#clintasha4ever

[millywidow]

CLINTASHA4EVER

[stasiachan14]

Any Clintasha Christmas baby fanfic recommendations? Looking for new reads!

[alphaflyer]

AO3 Tagging Game

My friend @inkvoices tagged me on this, and I love these things, so here we are....

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

108. Whoops??  How’d that happen...???  

Come to think of it I stuck a lot of shorter pieces - including some that in hindsight should probably have been standalone fics - into my collection, Moments.  That would add another 34.

2. What is your total Ao3 word count?

*coughs politely* 1,043,163. Good lord. I am so sorry...  In the early days, I wrote novels - mostly because my writing ambition had been suppressed for so long.

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Officially 17, but most of them are offshoots of the MCU. When you count that as one, then 5: MCU, Hawkeye comics, Star Trek: Voyager, James Bond 007, the Prisoner and Good Omens (the latter three all as part of fusion/crossovers with the MCU).

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

   1.  The Skies Over Manhattan (953) My second MCU fic, Clintasha throughout with all the other O6, plus Coulson, each getting their own feature chapter.

   2.  Five Times SHIELD Tried To Recruit Clint Barton (819)  Clint only, with various SHIELD agents making appearances. A total sleeper hit, written longhand in the back of a fishing boat, after some disappointing professional news.

   3.  Second Mouse  (697 c’mon folks, can we get that to 700???  :P )  My first MCU-James Bond 007 crossover and one of my personal favourites. Illustrated by @inkvoices, it spawned one coda and two sequels, and an über-cool commentary by @alistrawrites. 

   4.  Moments  (697 as well, go figure - what’s up with that?)  As mentioned above, a collection of ficlets (up to 1,800 words or so) which include much Clintasha, some Clint/Laura, but also Darcy Lewis, AoS characters and others.

   5.  Double Deuce (626) A crossover with Guardians of the Galaxy. The summary says it all: “Ironman, Starlord and Black Widow walk into a bar.”

5. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I try to. Sometimes I mean to later and then the comment notice slips down a page in my inbox and I forget. I do like to respond because I appreciate when someone takes the trouble, and want to encourage them to keep it up for other writers. And sometimes, there’s an interesting discussion point.

Occasionally, a comment moves me to add to the fic, sort of like one of those Marvel post-credit scenes.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Define angst...? Possibly a ficlet called “Toast” (Chapter 18 in Moments) which was a preview of Age of Ultron, based on the tower scene in the trailer. Or maybe Locust Wind, which foreshadows the rise of Hydra.

7. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve ever written?

I do! Probably Rapture, which is a Good Omens-verse AU in which the angel and demon characters are taking on the characteristics of Clint and Natasha - the humans they like to shadow.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Emm... yes. Once. I tagged Highway of Diamonds with a dubious consent warning and a “there be darkness” tag, and someone went off on me because she thought I should have tagged it as rape. (I’m a lawyer, I know the difference, and the tag was very carefully and deliberately considered). She enlisted a couple of her friends to pile on. I ended up re-tagging, but the whole thing pissed me off because I could have just done a “chose not to warn”. 

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Rarely, but yes.  F/M exclusively because it’s what I actually know. I’m always amused by people writing sex scenes who’ve obviously never done it, so I fear me writing F/F or M/M would probably be pretty disastrous.  But generally I prefer to leave the sexytimes to the reader’s imagination.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes, in the early days some shady outfit based in Russia scraped a bunch of my ST:Voyage fics off FFN and put them on their for-profit “good stories” website.  This happened to a bunch of people, and FFN was on it pretty quickly and the site disappeared.

11. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, several. It’s a fun process and you learn a lot (about yourself, about your friend, about writing).  But generally I’m a lone wolf - which is a euphemism for “control freak, if I’m honest with myself - like I was in school projects.

12. What’s your all time favourite ship?

Clintasha4Ever!!!

13. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Star Trek:Voyager, on FFN.  I got so many encouraging comments for my first fic (just got another one on AO3, actually) that I decided that I was a writer now.

14. What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

Which child do I love the most...? I have a very soft spot for Second Mouse, for Going to Ground and for some of my later Voyager one-shots, like Grace and Deep Water..

[millywidow]

White Christmas (Day 4)

Prompt ~ Person A has never seen snow before. Person B has never enjoyed snow before… not until they see how much Person A loves it.

Ship ~ Clintasha

Characters ~ Natasha Romanoff; Clint Barton.

Warnings ~ Mentions of torture. Mentions of child abuse. Hints of PTSD and Depression.

AN / I did some research for this chapter, but there are still some holes in my knowledge. For this prompt to work, I said that Clint grew up in South Carolina because according to Google, it doesn't snow there. Also, I am saying that they work in Washington, as snow is apparently very rare there. I am not from the USA so please correct me if I am wrong. Also, I have never seen snow before, so my descriptions will be off.

FC - 1

-----

Natasha knew it was coming.

The wind changed, and clouds hung around longer.

She knew it was coming, and she hated it.

Clint, on the other hand, did not know it was coming.

Being from South Carolina, a snow-less state, he did not notice the change in the winds and clouds.

He didn't know it was coming, and he was unaware.

-----

Clint was the first to wake up, a rarity in itself, but choose to remain under covers, in the warmth of the bed. Normally Natasha would wake first, head into the shower, or make a pot of coffee. But on this very morning, it was Clint.

Consequently, It was Clint who first discovered the white covered city.

Over the past few years, Washington had had a dry spell, resulting in no snowfall for the entirety of Clint's posting at the Washington base. In the rare times, it did snow, he was always out on a mission - somewhere hot and dry. So here he was, approaching his thirties, never having seen snow.

Natasha, in contrast, grew up in the snow. But unlike most children, she had no good memories of the white pillowy substance. Only bad ones. The red room wanted their girls to be able to perform in any type of climate, including below zero temperatures. And so they had trained them in horrific circumstances, traumatising the little girls. Now, just the sight of snow would trigger her into reliving painful memories.

She had gone to bed that night, wrapped up in her boyfriend's arms, without a care in the world, only thinking about Clint's warm body pressed up against her back.

She had woken up by Clint's sudden intake of breathe, as he looked out of the curtains.

The redhead sat up quickly, in a dazed state but still alert, thinking that Clint's gasp had signified a bad thing - like a marksman aiming at their window, or an out-of-control fire across the world. She was not expecting, however, to look out the window and see white as far as the eye could see. Well, she was expecting it to snow, but she wasn't expecting Clint to turn around at her and look so happy.

"Tasha! It's SNOWING," he shrieked, practically jumping up and down on the spot. She was unable to match his excitement, turning around to face her pillow, and groaning.

The archer noticed her obvious show of disinterest, and could even detect a small sign that she was desperately unhappy about the weather. He had thought she would be happy about the snow, having grown up in one of the coldest and snowiest places on earth. But he also knew that she didn't grow up as everybody else did. The red room was a less-than-nice place, from the little that she spoke about it, he could tell that the institution used everything to torture little girls into assassins.

Despite this, he still wanted to go out into the snow, the child in him wanted nothing more than to go and build a snowman. At the same time, he didn't want to trigger his girlfriend or make her do something she didn't want to.

Stepping away from the window, he crawled back into the bed but sat up against the backboard. He picked her up, forcing her face to leave the pillow, and placed her onto his lap.

The caring gesture hit Natasha right in the feels and was incapable of stopping the tears that fell down her cheeks.

"Hey, hey, hey," he whispered, wiping the tears away with the back of his sleeve. "What's wrong, love?"

She let her forehead fall onto his shoulder, as he tightened his arms around her waist.

"I hate the snow," she stated, muffled by his pyjama top. "Every time I look at it, it sends me back to the Red Room, I-I-I hate it."

Clint felt a painful stab in the chest at her words. How could he have been so insensitive? He asked himself. Here she was, on the verge of a mental breakdown, and all he thought of was making a freaking snowman!

"Well then, it's decided, we are going to stay in here until the snow has passed. You have lots of movies to catch up on, and I have never said no to popcorn," he stated, putting his wants aside for her needs. As Clint spoke, Natasha lifted her head off of his shoulder and looked him in the eye. He had been so excited to go out in the snow, and yet here he was, saying that he would lock himself inside for her. Just for her.

"Clint," she drawled, trying to keep the pity out of her voice. I won't let you do that for me. You deserve to go out and enjoy yourself. I can't keep holding you back just because I am too weak to-"

"I'm going to stop you right there. You are not weak. We all have triggers, we can't help that. All we can do is help each other get through them. SO that's what I am going to do - help you get through this snowstorm."

She let out a breath and dropped her head back onto his shoulder. He had won - convinced her to let him help her.

Gently placing Natasha onto the bed, he left to go and collect everything that they would need. Which included; six different Christmas movies; two packets of Natasha's favourite chocolate; enough popcorn to feed an army; and a weighted blanket.

--------

They were onto the second movie when Natasha spoke.

"I want to go out into the snow," she said in a small voice.

That took Clint by surprise. He had seen her this morning, seen how strong and deeply rooted her dislike of snow was, and yet here she was, asking to go out into the snow. If he was being honest, he had completely forgotten about his desire to go out into the snow. Too distracted by his enjoyment of cuddling with Natasha while watching movies.

But now that she expressed her desire to go out, he felt it too.

After making sure she actually wanted to go out into the snow, and was not just saying it to make him happy, he put on his winter gear. And together they headed out into the snow.

As soon as his boots crunched against the snow, she could feel her mind slipping away. But Clint's gloved hand grounded her, keeping her in the present.

Throughout their little snow adventure, there were many times she wanted to just run back inside, and hideaway. But the sound of Clint's laughter, as he made a snow angel, kept her there.

She watched him create patterns in the snow and even helped him make a snowman. In the end, she had a good time

Maybe, she thought to herself, she could grow to like the snow, and maybe even one day, she would enjoy it just as much as Clint did

-------

Question of the day: Does it snow at Christmas where you live?

[millywidow]

Underneath The Mistletoe (Day 6)

Prompt ~ Did you put the mistletoe here just so you had an excuse to kiss me?

Ship ~ Clintasha

Characters ~ Clint Barton; Natasha Romanoff

Warnings ~ Mentions of sexual assault/harassment

AN/ I rewrote this at least 5 times and I still do not like it. It's just a really crappy story, but I needed to get it out today. I promise not all my stories are this bad, so if you are new to my account, please check out my other fics! :)

FC - 1

------

Natasha had a love-hate relationship with mistletoe.

Too many bad experiences with men thinking that it was an excuse to do whatever they like with her. Besides, it was an outdated misogynistic tradition that had no place in her little bubble.

For the majority of her life in America, she had managed to dodge the ritual. Purposefully placing herself far away from the plant at SHIELD parties and gatherings

But then the 'Invasion of New York' happened, and she was thrust into the world of the Avengers. Since then all her carefully built walls had come crashing down, and the five other misfits had found a place in her heart (just don't tell them that). She even found herself looking forward to Christmas. Anticipating the cringe-worthy movies on Christmas Eve. The excitement of opening presents with the rest of her team. Everything there was about Christmas. It was a massive change.

In other news…Clint had happened.

Six hours after Loki had been taken into custody, he had said those magic words. He had told her about his feelings. Despite the whole of SHIELD thinking they had been together for ages, the pair only became a pair at that moment. A moment shared between the two assassins, under the cover of darkness in the ravaged section of Stark Tower that would soon become their home.

It was still fresh, but they had been friends for such a long time that they just melted together perfectly.

Even with her newfound family, and boyfriend, the idea of mistletoe still sent chills up her spine.

She had hoped that the red-berried plant would not make an appearance. However, living with a man built on traditions - Steve - a Norse god who basically created those traditions and a man with too much money, made that practically impossible.

Natasha had rolled her eyes when she spotted it in the trolley. Steve had basically forced them to all go Christmas shopping together, which was turning out to be very chaotic. But it also meant that Natasha was able to find out what decorations were going to be around the tower in the coming week. So she could better prepare herself for the unwanted attention.

She had asked Steve why they needed to decorate the tower in mistletoe, it seemed unconventional as it only made situations more uncomfortable. 'It's tradition' he had said, smiling in the way he always did when anybody mentioned traditions that had lasted from his childhood to now.

Steve, noticing Natasha's clear discomfort, hastily added that she didn't have to kiss anyone if she didn't want to.

It did make her feel a little better. It also made her realise that the Avengers were not like her old handlers - they would never force her to do anything she didn't want to. It was comforting to realise that. That she was safe. She was cared for.

The small conversation with the captain had definitely helped to quieten the anxiety that had threatened to bubble over.

---------

Over the next couple of weeks, she cleverly worked around the mistletoe, fortunately never finding herself stuck underneath it. Clint had playfully tried to trap her once, but she had stepped away at the last moment, laughing at his frustration.

She found it more heart-warming than scary that Clint wanted to kiss her. Because Clint would never see her as a piece of meat, he always saw her as a smart, intelligent woman, that was so much more than her reputation. And she loved him for that.

The archer, knowing her better than anybody else, noted her avoidance of the small shrub, and stopped attempting to 'spontaneously' find her underneath the mistletoe. Instead opting for other Christmas traditions. Hot chocolate next to the fire. Snowball fights. You name it, they did it together and had a blast doing it.

But even with all that fun and excitement, Natasha still felt like she was missing something.

She had noticed that after his last attempt, Clint had stopped trying to find her underneath the mistletoe, and a small part of her missed that. Missed the feeling of his childish pouting face against her shoulder when he realised she had moved at the last moment. Missed the determined look in his crystal blue eyes after he recovered.

So she formed a plan. The hunter would become the hunted.

Armed with pockets full of mistletoe, she stalked through the tower.

As soon as she found the sandy-haired man she pounced. Running up behind him and throwing her arms around his waist. As he turned around, she stuck her left hand in the air, holding up the mistletoe for all to see.

"Did you put the mistletoe here just so you had an excuse to kiss me?" He laughed jovially, realising what had just happened.

"Yup," she smirks as she leans onto her tippy toes to kiss him full on the lips. He returns the gesture.

The mistletoe drops to the ground, laying there forgotten as the pair break apart.

Even without the plant, which started the kiss, Clint continues on. Planting tiny kisses all over her face. Her mouth. Her nose. Her cheeks. Her forehead.

Natasha couldn't help the laugh that escaped her mouth as the archer's lips touched a ticklish spot. A real smile graced her pale face.

She realised that she didn't mind mistletoe, as long as it was Clint who was standing underneath it with her.

-----

Question Of The Day; What is the coolest gift you ever gave someone?

[millywidow]

Merry Xmas Everybody (Day 12)

Title ~ Merry Xmas Everybody

Prompt ~ Character doesn't think they're going to make it home in time for Christmas.

Ship ~ Clintasha.

Characters ~ Natasha Romanoff; Clint Barton.

Warnings ~ Hinted depression and separation anxiety.

FC - 1

An / That's it! All twelve days of ficmas done! Not going to lie, I thought I wasn't going to make it, but alas, I did. Thanks for reading, and if you've been reading this far, please give me a follow or leave a kudos. Everything is much appreciated! I hope everyone has a wonderful Christmas (If you celebrate) and a fantastic holiday season.

Also, we have Christmas Ham in Australia, I don't know if that's just an Aussie thing, if so, sorry. For those people who aren't Australian, what type of meat do you eat for Christmas? Because I tried to think of some, but Turkey is Thanksgiving, Chicken seems to boring and ordinary. Let me know :)

With Love

MillyWidow

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December 24th 9:00 am

With trembling fingers, she opened the window, hoping to see his car parked outside.

It wasn't

She sat there for close to an hour, waiting for her archer to return.

It was a tradition, to set up the tree and decorations on Christmas Eve. Which normally took the whole day to put everything up, so if she wanted to finish before Christmas Day, she would have to start soon.

But she didn't want to start without Clint. Natasha couldn't start without Clint. He needed to be here.

But he was on a mission. A mission that was meant to finish yesterday, but had been pushed back and back. Clint had told her why it was being prolonged yesterday when he had called her, but she didn't hear. All she heard was "Mission has been extended, I will be home late" and then she had tuned out.

After sitting at the window sill, waiting for someone who would never come home, she decided to just set everything up without him. Then, when Clint came home, he would be pleasantly surprised by the colourful and festive apartment. Hopefully, that would put him in a good mood. He always hated when missions went overtime or FUBAR.

By the time she had finished, the sun had set, and the owls had swooped in - marking the night.

She couldn't help but peek outside one last time before bed, hoping to see him pulling into the drive.

He didn't.

Instead, the driveway remained empty and desolate.

Natasha fell asleep wishing for her partner to come home.

-----

Across many oceans, on the other side of the world, Clint Barton sat on his creaky motel bed, wishing he could be anywhere but right there. All he wanted was to be at home, in his apartment, with Natasha. He wondered if the redhead had put up the tree yet. He hoped she had, at least then she wouldn't be sitting alone in the apartment with nothing to do. But at the same time, he hoped she hadn't decorated, because that was their thing. He loved spending the whole day with her, dancing to Christmas music and eating junk food. It was the highlight of Clint's Christmas season.

Probably the highlight of hers too.

And this year he missed out.

The feeling of loneliness crept into his fatigued body. It was a different sense of loneliness. A forced desolation that could be avoided. It was as if some invisible barrier was blocking him off from Natasha.

There was always something that prevented the pair from spending time together. It was either work or…who was he kidding, it was always work.

Every time they made plans to; go out for a date; or spend a lazy day at home, it was always interrupted by work. Natasha got called up for a mission, or Clint did, or they both got called in.

In theory, spending time together on a mission was still counted as spending time together. But it wasn't. Because on a mission, they were Hawkeye and Black Widow, not Clint and Nat.

The archer yearned to just spend time with her, alone, without the stress of work and their alter-egos.

That's when it hit him.

The reason he was halfway across the world, sitting in a dreary motel by himself, was work.

The reason he was separated from his significant other on Christmas Eve, was work.

And the job he was on now wasn't even that important. It could easily be done another day. The only reason he wasn't on a plane home right now, was because he had to follow orders. Why Clint thought to himself, It's not like they are going to fire me.

Which was true, they wouldn't fire him, he was way too valuable for that. Nat and him were the most successful partnership for three years running. There was no way they would fire him just because he left a mission early. An *unimportant* mission at that.

It wasn't even time-sensitive, it was just an intel retrieval mission. Simple and easy. Nothing that couldn't be paused for Christmas and then taken up again at a later date.

With that thought, he made up his mind.

-------

December 25th 11:00 am

Natasha had woken up on Christmas with a feeling of dread. Trepidation at the fact that she was going to spend Christmas alone, without Clint. The apartment was decorated, but nobody would see it.

Normally, they would spend the entire morning cooking up a two-person feast. But what was the point? Clint was in another country, and she was here. And everybody knew Natasha could not cook. Most of the time, she would just stand there and cut the food, and Clint would warp it into incredible dishes.

Without the Archer, she was at a loss.

So she decided to just eat one of the meals Clint had pre-cooked for her, and watch television.

She had just settled into Love Actually when there was a loud CRASH, and the far window smashed to pieces. A man came with the window, tumbling inside.

Fight or flight response kicked it, and Natasha grabbed the handgun nearest to her and aimed it at the man

"Woah, Woah, Nat? It's me?" The man said, lifting his hands up while also trying to brush the glass of his body.

"Clint?" She jumbled, confused. "What…What are you doing here?"

"Called off the mission. This was more important. You are more important"

Natasha softened at his words. The validation of his love went straight to her heart. But the soft moment ended as quickly as it came.

"The window?" She said, turning her glare onto the sandy-haired man, obviously, the positive affirmation had done nothing to distract her from the smashed glass now sitting on the floor. "Could you not have used the door like a normal person?"

"Nah, that was more fun."

She just rolled her eyes, and tossed the dustpan and broom over to him, muttering a firm 'You make the mess? You clean to mess.'

-------

After Clint had cleaned up the mess, he went straight into the kitchen, putting Natasha's frozen meal back in the freezer, and starting to cook up the infamous feast.

He passed along vegetables for Natasha to cut, while he began to cook the ham.

In no time at all, the table was set, and the food was prepared.

For the rest of the day they ate, laughed, drank, and ate some more.

In the end, Clint was glad he left the mission early because after all, nothing was more important than this.

--------

Question of the Day - Do you travel for Christmas or do you celebrate at home?

[millywidow]

Santa's Wish (Day 11)

Title ~ Santa's wish

Prompt ~ "Make sure the dog has his Christmas jumper on for the family photo!"

Ship ~ Clintasha. Alexi/Melina Lucky/Pizza

Characters ~ Natasha Romanoff; Clint Barton; Yelena Belova; Melina Vostokoff; Alexi Shostakov; Lucky-the-pizza-dog

Warnings ~ N/A

AN/ The title is from my favourite Christmas song. It's called 'Santas Wish' by the Tenors.

-------

"Hurry up" Yelena complains from one corner of the couch. She sends a faux glare over at Clint, who is wrangling a Christmas jumper onto his dog. "I put it on Fanny much faster than this," she gloats, not one to miss an opportunity to boast about how much better her dog is.

Fanny must of sensed that she was about to be rewarded because she nuzzled her snout into Yelena's lap - who gave her a loving pat.

Natasha rolls her eyes at her little sister's childish behaviour, but can't help but agree. Fanny was a lot better trained than Lucky, and Clint was taking a long time to put on the green and red jumper.

They had been standing there for hours - Melina, Alexei, Clint, Natasha, and Yelena - trying to get one photo, and it still hadn't happened.

Natasha was the one who organised this whole 'event', she had wanted a photo of her family, all together, to put on the mantle of their new house. Surely that wasn't too much to ask for.

But apparently, it was.

Because even after all her organising and planning, they still hadn't taken a photo.

Yelena had arrived late, in pure Yelena fashion. But at least she wasn't having any dog problems, and for the most part, she just sat there annoying Clint.

Clint, on the other hand, was having dog problems. Lucky did not want to put on the jumper. He was more interested in the leftover pizza he could smell in the fridge. Every time Clint put one sleeve on, Lucky would take off to find the food.

Melina was desperately trying to tame Alexei's chaotic hair. No matter how many times she had told him to comb it this morning, he still hadn't done it, and so now it looked like a birds nest. Every time she flattened one side, the other side fluffed up.

Natasha was ready. She had been hours ago. Because she knew this would happen. She knew, once everyone was together, it would take a while for everyone to calmly sit down and smile.

So she just stood there and fiddled with the camera. Making sure it lined up with the couch. Checking that the timer was working. Etc, Etc, Etc.

After standing there for a good twenty minutes, just watching the chaos unfold, she gave up. There was no point trying to look perfect - because they weren't perfect. The photo was meant to be a representation of them and their family.

"Is everyone ready?" She called out from behind the camera. All four faces (plus the two dogs) turned to face her. Yelena and Alexei confirmed straight away, Melina joining them soon after.

Clint shook his head 'No' and indicated down to Lucky, who was happily munching on his stolen pizza slice. "Not yet. We need to make sure the dog has his Christmas jumper on for the family photo!" He said as lucky undid all of Clint's hard work by slipping his head out of the jumper.

Melina, after giving up with Alexei's abhorrent hair, walked over to Clint's side of the couch and begins helping him pull the jumper over the canine. Clint sent a playful glare to Yelena's side of the couch as she loudly comments on what a good girl Fanny is.

To the archer's surprise, Melina's attempts to put the jumper on Lucky succeeded first try! Which both annoyed Clint and gratified him.

Finally, he gave Natasha confirmation that he was ready, and she clicked the timer.

"All right, when the light flashes you have three seconds to make yourself look presentable. We are only doing one of these, so if you look bad, don't," she asserts as she runs back to her seat.

The light flashes

The camera clicks

It's all over.

All that fussier something that was over in less than a second. All of that for nothing.

Well…it wasn't nothing, Natasha thinks to herself as she sits back on the large couch. With Clint on one side and Yelena on the other, her parents standing behind her, she can't help but feel whole.

In truth, this was a lot more than nothing.

This was everything.

Never would she have expected to have all of her favourite people under one roof, nevertheless taking a Christmas photo together!

And yet it was happening. Or rather, it had happened, and it was everything Natasha had ever hoped for. She couldn't help but smile at the photo. Yelena was trying to escape Fanny's kiss attack, Clint was trying to keep Lucky still, Melina was smiling at the camera but Alexei's hand was on her head in the shape of two bunny ears. The only person who was smiling, undistracted, was Natasha. She was looking at the camera, with a true smile, while everyone else around her was all sidetracked. And Natasha loved it. This photo was definitely going on the mantle, and every time she walked past it, she would be reminded of her family.

Disjointed and dysfunctional, but still good. Very very good.

Natasha had never believed in Christmas miracles, but somehow, this very moment resembled one.

------

Question of the day - Do you do Christmas photo's with your family?

[millywidow]

Christmas Symbolism (Day 8)

Prompt ~ Snuggling in front of the fireplace with hot cocoa

Ship ~ Clintasha

Characters ~ Clint Barton; Natasha Romanoff.

Warnings ~ Mentions of Child Abuse. Flashbacks. Mentions of canon death. Graphic descriptions of death.

AN/ I tried something different today, I have no clue if it worked. It seems very…abstract? Let me know if it works :) Also, this is using pre-Black Widow canon. Back when we believed Natasha's family were killed by a fire.

Italics = Flashback

FC - 1

------

Outside the cosy interior, the world was covered in white. From the tops of the tall fir trees to the shallow bottoms of animal burrows. The world was white.

It was only fitting, Natasha thought to herself, that the world was white at this very moment.

White was peace.

Like a little dove, flying high above the world. And the small bubble she was currently living in was just as peaceful. Except, she had no inclination or desire to fly above the world. Everything she would ever need was in that very room, more so, every person she would ever need.

From her sport on the couch, she watched the white covered world paint itself into a beautiful mosaic. White tufts of soft ice crystals flitter across the window. Framed perfectly by the Christmas-stocking-covered window sill.

As far as the eye could see, it was all white. And yet inside the house was another story. The warm glow coming out of the fireplace saturated the small room. It was a stark difference from the outside. The yellow beam of warmth radiated from the corner of the room. The bright colour lit up the redheads face, making her feel warm despite the freezing temperature outside.

Yellow was happiness. White was peace.

And deep in the fireplace, in the heart of the fire, was orange. A profound and rich orange that seemed almost to recondite to be real. The orange was what created everything in the room. The yellow on her face was produced by the heart of the fire. The warmth of the small house was generated by the orange.

Orange was joy. Yellow was happiness. White was peace.

But with the deep orange fire, also came the memories. The assassin had always hated fire. For as long as she could remember, fire had been a symbol of pain and suffering.

It started when she was three

-------

Flames were everywhere. Climbing up the kitchen counter, engulfing the entire house. It danced across the living room, just like she had done many nights previously. The fire consumed everything.

Natasha was too young to understand the true impact of this fire. She didn't know that this red hot phenomenon would bring her so much pain, and change her life forever.

An unrecognisable man (whom she assumed was her father) threw a small cup of water into the room but it had little effect. There was nothing he could do. They had no water left. Their water had 'coincidentally' stopped working the minute the fire had embarked on its journey of destruction. Little did he know that this fire was the work of the infamous KGB. Little did he know that his daughter was destined to be one of the best Russian child assassins known to man.

All he knew was that his wife and daughter were in danger, and he had to get them to safety.

His last breaths on earth were spent scrambling through his burning house, trying to find his loved ones. He never made it out of the fire.

But his daughter did.

At only three years old, she watched her parents pass on, and yet she survived. Because at the last moment, when the flames had reached the roof, a strong pair of arms plucked her from the fire and pulled her to 'safety'

She couldn't remember what she had thought in that moment. Maybe she believed that this man was actually going to take her to a safe place. Or maybe she had an inkling that this 'rescue' was not all that it seemed.

The last thing she remembered - her last memory of childhood - was the image of being carried away from her burning home.

From that day forth, she became a widow. No longer was she a child, she was an assassin, a weapon.

From that day forth, she hated fire.

------

The flames crackled, pulling her out from her intrusive thoughts. The day she just relived in her mind, was what she considered to be the worst day of her life. Because without that day, none of the other bad days would have happened. Without that day she could've been living out a happy and domestic life with her family. But the fire destroyed it all

Fire was destruction. Orange was joy. Yellow was happiness. White was peace.

But fire was not all bad. With Clint it was different. Everything was different with him. It was better. With him, fire was not a symbol of death and destruction - it was a totem of rebirth and renewal. It was like that book Clint had forced her to read, the one about the teenage wizard. The book stated that at the end of every phoenix's life came a fire, but a fire also marked the start of a phoenix life. It was all a cycle. Fire was the end, but fire was also the start.

It was like her, Natasha thought to herself.

Fire had marked the end of her childhood, the end of her pre-red-room like. But fire also marked the start of her new life. Her life with Clint.

------

It was the end of November. The leaves slowly stopped falling, and the winter cold set in.

It had been Coulson's idea - to have a bonfire. The ground was covered in leaves, and it was freezing cold. It was strategically a sound plan. The fire would help get rid of the natural waste, and it would also keep them warm.

But for Natasha, it would also bring back the memories.

Instead of saying anything, she just sat back and allowed it to happen. Even helping Clint and the other agents gather wood.

When the fire had started up (which happened very fast in the redhead's opinion), she had chosen the seat furthest away from the fire pit. Which coincidently also happened to be the seat that directly looked at the archer. Not that she noticed that. She was too preoccupied with the tall dancing flames leaping into the sky.

Dancing just like it had that day in her living room. The day when…

She dug her nails into her palm, attempting to stop herself from spiralling into another panic attack. Not here. Not now. Maybe later she would let herself fall apart. Let herself relive the horrifying memories that she would much rather forget.

In hopes of ignoring the pulling feeling in her chest, Natasha looks directly ahead, bypassing the bright fire completely.

It was then that she noticed Clint was staring at her. With his signature lopsided grin, that revealed the slightest bit of worry. He grins deeper, even managing a wink before she herself begins to smile.

There was something about Clint that always managed to calm her down. It made her want to believe that this would work out. This being SHIELD and America and…him.

Maybe everything would be okay.

-------

Perhaps fire was not all bad. It was possible that the old wise wizard in that children book was correct. That fire marked the end and the start.

Fire was renewal. Fire was destruction. Orange was joy. Yellow was happiness. White was peace.

So as she laid there in the small warm home, surrounded by white, she couldn't help but smile. Tilting her head up, she stared at the man who was cuddling her. The same man that she had locked eyes with all those years ago at the bonfire. Clint's blue eyes were closed, but she could still picture them. His chest rose and fell with every breathe, slightly jostling her. Through Natasha's position on his chest, she could feel his heartbeat, beating softly but powerfully.

She snuggled down deep into his embrace and continued to gaze at the world around her.

She didn't have to worry about white or orange or yellow, because Clint was everything. Clint was joy. Clint was happiness. Clint was peace. Clint was renewal.

All that mattered now was Clint and the heartbeat pulsating into her ear. And the Christmas stockings that would be full of gifts in the morning.

Clint was good. Fire was renewal. Fire was destruction. Orange was joy. Yellow was happiness. White was peace. Clint was good.

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Questions of the day - What is your favourite colour, and why?

[millywidow]

The First Noel (Day 10)

Title ~ The First Noel

Prompt ~ "I wasn't going to let you spend Christmas alone."

Ship ~ Clintasha

Characters ~ Clint Barton; Natasha Romanoff

Warnings ~ Swearing. Anxiety. Mentions of Child Abuse

AN/ This is set in the early days of their partnership.

FC - 1

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The streets of New York were bustling, not that she was surprised, New York was always busy.

More so now because it was Christmas eve. The space above the streets were decorated with great bundles of green and red. The civilians - dressed in festive clothes. Everything just screamed CHRISTMAS

Even the shopfronts, which always displayed their most desirable products in an enticing way, were decorated to fit the annual celebration.

Natasha stopped outside one window, allured by the large photo that was being displayed. It was an image of a family, surrounded by presents and warmth. Despite the fact that she knew these people were paid actors, she couldn't help but feel alone an emotion that she can't quite describe.

She doesn't understand. Can't wrap her head around why this celebration of 'Christmas' has affected her so much, or why it made her feel things she had never felt before.

It was going to be just a normal day for her. Nothing extraordinary or different. Just the same. Just as monotonous and routine as today was.

She would wake up at the same time

Do the same morning workout

Eat the same, bland, breakfast

And take the same route to work.

Except

She didn't have work tomorrow. Fury had decided to give her the day off on Christmas Day. Something about 'Living Life' and 'Experiencing Christmas Spirit'. Or something cheesy and tacky like that.

So instead of driving through peak hour New York traffic, she would sit at her apartment, alone, and do…nothing.

What was she meant to do? It's not like anybody ever taught her how to celebrate Christmas. Natasha had no clue how to 'Live Life', the concept itself was incomprehensible to her.

The young assassin just wished she had some orders for Christmas, she was great at following orders, but figuring things out for herself was not something she had ever done before. She wanted to be independent, she really did, but when you have been brought up as a mindless assassin, that's pretty fucking hard to do. She was just meant to fit in and be 'normal'

None of this was normal, she thought to herself as she opened the door to her apartment.

The apartment itself was bland. There were no photos on the walls or memorabilia on the shelves. It was practically the exact same as the day she had bought it.

The blankness of her 'home' was a stark difference from the warm picture of the family home in the shopfront.

Deep down she wished she had that. The family. The stability to settle down.

It doesn't matter, Natasha told herself. Who cares if she was destined to spend her very first Christmas alone? Not her, that's for sure.

She didn't care

But as she woke on Christmas morning, her wrist sore from where the handcuff dug into her skin, she realised she did care.

She cared about the fact that America was meant to be different.

Her life after defecting was meant to be different.

She was meant to be free of all her red-room trauma, but it still dragged her down like a rusted anchor.

She was meant to be a normal citizen, to a certain extent. Getting brunch with friends before work should be a regularity. But it wasn't

The life she had thought she would get in America was too good to be true.

A pipe dream.

A foolish child's dream.

She just had to accept the fact that it would never happen. This was her life.

--------

She was only halfway through the tub of ice cream she had decided to treat herself to when there was a sharp knock at the door

Begrudgingly, she got up from her hearth on the couch and walked over to the door, grabbing the gun underneath the table along the way. Not that she needed it, even without the gun she had over twenty weapons on her. Hidden from view.

Before opening the door, she looked through the peephole. Fortunately, it was not someone she would have to use her gun on. Unfortunately, she had no idea what he was doing here.

She opened the door, making sure to show her confusion.

"What are you doing here?" She asked the archer, who didn't seem to share her confusion.

"It's Christmas?" He explained without actually explaining.

"I am well aware of that, Barton,"

"I wasn't going to let you spend Christmas alone"

She seemed taken aback by his answer. It's not that she didn't expect him to care, it was…just…that…she didn't expect him to care.

She didn't expect him to even realise that she was spending the holiday alone. But he did, and it was amazing. Nothing, ever, in her entire life, had made her feel more wanted or loved.

The fact that he went out of his way to come to her bland apartment just to spend a crappy holiday with her, was breathtaking.

And by the looks of it, he brought gifts.

--------

Clint let himself into the apartment, dumping his stuff on the table and collapsing onto the couch.

"Word of advice, Tash, never drive through New York on Christmas day." He warned, rolling his eyes and reaching for the beer she offered him.

She muttered a small thanks before sitting down and staring at her hands awkwardly.

Clint seemed to notice her uncomfortableness and rushed to assure her.

"Here's the plan for today. We'll watch a movie and then make lunch. I brought some ingredients so don't worry about having to go to the shops. It's madness out there. Then we'll eat, and give out presents," the archer told her.

Natasha marvelled at his ability to know exactly what she needed when she needed it. Most people wouldn't think that a list of instructions would be so reassuring. But it was. The whole day, the whole month actually, all she had wanted was someone to tell her what to do. And here someone was - telling her what to do while also giving her space. It was perfect. He was perfect.

"Now, I don't expect you to get me anything, because it is your first Christmas and-"

"I got you something," she interrupted him. The look of surprise and pride on his face almost made her smile, but she refrained. "I thought I would give it to you yesterday, but I didn't know if I was allowed to give Christmas presents on Christmas eve…" Natasha rambled.

"No No No. That's all good. That's amazing, actually. You can give gifts whenever you like."

This time she did smile. A small, sincere, smile that made his heart warm instantly.

"Well, Miss Romanoff, we have a movie to watch." He joked, grabbing the stack of DVDs in one of his many bags. "You can pick which movie you want to watch. There's 'Love Actually', or 'The Grinch', Ummm there's 'Home alone', oh and the best one - we've got-"

She tuned out, knowing she would just pick his favourite one.

Despite the original awkwardness of the situation, it turned out to be great fun.

And that…that very moment she spent with Clint on that couch, was exactly what she had dreamed of as a child. The family. The stability.

It was no longer a pipe dream, it was a reality.

And if someone was there, taking a photo of Clint throwing popcorn into Natasha's mouth. They would capture a moment that looked even more beautiful than the one in the shopfront.

A moment of happiness.

A moment of life.

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Question of the Day - What is your favourite Christmas movie.

[millywidow]

You're A Mean One, Mr Grinch (Day 3)

Prompt ~ "Please tell me you aren't searching my room to see where I've hidden the presents?"

Ship ~ Clintasha

Characters ~ Natasha Romanoff; Clint Barton; Philippa Barton

Warnings ~ Suuuupper fluffy

AN / This is a part of a story that I am working on right now but hasn't been posted yet. Basically, Clint and Nat have a daughter named Philippa Edith Barton, and they live on the farm together. Once I have posted that story, I will update this to let you all know. So if you are interested in this story make sure you subscribe/follow so you will be alerted. Also, the year is 2014, and Philippa is two years old.

FC - 1

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The car bumbled its way up the gravel driveway, gently shaking the driver. The archer stuck out his hand, to prevent the resultants of his shopping trip from falling onto the floor of the car.

Natasha had convinced him that they needed more peanut butter, despite the fact that there still had two unopened containers in the pantry. He didn't question it. If she wanted more peanut butter, then he would get her more peanut butter. But he knew she was up so something. He suspected she just wanted him out of the house for something. He was a spy after all.

Still, he used this opportunity to get more presents for his girls. It was rare that he went shipping on his own. Philippa almost always insisted that they all go together. Double the chances of getting an ice cream, Natasha would say. Because he was on his own, he was given the freedom of the whole store, without having to hide toys under a bundle of lettuce.

Christmas was next week, but he had by no means left his shopping to the last minute. For the past month-and-a-half, he had been stocking up on gifts for his girls, determined to make this year the best Christmas ever. This year had been rough but had ended on a positive note. There was the shit show at the start of the year - when his wife and Captain America had single-handedly taken down the hydra-infested SHIELD. But there was also good. After that fiasco, both Clint and Nat had decided to retire, choosing to spend more time with their daughter.

The archer honestly couldn't decide who was more excited for this year's festivities - Philippa; the two-year-old - Or Nat; the 30-year-old who never had a childhood. It was so cute in both cases, and Clint felt like it was his duty to provide for them. In this instance, it was providing good and happy memories of the holiday season. And that included lots and lots of presents.

After he had parked, Clint remained seated in his car, gazing up at the farm. He was so grateful for everything he had, and that after everything that had happened in his life, he was given this home, with these amazing people. Eventually, he had to get out of the car, or else Philippa would come running out and see the new playset he and bought her. Somehow he would have to smuggle it inside and wrap it without her noticing.

Entering the house, the familiarity and warmth of it all washed over him. Everything about this farmhouse radiated domesticity to him. The photos on the mantle. The muddy boots by the doorstep.

Even though he had only been gone for an hour, he had missed everything about this place. The nepotism, the laughter, the music…and yet it was quiet. Not a single sound echoed through the farmhouse.

It was then he noticed how odd everything had been since he had arrived home. Normally, just the sight of the car pulling into the driveway would send his daughter running outside to greet him. And yet there was no screaming two-year-old scrambling up to him. It was almost as if nobody was home.

Slipping into Daddy-Hawkeye-Mode, a sneaky mode often used in extremely tense games of hide and seek (which he still ended up losing), he crept up the stairs. He was careful to not make a single sound, even after retirement, Natasha could sense anything.

Creak

He immediately stopped moving. Was that him? He wondered to himself. He looked down, noticing that he wasn't on a creaky step, so there was no reason for him to have made that noise. The archer kept incredibly still, hoping to hear the noise again, to confirm his suspicions.

Creak

Bingo! He thought to himself. Clint had stopped moving, and yet the creaking had continued. That meant he had found them.

According to his mind, the noise had come from their room. He wasn't certain, but he was pretty sure he knew what they were doing. Why else would his wife 'trick' him into leaving the house and then raid his room with their daughter?

Quietly, he walked across the landing, until he was just outside the room. Clint knew he could open the door without them noticing, after all, he had fixed the door last week, so it now made no noise.

His assumptions were correct, as he opened the door, discovering the two girls, but they did not discover him. The archer watched them for a moment, riffling through his drawers and under his bed. He knew what they were doing.

He cleared his throat, alerting them to his presence.

"Please tell me you aren't searching my room to see where I've hidden the presents?"

Natasha and Philippa both jump in the air. Natasha was shrewd enough to look guilty, but his daughter on the other hand…burst into giggles and ran out of the room. Clint tried to pick her up, but she was too speedy - already picking up her mother's physical traits - and she narrowly escaped his grasp.

He smiled as he watched her go, before turning back around to his wife. Quickly catching the playful smile that graced her face, before it slipped back into the faux guilty look it had donned earlier.

Walking up to her, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his body. She nuzzled her nose into his neck and relaxed into his hold.

"Don't worry, I found the presents last week. I made sure she didn't find them," she whispered into him. Without even looking at her face, he could tell she was smiling. He couldn't help but laugh, because of course she found the presents, even with his strenuous efforts to hide them.

"Of course you did. I was stupid to think I could hide anything from a sneaky ex-assassin and her mini-clone."

Now it was her turn to laugh. Philippa really was a miniature clone of Natasha. She had Clint's eyes, but her personality was 100% Natasha's.

"You're a mean one, Mr Grinch"

"How am I a grinch? I hid the presents to make it a surprise," he remarked jovially, kissing her on her pouted lips.

"You just are," she grouched, returning her head to his shoulder.

He leaned forward to plant a kiss onto her forehead, before smiling. "You know, If I'm Mr Grinch, that makes you Mrs Grinch."

Her face scrunched up in fake anger and grumbled into his neck.

Clint resumed his soft laughing before the moment was interrupted by a crash and a "MAMA! I FOUND THEM!"

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Question of the Day: Do you keep your Peanut Butter in the fridge or the pantry.