?”

“Why? Jealous?”

“Can we have a normal conversation, please. Is it so shocking that I’d take interest in your friends?”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Yes. If you must know, he’s not a friend. He’s a mentor. He’s, my partner.”

Both of your eyebrows lifted. Partner in what? It wasn’t something you would audibly voice, save you show any concern past the normal amount that you usually had for Kate. The tautness of her muscles, and the superficial injuries made that discomfort return to the pit of your stomach.

Kate was an archer. You knew such from the trophies that littered her dresser the one time you’d been privy to her room. Truth be told, you hadn’t paid much attention. You were backed against her door and her teeth were scraping against your pulse point. But the little gold figures and the child-sized bow on the wall was enough to of a giveaway.

You only knew one archer, and you knew him distantly; from photos that your mother had blacked out with a sharpie. She’d later told you that she regretted the fact because the memories of the three of you would always remain.

The taste of bile filled your throat and Kate lilted her head to the side, like a golden retriever that had heard a piercing noise. There was a surprising amount of concern in her voice. “You okay? You’re looking a little green.”

“Hm? Yeah. Totally. The champagne is just sitting weird.”

A frown had found its way onto your face, and you directed your attention back to the crowd. It seemed that Eleanor was satisfied enough with the two of you lingering in silence. You were trained to know where the exits were in any venue. Kate’s stare shockingly darted in the same pattern as your own.

People had trickled in until the floor was bustling with conversation. You let your shoulders relax in the slightest bit, swallowing back the acrid taste in your mouth. Eleanor had lost her viewpoint of you and her daughter, and you weren’t much in the mood for fighting her on pure proximity.

“There you are, god, I didn’t know this many people cared about birds.”

This time, you couldn’t stop your narrowed eyes from flashing to the intrusion. Whatever distracted Kate was enough to be deemed a savior in your book. But the voice was familiar, painfully so. It was as if your body reacted by busting out in goosebumps, chills rushing down your spine.

Now, you wanted your mother to be able to see you. You were a strong, and capable adult that knew at least six different ways to kill a person without a weapon. You’d gone on missions with your mother, with your Aunt Daisy, too. A simple man in a simpler suit should not make your knees weak.

Yet- here he was. In a charcoal black ensemble with a pocket square that was a flash of purple. It was a color you’d grown to despise. It was an eyesore, as was the man that stood at a height taller than Kate, but just a few inches.

You’d found a singular picture of him that wasn’t defaced in your mother’s nightstand. A polaroid of the three of you on the beach. The sun had turned your cheeks a flushed pink. He had you in his arms and beamed at the camera. Eyes matching the blue of the ocean.

They were the same now, the same vibrancy that you’d thought about. He looked other, worn from parenthood and the effects of time. Of course, you’d seen him on television, but Bobbi had always been quick to flick it off, only lingering during the Sokovia accords.

His mouth fell open in disbelief, but you were careful to keep your jaw stock still. You weren’t going to give Clint Barton the satisfaction of rattling you. Not here, not if he ever decided to show up when you had a family of your own. Not on your deathbed. He couldn’t invoke that from you.

Kate had learned to pick up on body language, and she had learned fast. Her stare shifted between both you, and Clint. She had the right amount of perception to keep her mouth shut, even taking half an inch step back. She was in a position to hold the two of you apart, if need be.

“Holy shit,” He breathed out, “Sparky.”

“Don’t call me Sparky.”

You were taken aback by your own ability to produce words. They were pinched and had dropped down an octave to true anger. Not the type that Kate Bishop was used to. Sure, you had aggravation directed towards her, but nothing short of teasing.

Clint took a slight step towards you, and you took a large one back, nearly bumping into the support beam wrapped with vines and vibrant flowers. Your hand reached out to grab onto it for support, but Kate’s fingers wrapped gently around your wrist. Right. Yes. That would be the safe bet.

You needed to find Bobbi.

Chances were, Clint hadn’t seen her with the growing attendance. You could slip out through the large storm doors that were a few feet behind you. At least then, you could burn scorch marks into the grass and not into this historical building.

“What is happening?” Kate said, refusing to remove her hand from your wrist. You didn’t wrench it away, either. It was a force, a grounding factor. You refused to let the fire move past your fingertips in fear that it would burn her. “Clint?”

“She uh… She’s…”

The words died in his throat. You couldn’t’ stand looking at him, pale as ice and wringing his hands nervously. He couldn’t hold still, but you were like a stone. Almost as if he would vanish the second you averted your stare.

“I’m his daughter.”

Kate’s hand did move from your wrist and to your hand, almost out of instinct. Your relationship, or lack-there-of, had never required this kind of closeness. But She was hanging on tightly, nails digging into your skin. The slight sting brought you back.

Clint croaked “How’s your mother?”

Kate winced and you felt the spring in your spine loosen. He was more nervous than you were and that gave you an advantage. “You can ask her yourself. She and Lance are mingling.”

“Lance is here?”

“Of course.”

He was running for congressman. It would damage his campaign if he hadn’t shown up. The gossip blogs that followed the lives of New Yorks Elite had picked up on the rift between you and Kate. There were a few grainy photos of the two of you standing shoulder to shoulder, wrapped in foil blankets that made you look like Baked potatoes. There was soot on her chin, and you had wiped the darkness away with your thumb. Of course, that had been the moment they caught and wrote about, and plastered all over the internet.

Clint worked his jaw and cupped the back of his neck with a tepid smile. It wavered incessantly. He was boyish in his charm and that would always be the case, no matter how old he got. You knew he had a family now. A real family that didn’t’ consist of a secret agent and their match-happy daughter.

You gave Kate a squeeze with your free hand, signaling that you were fine. The last thing you wanted to appear was weak. She seemed to get the message loud and clear, wrenching her touch away with a nervous clearing of her throat.

“I’m sorry… Can we back up for a second?”  

Clint had a dejected look in his eyes that almost made you feel a twinge of guilt. Almost. Your own ego often got in the way of things, and this was one of them. There was a flood of emotions between both of the archers, a silent pleading to hear him out.

“You and Mrs. Morse dated?”

“They were married.” You snatched another glass of campaign, this one all for yourself. You swallowed the acrid drink and let the bubbles assault your throat. “When did the divorce finalize, again?

“Y/n”

“No, I was never really privy to the details myself.”

“We shouldn’t do this here.”

You finished off the rest of the drink, a certain amount of your defenses lower. You felt warm, but not warm enough to do something stupid. He was right. You shouldn’t do this here and if you had your way, you wouldn’t’ do it anywhere. You were perfectly content to let this man slip back into oblivion and train the Bishop heiress that you had a habit of bedding.

Clint seemed to let out a sigh of relief when you nodded in agreement. He scrutinized you both, the rush of initial shock ebbing away like a melting lake. Chunks of ice broke off and gave way to the familiarity and closeness the two of you held. It was relaxed, despite the rivalry that landed you here in the first place.

“No,” he drawled out, “No, no, no. Kate, you didn’t’.”

The tips of her ears were red enough to match your suit and the color that painted her own lips. She hid her face in her hands with a groan. But you wrapped your arm around her waist and pulled her against your side.

“Does that bother you, old man?”

It clearly did. Kate leveled you with a delicious glare that was unmatched but didn’t’ move from your hold. Was she letting you have this? You weren’t entirely sure. He was whipping his head back and fourth with enough force to break his own neck. It was making you dizzy, but giddy all the same.

Your moment of joy at his dismay was short lived. You caught the sharp scent of your mothers perfume. She’d cut through the crowd and furrowed her brow at your closeness to Kate. It took her a few moments to realize that Clint was here. To realize that he was the man that had spurred your act of rebellion in doing the exact opposite of what she’d requested at the start of the night.

Her cool eyes took him in just as yours had. Kate was still next to you, swallowing a dryness in her throat that you could nearly hear. Bobbi didn’t attempt to separate you as Eleanor had. Instead, she gave you a quiet stare. “Darling, I think it’s time we go. There’s a situation we have to attend to.”

“Of course. It’s been a pleasure.”

It hadn’t been, but you shocked yourself and Kate by leaning in and pressing a kiss just behind her ear, still blazing with blush. She froze but gave you the slightest bit of nod. Clint opened and closed his mouth like a surfaced fish, but kept quiet.

Your mother walked with a purpose, her shoulders pulled back and an elegance to her sway. You didn’t look back, keeping time with her as she weaved through the crowd and towards the lobby that was ten degrees cooler and much, much more welcoming.

“Is there actually a situation, or is this your attempt at a rescue?”

She ignored your question, stopping and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with a soft look in her eyes that made your stomach squirm. “Are you okay, sweetie? I had no idea that he’d be here. I never would have made you come.”

“I’m fine, mom.” She didn’t seem convinced, so you added “Really.”

Eventually, Bobbi relented with a shaky sigh and cupped your cheek in a comforting manner. “Good. Okay. Good. Because we do have a situation.”

[headcanonthings]

[shewhohangsoutincemeteries]

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. ✍🏻 ✨

look, I'm gonna cheat a little and do top five clint, top five tony, and top five other character fics because I've written so many and I hate making decisions lol.

clint barton x reader:

to ashes after the snap, you track clint down and help him on his mission as the ronin. slow burn, angsty and I swear I'll update soon.

ride along a miscalculation leads to you needing to sit on clint's lap on the way home from a club, and the close proximity and the alcohol leads him to finally start making a move.

mile high stuck on a commercial flight instead of the quinjet, clint takes what he thinks is an ambien to help him sleep. it really, really isn't. (based on an interview with j.renner where he accidentally took a viagra on a plane). smut.

body heat the two of you get caught in a blizzard and have to huddle together in the backseat of the SUV for warmth. basically, the only-one-bed trope in a car. smut.

green light put simply, you peg clint.

.

tony stark x reader:

kinds of love (series) you move into the avengers compound after the events of civil war and find your connection to tony developing more than you ever thought it would.

as you're told tony asks you into his office with a game in mind (featuring toys, oral, orgasm denial and dom!tony)

firelight missing scene in age of ultron. you and tony bond while he fixes you up and every one else sleeps at the barton farm. fluff and light hurt/comfort.

strings you and tony have a friends with benefits arrangement that could be so much more if you were just willing to break the rules...

love in a hotel room tony invites himself into your hotel room after discovering just how thin the walls are between them.

.

other mcu x reader:

shards of glass (bucky barnes) as part of his amends, bucky tracks you - a former red room graduate - down. cue attempted murder (on your part) turned violent sex.

you look good in leather (peter quill) on your way to xandar, peter shows you just how much he likes the look of you in the ravager's uniform.

hell of a ride (peter quill) your first lesson driving the ship quickly turns x-rated.

colour me happy (wanda maximoff) a reunion during the years wanda's on the run. fluff and smut and body paint.

hold tight (wanda maximoff) she's very giving while wearing the strap.

[petite-madame]

Just a quick question. Do you have any tattooed Hawkeye art? The ones I've seen of Tony and Thor are stunning.

Hi ^^

Thank you very much for your ask and for enjoying my tattooed Tony and Thor artworks. 🥰

Just a quick question. Do you have any tattooed Hawkeye art?

It's your lucky day! I was about to say "No, I'm sorry, I don't have something like this" then I remembered that about a year or so ago, I started a tattooed Hawkeye art. It still needed some work here and there so I worked on it last night and it's now done:

It's a "problem" that I have sometimes: I start an artwork but I stop it when it's 90% done, I have no idea why. 🙃

Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy this artwork. Nothing original when it comes to the tattoo but I think Clint looks badass like this. Thanks again and have a great day 💗

[scavengerssuccotash]

"Clint did what?!"

Phil sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “He punched the Russian ambassador.”

Fury twists to look at Natasha who sits primly in Phil’s office chair. She doesn’t look up from where she shapes her nails with a black nail file.

“Don’t look at me, I didn’t ask him too.” Natasha says, innocently.

Fury places his hands on his hips and glares. “Dare I ask what he did to deserve that? I sent you two to warm relations, not set them back fifty years!”

Natasha merely raises an eyebrow before fanning out her fingers, inspecting the almond shape of her nails. Frustrated Fury turns his one eyed glare back onto Phil.

“Well?”

Phil rubs a hand over his mouth, a strange expression crossing over his features. “It seems the Russian Ambassador called Agent Romanoff a…”

“A prostitute.” Natasha cuts in dryly, still filling away at her nails. “To which I reminded him, quite nicely I might add that, that compensation for my services might be looked at favorably should my dear motherland feel so inclined to remedy the past. Mr. Volkov agreed.”

Fury shakes his head. “Agent Romanoff, while it’s an unfortunate turn of phrase you can’t—“

Finally she rises from her chair and crosses her arms. “I don’t have a problem with sex work, Director Fury.”

“Then why—“

Natasha rolls her shoulders, nonchalantly. “Clint thought the suggested sum was low.”

“How much was it?” Fury asks.

Natasha gives him a feral grin. “1.2.”

Fury stares up at the ceiling, wondering not for the first time how the hell he had found himself with Strike Team Delta as Shields golden goose when they act like this. “I’ll go report to the council—“

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that just yet, Director.”

Natasha pats him on the shoulder before handing off her phone. There on the screen is a bank account with 2.5 million. Fury’s mouth drops open in surprise but before he can say anything a rapid succession of honks alert them. Fury and Phil both race to the window and peer out. There in SHIELD’s parking lot, haphazardly parked, was a purple and black 2014 Bugatti.

“Mr. Volkov also offered his car to compensate for the bruised state of Agent Barton’s left hand. In return he hopes for a lighter tariffs and lifted sanctions. I told him we would discuss.” Natasha explains behind them, a touch of pride in her raspy voice. Then she claps her hands together, bringing both of their attention back to her. "Now, if that is all gentlemen I have plans for the rest of my evening!"

And with that Natasha Romanoff departs, grinning wildly. She goes so far as to wiggle her fingers at them through the window in a goodbye wave.

Director Fury can only watch in stunned silence until she skips out of sight. "Did...did Strike Team Delta just extort 2.5 million and Bugatti out of a foreign national, Phil?"

Phil blinks, shocked. "I-I think so!"

“What the hell am I supposed to tell The Council?"

“Oh, that is far above my pay grade sir, but I would suggest being proactive in giving them a promotion.” Phil comments.

Thank you for sending me prompts my dear! @firlalaith I do so hope you enjoy a badass moment from our precious duo.

[hurtspideyparker]

I have this headcanon in which Clint actually like wearing dresses (because he thinks it's comfortable and makes him looks cool). He used to borrow Natasha's because they fit him (as weird as it seems) but one time he accidentally ripped one, thanks to the drunk asshole who tried to fight him in a bar, so now Natasha hide them from him and say that if he wants one he have to buy one. But he doesn't have much time to think about it between training, missions and personal life so he forget about it till it's like Christmas or something an none in the tower know what to give him except maybe arrows.

What to you think about it ? (Idk why I'm telling you that, guess I just wanted to share this with someone)

I love this tysm for sharing it with me !!!!! It's so cute and fun, and I love supportive domestic Avengers.

Nat and Clint spending so much time together chilling in safe houses or killing time in bars between missions that it just became second nature they'd both get dressed out of Natasha's suitcase.

I can imagine it's Christmas or Clint's birthday and none of the Avengers know what to get him for a gift (besides Tony, who already built 3 new prototype arrows), so they go to his best friend Natasha and ask her what he likes.

"Dresses."

"Um, like for his wife?"

"No, for him. He likes this kind," she shows them her collection, mostly comfortable fabrics but short in length. "He's a size 6, and he doesn't do strapless."

Which leads to Clint getting a nice new dress from almost everyone in the tower, who is absolutely ecstatic after forgetting how much he loved them. He runs off to go put one on right away, leaving his friends all pleasantly surprised.

Except Tony. He's just confused.

"Okay did I miss some kind of memo. I feel like I'm oozing toxic masculinity for giving him weapons when you all clearly co-conspired to fulfill his feminine divinity or whatever. Is it because you think I don't like cross dressing? I'm okay with cross dressing, as long as he doesn't man spread in them."

(Tony felt weird about being left out and bought him a dress the next day that is Very Expensive).

Clint gets to wear his dresses all the time now, and gets tons of compliments. Him and Natasha even match on occasion.

I hope you or anyone else shares their ideas with me I love talking about this stuff with people !!! You made my day :D. I hope it's okay I expanded on your HC, I just really liked it

[cowboylikeyouu]

why does everybody hate mcu clint so much??? i’ve read his comics but i still love jeremy renner’s portrayal of him and stuff :(

like i can understand being disappointed in some ways about how the character was changed for the movies, but i can’t understood all the hate for him

for me, personally, it's not that mcu clint is a bad character per se, it's really just the fact that he doesn't feel like clint barton. give him any other name and he's a fine character, but compare him to comic clint and they're in NO WAY the same person.

on one hand you have that responsible, serious husband and well adjusted father of three, who cracks a joke here and there but takes everything pretty serious most of the time, who has his life under control, while everyone else on the team is a mess. he doesn't have that much of a personality, no weird habits or (dis)likes, he really fades in comparison to other team members like tony, who's lines are always on point and who gets a back story and everything.

on the other hand there's this 6'3" disaster of a human being, who lives for coffee, dogs, tv shows and nothing else, is obsessed with purple for no reason at all, grew up in a circus after he escaped his abusive dad, can't take anything seriously and cracks the funniest joke all the fucking time, even makes fun of captain america on a regular basis (at least in the early avengers comics), runs away from himself and responsibility, fucks up nearly all of his relationships because he really sucks at emotions, but then forms those really precious bonds with people like kate, and who's just kind of an asshole really, but simultaneously a fucking ray of sunshine. plus he's deaf and we always love some representation. oh, and mcu clint is like the straightest guy ever, and then there's comic clint who is just so easy to headcanon as this bisexual disaster, and we all know how much fandom loves a queer coded character.

so, the mcu basically took away every fun part of the awesome character that is clint barton and it SUCKS. i really don't hate movie clint as his own character, i just hate hate HATE the fact that he's supposed to be THE clint barton because he IS NOT, and he'll never be. i'm sorry, but jeremy renner just can't pull it off, i'll never understand how they saw bigger-than-steve, blond-mess, purple-loving, coffee-addict comic clint and where like: "oh yeah, let's cast 5' 9" jeremy renner and give his character a huge, healthy family, and no mental health problems, that's just perfect😍"

it's just so sad to be aware of the awesomeness of comic clint and then watch the movies because you're constantly thinking "oh what could've been..." if they did comic accurate movie clint, he'd definitely be a fan-favourite and we'd have tons of edits, and ships, and merchandise, but NO, most mcu fans just forget about him or don't find him special or entertaining (bc his mcu version really really isn't) and he gets left out of all the casual merchandise you can find in random shops (i literally have an album on my phone that's dedicated to photos i took of cheap avengers merchandise with the "o6" avengers sans clint lmao)

you're obviously allowed to love movie clint and jeremy's portrayal, that's great!!! i was an mcu fan way before i even knew just how different comic clint was, and i loved mcu clint so much back then! but after reading the comics and thousands of fanfiction, i'm just really really angry that there isn't a good live action on screen representation of my all time favourite fictional character, and i think many people feel the same :(

okay, i think i'm done lmao.

anyways, shout out to avengers assemble clint, my one true love <3 the mcu should take notes.

[joanofexys]

JO!!!! DROP THE DAREDEVIL FIC RECS AND MY LIFE IS YOURS!!!

IM HERE IM HERE IM HERE

lately i’ve just been rereading daredevil x avengers crossover fics but i’ll drop em anyway in case they’re of any interest

Take All The Courage - prettybirdy979

When what should have been a straight forward mission in Hell's Kitchen goes pear shaped due to lack of communication, teaching his teammates sign language seems like a logical step to Clint. Communication when their comms are down - great plan! And including the local vigilante, who's been working closely with them on this, is a real no-brainer.

Until it turns out said vigilante is an asshole that thinks sign language is beneath him, judging by the way he's stubbornly refusing to learn it.

(Conversely - Matt's trying, he really is but damn it, those two signs are exactly the same... what do you mean they mean completely different things?!)

Look the Devil in the Face - prettybirdy979

It's increasingly becoming a world where the unbelievable happens every day. The Avengers team includes a defrosted World War Two solider, a giant green rage monster and a man who might be a God; and they battle aliens and magic on a regular basis. It's not too far fetched to believe the Devil walks Hell's Kitchen.

Matt, on the other hand, hasn't realised exactly why his new battle buddies seem terrified of him. It's not like they've even heard the rumors about him being the Devil... right?

Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost (But Matt's Not Wandering; He's Just Lost) - prettybirdy979

Matt has a super important meeting in Sta-no, Avenger Tower that he's running late for. But finding it in Tony Stark's futuristic nightmare of a non-ADA compliant building might be a problem.

(Aka Matt Murdock vs Tony Stark's building and high tech security. Here's a hint- the security loses)

None So Blind - prettybirdy979

They say when you assume you make an ass of you and me.

Matt wishes that the Avenger's assumptions about his seeming inability to read the written word did something as benign as making an ass of him and them. Being called illiterate shouldn't hurt, not when he knows he's not, and it's not like he can tell them the truth.

Not that the truth would make much difference. He's just going to have to grin and bear it.

If he can.

Double Blind - smilebackwards

Matt comes to, flat on his back, with Iron Man and Hawkeye hovering over him. “Oh fuck,” Stark says, less than comfortingly.

Thorns for Flowers - valkirin

Hawkeye don't mind working with Daredevil, really. He's a good guy to know and clearly cares about Hell's Kitchen.

Clint Barton would like Daredevil better if the guy was a little less ableist about Clint's hearing loss.

seeing eye to eye - karmauh

Stark Tower, or the Avenger's Tower, whatever it's called, doesn't have braille on their elevator numbers. Also Daredevil can't read print reports, but the violation against the Americans With Disabilities Act is what really gets him. Matt's a lawyer first, sue him! Or, well, don't. He's not sure that Nelson, Murdock, & Page can afford to get sued when the light in their office keeps going out. So he's heard.

Or— Matt Murdock’s eyes are MIA, therefore, reading print or anything that isn't raised/sunk/in braille is a delusion that will never actually become realized.

Alternatively — The Avengers see (pun intended) Daredevil’s inability to read, ignore the inability to see colors, and raise illiteracy as the ruling decision—for no particular reason, really. Hilarity ensues.

Seeing Blind - astroash94

Clint is deaf, Matt is blind and its really hard to work together when you can't communicate.

****

A chance meeting leads to a not-so chance meeting leads to... whatever's happening now.

40/40 - jadesfire

It's not all bad, being friends with an Avenger. Thor has some great stories, Asgardian Mead, and is handy for resetting dislocated joints. Also, Thor's friends think Daredevil has the best eyesight in New York, and Matt certainly isn't going to tell them otherwise.

Like a Crateful of Grenades - luulapants

“Wh-why…?” Tony said slowly, then more firmly, “Yeah, ‘why’ is the question here. Why do you want to bring The Punisher into my building?”

Matt stumbled on that question. The real answer, of course, was that Frank knew his identity and could cover for him if anything was going to give him away as blind. In a panic, he blurted the first thing that came to mind: “We’re dating.”

---

The Avengers want Daredevil to get to know the team. He agrees on one condition.

Or: that Avengers Tower Fratt fake dating fic

[negasonic9403]

Deaf!Peter: *hearing aids are on their last leg and he's fixed them too many times to count*

Deaf!Clint: *signing* Peter, I think you need some new hearing aids

Peter: *signing* I know, but I can't afford it and May's insurance won't cover it

Clint: *sighing and signing* You realize you have access to a Deaf avenger and Tony is basically your dad, right?

Peter: *signing* Yeah? So?

Clint: *signing* So, between me, you, and Tony, we can make you new hearing aids that won't break every time you go on patrol

Peter: *realizes he could have asked Tony and Clint for months to help him make new hearing aids and signing* Well, I realize that now

[sergeant-angels-trashcan]

I'm watching the mixed archery competition today (teams of 1 man and 1 woman) and I can't help but think about Clint and Kate going absolutely HOG WILD watching this together 😂 they're shouting loud enough that the whole neighborhood can hear it

Alternatively, they compete as Team Hawkeye and are unaffiliated with any country but they're here and no one is sure why they're here??? Like they're winning but are they even allowed to be given medals???? They didn't enter as Team USA they just showed up with a homemade flag that's actually a purple sheet with a slice of pizza drawn on with fabric paint????

Oh my godddd they WOULD compete under a flag of their own making. (this flag is very important to me. there's a dog paw print in paint that was NOT on purpose, Lucky just got excited. the sheet? from Kate's bed. The drawing of pizza? Very bad. You can tell it's supposed to be pizza. For the most part.)

How did they get into the competition? Unclear. They just showed up on the range and refused to be removed. Not in a mean or loud way, but in a politely redirecting questions or answering with things that don't really pertain. such as:

"How did you get here?" "Oh, we took a plane!" "No, how did you get here, on the range." "The door that everyone else used...?" "You can't compete." "Oh, we totally can! No injuries or anything." "This is an international co--" "We brought a flag, though!"

The Olympic committee is really perplexed, kind of angry, the other archers are having a BLAST. Lucky is using his service dog training to help the others with Olympic jitters!! He becomes the unofficial mascot of the archery competition

And competing with Hawkeyes really changes the tone of the competition. The rest of the field knows they're not going to win, so the pressure's off, they can just have fun!! Because of this the majority of competitors get personal bests.

The Olympic committee decides they AREN'T allowed to get medals, so the team that gets gold (actually silver, whatever) wears the medals WITH the Hawkeyes and gets a picture like that.

i want to say some of the other teams are lowkey like "that's bullshit, we should get them something" which winds up being croissants that they spray paint gold and glue on to ribbon. They get together some time after the event and have a "medal ceremony" for the Hawkeyes who are crying very touched.

Snoop Dogg decides they're going to hang out with him, they try to teach him to use a bow, they wind up hanging out with Martha Stewart, ALL OF THEM HAVE BEEN IN PRISON? actually I don't know about Clint but anyway. Basically they hijack the Olympics, they want to meet Simone Biles!!! they are having the greatest time (Kate telling Simone how brave she is and how her being public about everything she went through with the last Olympics meant a lot to her and Simone is like "omg is this avenger going to start crying oh god what do i DO". there's a cute picture of them hugging)

Steve Rogers is there for some event, and there's viral videos of them doing the "I've got my eyes on you" gesture at him very threateningly.

Someone points it out on Twitter "lol what did cap do to piss off the hawkeyes?" And Kate's like HE KNOWS WHAT HE DID (which he does)

GOD I LOVE OLYMPICS AUS

[unholyhelbig]

So excited for the end of firecrest!!

Title: Firecrest (Part 7/7)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven]

Summary: Kate Bishop and y/n have an unspoken agreement that revolves around being enemies with benefits. But when Kate's new mentor is someone Y/n is very familiar with, things become complicated.

Warnings: Horrible parenting, hospitals, bad language, needles, cannon-typical violence, drinking, guns, death, horrible grammar we know I don't beta read!

[A/n: First of all, thank you guys for your patience while I worked on this last chapter. This story hits kind of close to home. Not the fire powers, obviously, but the parental issues. It's one of my favorites and I hope I didn't disappoint.]

It was a gunshot that pulled you from your haze between sleep and alertness. It’s a distinct noise that seemed to echo off the very structure that you were trapped within. The iron bars that caged you chattered with the same ferocity as your teeth.

All at once, you registered the intense warmth of Kate pressed against you, and the quickness of her heart pounding close to your own. She lifted her head from your chest with a frown, sleep clinging to her stare. Her fingers gripped at the fabric of her own jacket that you’d slipped on sometime during the night.

Another shot rang out, pulling the two of you apart with as much quickness as you could muster without the pain becoming too much. Still, a grunt of discomfort escaped you and Kate’s stormy stare, still heavy with sleep, widened. She pressed her finger against her lip, signaling her plea for silence.

You flushed red and nodded, following her quiet order. Kate was surprisingly nimble for someone who you’d never known to be quiet. She’d gotten to her feet, her booted feet barely making a sound against gravel. The commotion was coming from the far side of stables, and it was moving closer.

All at once, you felt an indescribable fear and a relief that was unmatched. There was no way for you to protect yourself. One of your eyes had swollen shut and though you hadn’t tried standing yet, you were sure that it wasn’t an option on unsteady feet. Kate would gladly nudge herself under your arm, take your weight and haul you from the premises, but you would just the same encourage her to leave you behind.

You were a liability like this and if those gunshots had lodged deep into the flesh of the wrong side, then it was the two of you that would suffer in an almost poetic end. Like most hired captors, yours suffered from the same lack of foresight. They’d released your coordinates for dramatic flair, but a flare it was. Streaking the sky in sparks of red and orange and leaving behind a foul-smelling trail of smoke.

Kate frowned and crouched low to the ground, pressing her palms into the clay earth. You couldn’t help but find her stunning like this; focused, locked-in with a deep scowl on her features. The sun had just risen, and it cast her in a ghostly blue light. The green in her eyes suddenly reflected the red of a scope.

You gave in to instinct much before you registered the sealed wounds tearing back open with a searing squelch. Little pin-pricks of red LED had swarmed Kate’s chest like a colony of ants, circling until they’d found their target right above her heart.

She’d barely registered the lights before you’d tackled her to the ground and pinned her under your body. You were doing that a lot lately, pinning her somewhere that neither of you wanted to be. She broke her own rule of silence with a grunt of surprise and a breath that splayed against your chest. Everything thrummed with your heartbeat as you clenched your eyes shut and waited for the blinding white pain of a reign of bullets.

That never came. Instead, Kate’s arms were wrapped carefully around you like a solid force that was not to be reckoned with. You heard her exhale, a rush of air like a waterfall with your ear pressed this close to her chest. They weren’t shooting. Why weren’t they shooting?

You grimaced in pain and detached yourself from the archer, plopping ungracefully onto your back next to her. You stared up at an unblinking agent, dressed head to toe in a tactical uniform. Their gun was lowered, the scope light dancing against the gravel and dust. Once more- you recognized the hazel in the eyes, even before a gloved hand removed the mask covering the lower part of her face.

“That little show was very valiant of you, buddy.” She said, not trying to hide her shit-eating grin. “Totally unnecessary, but I’m sure it won you points with Artemis here.”

A groan that was mix of pain and embarrassment pushed past your lips. You used the last of your strength to bury your blush-bloomed face into the crook of Kate’s neck. Your Aunt Daisy was the last person you’d ever want to see you curled up with a Hawkeye, nonetheless. But you were aching too much to care. Too relieved that they sent in SHIELD.

Things began to move fast, despite the pain in your bones making a slow descent from your head down to your toes. Kate had been rendered speechless by the Director of SHIELD herself coming in for the rescue and comparing her to Greek Goddess all in the same breath. You, on the other hand, swallowed down the taste of metal as you were hauled to your feet.

She had a lemon scent to her that was an instant comfort. You fell into Daisy’s offer of solace, insistent that you could at least walk to the waiting ambulance with her help. She was much too patient with you, just like she had always been.

“We’ve kept the media pushed back to the end of the drive, but they’re vicious these days.” She mumbled against your blood encrusted temple. The two of you stopped just short of the mouth of the stable. She sensed your exhaustion and let you ease yourself down onto a bale of hay.

A set of eyes were on her at all times, and she waved a command at them that was nothing short of a signal to bring the help to you. She was perfectly content to let you lick your wounds and press your fingers to your ribs in the only security you’d been able to hold onto.

“I’m shocked they sent you. Not that I’m not stoked to see you, it’s been too long.” You appended your statement quickly.

“They didn’t send me. The department was taking too long, so I stepped in. I hated when Coulson would pull that Director bullshit, but it comes in handy sometimes. They can’t really say no to me. Especially not when my niece is being held hostage and they’re not making a move.”

You frowned and stared at the tightly packed hay. It was taking on a strawberry quality under the assault of your blood. A SHIELD agent with a medical badge around their throat knelt in front of you and waited for the slight nod you gave to start assessing the brunt of the damage. You flinched at the cold when Kate’s purple jacket was stripped away.

“That woman…”

“Is going away for a long time.” Daisy assured in a steely voice. “He didn’t make it. Might have been dressed like a cowboy but he certainly didn’t know how to shoot like one.”

You hummed in something that could only be deemed sick satisfaction, too exhausted to find your voice. You let yourself slump against Daisy’s shoulder, her fingers coming up and tucking a piece of hair behind your ear as the medic worked. You were cold; numb.

Still, across the chaos, and the sound of a news helicopter that had somehow started to hover low enough to flip the leaves of the surrounding aspens onto their white bellies, you found Kate; wrapped in a blanket and shaking from the rush of cold that she’d tried to smother. A pulse ox was on her finger and she flinched when a thermometer was shoved under her tongue. She rolled her eyes, offering up a small wave.

You smiled at her, waved back like the two of you were adjacent in a school yard and not separated by 500 feet of agents of crime-scene tape and people you’d be hard pressed to recognize.

Daisy scoffed, “You Morse women and your Hawkeyes. If this one breaks your heart, I’m breaking every arrow in her quiver.”

They’d waited until you’d slipped back into sleep to smear the alcohol pad against the building vein in your hand and slide the needle past skin. You’d fought them hard on being taken to the hospital in the first place, fought them harder when they moved you to a secure wing that was separate from even Kate.

Eventually, as Daisy smoothed her hand down your back and nudged you in the right direction like only family could, you relented. They’d posted guards in front of your door to keep Cindy Moon and her blood thirsty interns from sniffing you out.

Before you’d succumbed to unconsciousness, you were getting nervous. You had yet to see Bobbi or Lance. Even Clint would have been a warm welcome compared to the near-empty room. They’d taken what was left of your clothing. You were entirely too exposed in nothing but your boxer shorts and a sheer hospital gown that was open along the back.

The pinch in your hand elicited a groan, and then another. There was fuzz at the edges of your vision, and you’d known that some degree of morphine was pumped through you. There was a weightlessness to your being, even as you blinked your eyes open and were met with ones that reminded you too much of Kate’s, but not quite there.

“Mm, Mrs. Bishop?”

The socialite froze in her movements. You frowned, stretching as much as your body allowed it. She was one of the last people you wanted to see right now and she was much too close to your IV stand for comfort. She turned with a stiffness and placed her cold hand on your arm, a move that was supposed to convey comfort but did the exact opposite.

“Oh, baby, you should get some rest.” Her fingers moved up to your forehead, brushing back strands of hair. “You’ve been through quite a lot these last few days. You had us so worried.”

Suddenly, you felt an unbelievable tug at the center of your chest, a grief that was so palpable. It was a feeling that you had only experienced once or twice during your short life, but one that rocked through every part of you all the same. You wanted your mom.

In this moment, you were six years old again, in the sterile lab with tears dripping sloppily down your cheeks and breaths impossible to pull into quivering lungs. You were scared and the only thing that would stop the rush of fear was the warm, encompassing embrace of the woman who brought you into this world. Only she could stop the thing trying to take you out.

Eleanor clocked the rigidity in your stance, letting out the slightest breath before lowering herself onto the corner of the bed. “Has Katherine ever spoken about her father?”

You shook your head. This didn’t’ seem like a conversation you should be having without the archer aware or even present. You ached for her, keeping your fists bunched and your eyes trained evenly on the woman who had somehow conned her way past the agents at the door.

“Derek’s nickname in high school was Icarus. Most people, most sane people, would find that to be an insult but Derek saw Icarus as an innovator. He didn’t look at the melting wax wings and the plummet to a bloody death as a bad thing, because for just a moment, he was flying.”

You swallowed the dryness in your throat, nearly choking on your own saliva. There were flashes of the man, usually smiling, his wrists weighed down by heavy watches and expensive shirts tucked into pleated pants. Kate missed a month of school when he died and was never quite the same following the battle of New York. None of you were.

“Politics, darling” she touched your knee under the layers of blankets “are filled with Icarus’s all chasing the same sun. Sometimes, someone who can see the bigger picture needs to step in and give them something other than wax to sculpt with. Are you following me?”

It may have been the morphine talking, but you simply chewed on your bottom lip, a glassy look in your eyes. “No?”

And truly, you didn’t. Though, you were a bit admonished by the look of annoyance that flicked past her features. Again, you saw a little of Kate in her stare that made you long for the girl that you’d barely had a chance to see in the last twenty-four hours. You had the sudden urgency to rip free of all the wires like the Hulk himself and go to her, wherever she was.

“Okay,” Eleanor stood, suddenly exasperated by your lack of understanding. She’d be a horrible teacher, lacking the patience even in your inebriated state. She sidled up next to your IV again and you tracked her with your stare. “We’re going to make this painless, because I’m afraid my Katherine won’t forgive me if I go about it any other way.”

She dug into her bag that cost more than your collage tuition and produced a syringe. The object conjured an acute fear in you, a fight or flight that you’d exhibited in the waiting room and again before they brought you up here and let you have your way.

“Seriously?” You groaned, throwing your head back into the pillow “What is with people and drugging me lately? It’s not creative! And if you take one more step, I’ll blow us both to bits!”

The words escaped you with such a nonchalance that Eleanor lowered her hand with the needle and blinked at you in disbelief, cocking her head like an animal hearing a high-pitched noise. It was a bluff. You hadn’t felt that familiar itch of fire under your skin since dinner.

Still, all it would take was a spark and the quick removal of the oxygen under your nose. She eyed you with all the conviction of a mother challenging her child ready to throw a tantrum and a lazy smirk twitched at the edges of your lips, too exhausted to fight. To really fight.

“You don’t have a lighter.”

The sound of a crack filled the room, a metal and hollow noise that made you jump back as Eleanor Bishop fell to the floor in a heap, the plastic needle sliding far enough away from the piping of your IV to finally bring comfort.

Kate stood in her place, holding a dinner tray in a defense position. “She doesn’t need one, bitch.”

The smile on your face was genuine this time, hands making quick work at removing your IV and detaching any sensors that were keeping you bound to the bed. They beeped in protest, but you couldn’t, and wouldn’t give a damn. Kate was in an equally as exposing hospital gown with a dopy smile that was unmatched.

She dropped the tray, bending down with careful ease and connecting her lips to yours “hi darling,”

“Hi baby,” You kissed her back hungrily, savoring the sweet taste of her “God, you’re warm and you smell so nice, and I know Artemis was really into chastity, but please don’t make me wait.”

Kate scrunched her nose and pulled back with amused raise of an eyebrow. “You doing okay?”

“Morphine.”

“Ah… well, we’ve already had sex. A lot. And right now, we need to focus on getting out of here. Turns out Mother dearest was colluding with some very unsavory people who aren’t happy about your aunt’s intervention.”

You nodded, staring into Kate’s slate eyes, they searched your features, the plumpness of her lips, the constellations of her freckles. You wanted to trace and every one of them with the pads of your fingers. Her knocking out her mother with a dinner tray was quite possibly the most attractive thing you’d ever seen her do.

You rose on shaky feet, blinking the confusion from your eyes. You wanted to curl back into the warmth of the archer that was at your side in an instant. She wanted to cling to you, to steady you when you threatened to sway, but swallowed it back.

The urge to protect her outweighed everything else, knowing full well that she could protect herself just as much as she could you. When the door to your room creaked open, it revealed the agents slumped against the wall. They hadn’t done you much good, but you still knelt down and checked for a pulse. Weak, but still there, so Eleanor wasn’t entirely lost.

Kate’s fingers slotted with yours and she silently led you through the quiet hallways. There was a sterile detachment to the hospital at this time of night that unsettled you and brought back that same cloying feeling that made you weak. You wanted your mother. Hell, you wanted your father too. Your hand tightened around Kate’s and for the first time since a needled had been shoved into your neck, that familiar edge of fire reared its ugly head.

Your thoughts were racing listlessly. There was no safety for purchase. The media had been interested in your relationship with Kate to begin with but now that the two of you had been thrust into the spotlight for something akin to an action movie, all eyes would be waiting for an update. Something that had been nagging at the back of your mind for the past few days, just like the dull ache in your bones.

Kate moved towards the elevator, but you stopped short, shaking your head in a heavy silence before taking the stairwell instead. It was freezing, goosebumps rising against your skin. The constant hum of the hospital was instantly silenced, jolting you into another world entirely. Kate looked like a phantom raised from a grave.

She narrowed her eyes at you, sinching the back of her gown together with her hands. “Stop that.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Katie. You look cold.”

Your words were sluggish, the past week catching up to you as you clamped your hand together with hers once more. You didn’t have much energy behind your gift, but what little you did, you directed towards Kate. She shivered, a low gasp escaping her as she pushed closer to you.

Fire was often seen as something of destruction, but it was also the ultimate source of warmth and in a moment where the two of you had never been so vulnerable, so smelling of sick and so frozen from the inside out, you wanted nothing more than to be a comfort to the girl you loved. The girl you had just admitted to loving.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” Kate breathed out.

“You don’t know a lot of things about me. But, I promise, I’ll tell you everything as soon as we get out of this mess. Who is behind all of it, anyway?”

Your hushed voices still echoed in the vastness of the stairwells as you padded down them with as much quickness as your feet would grant you. There was an emergency exit on the ground floor that set off a blaring alarm but deposited you directly into a damp alleyway that was a few degrees warmer than the hospital was. You both breathed in sour relief as a charge nurse inhaled on a cigarette with widened eyes.

“Hey, uh, what hospital is this?” You asked, brushing your bare foot free of gravel.

“I’m not paid enough for this.” She sighed out a puff of smoke, but in the same breath “Parker Memorial.”

“Oh sick, walking distance.”

Kate’s elbow was bony as it slammed into your ribs, but she made up for it by gently taking your hand and setting the pace towards what you assumed was her penthouse. It was easy to get turned around in the city. No one batted an eye at the two girls wandering the streets in hospital gowns.  

“This past winter, my mother got into some shady stuff, and I overlooked it. I had a lot going on myself and I didn’t want to believe that the one biological parent I had left standing would fall into the dark underbelly of New York just like every other rich fuck in the city.”

You blinked hazily at Kate. At this angle, she was shaded by the passing yellow lights of the traffic, of the storefronts and the food carts that wafted greasy scents. It once produced a comfort but now filled you with a roiling nausea that was hard to swallow down. You felt the undeniable warmth of wounds reopening and the sticky discomfort of the thin hospital gown adhering to your skin.

“I let it go because suddenly there was Clint and it was hard not to fight for his attention which is not an easy thing to win. I was relentless and eventually my mother and whoever she was talking to late at night was an afterthought. She got careful or I got careless, or maybe it was both. But either way, she started backing Lance because… Wilson Grant Fisk wanted him to win.”

You stopped abruptly enough to feel the sidewalk dig into the soles of your feet. It reminded you of scraped knees and haphazardly applied bandages, of summers when the streetlights would come on and you’d race home to wash up before dinner. Kate stopped too, hunched into herself, trying to seem smaller than she was.

“How do you know all of this?”

“There were bits and pieces. I eavesdropped on a lot of my mothers conversations, and then when she caught on and life got complicated, I started to take notice of the people that would attend benefits. I never, ever thought they would pull something like this. That they would hurt you.” Her voice tightened, and she glanced away before her eyes could mist over. “I would have paid better attention if I had just fucking known.”

You tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, despite your unsteady hand. Her grey stare a shock to your nervous system. Tracks of tears ran down her cheeks, streaking the blushed red that you wanted to kiss away. “None of this is on you, okay? Katie, we can’t be heroes all the time. For now, we can just be thankful that we made it this far, and that we made it together.”

“Yeah,” She sniffed, her delicate touch moving to your wrist, fingers tracing the blued veins that were barely visible under the lights. The maps that could mirror the subway systems under the city, or the constellations of stars. “And that we got this far without being too much like our parents?”

You scoffed “That too.”

Exhaustion had all but overtook you by the time you had made it past the doorman of Kate’s building. She had clocked his cold, unfeeling stare and her fingers dug warningly into your ribs. She was holding you up dutifully.

It wasn’t the usual guy, that much you noticed. The last time you had been in this elevator with Kate, it wasn’t your Kate and the guilt still tasted sour on your tongue. This time, the two of you were washed pale in hospital gowns and bare feet that had been torn to shreds. Where was SHIELD when you needed them? Fighting off the media circus and an imminent alien invasion now that you had been secured.

“What are the chances that we can get into your place without a fight?”

“Maybe 80%” She brought her hand up to the small of your neck, ghosting her fingers over the soft skin there. You fought off the chill that pushed through you. “I didn’t hit my mother that hard, so chances are she’s come to and has called Mr. Fisk already. If they’re planning to kill us, they’ll do it here.”

“It just doesn’t make any sense. Wilson wanted Lance to win, so he hires someone to kidnap and torture me, give him a valiant rescue, but then, what? Gets cold feet and keeps him here instead?”

Kate hums furrowing her brow. “Unless it wasn’t him at all and my mother went rouge, hired them to take both of us.”

The mechanical whir of the elevator jolting to a stop and opening pulled the two of you apart. Kate still steadied you with her stone touch. It opened directly into the penthouse, which was eerily silent. There was a distrust embedded deep within your stomach. Kate glanced at you uneasily.

Instinctively, you wished to reach across her as if you’d slammed too hard on the breaks of your car, her head jolting quickly towards the dash. Instead of risking a fractured skull, you risked questing her ability which you would never do. Kate could handle herself and could certainly handle herself better than you in your current state.

She dug quietly through the umbrella bucket by the mouth of the elevator and produced one of Jack’s swords, sheathed of course, until she pulled the leather casing off. You stifled your smile. He might not be smart enough to see the blazing red flags that his second wife was waving around erratically, but at least he did this.

Kate was an expert swordsman; this you knew from the countless times she had you pinned to a blue mat with the tip of foil shoved against your torso, the shaft bent like an arch and an overly cocky expression on her face when she pulled off her mask. Her cheeks were always a delicious shade of red, hair mussed with sweat. She’d even reluctantly taken lessons with Jack once she’d realized he had a few helpful tricks past showmanship.

You hesitantly took a step back from Kate and let the fire that had been bubbling below your skin, biting and growling like a dog on a chain, free. Your hands were engulfed in a dull yellow that flickered against the expensive art in Kate’s foyer. The closer to your skin, the bluer the flames. Kate’s gaze reflected the color brilliantly, and the small nod of understanding she shot your way made your heart flutter. You’d torch the place if you had to.

Muffled voices hit your ears first, the contrast of cold between the patio doors being open and the fire that poured out of you. When you both emerged from around the corner all of the commotion in the room seemed to come to a halt.

Clint was sitting on a piano bench in the far corner, massaging his temples. He hadn’t changed out of his dinner clothes but had shed his jacket. It was draped across the back of the couch that looked worse for wear as if someone had tried (and failed) to get some rest.

Bobbi was silhouetted by the cityscape behind her, a menagerie of unblinking eyes. This was the first time that she had ever exhibited any signs of her age to you; wrinkles, and pale skin, nails bitten down, hair greasy and worked through in a clear pattern of anxiety.

She was wrapped in a cardigan and hunched over as if she were fighting the biting cold of a winter storm. The only force holding her up was Lance. His strong hands braced on either side of her arms. His eyes were rubbed a raw red, damp with what seemed like a fresh display of emotion. He had worried his lip to the point of drawing blood and had scratched nervously at his throat until that too was a mess of red claw marks. Something that he hadn’t done since your first day of high school.

Both you and Kate frantically searched every inch of the room. This was it. This was it? There was no Wilson Fisk with his horribly gaudy cane, or another cowboy that sought to brand you with a rusted blade. Not a mother with a poison-dipped tongue (though you weren’t thrilled about Clint), or even a step-father who could be none the wiser to the situation.

Neither of you relaxed your stances.

“Kid,” Clint spoke in a calming, gravelly voice, Kate’s head turning. You didn’t’ look at him. Eyes trained on your parents instead. You were breathing heavy as if to combat the cement filling your lungs and hardening by the second. He spoke again, firmer this time. “Kid, look at me.”

This time when you snapped your eyes over to meet his, unwanted tears trailed down your cheeks. You didn’t want to cry in front of him. These were meant to be for the relief of Bobbi and Lance, they were in reaching distance- they are right there God damn it, let me go to them, this isn’t about you.

“Everything is fine, take a deep breath and put the fire away.” He attempted to soothe.

Kate made a quiet noise in the back of her throat and tightened the grip on the hilt of the sword. She stared at Clint incredulously as if telling him to stop. You respected her attempt at mediation, it was much more than fake Kate had done, but he was terrible at reading social ques regardless of which partner he was dealing with.

“What, you don’t think I can control this?” you asked, lifting one hand up and staring at the flames as if it were an alive creature, jumping from fingertip to fingertip. “You’ve always been afraid of fire, haven’t you, dad?”

Lance tightened his grip on Bobbi’s arms. The words tasted like acid in your mouth. She watched the interaction as if she were viewing it from outside of the house, hand pressed up against the window. She was locked out but could hear every single word. She made no attempt to break it open despite having every tool at her disposal. This was something you had to do.

“I’m not afraid of fire.”

“Sure, you are.” You stepped down into the living area, the simple motion tugging at your body in all the wrong ways, but you still swallowed back the pain. The weaknesses that had been bestowed upon you by the hands seeking so hungrily for political gain. “Everyone is, it’s a natural human response to destruction, and that’s all fire does, that’s all it is. A form of dismantling whatever environment it’s placed in.”

He swallowed dryly. The two of you must be quite the unhinged sight; bruised and bloodied, feet cracked from the cold city streets. You were in hospital gowns and shivering as the adrenaline and medication wore away from your bones like a ratty old coat. The tip of Kate’s sword was drooping and you could feel the fight slowly start to drain from you.

“You know something, though? I spent my entire life trying to come to terms with being a monster. Being that destruction. The chaos that scares everyone away that I couldn’t see the one person that never left my side. The one person who didn’t send me to specialists, or didn’t walk out on me because it was easier. The one person who was never afraid of fire.”

Clint couldn’t look you in the eyes. Not even as the flames left your fingertips. You couldn’t hold it anymore. The tension in your hands was too much, the heat in your veins nothing but a dull tap at the window of the house now. You wanted your parents. You wanted a shower. You wanted sleep. You needed to finish this.

“Clint,” You choked out, his stare raising sheepishly from the finish of the floor. “We can stop pretending that you’re here for me. It’s okay to love Kate Bishop. I sure as hell do. But just because you’re in her life, does not mean you can come here and uproot mine by trying to be something we both know you’re not. Am I clear?”

Three things happened at once; He nodded, your legs gave out, and Kate’s sword fell to the floor with an undignified clang. You figured that you would be right there with it, but Bobbi, with her learned reflexes had reached you before that outcome was possible.

Lance was at Kate’s side in a matter of moments, making sure she didn’t succumb to the same exhaustion as Clint blinked tepidly at the entire situation that moved around him. They hadn’t hesitated for a moment, and you almost regretted leaving the hospital, had it not been for your girlfriends (was she really?) mother trying to exterminate you.  

For now, you enjoyed the cold contrast of the wooden floor and the innate warmth of your own mothers embrace. She carried her signature scent of warm citrus and the unfamiliar one of bourbon. Your nose was buried in her neck as you sobbed, careful to find her pulse point with an accuracy that she taught you, just to make sure she was alive. That she was there.

She was whispering something, pressing tender kisses against your forehead and using her thumbs to wipe away the tracks of tears that muddied your face. But you couldn’t discern her words, not over the pounding headache and the sudden need to sleep.

Clint Barton was the first thing you opened your eyes to. His smiling face with a glass of milk and a horrible painted white mustache above his lip. The comically written ‘Got Milk?’ slogan was next to his head and strategically placed around his quiver and arrows.

The groan that you produced caused the warm and heavy arm around your midsection to tighten. You knew that Kate was awake due to her breathing pattern. It was a hazy time in the morning where the sun was too bright for her to remain asleep no matter how exhausted, though she still snuggled close to you to keep you appeased.

“Is this hell?” You mumbled into the floral pillow.

“Close. It’s my childhood bedroom.”

You turned in her arms, not an easy task considering you were in yet another twin bed. This time it was four posts and fitted with thousand-thread-count sheets, so it was a clear upgrade. You didn’t mind the way you had to tangle your legs with Kate’s, how she had to ensnare you in her strong embrace to keep you from falling off the edge of the bed.

Kate’s eyes were clouded with sleep, her freckles catching the rays of sun. Up this close, you could see every grey and blue shift in her iris. You wanted to trace the exposed surfaces of her face and learn every detail that was on display. For now, you settled on running the tips of your fingers over the split in her eyebrow, careful not to press down to hard, you didn’t want to cause pain.

The two of you had been intimate in many aspects (on many surfaces) but this was only your second time waking up next to Kate Bishop formally. Not in a jail cell, or with her rushing to get dressed so the two of you could put on a charade for your families. You wanted this every day. You wanted her every day.

She gently took your hand and placed a kiss against your fingertips. “How are you feeling?”

“Like we probably should have stayed at Parker Memorial.”

Kate giggled and started to nervously play with your fingers. The two of you stayed in relative silence for a few moments, listening to the sounds of the city and what sounded like someone cooking breakfast just past the confines of her bedroom. The world could wait, just for a little bit.

“How are you feeling? Horribly staged kidnapping aside, some big things happened with Eleanor yesterday. We don’t have to talk about them if you don’t want to. But that offer you made in the boxing gym all that time ago works both ways. You can talk to me.”

She huffed out a breath that fanned against your chest at the memory and tucked her head within the small of your neck. The two of you had been gifted with normal clothing that you didn’t even want to begin to speculate on how you’d gotten into. But feeling the coolness of her nose against your throat sent shivers down your spine all the same. When she spoke, it vibrated close to your skin.

“Part of me feels sorry for her. She’s always justified her behavior by the nature of her cause, you know? But that’s not how the world works. Doing horrible things for good reasons doesn’t change the fact that you’re doing horrible things. Paying someone to kidnap your daughter and her girlfriend for political gain is fucked up even if you write it in pretty font.”

She stiffened suddenly, pulling back and looking at you with widened eyes, her jaw clenched as if she had just ripped a sloppy set of stitches. It took you a moment to catch on to her quick change in demeaner. The way her own hand tightened around yours.

“I didn’t mean to say that.” She rushed out, cheeks suddenly a violent cherry red. “That just came out. All the other parts, those are totally true.”

You couldn’t help but smile at her. “Is that so?”

“Yeah! Yes. Unless… you liked the way it sounded. In that case, I meant every single word.”

You mocked a frown, and stretched out a little, watching as she held her breath. The redness in her face kept growing different shades like a sample card at a paint store. You were enjoying this way too much. “I don’t know Katie. If I say yes, does this mean I get to see more of those fun toys you have hidden away in your closet?”

Another shade of red was accompanied by her flopping down gently and mumbling an undignified ‘yes’ into the fabric of your shirt. You patted the back of her head with a chuckle before gently guiding her stare back up to yours, sufficiently happy that she was breathing fairly normally again.

“Kate Bishop, I would love to be your girlfriend.”

You tamped off her sigh of relief with a soft kiss that soothed all of the nerves that still ached in your body. You were perfectly content to stay in her childhood bedroom for the rest of the day, the rest of the week- maybe even forever. Just wrapped up in her warmth and her scent. It was all you’d ever wanted; right in front of you and you’d been blinded by smoke this entire time.

“Thank god,” She mumbled against your lips “Could you imagine bringing anyone else into my family?”

Bobbi dug absently through her pocketbook searching for a mint wrapped in cellophane that was hidden amongst photo ID’s and credit cards. It wasn’t a deep clutch, but it could have been endless based on her searching. “Remember what we talked about y/n?”

“Of course,” You reached in your pocket, produced your own tin of mints and handed enclosed her fingers around it as if it were routine. At this point, it had become one. Over the last two months she had resorted to wearing glasses, finally giving in after Lances poking and prodding. She often forget them at home. “Would you like me to repeat it?”

She did not dignify you with answer. This conversation was all too familiar, just like these awful events were. Instead, she offered up her arm and you took it great fully. Despite the exhaustive days of physical therapy, you were still working on getting up to speed with the full use of your right leg, an injury that adrenaline had hidden well and good until you put your full weight on it.

After Lance had won his political race by a landslide victory, things seemed to move at a whirlwind pace. Interviews and cameras, and reporters that were much too interested in the sudden arrest of Eleanor Bishop. Ultimately, she had been pinned with the criminal kidnapping of both you and Kate. SHIELD made sure to clean up the rest, no mention of the Cowboy or the woman in the mask.

You squeezed your mothers hand once before she was whisked away to another section of the grand house you had been invited to. It was spruced up with fall decorations and smelled too much like nutmeg. But champagne was passed around on trays and you were careful to pluck one off with the tact that you were ushered into. Still, amongst the chaos, Lance made a point to meet your eyes from across the room, lifting his own glass with a solemn nod and a loving smile that you returned.

You’d found your way out of the crowded foyer after a few polite hellos and into a quieter part of the house. A darker library that had a few groups talking amongst themselves. The scent of cigars outweighed that of pumpkin and the warmth settled against your shoulders comfortably.

Your fingers moved across the spines of the books tracing the gold and reading the beautifully crafted titles as you took small sips of your drink, letting the alcohol warm your stomach and the carbonation burn your throat.

“Look at us, we match.”

Kate’s voice reached your ears before her touch against your waist. All the same, her presence encompassed you with the sudden bliss of calm. The two of you did, indeed, match. She wore a midnight blue suit sprinkled with small stars against the collar, constellations that you could only see when you were close enough to kiss her. Galaxies of possibility.

She’d chosen your own blazer, laying it out on her bed and giving Lucky instructions to keep his paws off, which he shockingly did despite the lint roller you had on hand in case anything went awry. Kate pressed a quick kiss to your lips, grasping your drink all in one motion, a sly trick that you never commented on, content to be dazed in your own right.

“What are you looking at?”

“A collection of Shakespeare’s best.” You moved your index finger against another forest green spine. “He once said ‘Be stirring as the time, be fire with fire, threaten the threatener, and outface the brow of bragging horror; so shall inferior eyes, that borrow their behaviors from the great, grow great by your example and put on the dauntless spirit of resolution.’.”

Kate took two swallows of campaign, a healthy tint to her cheeks as she lowered the glass. There was admiration in her eyes. “I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

“I’m serious, Katie” You chuckled, stealing your drink back.

“Me too,” She grabbed the lapels of your jacket, pulling your close, nudging her nose against yours. “Say the word and we can go back to my place right now.”

“As much as I would love that, I promised Lance that we would stay through dinner.”

She huffed but nodded all the same. “Okay, okay. Explain to me then, the beauties of Shakespeare. Why that quote? Why now?”

You shook your head and traced the grouping of stars on the collar of her jacket that was closest to you. It was a feeling that you couldn’t explain. You had been in mostly bliss for the past two months. Despite the arrest of Kate’s mother, the back of fourth of Clint still being in your vicinity but pointedly staying away from you. Things had been good. They’d been great.

But something still didn’t make sense.

“I don’t know,” You sighed out, “I just feel like we’re not getting the full picture. I’m glad that Lance won, but at the same time… What if we were all just pawns in something bigger?”

Kate’s tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, knitting her eyebrows together. “Pawns rarely know they’re being moved around the board. I think maybe we just have to wait. As hard as it is. I’m a selfish girl, y/n. For now, I’m happy that we’re both safe. If Fisk is going to drop another shoe, we’ll just have to keep an eye out for it.”

“You’re right,” You swallowed thickly, trying to ease the tension from your shoulders. “I just worry that he’ll throw the shoe at full speed through a windshield, you know?”

“We’ll be okay, you know why?” Kate smirked devilishly, curling her finger under your chin and lifting your gaze just enough to stare into her cornflower eyes. “Bishop always takes King.”

“Oh, that was awful,” You pulled away from her, shoving the empty champagne flute into her hands. “You’re finding another ride home tonight.”

“Come on, I was kidding. I don’t even know how to play chess!”

Tag List💕: @noturlondonboy, @slvtformaria, @pianogirl2121, @escapereality4music, @cyberbonesworld, @dark-hunter16, @crescentcrush, @bishopsbeloved, @sammi1642, @bilyashvili, @thinking1bee,

[quietlyimplode]

Clintasha, "You are mermazing."

“You are mesmerizing,” Clint gushes, staring at Natasha as she comes down the stairs.

He forgets sometimes, not how beautiful she is, he always knows this, but just how she radiates against the world.

Natasha smiles.

A real smile.

He steps forward to greet her, offering her a hand to make her twirl in her dress.

“Is it comfortable?” he inquires, “it looks amazing on you; it matches your eyes.”

She laughs.

Clint grins.

“It has pockets doesn’t it?”

Natasha nods, sticking her hands in the pockets to show him.

“I love you,” he laughs.

“Love you too,” she replies, leaning forward and kissing him softly.

[frankthesnek]

♡ sharing a kiss before going in for work (but make it accidental first kiss due to sleep deprivation)

Normally, I only do each prompt once, but since this is so different from the other ask for this one I'll do it again! Thank you 😘

Coming in Hot

Rated G

Prompt: a kiss before going to work

900 words

Steve stood next to the toaster, tapping his fingers on the counter as he waited for his bagel to be done. It was early, and the tower was calm. He'd seen Clint and Natasha preparing for their sparring session an hour or so earlier, but otherwise, it was a ghost town. The toaster finally finished, the crisp pop and ding of it shutting off startling him in the quiet of the kitchen. He plopped his breakfast onto a plate and checked his watch.

It wouldn't be a ghost town much longer, he would bet. Pulling the cream cheese from the fridge, he settled at the breakfast bar and finished preparing his food as he waited.

“Watch it Cap, Stark's coming in hot,” Clint drawled with an amused tone as he entered the kitchen a moment later.

“You don't say?” Steve asked, unsurprised and dry sounding.

The archer just nodded, looking far too happy as he poured the last of the coffee into a mug. 

“Fuck I'm late!” Right on cue Tony entered the space, tie hanging undone around his neck as he fumbled with his cufflinks. “Why does she keep scheduling meetings so early? She knows I'm not a morning person.”

“This wouldn't happen to be the meeting Pepper already rescheduled twice because you keep missing it?” Steve asked, the casualness in his tone giving away that he already knew the answer. 

“Maybe,” Tony grumbled as he picked up the empty coffee pot and frowned. “Barton, I'm gonna kill you,” he promised, glaring at the other man's steaming cup of coffee.

In response, Clint deliberately took a slow drink, holding Tony's eye while he did. 

“Definitely gonna get you. I swear your next batch of arrows is gonna blow up right in your smug little face,” Tony cursed and made a grab for the nearly full mug.

“Extra coffee for you on the bar,” Steve said, pointing to a thermus he'd filled earlier. “Better hurry, if you don't leave now, you'll be late.”

“Thank you,” Tony nearly moaned and picked up the travel cup.

“Uh-huh,” Steve drawled and held up half of his bagel before Tony could try stealing it from his plate. 

“Thanks,” Tony repeated with a sigh, taking it gladly. “Why do you know my schedule better than me?”

“Tony, the hotdog vendor in Central Park knows your schedule better than you do,” Clint piped up with a snort of laughter.

Steve chuckled, and he watched Tony hold the bagel in his mouth as he quickly did his tie. Nimble fingers tugging it into a knot that had no right to be as neat as it was for how fast it had been made. 

“I refuse to acknowledge the truth of that,” Tony spoke around a mouth full and held the thermus up towards Steve. “Is it—”

“Cool enough to drink? Yes.” Steve supplied, taking a bite from his remaining half of the bagel.

“You're an angel,” Tony said blissfully. Then he leaned over the bar and pressed a fast but firm kiss to Steve's mouth before rushing out, already calling the elevator via Jarvis before he left the room. 

Steve's bagel fell from his lax fingers, plopping back to the plate cream cheese side down.

“Did he just?” Clint asked, looking over at Steve with wide eyes.

“Uh…yeah,” Steve muttered, dumbstruck, his lips tingling from the surprise contact.

“And you guys aren't?”

“Nope.” 

The two men stared at each other for a moment in confused silence. Steve felt his cheeks grow hot. Tony, his friend and long-term crush, had just kissed him. Lips warm, soft, and real against his mouth. Clint was giving him a knowing smirk but was thankfully holding his tongue. A moment later, the quiet was broken by the buzzing of Steve’s phone on the counter.

“It's Tony,” he said, looking down at the smiling picture of Tony in his purple sunglasses that was set as the man’s icon. The heat of flush skirted down his neck and settled in his chest.

“Speaker, put him on speaker,” Clint demanded, coming to stand next to his friend.

Swallowing Steve swiped the call open and tapped the speaker function. “Hello?”

“I can't believe I'm even going to ask this but I'm rushed, suffering from a caffeine deficiency, and am severely sleep deprived so the last fifteen minutes are a blur—did I just kiss you?”

“Um, yes?”

Tony said nothing, only the quiet shuffle of him still rushing to his car coming through the phone.

“Hey playboy, this is the part where you ask him out,” Clint supplied, flinching away before Steve could swat him. 

“Do you have me on speaker?” Tony questioned, his tight voice sounding more flustered than angry.

“Maybe?” Steve hedged.

“Oh for Christ—” and the line clicked off.

“Wow, if that's how smooth he normally is, I can't imagine how he used to snag all the ladies. Must be the money,” Clint chuckled, picking up his coffee and heading off. 

Sighing and shaking his head, Steve poked his sad upside down bagel. Just as he was starting to think it truly had been an accident and meant nothing, his phone buzzed with a text from Tony. Steve smiled as he read it. 

‘Free for a lunch date after my meeting?’

Steve started to type out that, yes, he was free when a new message popped up, turning his smile into a joyful grin.

‘And that does not count as our first kiss!!’

[whostheblondegirlwriting]

do you ship clintasha?🥹

YES, I do.

And I thoroughly believe that the world needs more Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff in general. I think Marvel missed the boat by going with Clint’s secret family in AoU and not Clintasha, considering how easily clintasha could’ve happened after Avengers. I’m glad we got a Black Widow movie and the Hawkeye series, but I feel like there could’ve been more and it would’ve been great if there was a prequel or something to elaborate on Budapest and their time with SHIELD.