#hawkeye x you | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tqlepatiia · 3 months ago

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the space between us | b. barnes & c. barton

masterlist | pt.1

summary: y/n struggles to heal after ending her turbulent relationship with bucky. in her quest for solace, she finds unexpected comfort in clint, whose genuine connection helps her reclaim her joy. as she navigates the complexities of moving on, bucky grapples with his regrets and the consequences of his actions. amid moments of laughter, heartfelt conversations, and emotional confrontations, y/n learns to embrace a new chapter in her life, ultimately discovering that it's okay to love again. can bucky come to terms with his choices and accept the happiness y/n deserves?

pairing: bucky barnes x reader x clint barton

warnings: angst, emotional distress, heartbreak, complex relationship dynamics, confrontations, mentions of mental health struggles, potential triggers related to emotional abuse, strong language, and themes of self-discovery and healing.

notes: hi lovelies! here is part 2, as requested by @idontcareforausernamesblog! <33 i can’t even tell you how emotional this one was to write – i may or may not have cried while putting this together (okay, i totally did 🥲). i poured my heart into this, so i really hope you all enjoy it as much as i did! thank you all so much for your love and patience. you guys are the best, and i can't wait to hear what you think! 💌

word count: 18.5k

Weeks had slipped by since you walked away from Bucky, and the silence in the compound seemed heavier with each passing day. Every corner of the place was filled with memories of laughter, warmth, and moments you wished you could forget. Now, all that remained was the thick air of unresolved feelings and the ache in your chest whenever you caught a glimpse of him in the halls. You had made the decision to leave, to break free from the endless cycle of hurt and frustration, but that hadn’t freed you from the weight of the heartbreak.

You pushed through the door of the training room, and the familiar smell of sweat and metal greeted you. Once, this room had been a place of comfort—a shared sanctuary for you and Bucky, filled with playful banter and moments when the world seemed to disappear. But now, it felt like a space you had to reclaim for yourself.

Standing in the middle of the room, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, focusing on the way your muscles stretched as you prepared for the workout ahead. You had to stay present, focus on the strength you were trying to rebuild.

Hey, take a breath, doll. You’ve got this. I believe in you.

Bucky’s voice echoed in your mind, uninvited. His hands had once steadied you in this very room, his presence strong and reassuring.

You shook your head, trying to push the memory away. No. Not now. You couldn’t afford to get lost in the past again. But as you began to stretch, you could still feel that heaviness lingering in your chest. Why did everything with Bucky have to be so complicated? The lightness of being with Clint felt so different—like a breath of fresh air—but guilt washed over you at the thought of moving on so quickly. How could you enjoy this moment when Bucky was still reeling from the breakup?

The sound of the door opening broke the silence, and you turned to see Clint Barton walking in with his usual swagger. He was wearing a fitted black tank top and workout shorts, his smirk firmly in place as he spotted you. There was something about the way he carried himself, a lightness that seemed almost contagious, even when you were feeling your worst.

“Hey, look who finally decided to grace us with their presence!” he teased, though you noticed the slight hesitation in his voice. “You ready to get your butt handed to you today?”

You managed a smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “More like I’m ready to kick your butt, Hawkeye.”

Clint chuckled, his smirk widening, but there was a brief flicker of something in his expression—an awareness, perhaps, that the teasing had to be balanced carefully. You could see he was trying to keep things light for you. “Big talk from someone who's fresh off a heartbreak courtesy of the Winter Soldier,” he quipped lightly, but his eyes softened immediately, watching for your reaction.

You let out a hollow laugh, not entirely sure if you found it funny or if it was just a defense mechanism. “Trust me, I’m ready to channel all of that into training.”

He nodded, respecting your space, and you squared up, hitting the pads with more force than necessary. The sound of your fists connecting with the pads echoed through the room, each punch a release of the pent-up frustration and pain that had been swirling inside you for weeks.

But even as you punched, the memories came back. You could see Bucky’s face, the way he looked at you during those quiet moments when it was just the two of you, when you believed that maybe everything would be okay.

His hands on yours, teaching you to throw a punch properly. His voice, low and soothing, telling you to relax.

Suddenly, you found yourself instinctively moving as if Bucky were right there beside you, guiding you through a complex maneuver. The memory hit hard, freezing you mid-punch, the muscle memory overwhelming. For a split second, everything blurred around you—the pads, the room, even Clint’s presence faded into the background.

“Y/N!” Clint’s voice broke through the fog, softer this time, and you blinked rapidly, coming back to the present. “Hey, focus up. You’ve got this. Just remember, it’s not a Hawkeye thing; it’s a you thing.”

You stumbled slightly, shaking your head as you regained your balance. “Right. Sorry,” you mumbled, the weight of that unspoken moment lingering between you.

“Just take a breath,” he said, his voice calm yet steady. “You’ve got this. Just find your rhythm. You’re doing great, I promise.”

With his reassurance, you continued to hit the pads, but the memory of Bucky’s touch lingered, a ghostly reminder of what you had lost. Each punch felt heavier now, laced with the weight of your heartache. You could almost feel the tightness in your throat, the sting behind your eyes, the tears you fought to hold back.

“Y/N!” Clint called out after a while, concern creeping into his voice. “You okay in there? Talk to me.”

You paused, chest heaving as you caught his eyes, the question lingering in the air between you. His worry was palpable, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet it fully. Instead, you swallowed hard and nodded, trying to shove down the emotions clawing their way to the surface. “Yeah,” you replied quickly, a little too quickly. “I'm fine. Let's just keep going.”

Clint gave you a skeptical look but didn't push. He nodded, stepping back to give you space as you squared up again, channeling everything into the next hit. This time, you weren’t just striking the pads—every punch felt like it was trying to break through something deeper.

The sound of your fists connecting with the pads echoed sharply in the room, each impact reverberating through your body, but doing little to quiet the storm inside you. As much as you wanted to stay in the present, your mind betrayed you, tugging you back into memories you'd been desperately avoiding.

Bucky's hand, steadying yours as you stood together, his voice low and teasing as he corrected your form. The way he looked at you like you were the only person in the room, the weight of his gaze grounding you in ways nothing else could.

You grit your teeth, hitting harder. It wasn’t fair—the way those memories clung to you, even after everything that had happened. The harder you tried to push them away, the more vivid they became, like a fog that thickened the more you struggled against it. Every punch felt like a futile attempt to exorcise his ghost from your heart.

“Look at you go!” Clint called out after a while, his voice breaking through your thoughts. “At this rate, you’ll be gunning for my job in no time. Might have to start watching my back, huh?”

You smirked, catching your breath. “You’re just saying that because you’re scared I’ll take your place, Hawkeye.”

Clint gasped dramatically, putting a hand over his heart. “Accuse me of treachery? I'm wounded.” But the playful look in his eyes quickly shifted to something more serious, his expression softening as he added, “But seriously—you're tougher than you think. I’m impressed.”

For a moment, his words sank in, and you felt a brief sense of pride warm your chest. But that warmth was fleeting, replaced by the all-too-familiar gnawing guilt that surfaced when your thoughts strayed too close to Bucky. You wanted to be strong. You wanted to believe Clint’s words. But a part of you still felt like you were breaking, piece by piece, under the weight of your past with him.

You slowed down, your punches growing weaker. “You’re slowing down,” Clint said, dropping the pads, stepping closer as your breath came in ragged gasps. “Hey, you alright?” he asked softly, his earlier lighthearted tone replaced with something deeper, something understanding.

You hesitated, your guard still up. “Yeah, just… tired,” you said, though you knew that wasn’t entirely true. The emotions bubbling just beneath the surface were harder to contain.

Clint didn’t push, but he also didn’t move away. He stood there, waiting, giving you the space to decide if you wanted to open up. And as the silence stretched between you, something in you shifted. Maybe it was the way he was just there, steady and unwavering, that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could let a little bit of the wall down.

“It’s hard,” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “I thought leaving him would make it easier, but it hasn’t.”

As the words left your lips, a tightness gripped your throat, and you felt a sting in your eyes, the tears you had been holding back threatening to spill over. Clint’s expression shifted to one of concern, and before you could stop him, he reached out to wipe away a tear that had escaped down your cheek.

You flinched slightly at the touch, the tenderness foreign after the chaos of your relationship with Bucky. “I’m sorry,” you murmured, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable.

Clint’s hand dropped back to his side, his expression softening with understanding. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said gently. “You’ve been through a lot. It’s normal to feel this way.”

You looked down, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. “It doesn’t feel like the right thing,” you whispered, the guilt gnawing at you again.

He stepped closer, resting a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Hey, you're tougher than you give yourself credit for. It’s not gonna be easy, but you’ll get there. And don’t worry—I'm not going anywhere.” he said, sincerity lacing his words. In that moment, you realized that Clint’s presence felt like a refuge, a safe space where you could process your pain without the complexity that came with Bucky. You were seen and supported, free to be yourself as you navigated the emotions swirling inside you.

You felt a swell of gratitude for Clint in that moment, for his unwavering support and understanding. As the moment lingered, Clint reached over to grab a towel from the nearby bench, his fingers brushing against yours as he handed it to you. The brief contact sent an unexpected spark through you, and you looked up to see him watching you intently.

“Drink up, champ,” he said, bringing you a bottle of water next. “I’d hate to be the one who has to drag your unconscious ass around.” He held the bottle out with a playful grin, and as you took it, your fingers lingered for a moment, the connection both comforting and electric.

“Thanks, Clint. It means a lot to me,” you said, feeling the warmth of his kindness wrap around you like a comforting blanket.

After a moment, Clint jokingly flexed, striking a mock superhero pose. “How’s this for an emotional support system?” he quipped, his voice lightening the mood, but then he quickly pulled you into a side hug instead, wrapping his arm around your shoulders in a gesture that felt intimate yet effortless.

You were caught off guard by the gesture but surprised at how comforting it felt. Clint’s warmth enveloped you, and for a moment, all the heaviness seemed to fade away.

“I can’t wait to tell Bucky how weak you are,” you teased lightly, leaning into him, your heart feeling just a bit lighter.

“Hey! No one’s supposed to tell him about this!” Clint replied, mock-horrified, but you could see the glimmer of understanding in his eyes, the way he respected your process.

As you both stepped back, a small, quiet laugh escaped your lips, an unspoken understanding passing between you. There was a lightness that hadn’t been there before, a subtle shift in the atmosphere.

As you wrapped up your session, the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting golden rays through the windows of the training room. The way the light filtered through felt almost magical, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. It mirrored your emotional journey—where dark shadows of the past with Bucky began to fall away, replaced by the warm glow of hope and new beginnings. The suffocating atmosphere of the compound started to fade, replaced by the golden promise of something better.

With each passing moment, you felt the connection with Clint growing stronger.

“Same time tomorrow?” you asked, excitement bubbling up within you.

“Yeah, can’t wait,” he replied, matching your enthusiasm.

As you stepped out of the training room, you felt lighter than you had in weeks. Maybe moving on was not just about leaving Bucky behind but about embracing the friendships and connections that could flourish in their place.

Could it be that you were starting to feel something deeper for him?

The thought lingered as you shook your head slightly, trying to dismiss it, but it wouldn’t leave you. With Clint by your side, you felt a little more ready to face whatever came next. The potential for something new and beautiful was just beginning to blossom in your heart.

The training room buzzed with energy, sunlight streaming in through the high windows and illuminating the dust motes swirling lazily in the air. Over the past few weeks, you and Clint had settled into an easy rhythm; morning sessions had become the highlight of your day—an escape from the shadows that had lingered since your breakup with Bucky. There was something comforting in the routine, the laughter and sweat shared with Clint grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected.

But today felt different.

You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but a new energy crackled beneath the surface, a subtle charge that sent your heart racing as you warmed up. The anticipation buzzed just below your skin, and you found yourself glancing over at Clint more than usual, as if waiting for something—though you weren’t sure what.

Clint was already in the room, stretching and chatting casually with Natasha, who was overseeing the session. As you approached, Clint glanced over and shot you that familiar, easy grin. But this time, there was a warmth in his eyes that made your heart flutter—a mix of mischief and something deeper, something you couldn’t quite decipher.

“Ready to get your butt kicked today?” he called, raising his eyebrows in playful challenge, his grin widening.

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes with mock indignation. “Please, I’m pretty sure I kicked your butt yesterday.”

He laughed, the sound rich and unforced, but there was a softness behind it that sent a thrill through you. “Only because I let you.” His tone was teasing, yet there was a sincerity that sent a thrill through you.

Natasha, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, caught your eye just as Clint spoke. Her knowing smile widened, and her eyebrow arched slightly, a hint of mischief dancing in her gaze as she observed the exchange. You felt a heat rise to your cheeks under her watchful eye, and you quickly looked away, trying to focus on Clint instead.

“Just don’t break anything, okay?” Natasha smirked, her amusement clear. “We need you both in one piece for the next mission.”

Clint flashed her a cheeky smile. “Don’t worry, Nat, I’ve got this under control.” Then he turned back to you, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Come on, Y/N, let’s see if you can back up that cocky attitude.”

You squared up against him, your body humming with adrenaline. “Bring it on,” you said, your voice steady, but beneath it all, your pulse raced.

The first few minutes were easy, familiar—the two of you moving in perfect sync, your bodies weaving in and out of each other’s reach. But as the sparring picked up, the playfulness began to fade, replaced by something sharper, something more visceral.

You feinted left and struck right, your fist connecting solidly with the pad Clint held. The impact sent a jolt of satisfaction through you, and Clint’s grin widened, a competitive glint flashing in his eyes. Yet as you ducked and weaved, your mind drifted to memories of Bucky—a stark reminder of how he once made you feel, how his presence had filled you with warmth and security. You could still recall the way he had looked at you, his gaze intense, as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world. His laughter, a soothing balm in the chaos of your life, and the way he would hold you after training, his warmth wrapping around you like a protective shield.

But just as that warmth felt distant, it was replaced by a new feeling—one that had crept in gradually since you started spending time with Clint. You couldn’t deny that he was beginning to make you feel something different, something lighter. Yet with every laugh shared, with every teasing remark that fell from his lips, a pang of guilt twisted in your stomach. Wasn’t this betrayal? Could you truly allow yourself to enjoy his presence when the echoes of Bucky still lingered in your heart?

That guilt grew heavier as you continued to spar, and just as the memory threatened to pull you under, Clint’s voice broke through the haze, grounding you in the present. “Hey,” he said, his tone softer now, concern etched on his face as he noticed the shift in your demeanor. “You okay?”

You blinked, pushing the memories away, forcing a smile that felt a little too strained. “Yeah, just… got distracted for a second.” Your heart raced, both from the recollection and the need to reassure him.

“Okay,” he replied, his gaze still searching yours, lingering with a hint of worry. But there was something more in his eyes—an unspoken longing that tugged at your heart, a reminder that Clint was starting to fall for someone who was still healing. “Just remember, I’m here for you. And if you need a bow and arrow, I’ve got you covered.”

The simplicity and sincerity of his words nearly overwhelmed you. A lump formed in your throat, and you struggled to hold back the rush of emotions that threatened to spill over. You hadn’t realized how much you needed to hear those words, how badly you needed someone to offer their unwavering support, to promise you wouldn’t have to face your struggles alone. It struck a chord deep within you, bringing a mixture of relief and vulnerability that left you momentarily speechless.

“Thank you,” you finally managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I really appreciate that.”

Clint nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “I mean it. You don’t have to go through this alone. Trust me, it’s way more fun with company—just ask Natasha about our last mission.”

As you continued to spar, the camaraderie and laughter returned, yet the undertones had shifted—an unspoken understanding lingering between you, blending the thrill of new beginnings with the weight of the past. With each interaction, there were subtle hints of Clint’s longing—how he lingered a moment too long after brushing past you, the way his gaze softened when you laughed, a silent acknowledgment of the connection growing between you. It was both exhilarating and terrifying.

Yet the emotional weight pressed down on you, the guilt that moved in tandem with the warmth you felt toward him. You were still healing, still piecing yourself together after the heartbreak, and the fear of moving on loomed over you like a dark cloud.

“Clint,” you said slowly, the words feeling heavy on your tongue. “I just… I don’t want to hurt you. You’re so… I don’t know how to explain it.”

His brow furrowed slightly, and he stepped closer, the concern in his gaze deepening. “What do you mean?”

You hesitated, the walls you’d built around your heart trembling under the weight of your admission. “I like being with you. You make me laugh, and I… I enjoy this, but I can’t help but feel like I’m betraying Bucky. Like every moment I spend here with you is a reminder that he’s gone, and I shouldn’t be moving on so fast.”

Clint’s expression softened, and he took a step closer, his presence steadying you as you spoke. “Y/N, you’re not betraying him. Moving on doesn’t mean forgetting. It just means you’re letting yourself heal.”

His words resonated with you, and for the first time in a long while, you felt the pressure in your chest ease ever so slightly. “I just don’t know how to let go. I miss him, and I feel guilty for feeling… anything for you.”

He nodded, understanding evident in his eyes. “It’s okay to feel both—what you had with Bucky and what’s starting here. You don’t have to choose right now.”

The warmth in his gaze made your heart swell, and you realized how desperately you needed to hear those words, how vulnerable you felt in this moment of honesty. “Thank you, Clint,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, filled with a mix of gratitude and vulnerability.

As you resumed your sparring, the atmosphere shifted, filled with a blend of laughter and shared understanding. With every moment together, you felt the possibility of something new blossoming between you—a chance to reclaim your heart, even as the past lingered in the shadows. The guilt of moving forward loomed like a cloud, but with Clint by your side, you began to believe that maybe, just maybe, it was okay to let yourself begin again.

The training session came to a close, both of you panting and grinning, the laughter still echoing in the air. As you gathered your things, the moment felt suspended, charged with the unspoken words that hovered between you.

Clint picked up his towel, tossing it over his shoulder as he stepped closer, and in that moment, your fingers brushed against each other—just a fleeting touch, but it sent a spark through you, igniting a warmth that spread through your chest.

You both paused, caught in the simplicity of that shared connection. His gaze held yours, the world around you fading away, and in that silence, the moment felt intimate, laden with promise.

Finally, Clint broke the tension with a soft smile, but it lingered in your mind long after he turned away, leaving you with an ache in your heart and a flutter of hope—a quiet promise of what could be.

The training facility hummed with energy, filled with the cacophony of grunts, laughter, and the occasional thud as bodies met pads or the mat. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and metal, the faint tang of iron lingering like a shadow over the vibrant activity. Bucky stood off to the side, leaning against the cool metal of the wall, arms crossed tightly over his chest. He tried to focus on the training routines of the other Avengers, but as he locked eyes on the sparring match taking place in the center of the room, the surrounding sounds faded into a dull roar, almost as if he were submerged underwater.

You were there, your movements fluid and confident as you trained with Clint. The way you laughed, the sparkle in your eyes, and the ease with which you both interacted made something in Bucky’s chest twist painfully. The laughter felt like shards of glass, cutting into him as he stood there, paralyzed by his own thoughts. Another memory surged—the day he had held you close after a tough mission, whispering reassurances as you broke down in his arms. “I'm not going to let anything happen to you,” he had promised, the sincerity in his voice echoing in his mind. You had smiled through your tears, your trust in him palpable. How could he have let it come to this? How could he have broken that trust?

As you sparred with Clint, Bucky's jaw clenched involuntarily. He watched Clint’s hand brush against your arm as he guided you through a new technique, and a surge of frustration coursed through him, coiling tightly in his gut. Bucky's heart sank as he watched you and Clint share playful jabs, the way your laughter intertwined with his. It was the kind of easy banter he used to have with you, and now it felt like a dagger twisting in his heart.

In that moment, a flash of memory surged through him—the night you both had curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket as you watched a movie. The comfort of your head resting on his shoulder, the warmth of your body against his. You had looked up at him, eyes sparkling, and said, “I'm really glad you're in my life, Bucky. You make everything better.” The simplicity of that moment haunted him, a stark reminder of the connection they had shared and the way he had let it slip away. Each joyous laugh felt like an echo bouncing off the walls, magnifying his isolation in a space that had once felt like home. The ache inside him grew sharper, a rawness he couldn't shake, a constant reminder of what he had lost.

As you lunged at Clint, your movements were fluid and precise, catching him off guard with a swift kick that sent him stumbling back. The sight made Bucky's fists clench at his sides, his knuckles turning white as he fought the urge to storm over there and drag you back to him. It wasn't just the fun you were having; it was the way Clint looked at you—like you were the center of his universe. That was supposed to be him.

As the echo of your laughter faded, Bucky felt the weight of his decisions press heavily on his shoulders. Memories crashed over him like waves—every shared moment, every late-night conversation filled with warmth and hope, the way your smile could brighten his darkest days. Now, he felt like a ghost haunting the remnants of what they once shared, a mere spectator to the happiness he'd pushed away.

“Look at them,” Natasha said, her voice low as she joined him by the wall, arms crossed similarly. Her gaze was fixed on the two of you, and though she spoke, the words felt muted to Bucky, lost in the haze of his spiraling thoughts. “They’ve got a real connection, don’t they?”

“Yeah, it looks that way,” he replied, his voice tight, his jaw clenched even more. The world around him dimmed further, the laughter and shouts of the training session fading into a distant hum. All he could see was you, the light in your eyes brightening with each playful exchange, while shadows loomed over him, reminding him of his failures.

“Are you just going to stand there and watch?” Natasha asked, glancing sideways at him. “You know, if you want to talk to her—”

“Talk?” Bucky interrupted, his tone sharper than he intended. “What good would that do now? I pushed her away.” The weight of those words hung heavily in the air between them, and he felt a pang of shame wash over him. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, the metal of his bionic arm groaning slightly under the pressure, a physical manifestation of the regret that threatened to consume him.

“Look, Bucky,” Natasha said softly, her gaze penetrating. “You need to face what you did. You’re not the only one hurting.”

He exhaled heavily, frustration mixing with regret as he pushed off from the wall. “I know that, Nat. But what’s the point? She’s moving on. I can’t just waltz back in and act like everything is fine.”

“Maybe it’s not about waltzing back in,” Natasha countered, her voice firm but gentle. “Maybe it’s about acknowledging what went wrong and making it right. You can’t keep running from your feelings.”

Bucky watched as you and Clint exchanged another playful jab, your eyes sparkling with joy. That joy had been a rare sight during the last weeks of your relationship. All the arguments, the anger, the hurt—Bucky had convinced himself that pushing you away was for the best, that he was protecting you from himself. But now, seeing you smile, he couldn’t help but feel that he’d made a terrible mistake.

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting memories flood back. The nights spent watching movies curled up on the couch, sharing popcorn and stolen kisses; the quiet mornings where you’d both linger in bed, basking in the warmth of each other’s presence; the way you’d laugh at his terrible jokes, lighting up even the darkest corners of his mind. Those moments felt like echoes of a life that was now slipping away from him, fading like the soft morning light.

He was alone. The thought echoed in his mind, drowning out everything else. His heart ached as memories flooded back—the warmth of your smile, the sound of your laughter, the comfort of your presence. Moments that now felt like distant dreams, lost in a haze of regret.

“Do you ever think about how you might’ve messed up?” Natasha asked, her tone shifting. “I get that you thought you were protecting her, but did you really think pushing her away was the answer?”

“Of course I do,” Bucky muttered bitterly, shaking his head. “I thought… I thought it was better this way. I thought she’d be safer without me.”

“Safer? Or happier?” Natasha challenged, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not some monster, Bucky. You deserve to be happy, too.”

He let out a heavy sigh, frustration and regret coiling tightly in his chest as he pushed off from the wall. “I get that, Nat. But what’s the use? She’s already moving on. I can’t just show up like nothing happened... like I’m not the guy who screwed it all up.”

“I’ve seen the way she looks at you. She still cares, even if she’s trying to move on. But you need to take that step,” Natasha urged, her voice cutting through his reverie. “Before it’s too late.”

The fight in her words ignited something within him, stirring a long-buried determination. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe there was still hope. He took a deep breath, steeling himself against the fear that threatened to consume him.

“Okay,” he said, voice steadying. “I’ll talk to her.”

“Good,” Natasha replied, her smile returning. “Just be honest. It’s all you can do.”

With newfound determination coursing through him, he took a step toward you, a surge of hope igniting within him. But as he approached, doubt clawed at his insides. The laughter rang in his ears, and with each step forward, it felt as if an invisible force was pulling him back, reminding him of the pain he had caused. He hesitated, caught in the gravity of the moment, every step feeling heavier than the last.

He could almost reach out, touch your shoulder, feel the warmth radiating from you. But the closer he got, the more overwhelming the memories became. The arguments, the tears—each one a reminder of how he had pushed you away. His heart raced as he faltered, a sickening churn in his stomach.

Just a few more steps, he thought, but then he froze. The distance felt insurmountable, filled with all the unsaid words and the weight of his own mistakes. His chest tightened, and he swallowed hard, feeling the suffocating grip of uncertainty tighten around him.

As he stood there, the weight of regret crashing down, he felt the edges of a discarded photo under his foot—one of you both at a picnic, the sun illuminating your smiles. He didn’t need to look at it to remember the way you had leaned against him, a comfortable weight that felt like home. Watching the connection between you and Clint grow stronger, he felt the pain of realization wash over him. He had pushed you away, believing it was for the best, but now he was left standing alone, haunted by the choices he had made. The thought of losing you completely loomed over him like a dark cloud, threatening to swallow him whole.

“I can’t do this,” he muttered to himself, his heart heavy with the weight of his decision. “Not now.”

With a final glance toward you and Clint, laughter still ringing in the air, Bucky turned away. The cool air hit him like a slap, stark against the emotional turmoil churning inside him. Each step felt like a retreat, a surrender to the pain that had become all too familiar.

As he walked away, he could almost feel Natasha’s disappointment echoing in his mind, a reminder of the support he had failed to embrace. He imagined her rallying the others, attempting to keep the team together in the face of his absence. But how could they be whole without him? Each one of them had their struggles, their scars, and he felt the weight of the burden he was leaving behind.

The thought twisted like a knife in his gut. It wasn’t just about him anymore; it was about the team, the friends he had fought alongside, the ones who had stood by him through thick and thin. They needed him, even if he felt like he was more of a liability than an asset right now.

A deep sense of dread settled over him. The consequences of his decision would echo beyond just his heart; they would ripple through the very fabric of the Avengers. Each step he took away from the training room felt like a step further from the family he had fought so hard to protect. The thought of them continuing to thrive, to train, to bond without him gnawed at him, a reminder of the fragility of connection.

As he stepped outside, the cool air brushed against his skin, but the chill within him ran deeper. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was not just leaving behind a relationship, but a part of himself. The determination he felt just moments ago was now shadowed by despair, and the hope he had clung to began to feel like a cruel illusion.

What if I never find my way back? he thought, feeling the burden of his choice weigh heavier than before.

Maybe some things were meant to be lost forever.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the compound as Y/N stepped outside. The late afternoon air was filled with the distant sounds of training—clanging metal, the rhythmic thud of feet against the ground, punctuated by laughter and the occasional shout of encouragement. But today, the ambiance felt heavier for her, the vibrant colors around her muted under the weight of her emotions. She found herself wandering to the garden, a peaceful escape from the chaos of her thoughts, the fragrant scent of blooming flowers wrapping around her like a comforting blanket.

As she strolled along the winding path lined with vibrant flowers, she caught sight of Natasha sitting on a bench, a sketchbook balanced on her lap. The faint sound of rustling leaves above accompanied the soft scratching of pencil against paper. Natasha’s eyes were focused, but she looked up as Y/N approached, a knowing smile spreading across her face.

“Hey,” Natasha greeted, setting the pencil down. “You look like you could use some company.”

Y/N nodded, her heart heavy with unspoken words. She shifted her weight, biting her lip as memories of Bucky flooded her mind—his laughter echoing in her ears, the warmth of his hand intertwined with hers. She could almost feel the sun on her face as they sat together at the lake, splashing water at each other, his laughter ringing like music. That day had felt endless, each moment dripping with joy, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief as he pulled her in for a playful kiss, whispering, “You know you’ll always be my favorite partner in crime.” But now those memories were tinged with pain, the ache of what they had lost haunting her every thought. “Yeah, I guess I could.” Her voice was soft, laced with uncertainty, as the once-bright flowers around her seemed to dull in color, mirroring her mood.

“Want to talk?” Natasha asked, her tone straightforward as she patted the space beside her on the bench. She opened her arms slightly, inviting Y/N into her embrace. “I can put the sketchbook away for a while if you need to vent. Just don’t expect me to draw you a superhero.”

Y/N chuckled lightly, recalling a time when Natasha had accidentally spilled paint all over her favorite outfit while trying to teach her how to paint. “Remember when you tried to teach me how to paint? And I ended up looking like a color palette instead?”

Natasha smirked, nudging Y/N’s shoulder. “I was trying to bring out your inner artist, not your inner disaster.”

“More like my inner disaster,” Y/N replied, shaking her head, a smile tugging at her lips. “But I still have that painting you made—it’s one of my favorites.”

“Only because I painted over the disaster,” Natasha teased, a playful glint in her eyes. “Now, enough reminiscing about your ‘artistic’ talents. What’s really on your mind?”

With a small sigh, Y/N sank down next to Natasha, feeling the warmth radiating from her friend and the sun’s rays on her skin. Natasha wrapped an arm around Y/N's shoulders, drawing her closer. Y/N inhaled deeply, the air fragrant with lavender and jasmine, familiar scents that reminded her of happier times with Bucky. But now they felt bittersweet, a cruel reminder of love tangled with loss. “It’s just… everything is so complicated right now.” The words felt heavy on her tongue, weighted down by the confusion swirling in her mind.

“Complicated how?” Natasha replied, tilting her head slightly, her curiosity piqued. Y/N could see the sunlight reflecting in Natasha’s eyes, illuminating her concern and drawing her into the moment.

Y/N hesitated, avoiding Natasha’s gaze, staring at the ground where the petals of the flowers seemed to wilt under the weight of her thoughts. “It’s Bucky. After everything, I thought moving on would be easier, but it’s just not. I feel guilty for even trying to be happy without him.” Her heart raced as she spoke, a mix of fear and longing. What if he needed her? What if he couldn’t find his way without her? But the reality of their situation hung over her like a dark cloud, suffocating and relentless.

“Listen,” Natasha said softly, leaning in, her grip tightening reassuringly on Y/N's shoulder. “You’re allowed to feel conflicted. You can care about Clint and still process what happened with Bucky. It doesn’t mean you didn’t love him, or that you’re moving on too fast.” The strength in Natasha’s voice offered a glimmer of hope, yet Y/N felt the shadows of guilt creeping back in.

Y/N leaned back against the bench, her shoulders tense as she stared up at the sky, now clouding over slightly. “I just want to feel happy again without all this guilt weighing me down. I want to enjoy my life and my relationships without constantly thinking about him.” But how could she? Bucky’s memory loomed over her like an uninvited guest, always there, always watching. The fun she had with Clint felt tainted, overshadowed by thoughts of Bucky—would he ever truly be gone from her heart?

“Y/N,” Natasha said gently, her expression growing serious. “I get it. There was someone I cared about once, too. Someone I didn’t think I could move on from. I was stuck in the past, thinking that letting go meant I didn’t care enough. But it doesn’t. The memories don’t disappear, and neither does what you felt.” Her voice was thick with emotion, and Y/N felt the sincerity in her words.

“What happened?” Y/N asked, her curiosity piqued, wanting to understand how Natasha had navigated her own pain.

Natasha took a deep breath, her gaze distant as she reflected on the past. “I lost him on a mission. For a while, it felt like I was carrying a ghost around. Took me meeting someone new to realize... it's okay to let it change. To honor what was, without letting it define everything after.” She paused, her voice steady but softer. “It wasn’t easy. Guilt can mess you up, make you think being happy again is wrong. But moving on doesn’t mean forgetting. It just means you’re healing.” Her words resonated deeply, and Y/N could see the wisdom in Natasha’s experience, the vulnerability that made her even more relatable.

Y/N took a deep breath, feeling a flicker of hope ignite within her. “But what if moving on means losing those memories forever? I can’t help but feel that by choosing to embrace something new with Clint, I’m erasing everything I had with Bucky.”

“Those memories are part of who you are,” Natasha assured her, squeezing Y/N's hand gently. “They’ll always be there, shaping you, reminding you of the love you shared. But you need to let that love evolve. It’s not about forgetting—it’s about honoring. And only you can decide how.” The warmth of Natasha’s touch grounded Y/N, reminding her that she didn’t have to face this alone.

Y/N bit her lip, her heart racing with conflicting emotions. “It just feels so overwhelming sometimes. I remember the sweet moments with Bucky, like that day at the lake when we laughed until we cried. His laughter was like music, and the way he kissed my forehead made me feel safe. I thought that feeling would last forever.” But now, even that memory felt like a dagger, reminding her of the distance that had crept between them.

“Those moments were real,” Natasha said gently. “They shaped you, but that doesn’t mean you can’t create new ones with Clint. Different doesn’t mean less meaningful. And it’s not betraying Bucky’s memory.” Natasha’s steady gaze and calm demeanor anchored Y/N, making her feel understood.

As they spoke, a figure approached the garden, and Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as she caught a glimpse of Clint. He paused at the entrance, watching them with a soft smile. The way his eyes sparkled made her stomach flutter, a warm anticipation blossoming in her chest. It was as if he could sense the shift in her emotions, the way her smile widened as she talked about the future.

Y/N turned her attention back to Natasha, her heart still racing at the sight of Clint. “You’re right. I’ve been so focused on what I lost that I haven’t thought about what I could gain. I can picture Clint and me going on a spontaneous road trip—just driving with no destination in mind, singing along to our favorite songs at the top of our lungs. I miss that carefree feeling.” Her voice began to brighten, a smile tugging at her lips as she imagined the adventure.

Clint stepped closer, curiosity etched on his face. He could hear snippets of their conversation, and a warm smile spread across his lips as he caught Y/N’s gaze. It felt as if he was a part of the moment, not just an observer. There was something about her smile that drew him in, igniting a flicker of hope in his chest.

“See?” Natasha smirked, her eyes glinting. “That doesn’t sound so bad. You deserve to enjoy those moments—without guilt. It’s okay to have hope again.”

Feeling lighter, Y/N smiled as she picked a flower from a nearby bush, twirling it in her fingers. “I think I’m ready to embrace that, to let go of the past and let it blossom into something new.” The flower felt vibrant and alive in her grasp, a symbol of her desire to grow and move forward.

“Good,” Natasha said, a hint of pride in her voice as she pulled Y/N into a brief but firm hug. “You’ve got this. And remember—you don’t have to do it alone.”

As they sat there together, Y/N felt the weight of her guilt begin to lift, the warmth of Natasha’s support wrapping around her like a protective shield. She glanced at the flowers surrounding them, their colors brightening under the sun, mirroring the lightness blossoming in her heart.

But just as her heart began to fill with hope, a fleeting moment of doubt whispered in her mind. What if she wasn’t ready? What if moving on hurt more than it healed? Yet, as she looked into Natasha’s eyes, she felt a flicker of determination ignite within her. Maybe healing was a process, a winding path filled with both joy and uncertainty, and that was okay.

“Hey, should we go see who’s losing in training?” Natasha asked, an impish smile dancing on her lips. “I’ll bet Clint’s probably tripped over his own feet again. I can’t wait to see him blame it on ‘tech issues.’”

Y/N laughed, a genuine sound that felt foreign yet freeing. “I’ll take that bet! But let’s not tell him I was rooting for him. He’ll never let me live it down.”

Clint, catching their laughter, couldn’t help but smile wider as he stepped closer, curiosity piqued. “You guys are plotting against me again, aren’t you?”

“Just discussing your amazing skills on the training floor,” Natasha replied, winking at Y/N.

“Ah, I see how it is. Just wait until I show you some new moves. You’ll be begging me for pointers—and then I might just consider it,” Clint teased, his eyes bright with mischief.

“Good luck with that,” Y/N shot back, her heart warming at the playful exchange. “I’m pretty sure I’d rather face a dozen missions than risk getting tangled in your ‘expert’ moves.”

“Smart choice!” Natasha laughed, nudging Y/N playfully as they stood up, brushing off the bits of dirt from the bench.

With renewed hope, Y/N took Natasha’s hand, feeling the warmth of their friendship radiate between them. Together, they would forge ahead, ready to find their own path filled with laughter, love, and endless possibilities. And as she glanced at Clint, feeling the way her heart fluttered, she couldn’t help but think that maybe this journey was just beginning.

The days melted into weeks, each one blending into the next like brush strokes on a canvas. With every sunrise, Y/N found herself stepping further away from the shadows of her past with Bucky. The initial pangs of guilt began to fade, replaced by a gentle warmth that blossomed each time she was with Clint. Yet, even in those moments of joy, a flicker of uncertainty lingered—thoughts of Bucky would occasionally creep in, reminding her of the pain and confusion she had felt. It was a peculiar sensation, like a fresh breeze sweeping through a room that had long been closed off, but also like a faint echo of an unresolved melody. She recalled how Bucky's unpredictability had taught her the importance of setting boundaries and prioritizing her own happiness, lessons she was slowly beginning to embrace.

On a particularly crisp afternoon, Y/N found herself in the common room, sunlight streaming through the expansive windows, casting golden rays across the furniture and warming her skin with its gentle touch. Outside, birds chirped cheerfully in the trees, their songs weaving a harmonious backdrop that made the atmosphere feel alive. The light danced on the floor, creating playful patterns that invited her in. Clint was sprawled on the couch, arms behind his head, looking utterly relaxed as he flipped through a comic book. The sound of pages turning filled the air, punctuated by the soft rustle of the paper and Clint's occasional chuckle. His easygoing demeanor was infectious, and she found herself smiling just at the sight of him, her heart fluttering as his laughter lit up the room.

“Hey, you,” Clint said, glancing up at her, his eyes brightening as a wide grin spread across his face, revealing that charming dimple. “Come check this out! They’re doing a crossover with all the Avengers—like we need more drama in our lives, right?” He waved the comic, excitement threading through his voice.

“Really?” she asked, intrigued. “What’s it about?”

“Some ridiculous time travel mess. You know how these things go. But honestly? It’s hilarious,” he replied, turning the comic toward her. Y/N crossed the room, plopping down beside him, the fabric of the couch cool and inviting beneath her. As she settled in, she brushed her shoulder against his, feeling the warmth of his skin, a tiny spark that sent a rush of warmth through her.

“Okay, but I think they totally got your character all wrong,” Clint teased, nudging her shoulder playfully. “I mean, seriously, Y/N would never wear those ridiculous spandex shorts from that one comic. Remember when you called them your ‘definitely-not-for-fighting’ shorts? Classic.”

Y/N laughed so hard she snorted, her eyes widening in mock horror. “Oh my god! Yes! That was traumatizing!” She tried to regain her composure, but the image of Clint in a ridiculous costume was too much. “And how you insisted on wearing that awful Hawaiian shirt during the mission? Talk about a fashion faux pas! What were you thinking? You looked like a tourist on a budget!”

Clint grinned, feigning indignation, his smile widening into a playful smirk. “That shirt was a classic! Plus, it totally distracted the bad guys. They were too busy laughing to notice us!”

“Right, because nothing says ‘serious superhero’ like a floral print!” she shot back, laughing as his eyes sparkled with mischief, making him beam even wider. As she leaned in closer to get a better look at the comic, their knees brushed against each other, and she felt a jolt of electricity at the contact.

“Admit it, you’re just jealous that you don’t have my sense of style,” Clint joked, his grin growing even more infectious.

“Oh please, I’d rather wear a potato sack than join you in that sartorial disaster,” she countered, rolling her eyes but unable to suppress her smile. “But if you keep wearing those shirts, I might just start a ‘Clint Barton Fashion Police’ page.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he laughed, shaking his head, his whole face lighting up with joy. “You’re just trying to get me to wear it again! Next time, I’ll have to add a matching visor for the full effect.”

“Please, just spare me the vision of you in a visor,” Y/N replied, wiping away a mock tear of laughter. “You’d scare all the villains away with that look alone.”

As their conversation flowed, light and easy, Y/N felt herself relaxing more and more, though the remnants of her past tugged at her. She enjoyed Clint’s company, his humor a welcome distraction, but with each shared joke, she was reminded of what she was trying to move past. The laughter was like a balm, soothing but not quite enough to erase the scars Bucky had left behind.

In a rare moment of quiet, Y/N found herself reflecting on how different she felt with Clint compared to her time with Bucky. With Clint, there was no tension, no weight of unresolved issues hanging in the air. Instead, she felt light and free, able to laugh without the fear of being hurt. Bucky had always been a tumultuous storm, full of passion but also chaos that often left her feeling unsettled. Clint, in contrast, was like a warm breeze on a sunny day—comforting and steady. It was this realization that made her smile deepen; there was something special about the way Clint made her feel, something that reminded her of the joy that life could bring.

“Okay, but seriously,” Clint said, his playful tone shifting slightly, as if sensing a change in the atmosphere. “If you could have any ice cream flavor, what would it be?”

Y/N chuckled, the levity returning to her voice. “I’d probably have to go with chocolate chip cookie dough. Classic.”

“Solid choice,” he replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Though I’d argue mint chocolate chip is superior. What’s wrong with you, Y/N? Did you hit your head?”

“Now you’re just trying to start a debate!” she teased, pretending to think deeply. “But if you’re that passionate about it, I’m game! Just know I’m going to choose the most disgusting flavors imaginable!”

Clint leaned in closer, lowering his voice playfully. “I’ll be your personal happiness assistant. Laughter guaranteed! Just remember, if you pick any terrible flavors, I’m not responsible for the consequences.”

“Deal!” she laughed, her heart swelling with warmth. “But if you want me to choose first, you have to promise not to make a face when I pick something weird,” she replied, nudging him playfully.

“Only if you promise to at least try to keep it edible!” he shot back, grinning. “I still have nightmares about that time you thought pickle-flavored ice cream sounded good!”

Y/N burst into laughter, remembering the incident. “Okay, okay, I promise no pickles!” Y/N felt a bubble of excitement rise within her, the prospect of those silly plans igniting a spark of hope. “It’ll be a deal! Just think of all the crazy memories we could make together—like that time you nearly dropped your ice cream all over your face because you were trying to juggle it like a pro!”

Clint chuckled, shaking his head in mock embarrassment. “Hey, that was a strategic move! You just weren’t ready for my unparalleled talent.”

“Yeah, right,” Y/N said, rolling her eyes. “But seriously, you know I wouldn’t mind a little extra protection during our ice cream adventures. You never know when a rogue villain might swoop in and try to steal our dessert.”

“Don’t worry,” Clint replied, puffing out his chest dramatically. “I’ll fend off any bad guys trying to interrupt our ice cream dates! I’m basically a superhero with a spoon.” His mock seriousness made her laugh even more.

As they talked, Clint glanced at his ice cream, then turned to her with a playful grin. “You know what? You should definitely take the last bite of mine. I insist!” He held out the bowl, a cheeky smile on his face.

“Clint, you know I can’t just take your last bite!” she protested, giggling at his insistence.

“Too late! It’s already yours,” he said with mock authority, nudging her shoulder. “Besides, I can always get more. You’re the one who deserves the last scoop.” His gesture, so small yet meaningful, made her heart flutter.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at his antics. “You really think I’m that special, huh? Just wait until you see my terrible choices! But I appreciate it, Clint. It means a lot.”

“Always,” he said, his expression softening as he listened intently. “You deserve to feel free and light. Life’s too short to be weighed down by all that baggage. And besides,” he added with a teasing smirk, “the world could use a little more of that laughter of yours.”

“Thanks, Clint,” she said softly, her heart full. “I’m really glad we’re doing this. It feels good to just sit here and laugh again.”

As they continued to talk about their dreams and plans, Y/N felt a warmth enveloping her, like a cozy blanket after a tumultuous journey. She paused to savor the simplicity of the moment, the laughter they shared lingering in her mind, a sweet melody that brightened the fading day. The soft rustle of leaves outside and the distant chirping of birds blended harmoniously with their conversation, creating a serene atmosphere that mirrored the deepening connection between them.

They laughed together, the moment feeling light and effortless, like a gentle breeze tousling their hair. Yet, even amid the joy, Y/N felt a flicker of hesitation. Memories of Bucky hovered at the edges of her thoughts, a reminder of the chaos he had once brought into her life, and she couldn’t shake the weight of those memories.

Yet here with Clint, she felt grounded, a warmth settling within her that she had thought was lost forever. There was something profoundly different about this connection, and it filled her with both hope and uncertainty. As the sun began to set, casting a soft glow across the room, Y/N found herself captivated by the depth of her feelings.

As the laughter faded into a comfortable stillness, they exchanged shy smiles, lingering looks that hinted at deeper feelings simmering beneath the surface, an unspoken understanding hanging in the air. The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them suspended in this moment of quiet intimacy.

“I can’t wait to see what else is in store for us,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper yet filled with sincerity.

“Neither can I,” Clint replied softly, his gaze unwavering, solidifying the connection they were building. “But hey, whatever it is, I promise you won’t have to face it alone. Just think of me as your personal archer sidekick.”

Y/N felt a surge of hope at his words, her heart swelling with warmth. Maybe this was the beginning of something beautiful—something worth pursuing. And as she glanced at Clint, she couldn't help but wonder what adventures lay ahead, each filled with laughter, warmth, and maybe a touch of romance.

The atmosphere in the compound was thick with an unshakeable tension as Y/N walked through the familiar hallways. The air felt cool against her skin, a chill that seeped into her bones, reminding her of the weight she carried. With each step, her boots echoed softly against the polished floor, amplifying the silence that surrounded her. Memories of Bucky flooded her mind—flashes of their shared moments, the warmth of his embrace, and the laughter that had once filled the air between them. But those memories now felt like a double-edged sword, cutting deep into the wounds that had yet to heal.

As she turned a corner, her heart raced at the prospect of crossing paths with Bucky. The faint hum of fluorescent lights above was the only sound, adding to the electric tension in the air. She had been avoiding him since the day she walked away, choosing instead to immerse herself in her new life with Clint, where each day felt a little brighter. With Clint, she found solace in their shared interests, the way they could joke about the absurdity of their lives, and how he made her smile effortlessly. They spent evenings watching movies, curled up on the couch, or training together, the playful banter weaving a bond she hadn’t thought possible after Bucky. But today, something felt different. The air was charged, almost electric, and she could sense the inevitable encounter lingering just out of reach.

Lost in her thoughts, Y/N barely registered the footsteps approaching until she was brought back to reality by a familiar voice. “Y/N.”

Her heart sank as she turned to face Bucky, his expression a mix of determination and vulnerability that made her stomach twist. He stood a few feet away, his hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket, the faint scent of worn fabric and cologne wafting toward her. His posture screamed both confidence and uncertainty, muscles tensed and jaw clenched. The sight of him sent a rush of emotions surging through her, and she fought to maintain her composure, acutely aware of the way her hands trembled slightly at her sides.

“Bucky,” she acknowledged, her voice steady despite the whirlwind inside her. But even as she spoke, she felt her heart racing, her breath hitching in her throat.

There was a heavy pause as they sized each other up, the silence stretching between them like an invisible thread. Bucky’s blue eyes searched hers, and for a moment, she felt the warmth that had always existed between them. But it was fleeting, quickly overshadowed by the reality of their fractured relationship. She noticed the way his brow furrowed, a muscle twitching in his jaw as if he were grappling with his own internal struggle. Then she saw it—a glimmer of unshed tears pooling in his eyes, a desperate attempt to mask his vulnerability.

“Can we talk?” Bucky asked, his tone serious but laced with an undercurrent of desperation. His shoulders shifted slightly, as if bracing himself for the impact of her response.

Y/N hesitated, torn between the desire to hear him out and the instinct to shield herself from further pain. Memories of happier times together flickered through her mind—Bucky laughing with her at the small things, the way his touch felt like home, and the day he gifted her a delicate silver bracelet, intricately designed with intertwined hearts. The bracelet had felt like a promise of forever, a tangible piece of their bond. Now, it lay heavy on her wrist, a reminder of the warmth and joy they had once shared, juxtaposed with the bitterness of their current situation.

After a long moment of silence, she nodded reluctantly, and they moved to a quieter corner of the compound, away from prying eyes. The room was dimly lit, shadows dancing on the walls as the weight of unspoken words hung in the air like smoke. The faint scent of coffee lingered, a reminder of long nights spent talking and laughing together. As they entered the space, a chill crept through the air, heightening the tension that wrapped around them. Bucky ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit she recognized all too well, and she couldn’t help but notice how his hands shook slightly, betraying the calm facade he tried to maintain.

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a long time,” he began, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t realize how much I was pushing you away until it was too late.”

Another pause settled over them, heavy with the weight of his confession. The silence felt charged, each second stretching into eternity as Y/N felt her heart racing. She could see the flicker of hope in his eyes, but doubt clawed at her insides. Would this conversation lead to the closure they both needed, or would it unravel everything she had worked so hard to rebuild?

Y/N felt her chest tighten at his words, the air heavy with unexpressed feelings. For a moment, she wanted nothing more than to reach out, to comfort him, but the memory of their last confrontation loomed over them like a dark cloud, reminding her of the pain that had driven her to this point. She crossed her arms tightly across her chest, the bracelet glinting in the low light, as if mocking her. “You shut me out, Bucky. I was right there, trying to help you, but every time I reached out, you pushed me away like I was some kind of burden,” she said, her voice wavering as she fought against the urge to cry.

He looked down, guilt washing over his features, and she noticed the way his hands clenched into fists at his sides, a futile attempt to regain control. “I was scared, Y/N. I didn’t want to drag you into my darkness. But I see now how wrong I was. I should’ve let you in.” Another silence stretched between them, suffocating in its intensity. Bucky’s voice broke the stillness again, but the words felt fragile, weighed down by their history. “I—I don’t want to lose you.”

Y/N hesitated, feeling the weight of his words crash over her. Could he really change? She recalled the way Clint had been there for her, offering support and kindness when Bucky had turned cold. It was a glimmer of hope that seemed so fragile, yet so necessary. “Bucky, it’s not that simple. I can’t keep going back to the way things were. I deserve more than that.” The thought of evenings spent cooking together with Clint, sharing dreams over a glass of wine, felt like a stark contrast to the lonely nights she had endured waiting for Bucky to let her in.

“Why?” Bucky asked, desperation creeping into his voice. “Why can’t we just try again?”

“Because I’m scared,” Y/N replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared that the Bucky I love—the one who laughs and makes me feel safe—will be overshadowed by the demons that haunt you. I can’t lose you again, not to that darkness.” The weight of her fears hung between them, heavy and suffocating. “I can’t keep waiting for you to change. I’ve started to find happiness again, and it’s with someone who sees me for who I am. I can’t lose that just to go back to what we had.”

The room felt like it was closing in around them, the air thick with tension. Bucky’s face fell, confusion and hurt etching deeper lines across his brow. “You’re seeing someone else?” His voice was barely above a whisper, the weight of disbelief heavy in the air. Y/N noticed how he seemed to physically deflate, shoulders slumping as if she had dealt him a physical blow. She could see the tears glistening in his eyes, and for a moment, she felt her heart fracture at the sight.

“It’s not like that,” she began, but the words caught in her throat. How could she explain to him that Clint had become a source of light in her life, filling the void Bucky had left? That being with Clint was helping her heal, even as it brought her guilt? “Clint has been there for me when you weren’t. I can’t keep pretending everything is okay when it’s not.”

“Clint,” he repeated, the name falling from his lips like a curse. “You’re telling me you’ve moved on? Found someone who makes you happy? And I—” He cut himself off, swallowing hard as he struggled to keep his composure, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. Another heavy silence enveloped them, each second stretching unbearably long as Y/N felt the weight of his gaze, the hurt behind it palpable.

“I pushed you away. I made you feel like you had to move on without me,” His voice broke, and Y/N felt her own heart fracture at the sound. Tears brimmed in his eyes, and she could see the struggle etched across his face, the internal conflict battling within him. It felt like a knife twisting in her gut as the reality of their situation settled between them, sharp and unyielding.

“I should have fought harder for you,” Bucky said, his voice raw with emotion. “I should have told you how much you meant to me instead of hiding behind my fears. What if I had let you in? What if I hadn’t pushed you away?” Each ‘what if’ echoed in the silence, amplifying the regret that hung between them like a thick fog.

Y/N felt tears welling in her eyes as she met his gaze. “What if I had been stronger? What if I had stood by you instead of running away? I wish I could have been the person you needed, but I felt so helpless watching you spiral. I didn’t know how to help you without losing myself in the process.”

Bucky’s breath hitched, and she could see the pain of regret mirrored in his eyes. “I’d do it all differently. I wouldn’t let my demons dictate our future. I wanted to believe we could have it all��together.” The sincerity in his voice struck a deep chord within her, but the scars of the past were still fresh, and doubt gnawed at her heart.

“I need to let you go,” she whispered, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. She felt the world tilt, the weight of the moment pressing against her. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing with the pain of loss, a stark reminder of everything they had shared and everything that had been lost.

Bucky’s eyes widened, and she could see the flicker of hope extinguished in an instant. “No, wait,” he implored, taking a step toward her, but she felt an invisible barrier keeping them apart, a chasm formed by their shared pain and regrets.

“Bucky, please,” she said, her voice breaking. “You have to understand—this isn’t just about you or me. It’s about healing, finding ourselves again. I don’t want to lose you, but I can’t be the reason you fall apart.”

His breath hitched, and she could see the struggle etched across his face. “But what if we faced our demons together? What if we stood side by side against all this?” He took another step forward, but the distance felt insurmountable.

“Together?” Y/N echoed, feeling a rush of conflicting emotions. “What if I can’t do that? What if I get lost in your darkness again?”

“I can’t lose you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice cracking as he reached out, but she sensed the chasm between them widening. The pain in his eyes was palpable, and for a moment, she faltered, wanting to reach out and comfort him, to tell him that everything would be okay.

But deep down, she knew that wasn’t the truth. Their journey had taken them to this crossroads, and while she wanted to cling to the hope of reconciliation, she also had to acknowledge the reality that lay ahead. They needed to heal, both of them, before they could even think about rebuilding what they once had.

As she turned to leave, the echo of her footsteps seemed to reverberate through the silence, each step a reminder of the distance that had grown between them. Behind her, Bucky stood frozen, the weight of her words settling heavily upon him. She could feel the loss hanging in the air like a fog, suffocating and thick.

Once outside, the cold wind hit her face, contrasting sharply with the warmth of the memories she carried. She fought against the tears that threatened to spill over, the ache in her heart like a storm brewing just beneath the surface. But as she walked away, she hesitated, feeling the pull to turn back, to run back into his arms and forget the pain that had driven them apart.

Maybe I made a mistake, she thought, feeling her heart break with each step. What if he really can change? What if we could find our way back? But she fought against the urge to look back, knowing that the pain of their past was too great. Instead, she took a deep breath, grounding herself in the cold air and the reality of her choice. She needed to prioritize her own healing, even if it meant leaving the one person she loved most behind.

Inside, Bucky felt a storm brewing of his own. He stood there, feeling the cracks in his heart widen as he replayed her words over and over in his mind. The warmth they had shared felt like a distant memory now, eclipsed by the painful reality of their situation. He wanted to scream, to rage against the unfairness of it all. Tears slipped down his cheeks, and he made no move to wipe them away, allowing his vulnerability to wash over him like a tidal wave.

He sank to the floor, the cool surface grounding him as he thought of all the moments he had taken for granted—how he had let her slip through his fingers while battling his own demons. The echoes of laughter, the secrets they shared, the time they had built a blanket fort, giggling like children as they reminisced about their favorite childhood memories, were now distant echoes of a life he might never reclaim.

He felt a flicker of hope—a desire to change, to confront his demons, even if it meant doing so alone. As he sat there, he realized that Y/N might be the catalyst he needed to finally face the truth about himself.

As the door closed behind her, he felt the weight of shared pain press upon him, an unspoken acknowledgment of their shattered connection. With a heavy heart, he whispered into the emptiness, “I just want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me.”

Meanwhile, Y/N stepped out into the cool night, her heart pounding in her chest. She paused for a moment, her breath catching as she fought back tears. I wish things could have been different, Bucky, she thought, a deep sorrow settling in her bones. You deserve happiness, too. With that, she turned and walked away, each step feeling like a farewell, both hopeful and heartbreaking, leaving a trail of unresolved love in her wake.

The sun had already set, leaving the sky painted in shades of deep blue and purple as Y/N prepared for the evening ahead. She stood before the mirror, smoothing down her dress and trying to shake off the unease that lingered just beneath the surface. The night felt different—like a crossroads between her past with Bucky and the possibility of something new with Clint.

Clint had become her anchor in the weeks following her painful separation from Bucky, offering a lifeline of support wrapped in humor and light-hearted moments. But even though she was beginning to enjoy his company in a deeper way, guilt still tugged at her, reminding her of what she had with Bucky. Am I really ready for this? she wondered. Is it okay to move on?

The contrast between the past and the present was sharp. She could still recall the nights she and Bucky would sit together in the quiet of their shared moments, his warmth a constant comfort. Those memories lingered, refusing to fade. But the way Clint made her laugh and forget—if only for a while—was something she hadn’t realized she needed so desperately. Maybe I deserve to feel good again.

She inhaled deeply and headed out to meet Clint.

When Y/N arrived at their meeting spot, she found Clint leaning casually against his motorcycle, a playful grin already spreading across his face. “Damn, Y/N,” he said, his eyes sweeping over her, lingering just a second longer than usual. “Looking good! Did you dress up just to impress me, or do I just get lucky today?”

Y/N laughed, her nerves melting away a little under his warm gaze. How does he do that? she thought, admiring his effortless charm. “I could say the same about you,” she teased, taking note of his clean, effortless style. “You even wore a jacket that doesn’t have a tear in it this time.”

Clint grinned, stepping forward and offering his hand as she approached. His fingers brushed against hers, lingering there, and the warmth of his skin sent a subtle jolt through her. “I aim to impress,” he joked, pulling her in for a quick hug. The moment his arms wrapped around her, Y/N couldn’t help but notice how solid and grounding his touch felt. Before she could dwell on it, he gestured dramatically toward the bike. “Your chariot awaits, milady.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress her smile. He’s ridiculous, but I kind of love that. “You and this motorcycle... what is it with guys and their bikes?”

“Oh, it’s not just the bike. It’s the freedom, the wind in your hair,” Clint said, imitating a dramatic, over-the-top voice. “You’ll understand when you hop on. Just try not to scream too loud, okay?”

Laughing, Y/N accepted the helmet he offered and climbed onto the bike behind him. She hesitated for a split second before placing her hands on his waist, feeling the warmth of his body through his jacket. This feels... natural, she realized, her fingers curling slightly as she held onto him. “Just try not to get us killed, okay?”

“No promises,” Clint said with a wink over his shoulder before revving the engine. “But if we survive, dinner’s on me!”

The ride through the city was exhilarating. The wind whipped past them, cool against Y/N’s cheeks, and she instinctively tightened her grip on Clint’s waist as they weaved through the streets. This feels good, she thought, the rush of adrenaline mingling with the comfort of being so close to him. She could feel his muscles tense and relax under her hands, the steady thrum of the engine beneath them only amplifying the intimacy of the moment. I didn’t realize how much I missed just feeling... alive.

She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the sensation of the evening air on her skin, the scents of the city filling her senses—distant hints of food carts, freshly cut grass from nearby parks, and the cool, earthy smell of the coming night. It was all so vivid, so different from the numbness she had felt in the weeks after her breakup. Maybe I am ready for this. For something new.

As they reached the restaurant, Clint pulled up to a stop in front of a small, charming spot tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. It was one of those hidden gems that didn’t boast a flashy exterior, but the tantalizing aroma of roasted garlic, fresh herbs, and simmering sauces wafting out into the street promised something special.

“I hope you’re hungry,” Clint said as he helped her off the bike, his hands lingering a little longer on her waist than necessary. The heat from his palms seared through the thin fabric of her dress, and she found comfort in its warmth. “Because I’m starving, and we’re about to go all out tonight. No holding back. I’m thinking all-you-can-eat.”

Inside, the restaurant had a cozy, intimate vibe. Wooden tables with flickering candles created a warm glow, and the soft murmur of conversation and clinking cutlery filled the space. Y/N could immediately smell freshly baked bread and something sweet—perhaps a dessert cooling in the kitchen. The atmosphere was soothing, like a quiet oasis tucked away from the noise of the city.

I never would’ve come here on my own, she thought as she took in the ambiance. But being with Clint made her feel safe, like it was okay to let her guard down. I don’t have to be on edge all the time. Not with him.

As they sat down and scanned the menu, Clint’s eyes lit up mischievously. “Alright, here’s the deal,” he said, leaning across the table, his fingers lightly brushing against hers as he propped his chin up on his hand. The touch was so casual, yet it sent a spark through Y/N’s skin. “We each pick something totally random off the menu, and the other person has to try it. No backing out. It’ll be like culinary Russian roulette. What do you say?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, amused. “You’re trying to trick me into eating something weird, aren’t you?”

“Me? Never!” Clint said, holding his hands up innocently before breaking into a grin. “Alright, fine, maybe just a little. But seriously, where’s your sense of adventure?”

She pretended to think it over, tapping her chin dramatically. “Fine, but if you pick something absolutely disgusting, I get to embarrass you in front of everyone by making you dance in the middle of the street.”

Clint laughed, his hand nudging her playfully. The small touch was enough to make her heart race. “Deal! But trust me, I’ve got excellent taste. Just ask my mom—she still thinks I’m the coolest.”

As they placed their orders—Clint sneakily choosing something he wouldn’t reveal—Y/N couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement. There was something easy and fun about being with Clint, a refreshing contrast to the complicated feelings she had been harboring for Bucky. It’s different with Clint. Lighter. Maybe I need that right now. It was moments like this—silly, light-hearted, and spontaneous—that made her realize how much she had been missing this kind of carefree connection.

When the food arrived, Clint dramatically unveiled his choice for her—a strange-looking appetizer that resembled tiny fried balls with an odd green sauce on the side. Y/N raised an eyebrow. “What is that?”

“It’s a mystery,” Clint said, smirking. “But it’s supposed to be good. Go on, take a bite.”

She hesitated for a second, then bravely speared one with her fork, eyeing him warily before popping it into her mouth. Surprisingly, the taste was rich and savory, with a hint of tanginess from the sauce.

“Okay, not bad,” she admitted, trying to hide her impressed expression. “Your taste buds are safe... for now.”

Clint grinned triumphantly. “Told you! Now, it’s my turn.”

Y/N slyly handed over her selection—a bizarrely named dish that turned out to be a spicy concoction of flavors. She watched as Clint took a bite, his face going from curious to mildly alarmed as the spice hit him.

“Oh my god,” he coughed, reaching for his water. “You’re trying to kill me!”

Y/N laughed, leaning back in her chair, pleased with herself. In that moment, the world around them seemed to blur, and it was just the two of them—his laughter mingling with hers, filling the air with warmth. It felt so easy, so natural, like they were the only ones in the room.

As the meal progressed, Clint leaned in slightly, his expression turning more serious. “Hey, if you ever need help with anything, just let me know. I mean it. Even if it’s something trivial, like picking out a new dress or tackling a cooking disaster.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, touched. “You’d really help me pick out a dress?”

“Absolutely! I’d even give you my unfiltered opinion,” Clint said, grinning. “I’ll make sure you look stunning.”

She couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “Okay, deal. But only if you promise to not be too harsh.”

“I’ll try to hold back my brutally honest critiques,” he teased, but she could see the sincerity in his eyes. It made her heart swell a little more, reminding her how different this was from her past.

As they continued their playful banter, Y/N found herself completely lost in Clint’s eyes, the way they sparkled with mischief and sincerity. Time faded away, and it was just them—two people sharing a moment of joy, laughter echoing softly around them. She felt weightless, lost in the magic of the evening.

When they finally finished eating, Clint suggested they take a stroll. The evening air was crisp, wrapping around them like a gentle embrace as they stepped outside.

“Ready for round two?” Clint asked, his tone playful as he pulled out his jacket and offered it to her when the cool breeze brushed against her shoulders. “Can’t have you freezing on me out here.”

“Always,” she replied, smiling as she slipped into it. The jacket smelled like him—fresh, with a hint of cologne—and she found comfort in its warmth.

They wandered through the streets, the lights twinkling like stars above them, laughter punctuating the air as they playfully debated what dessert to get. In that moment, Y/N felt something inside her shift, a blossoming hope for the future she hadn’t dared to imagine before.

Clint paused in front of a small ice cream shop, the bright neon sign flickering invitingly. “How about we try every flavor they have?” he proposed, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

Y/N chuckled, unable to resist his enthusiasm. “You’re on.”

As they stepped inside, the world outside faded, enveloping them in a bubble of shared laughter and carefree joy. They decided to sample a few flavors together, joking about how they were both going to have brain freezes from the sugar overload.

“Okay, what about this one?” Clint held up a vibrant green cone, its color reminiscent of a cartoonish slime. “It’s avocado mint. Let’s see if it’s as weird as it sounds.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, her heart feeling lighter than it had in ages. “Why not? Let’s do it!”

As they took a bite, Y/N’s laughter bubbled over at the absurdity of it all, their faces morphing into comedic expressions of surprise. The taste was unexpectedly refreshing, and for a moment, they were just two friends indulging in the silliness of life, their earlier worries pushed aside.

“See? Delicious!” Clint declared, grinning. “Next round—chocolate covered bacon!”

“Absolutely not!” she shot back, laughing at the idea. “That’s just cruel.”

As they stepped back outside, the cool air hit her cheeks, invigorating and fresh. Y/N glanced at Clint, a wave of warmth washing over her. For the first time in a long while, she felt like she was truly moving forward. Maybe this was what healing felt like—a gradual shedding of the past, replaced by the sweet possibility of new beginnings.

They continued their stroll, talking about everything and nothing, the laughter flowing freely. When the spontaneous dance moment arrived, she couldn’t help but sway to the music spilling out of a nearby bar, letting the beat move her as Clint joined in, twirling her around with a carefree smile. It was liberating to forget the heaviness of the past, even if just for a moment.

Their laughter echoed in the night air, and in that moment, the rest of the world melted away. She felt weightless, lost in the magic of the evening, every silly dance move reinforcing their connection. With each twirl, she felt herself falling further into this new reality—a reality that didn’t include Bucky’s shadow looming over her.

As they danced under the streetlights, surrounded by the shimmering glow of the city, Y/N felt alive—truly alive.

When the song came to an end, Clint pulled her back toward him, their bodies moving in sync, and she caught the glint of mischief in his eyes. “See? Not so bad, right?”

“Okay, okay, you win,” she said breathlessly, their faces just inches apart. “This is actually fun.”

Clint pulled her closer, his arm wrapping around her waist as they both caught their breath. For a moment, neither of them said anything, their faces just inches apart, eyes locked. Y/N’s pulse quickened, her heart pounding against her ribs, not from the dancing but from the charged atmosphere between them. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her lips, the way his hand rested just above the small of her back, holding her close.

Is this it? she wondered, her heart racing. Is this where it all changes?

Clint’s expression softened, his thumb lightly brushing her cheek. “That’s what friends are for, right?” he said, though his tone held a note of something deeper. “To remind you there’s still good stuff out there. Fun stuff. New adventures waiting for us.”

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, Y/N felt like she could let go of the pain she’d been holding onto for so long. Clint was right—there was still good out there. Maybe it’s okay to lean into it.

But just as she was about to lean closer, a familiar tune floated through the air from a nearby bar—one that echoed with memories of evenings spent with Bucky, laughter shared under the stars, and moments that felt unbreakable. Her breath caught, and a flicker of panic surged through her, reminding her of the love she had lost.

Clint’s eyes flickered with concern as he noticed the change in her expression. “Hey,” he murmured, stepping closer and gently squeezing her hand. “What’s wrong?”

Do I tell him? The thought weighed heavily on her, the fear of opening up clawing at her heart. She hesitated, caught between the memories that haunted her and the promise of something new standing right in front of her. “I—”

But before she could finish, Clint’s other hand came up to cup her face, grounding her in the moment. His thumb brushed along her jawline, and the tenderness of his touch cut through the haze of confusion swirling in her mind. This is different, she thought. This feels safe.

Then, as if drawn by an unseen force, they both leaned in at the same time, their lips meeting softly. The kiss was tentative at first, as if testing the waters, but quickly deepened into something more profound. The warmth of his mouth against hers ignited a spark, a jolt of electricity that coursed through her, shattering the barriers she had built around her heart.

In that instant, Y/N was flooded with emotions—warmth, joy, and an exhilarating sense of possibility. It was different from the kiss she’d shared with Bucky, lighter yet full of promise. For the first time in ages, she wasn’t thinking about the past or what she had lost; she was simply present, lost in the sweetness of the moment. This could be the beginning, she thought, allowing herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, she could move on.

When they finally pulled away, breathless and slightly dazed, Y/N felt a warmth blossom in her chest. The world around them faded back in, but it was different now. She could still hear that haunting tune in the distance, but it felt more like a memory than a weight holding her back.

Clint’s smile was wide and genuine, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile back. “Wow,” he breathed, his eyes sparkling. “I think I like this adventure.”

Y/N chuckled, her heart swelling with warmth. “Yeah, me too,” she admitted, the joy of the evening spilling over in waves. As they walked hand in hand back to the motorcycle, she reflected on the night—the playful banter, the laughter, the shared food experiments, the silly dance in the street, and now the sweet kiss. It was a night that felt like a glimpse of a future she hadn’t dared to imagine before. One where she could move on, heal, and even laugh again.

Clint’s voice broke through her thoughts, filled with playful excitement. “So, what do you say? Next week, we go skydiving? Or maybe we sign up for a cooking class and see who can create the most disastrous dish?”

Y/N laughed, the idea filling her with a sense of adventure. “I don’t think I could handle the pressure of cooking with you. But I’m definitely down for skydiving!”

“Awesome! It’s a date,” Clint said, and the way he smiled at her made her heart flutter.

As Clint handed her his jacket once more, wrapping it around her shoulders to shield her from the cool night air, Y/N realized that maybe she was ready. Not just for a fresh start, but for the possibility of something more.

Later that evening, after returning to Avengers Tower, they found themselves in Clint’s room, the atmosphere was filled with a cozy warmth as they settled onto his bed, wrapped up in a blanket together. Clint had brought a movie—a classic rom-com that made her chuckle even before it started.

As the film played, Y/N couldn’t help but lean her head against Clint’s shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. She took a moment to appreciate how easy it felt to be near him, the way his presence made her heart feel light. “I’m glad we did this,” she murmured, glancing up at him.

“Me too,” he said softly, turning to her with a warm smile. “I needed this. You’re way more fun than I anticipated. I might have to keep you around for the next mission.”

“Oh, so you’re saying I exceeded your expectations?” she teased, nudging him playfully.

“Definitely,” he shot back, a grin spreading across his face. “I mean, who else would try avocado mint ice cream with me?”

“Right? It’s a culinary adventure!” she exclaimed, laughing at the memory.

Suddenly, Clint turned serious, his expression softening. “Y/N, listen… you deserve all the good things in this world. If there’s anything I can do to help bring a little of that into your life, you know I’m in.”

His sincerity melted any lingering doubts in her heart. “Thank you, Clint. That means a lot.”

As the movie played on, they shared a dessert—an enormous slice of chocolate cake that Clint insisted they split. The indulgence quickly turned into a playful food fight, bits of frosting smeared on their faces as they both burst into fits of laughter, the lightness of their antics echoing through the room.

“Okay, that’s it! You’re going down!” Clint declared, grabbing a napkin and wiping it across her cheek, only to smear more frosting onto her nose.

Y/N retaliated, lunging for him and finding her hands covered in chocolate icing. “You asked for it!” she squealed, launching a dollop at him. Their laughter filled the room, the sound of joy echoing in the corners as they continued to playfully toss bits of cake at each other.

Wrapped up in a blanket, with remnants of frosting in their hair and laughter ringing in the air, Y/N felt an overwhelming wave of happiness crash over her. This was the kind of moment she had been yearning for—cozy, fun, and carefree.

As the credits rolled, Y/N turned to him, feeling a rush of affection and excitement. “So, we’re officially a thing now, right?” she asked playfully, her heart racing at the thought.

Clint’s smile widened, lighting up his entire face. “Oh, it’s definitely a thing—like a fun, silly, adventurous thing. You know, the best kind.”

“Good,” she said, the sweetness of the moment washing over her like a wave. “I can’t wait for our next adventure, partner.”

They settled back into the blanket, and as Y/N snuggled closer to Clint, she realized this was just the beginning. She had found a spark of happiness again, one that promised laughter, adventures, and the warmth of a heart slowly healing. Wrapped in each other’s arms, they fell into an easy conversation, filled with dreams of the future and the promise of more sweet moments to come.

The first light of dawn crept through the horizon, painting the sky in hues of soft pink and gold. The world was still waking up, the distant hum of city life beginning to stir—a car horn blaring, the faint chatter of early risers, and the soft rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze enveloping everything in a warm embrace. It was a time for new beginnings, a time to reflect, and for Y/N, it was a moment filled with fragile beauty that felt almost sacred.

The sunrise served as a vivid backdrop for their romantic connection, symbolizing hope and the promise of brighter days ahead. Clint had suggested a sunrise picnic, a sweet surprise he planned the night before. They gathered blankets and snacks, a cozy assortment that felt simple yet perfect against the backdrop of the awakening day. Now, as they sat together on the blanket spread across the grassy hilltop overlooking the city, the peaceful silence wrapped around them like a comforting cocoon.

Y/N watched as Clint poured two cups of coffee, the rich, earthy aroma rising in the cool morning air, mingling with the crisp scent of dew-kissed grass. The steam swirled up in delicate tendrils, dancing like wisps of clouds in the pale blue sky. As he handed her a cup, their fingers brushed against each other, sending a gentle spark through her. “Just how you like it—black and strong, like my sense of humor,” he said, his voice warm, and she felt her heart flutter at the familiarity.

“Thanks,” she replied, taking a sip and savoring the warmth that spread through her, grounding her in the present. “You really do know how to make the perfect cup of coffee.” She smiled, teasing him a little.

“Thanks, but don’t get too used to it. I might just decide to open my own coffee shop, and then I’ll charge you extra for my expertise,” Clint quipped, a mock-serious expression on his face.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “You’d be terrible at it. I can already see you trying to convince customers that your way of making coffee is the only way, complete with charts and graphs.”

“Hey! I’d make a fantastic barista,” he shot back, crossing his arms dramatically. “I’m talking about a coffee that could knock your socks off. The kind that has you wide awake and ready to conquer the world—unless you think you can sneak the last bite of my food, of course.”

Y/N giggled as she leaned forward, their bodies instinctively leaning toward each other as she took a bite from the croissant he offered. “Okay, not bad,” she admitted, leaning back with a satisfied smile. “You might just be getting the hang of this.”

“Ha! Told you! Next up, I’ll make you the perfect breakfast sandwich,” Clint declared, puffing out his chest in mock pride. “But first, you have to promise not to laugh when I inevitably drop the egg again.”

“Deal!” she agreed, smirking, knowing full well the last time he attempted to cook eggs, it ended with them splattered across the kitchen floor. “But I can’t promise I won’t record it for future evidence.”

“You’re the worst,” he said, shaking his head but unable to hide his smile.

The two of them continued to enjoy their breakfast, occasionally feeding each other bites of croissant, the closeness of their bodies radiating warmth as they shared the blanket. Each lingering touch, whether it was a brush of hands or a nudge of shoulders, deepened the sweetness of their connection. The intimacy of the moment enveloped them, and Y/N felt a warmth blossoming in her chest, each shared laugh drawing them closer together.

Yet, amidst the laughter and warmth, the thought of Bucky lingered, a storm cloud threatening to overshadow her fragile happiness. As they shared a tender moment, basking in the warmth of the rising sun and the blossoming feelings between them, Y/N felt a shift in the atmosphere. She instinctively turned her head, sensing they weren’t alone anymore. In the distance, silhouetted against the backdrop of the dawn, she caught a glimpse of a familiar figure—Bucky.

He stood a distance away, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders hunched as he watched the scene unfold before him. The sharp intake of breath she took filled her lungs with the cool morning air, and her heart began to race, pounding against her ribcage like a caged bird desperate to escape. Had he seen her with Clint? What did he think? She had been so consumed with her own healing and the romantic relationship with Clint that she hadn’t considered the weight of what Bucky might feel as he watched her move on.

The shadows cast by Bucky stretched long and dark across the ground, a stark contrast to the vibrant sunrise that illuminated Y/N and Clint’s intimate moment. Those shadows whispered of unresolved pain and regret, memories of what had been and what could never be again. Bucky’s breath caught in his throat as he watched them, a sharp pain twisting in his chest. The laughter that flowed freely from Y/N and Clint felt like daggers, each one piercing through the shield he had tried to build around his heart. He could see the way they leaned into each other, the comfort and warmth they shared so effortlessly, and it twisted something deep inside him—a mix of longing, regret, and heartache.

He fought back tears, anger and sorrow battling for dominance as he watched her smile at Clint, a smile that used to belong to him. A memory flashed in his mind: the last time they had shared a moment like this, the last time he had held her close and whispered promises of forever into her hair. Now, it felt like a cruel joke, the universe laughing at his expense as he stood on the sidelines, a mere shadow of the love they had once shared.

Bucky’s hands clenched into fists in his pockets, his nails digging into his palms as he tried to hold back the emotion threatening to spill over. As he looked at Y/N, their eyes met, and for a brief moment, the world around them faded into silence. The intensity of their lingering gaze was filled with unspoken words—each look a reminder of what they once had and the deep-seated pain of their current reality. Her heart ached at the sight of him, the raw vulnerability in his eyes pulling at the remnants of the love they had shared. I miss you, it whispered in the silence, but she couldn’t voice it.

As she held his gaze, Y/N felt the gravity of their shared history weighing heavily between them. It was a tension that spoke of longing and regret, each glance filled with memories of laughter and warmth, now overshadowed by the bittersweet reality of their separation. She was caught in the moment, a whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her as Bucky’s expression shifted, his eyes reflecting the storm brewing in his heart. The depth of his feelings crashed over him like a wave, and he instinctively gripped his heart, as if to hold back the ache threatening to consume him. His breath came in shaky gasps, and he looked down, avoiding her gaze, the weight of his regret pressing heavily on his chest. What have I done? It echoed in his mind, a haunting realization that cut deeper than any wound.

Clint followed her gaze, sensing the shift in her demeanor. “Do you want me to—?”

“No,” she interrupted softly, shaking her head. She needed to face this on her own. It was time for closure, not just for Bucky but for herself as well. With a deep breath, she rose to her feet, her heart pounding as she walked toward him.

As she approached, the morning light illuminated the contours of Bucky’s face, revealing the shadows of regret etched into his features. He looked older, wearier, as if the burden of his actions weighed heavily upon him. When their eyes met, a flood of emotions surged through her—anger, hurt, but above all, a profound sense of sorrow for what they had lost.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, thick with unspoken pain. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Yeah,” she replied, her heart racing as the words tumbled from her lips. It felt like a confession, a statement of truth that hung between them like a fragile thread. “I’ve been spending time with Clint. He’s been really good to me.”

Bucky flinched, his expression shifting as he struggled to contain the tumult of emotions swirling within him. “I can see that.”

The tension was palpable, the air heavy with unspoken words. Y/N took a deep breath, fighting back the urge to retreat. “Bucky, I want to talk. I think we need to.”

His gaze softened, but a flicker of vulnerability crossed his face as he shook his head. “I don’t want to make this harder for you. You’ve moved on, and I respect that. I just—” He paused, swallowing hard, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I didn’t realize how much I needed you until you were gone. It’s like I’m walking around without a part of me.”

Her heart cracked open at his admission, a rush of empathy washing over her. “I tried, Bucky. I tried to hold on, to make it work. But it was suffocating. You were pushing me away when all I wanted was to be there for you.”

He nodded, his expression pained as he looked away, unable to meet her gaze. “I know. I was afraid… afraid of losing you, and in trying to protect you, I only ended up pushing you further away.”

The ache in her chest intensified, tears pooling in her eyes as she grappled with the reality of their situation. “I loved you, Bucky. I still do in a way. But I couldn’t stay trapped in that cycle of pain. I had to choose myself.”

“I understand,” he said, his voice cracking as he finally met her gaze again. “You deserve to be happy, and I want that for you. I just… I didn’t expect it to hurt this much seeing you with someone else.”

Y/N felt the heat of her past rush over her, a whirlwind of memories that clashed against her resolve. It’s so hard to let go of the memories, of the love we once had. But I can’t deny what I have now. She couldn’t ignore the part of her that still longed for him, for the love they once shared. But she had a new life now, one where Clint stood beside her, his unwavering support grounding her.

“It hurts me too,” she admitted, her voice trembling as the tears spilled over, tracing warm trails down her cheeks. “But I need to move forward. I want to build a life that makes me happy—with Clint.”

Bucky’s expression crumbled, and in that moment, all the walls he had built around his heart came crashing down. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I never wanted to hurt you or lose you. You mean more to me than I can say.”

The sorrow in his eyes mirrored her own, and she felt a swell of compassion rise within her. “Bucky, you didn’t lose me because you didn’t care. You lost me because you didn’t know how to let me in. I’m with Clint now, and it’s important to me that you know that.”

He swallowed hard, nodding slowly, as if her words were sinking in. “I don’t want to hold you back, but it’s so damn hard to see you happy with someone else. I keep replaying it in my mind—if I had just done things differently, maybe it would be us.”

“Bucky, you can’t keep punishing yourself for what happened. We both made mistakes,” she said, her voice steady despite the tears that continued to flow. “You need to forgive yourself to heal, just as I’m learning to forgive you.”

A moment of silence enveloped them, heavy with the weight of their shared history. Bucky’s shoulders trembled as he finally allowed himself to feel the depth of his emotions, the realization of what he had lost weighing heavily on his heart. “I wish things could have been different.”

“So do I,” she replied softly, feeling a profound sense of loss for the relationship they had shared. “But I can’t go back. I have to keep moving forward.”

His gaze dropped to the ground, a mixture of regret and resignation clouding his features. “I’ll always care about you, Y/N. You need to know that, even if things are different now.”

“I know,” she said, her heart aching for him. “And I’ll always care about you too. But we both need to find our own paths now.”

Bucky nodded slowly, the shadows in his expression deepening as he fought to reconcile the reality of her happiness with the ache of his own loss. “Then I won’t stand in your way anymore,” he said, voice heavy with resignation.

Y/N took a step back, feeling the distance between them grow, both physically and emotionally. The sun continued to rise, bathing the world in golden light, and she felt her heart hardening with resolve. I am finding it, Bucky. With Clint. The words hung in the air, their weight settling like a heavy fog around them. She felt a wave of determination wash over her, solidifying her decision to choose her own happiness. The scent of morning air filled her lungs, revitalizing her spirit. This is my moment.

Before she turned away, Y/N lingered for a moment, taking in the sight of Bucky—his familiar features etched with a sorrow that cut her deeply. Silence enveloped them, a bittersweet goodbye heavy in the air as they reflected on the memories they once shared. Each heartbeat echoed the time lost, the love that had slipped through their fingers like sand. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and she knew that this moment would stay with her, a reminder of the love that had shaped her.

“Goodbye, Bucky,” she finally whispered, the words trembling on her lips. The farewell felt monumental, and as she spoke, the weight of their shared past hung heavily between them. She turned slowly, each step away from him feeling like a small fracture in her heart.

As she walked back toward Clint, she could feel his presence just behind her, ready to support her in whatever way she needed. She took a deep breath, the scent of morning air filling her lungs, revitalizing her spirit. This is my moment.

As she approached Clint, he looked up, concern etched on his face. “Y/N, are you okay?” he asked, his voice laced with worry, the protective instinct radiating from him like a shield.

“Yeah,” she said, forcing a smile through her tears. “I’m okay now.”

Clint stepped forward, pulling her into a warm embrace. She felt the safety of his arms wrap around her, the comfort of knowing she had made the right choice. He tucked another loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing softly against her skin as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against her temple. In that moment, she allowed herself to lean into him, to feel the strength of his presence soothing the raw edges of her heart.

“I’m proud of you, you know that?” he murmured into her hair, his voice low and sincere. The words wrapped around her like a comforting blanket, and Y/N felt the weight of her resolve solidify within her. She was choosing happiness, and she wouldn’t let the past dictate her future any longer.

“Remember that time we tried to make pancakes?” she asked, a smile creeping onto her face as she recalled their hilarious failure in the kitchen.

Clint laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “How could I forget? We ended up with a pancake that looked like a map of the United States. I still think it was more of a work of art than breakfast.”

Y/N giggled, the sound ringing through the air like music, lifting the remnants of heaviness from her heart. “I think you just wanted to avoid cleaning up the kitchen afterward.”

“Guilty as charged,” he admitted with a playful grin. “But at least we made it fun, right?”

“Definitely,” she agreed, her heart swelling with affection for him. “We should try making pancakes again—this time, maybe without the ‘artistic interpretation.’”

“Deal,” Clint said, nudging her shoulder affectionately. “But if they end up looking like that map again, I’m holding you responsible. And let’s be honest—you’re definitely stealing the last bite anyway,” he teased, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Hey, it’s a strategic move! I have to make sure you don’t take it for yourself!” she shot back, feigning innocence.

Clint shook his head with a laugh, leaning in closer as he fed her a piece of the pastry with a playful grin. “Here, you have to try this next. It’s not burnt this time.”

As she took a bite, the sweet flavor melted in her mouth, and they shared a moment of playful arguing over who made the best breakfast. “Honestly, if we combine our skills, we might just be able to avoid another kitchen disaster,” she teased, winking at him.

“Or we could always order in,” Clint countered with a laugh, the lightness of the moment wrapping around them like a warm blanket.

Together, they watched the sun continue to rise, marking the beginning of a new chapter—a future filled with hope, healing, and the promise of love. Y/N held onto Clint tightly, their bodies leaning into each other as the warmth of the sun enveloped them, and the fire of new possibilities ignited in her heart. She was ready to embrace the light, ready to step into the dawn of a new day, no longer haunted by shadows of the past.

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donaweasley · 3 months ago

Text

The Unsaid Things

Pairing: Clint Barton x Fem!Reader

Plot:

The years, and especially the war, have taken a heavy emotional toll on everyone. But through everything, you’ve always had your friend by your side. Will the changing times bring a change in your relationship, too?

P.S.: Laura and family never happened. Clint is very much single. 😌

Warnings: Angst, Passing mention of a character’s death, Sm.u.t

💔💜🔥

Read time: ~29 mins

Minors!!!! Do NOT interact!! 🫣 🤨

You both had talked about retirement, about that fantasy land of peace several times. Clint had even announced his retirement once, twice … what was it … four times now? But every time he thought he could live without getting into the mess of the world, he got dragged into one.

Another mission.

That’s where Clint and you found yourselves on an otherwise beautiful Sunday evening. It was one of those nasty ones that always left scars - not just on the skin but also on the soul. Thankfully, you were provided backup by the government; a rare event but so was the task at hand.

You both fought, saved, killed, retrieved the necessary information and the assets you were asked to retrieve. You witnessed people die - both good and bad ones. You watched in horror as both of you made close calls with death; more than just once.

When you returned from the field, you both unwillingly brought the weight and the stench of the battle on your backs. The aftermath of such missions never washed away easily, no matter how many minutes or hours you spent in the shower, no matter how loud you played your favourite music or who you hung out with or how many drinks you downed. And with the Avengers disbanded, there were not many left for you to share your thoughts with.

Clint had always been steady in his friendship with you. After Natasha, you were, undoubtedly, his most precious human. But when Natasha was gone, it had momentarily left a gaping hole in your relationship. He could not get out of his guilt and you did not want to push him into anything. Days after days, you had watched him stare at the void. You knew what was going on in his mind: different scenarios of the day on Vormir, wishing that he had done things differently, wishing that he had somehow put in more effort. Maybe then - maybe - she would have been here in his place. Maybe.

You had watched him torture himself for days, spiraling into despair, secluding himself from everyone, even from you, until one day you decided to breach the threshold that he had built around himself. Clint was lost in thoughts, like always. He was startled when you had walked up from behind, and wrapped your arms around his sitting form. He had fumbled for excuses to leave your embrace, lying that he had to go somewhere, that he was not in the mood for any of it. Your grip was tight, and he did not have the strength in him to push your arms away. And when you did not yield, when you did not leave him but had whispered in his ear, “Clint, please! Come back to us. We need you. I need you!” he had shattered. Turning around on the bench, he had wrapped his arms tightly around your waist and sobbed into your chest. You used to think that it was painful watching him fade away. You realised then and there that you were wrong. Watching him sob like a child, feeling him tremble under your touch was perhaps the most excruciating thing you had felt after the departure of your friends. It felt as though his sufferings were entwined with your own.

That was two years ago.

But since that afternoon, you had slowly watched him return to you. The Clint Barton that you used to know was resurfacing. Slowly but steadily. Of course, there were pieces of him that were lost to time forever. But then you all had lost parts of yourself in the war; parts that you’d probably never get back. But that did not mean that there was no room for the famous Clint-humour that you loved or the wrinkles around his eyes when he laughed. They were all coming back gradually, along with a newfound side to your friendship.

It was difficult to put a name to it but it felt warmer, the bond felt stronger and the understanding deeper. Unsaid things found a new, comfortable place between the two of you. Though no one could fill the void that Natasha and the others had left in their wake, you knew that this - whatever this strange bond was - was enough to fill the void that had once been burnt into your soul.

So, that night when you had taken shelter in the allocated safehouse, neither of you played any music nor did you strike up a conversation. You were exhausted - more in the mind than in the body. You both let the quiet take over, let the unsaid things do the talking.

After a quick shower, some bandages, and after discarding your battlesuit for your black tank top and underwear, you let your body drop down on the bed, too exhausted to climb it gracefully and get under the covers. Clint was in the other room. The safehouse wasn’t much but it saw to your basic needs: first aid, food, a hot shower and some clean towels, and two decent beds to drain the fatigue. It was a small flat in the midst of the town, rumoured (as spread by S.H.I.E.L.D) to be more like a pit stop for the owner who sometimes had work on that side of the town. So, though many eyes turned when two unknown figures in casual black clothes - one holding a large gym bag and another carrying a backpack - walked up the stairs, nobody made an effort to recognise the faces.

It was a humid night. Lying on top of the comforter, on the second floor of the building, you allowed the sound of the streets below to drown you. In the noise of the traffic and the market and the crowds, you tried to find some normality that had otherwise gone missing in your life. Minutes went by. And yet all that flashed on the curtains of your closed eyes were the harrowing moments of the day’s battle. Those eventually morphed into the wars of the past. The dying soldiers today got replaced by the pale, lifeless bodies of your friends who were no longer with you. Of those who were still there with you. Of Clint.

Your eyes snapped open. The ceiling was staring back at you. The constant rotating of the fan above and the whir of its motor seemed to mock you. Everything seemed to have a rhythm, a steadiness in their being. But you? All you were left with were bits and pieces of the moments that you had once shared with those you loved.

Sitting up, you ran a hand through the damp hair. No, you could not do this alone. Grabbing your pillow in one hand, you silently walked towards the archer’s room.

The door to his room was ajar. Clint was lying on his side, with his back turned towards you, the comforter rising up to his bare torso. He was looking all warm and comfortable. So much that the anxiety in your eyes was immediately replaced by a softness at the sight. He always did this to you - made you feel grounded even when the world around you was burning to ashes.

You were about to knock when you noticed the slow, steady pace with which his arm and shoulder rose and fell. Even after all these years, it still surprised you how fast he could fall asleep! The first feeling that kicked within you was that of frustration. Now you were doomed to bear the burden of your thoughts alone. All through the long night. But then, a small smile tugged at your lips when you saw the peace that engulfed him. After the war, it had become a rare sight to see Clint so peaceful, cocooned from his PTSD that often kept him up at night.

You had turned halfway to return to the torment in your room when you heard Clint softly call your name. You turned to see him almost on his back, craning his neck to look at you.

“I thought you were asleep,” you declared.

“I was. Almost.”

“Then how the hell did you know that I was here?” A small smile played on your lips since you already knew the answer.

The same knowing smile settled on his mouth, too. “Just like I do every time! You’re not as stealthy as you think you are.”

“And people think you are deaf!” You rolled your eyes playfully while taking a few slow steps into the room.

His room was much cooler than yours, thanks to the large windows that allowed cross-ventilation.

Clint was lying on his back now. “Not deaf! Hard of hearing! How many times do I have to make myself clear?”

“As many times as I want you to, Barton. Now, shut up and make room for me.” You threw the pillow at his face but he caught it in time.

“Why, did they hide bedbugs in yours?” He joked as you climbed under the cool comforter.

“I believe they had intended it for you but, accidentally,” you sighed dramatically, “I got the room.”

Clint laughed as he turned to face you.

“The same pattern?” His tone was serious now.

“Huh?”

“Your nightmares,” Clint clarified.

Your smirk was quickly replaced by a frown. “Yep,” you whispered your confession. “Tried but couldn't sleep at all!”

“Me neither.”

“I thought you were almost asleep,” you raised a playful brow.

“Was pretending to! Thought my body couldn’t tell the difference if I lay still.”

Clint’s smile grew larger when you shook with laughter. His eyes, adorned with creases from the weight of the years, took in your sight as though it was the last bit of peace, the last bit of sanity that was left in his life.

“I love you, Barton,” you said between dying laughs, as you had said uncountable times before.

“You know I love you, too,” he replied, just like he had innumerous times before.

Leaning forward, he placed a soft kiss on your forehead before beginning to get off the bed. He was clad only in his boxer briefs. Black. Somehow you knew it’d be black. Both of you had an inclination towards an all-black-clothing when it came to fights. ‘A weird kink’, Natasha used to call it.

“You know you can share the bed, right? Don’t have to sleep on the floor!” You called out with a grin spread on your face.

“Yeah, yeah!” he waved dismissively as he sauntered towards the washroom. “And stop staring at my ass.”

“There is nothing to stare at, old man. I’ve seen better.”

“Whose, Bucky’s?” You did not need to see his face to know that he was smirking. Bucky had been his favourite topic to tease you ever since you had confided in him that you had a crush on the super soldier. That was a long, long time ago.

“Nope. Mine,” you tilted your chin up as this time you owned the smirk.

Clint peeked at you in defeat before closing the door. He did have a nice ass though, now that you thought about it. You shook your head quickly before your imagination drifted away beyond what was appropriate.

Your thoughts went back to Natasha. Nat! Oh, how she used to tease the two of you! How she would have teased had she seen that you were sharing a bed! And dressed only in the bare minimum! Nat!

A silent laugh left your mouth and touched your eyes.

You lay on your back, staring at the ceiling and the rotating fan. It did not mock you this time. This time when you closed your eyes, you did not see red. You did not see any meadow either but it was fine. It was … normal.

A couple of minutes later, you felt the bed dip beside you. You must have dozed off because you did not remember hearing the sound of the flush or of the bathroom door opening or closing. You felt something tickle your face, and soon realised that it was Clint moving a stray strand of hair. You opened your eyes and they instantly met his. A moment passed in silence. It was comfortable … but there was something heavy in it, too. Something that made your breath hitch. Clint probably felt it, too, because he blinked and then suddenly moved away.

Unsure what to do, you slowly closed your eyes again, as though still partially asleep and hence vaguely aware of the situation. You tried hard to compose your sudden ragged breathing.

“I hope you’ve washed your hands,” you mumbled, your eyes still closed. You hoped that it would lighten the moment.

“Oops! Sorry to disappoint you!” Hearing the mirth in his voice gave you a little relief.

“Ha. Ha. Liar.”

The sound of his chuckle and the shift in the mattress told you that he had turned to face the other side. You opened one eye to confirm your doubt.

Indeed he had.

A small wave of disappointment washed over your heart. You lay there for a while, trying to slide back into the dreamscape. Nothing. A few innocent ideas to find that lost shred of peace popped up in your mind but, remembering the heaviness in the air from a few moments ago, you rejected them all. Your exhaustion had started taking its toll on you. And, in the end, you surrendered to your heart’s desires.

Sighing, you shifted closer to him, and wrapped your arm around his torso. In response, he held your hand, gently pressing it close to his chest. The warmth of his skin was soothing. But it was not enough. You scooted closer so that you were practically spooning him, and slowly wrapped your leg over his.

“Is this okay?” Your voice was barely audible, it being muffled by your doubts and by the pillow.

But the way he rubbed circles on the back of your hand with his thumb and responded “yeah” allowed you to unclench your muscles.

It was just one word but you heard everything in it. It wasn’t just an obligatory “yeah”. Neither was it a sleepy, half-conscious “yeah”. He wanted these - your closeness, your touch - as much as you wanted his. Clint reached for your thigh and pulled it further over himself.

Despite the depth of your friendship, you had never been so close to him before. But then, life wasn’t the same as before, was it? Clint was the only ray of sunshine in your life, and now you needed to hold on to that light - its warmth, its glow, everything.

Lulled by his steady breathing, you gradually descended into a peaceful space. You did not even realise when sleep had taken over. That was until your friend shuffled. The movement of muscle beneath your limbs and the tug of the comforter awoke you but only partially. You registered something warm and heavy settle on your waist, and faintly noted that Clint had pulled you flush against him.

He was warm. And even beneath the tautness of his muscles, there was a softness about him. It felt nice. Peaceful. Safe. It felt like…home.

Your sleep-drunk mind tried to pull up more descriptions but failed. “Home”: it felt like the perfect word for him; nothing further was needed.

Warm air rustled on your upper lip rhythmically. Heavy eyelids opened only slightly to note that his face was mere inches away from yours. For a moment he opened his eyes, too - hooded eyes that looked as though they were dreaming but you knew well that they were looking deep into your soul through your own. Two seconds later, he closed them, and so did you. Your fingers itched to touch his face but your arms felt too heavy. And they felt better on his back. So, you left them there.

Before you could doze off again, you felt warmth descend on your lips. You did not need to open your eyes this time. The softness of his lips was the first thing that registered in your mind; a delightful surprise. You had always found his mouth cute but never had you thought that they would be this tender! And they were sure of their actions. Clint knew what he was doing. It was not some sleep-driven whim, no. He wanted this. It almost felt like he needed this; a connection that transcended the moment.

Your mind was too dazed to process things further. And it ended all too soon, even before you could grasp properly what had happened. Or why.

When you opened your eyes again, you found Clint’s intense ones staring back at you - wide and wild. His breathing was paced. As if the faint, golden glow of the streetlights was not testament enough, you could feel its rush on your mouth. His hand was gently splayed on your back, as if to make sure you do not slip away.

And before you could fully comprehend the state of your own mind, your arm - the one that was comfortably flung around his back - slowly began making its way up to his face. Your fingers took their time to travel across the skin of his back, over his waist, his arm, all the way up to the side of his neck until they reached their destination on his cheek.

Clint’s frantic breathing visibly calmed down beneath your touch. Instinctively, he tilted his head so that the corner of his lips brushed against your palm. When your thumb started rubbing gentle circles on his cheekbone, he let out a long sigh before closing his eyes in content.

And you? Well, you leaned in to capture his parted lips with your own.

Behind closed eyes, Clint saw an entire galaxy unfurl before him. He inhaled a lungful of air through his nostrils while you let out a breath you did not even realise were holding. Both of your lips moved ardently, in perfect sync with one another. Unlike the previous brush of a kiss, this time Clint kissed you with a fierce passion that you had, until then, believed only to exist in fantasies. He pulled your body further into his, wrapping a leg over yours and threading his fingers into your hair. Unlike the dazed state of your mind the first time, this time you felt it all: the dizziness, the hunger, the burst of happiness, and the all-consuming desire to hold him as close to you as possible!

But with these feelings, crept up some uninvited voices in the back of your head. Logical voices that urged you to stop. Voices that warned that this was a mistake, that this was not how things were supposed to be, that Clint Barton was a friend, and that all of these will only end up in a heartbreak.

But you couldn’t be bothered. Not when Clint’s mouth was leaving pleas on yours and his hands were whispering prayers on your skin. Not when it finally made sense - all of it. That nagging feeling of being something more than friends, those stolen glances, those long looks, those blinding smiles that lit up whenever you were around each other, those fleeting touches that sent tingles racing long after, those unsaid things that always lingered between words - a silent acknowledgement of something much deeper. They all fell into place. Perhaps this was why neither could ever settle down with anybody else. Maybe - no, not maybe. Surely, that’s because you both sought each other in the crowds, drawn together by an undeniable connection.

His lips were insistent, leaving no room to catch your breath. Hot breath fanned your cheeks as arms pulled each other closer. When you tugged on his hair, the soft moan that left him almost melted you. Grabbing the moment, you dipped your tongue past his lips, and he welcomed you immediately. As you tasted one another, you rolled Clint over, almost lying on top of him. Your hand descended towards the mattress for support but found nothing. Opening your eyes, you realised that you both were balanced on the edge of the bed.

It took some effort to pull yourself away from a ravenous Clint.

“We’re on the edge,” you gestured with your eyes.

He first looked at you in confusion but soon turned his head to see. Then, absolutely unbothered by it, smoothly rolled over to hover on top of you, the comforter tangling you both up even further. Clint did not utter a word. Everything that needed to be said was being told by those kisses.

This was not how you had expected the night to unfold. Neither of you. Tongues painting feelings on your souls, hands memorising every curve and turn, limbs wrapped tightly around your bodies - neither of you knew how you ended up like this. But the only thing that you both knew was that it felt right. Nothing felt awkward or out-of-place. It felt like it was meant to be.

Clint’s weight pinned you down in the most delicious way. Reaching down, his hand gently but firmly tugged on your thigh, squeezing the soft flesh in his grip before placing it over his hips. Sliding up the length of your leg, the said hand settled on your ass, kneading it firmly. A smirk graced his lips when you squealed in response, and he took a mental note to do it again, as often as he could, wherever he could.

As soon as you shifted your head to breathe, away from his hungry mouth, he landed on the side of your neck, leaving nibbles on your pulse point, along the length of your neck, and over your jawline, while his tongue quickly followed behind to soothe the marks being left behind.

Yout teeth caught his earlobe, eliciting a beautiful moan from him. While your lips sucked on his skin and left open-mouthed kisses along his neck, your hands desperately mapped his back. Every time you squeezed a muscle there, a hiss escaped him, encouraging you to explore more such vulnerable areas.

All this time, Clint had been touching and teasing you over your clothes. And although it did make you shiver in pleasure, you were beginning to grow weary of it. You wanted more. You longed for the warmth of his skin against yours. So, the next time his fingers brushed the hem of your tank top, you gently took his hand and guided it beneath the soft fabric, urging him closer.

It was not like Clint had not tried to hold himself back. Ever since you had slipped under his covers, and wrapped yourself around him, he had been wrestling with his desires. He had even slapped himself mentally the first time he kissed you. But then, when you had kissed him back, his resolve shattered. How could he possibly resist when he could feel your yearning mirroring his own? He had still tried. Tried not to cross the line, whatever fragile bit of it was left. But the moment you invited him on your skin, all his defences crumbled.

He looked up at you, searching your eyes for any shards of hesitation. Relief washed over him to find that you were longing for the exact same things as him. His heart was hammering against his chest but his hand was gentle as it travelled up your body, taking your top up in its wake, eyes intensely following the movement of his own hand. It lingered for a small while on the underside of your breast, where it tickled patterns with the thumb. He wanted to take his time. But watching you writhe in anticipation changed everything. One instant, you felt his hand claim your breast, rough palm massaging you affectionately. The next instant, your top was being pulled off of you in a not-so-graceful manner. You could never mind, no. With Clint’s body enveloping you in the most loving way, you could not have a care in the world! Not especially when calloused fingers were spanning across hot skin, tweaking a nipple or when his tongue was doing its magic on the other.

Your head fell back in pleasure, tempting Clint to taste your neck once more, to leave marks that would be reminiscent of these treasured moments. As his mouth travelled north, your hands travelled south on his back. They made their way beneath the comforter, past the elastic resistance of his underwear, and squeezed his ass. A smile formed on your lips at the beautiful moan that grazed the shell of your ear. Very lightly, you dragged your nails across his ass cheeks. His hips jerked up in response. And this time you were rewarded with a groan that was music to your ears. You did it again. He growled.

“Do it once more,” a warning lingered in his now hoarse voice, “and I swear-”

Before he could finish, you squeezed his ass with your nails, and delicately scratched your way up his spine, all the way up to his scalp. He could not help the roll of his hips against yours, drawing out prolonged moans from both.

“Fuck you, (Y/N)!”

His hoarse voice, paired with the unfinished threat, only aided to turn you on even more. You dragged your clothed core up and down his thigh, leaving wet trails behind. A strangled grunt from him adorned the night air.

Dragging your teeth along his jawline, you whispered close to his ear, “If all of this doesn’t lead to it, I’ll be genuinely disappointed, Barton!”

That dazzling grin - the one that you had unconsciously fallen for years ago, the smile that had dimmed under the weight of the world - sparkled once more. It was so good to see him happy again that you wished for time to stop right then and there, all so that you could watch that beautiful face light up again.

Your own face lit up with a smile but your eyes betrayed you. That blinding smile morphed into a frown as Clint watched a single drop of tear slip down the side of your eye, landing softly on the pillow.

He quickly cradled your face, concern etched on his handsome features. “What happened? Did I hurt you?”

You felt silly and guilty at the same time, robbing him of his bubble of happiness. Sniffing, you shook your head. “No, no! Nothing, it’s just … “ You stared into his worried eyes. Cupping his face, you took a deep breath. “I love you, Clint Barton.”

His eyes softened, and that radiance was back on his face, crinkling his eyes in the most gorgeous ways! He took your hand from his face, and placed a long kiss on it. “You know I love you, too.”

He kissed the side of your wrist, over your pulse, on the back of your hand. He kissed each knuckle separately - an affectionate gesture to soothe years of pain. He ran your forefinger between his lips, eventually taking it, along with your middle finger, in his mouth, and gently lapping his tongue over it.

Your mouth breathed out a silent moan at both the sight and the feeling. You watched him run his lips over the length of your arm until they started tickling the side of your neck.

Your giggles were engulfed by his kiss. This was slower, more tender than the previous ones. This wasn’t one of the desperate battles of teeth and tongue but a heart-touching love letter written for your soul. He continued peppering kisses on your chin, your nose, your cheeks, eyes, forehead, temple - until he was sure that he hadn’t left any inch of your face untouched, and until another string of giggles reached his ears.

“You sure of this?” He searched your eyes once again that night.

You narrowed your eyes in mock annoyance and sighed. “I always knew you were thick-headed.”

The arch of an eyebrow and the look he gave you, along with that smirk, told you that your words had backfired.

“How did you know?” His words rumbled in your chest.

Blushing, you lightly punched his shoulder. “Just shut up and fuck me, agent Barton!”

The archer gave you a swoon-worthy lopsided smile. “Yes, ma’am!”

That sole word, “ma’am”, made you clench your thighs together. His mouth stole another greedy kiss from you while his fingers fumbled with the waistband of your underwear beneath the covers. You were busy shoving his own boxer briefs out of the way. You had successfully pushed it past his backside but got stuck on his erection.

“I’m sorry!” You exclaimed. “Did I hurt you?”

Clint assured you that he was fine, and assisted you in pushing the little piece of clothing down his ankles, your own following it two seconds later.

You were already prepared for him. So, when you wrapped your legs around his waist, and he lined up with you, it took him very little effort to slide inside. The sting of the stretch made you hiss. Clint kissed your cheek before slowly inching himself inside you. And once he was completely sheathed, he paused, allowing you to adjust to him. He was himself basking in the feeling of you wrapped around him, resting his forehead on yours, breath mingling with yours. It was only after you nodded lightly and patted his shoulder that he started moving.

It was a languid, agonising pace. It was intimate, beautiful but you wanted more. You could feel every bit of him inside you, and it only increased your hunger. His mouth left kisses wherever it could reach - your face, your hair, your collarbone, neck shoulders, ears, your chest - anywhere and everywhere.

“Clint!” You moaned. “More! … Please!”

“Yes, babe,” he groaned into your neck.

He pulled out up to the tip and pushed back swiftly, reaching deep inside you, causing you to bite your lip to suppress a rather loud moan.

“No, babe,” he breathed, his thumb tugging at your bottom lip, “don't. You've been holding back all night. I need to hear you. Please! Let go!”

And with those words, he pulled back and pushed in harder. This time you were almost sure that the sound of your pleasure was audible beyond the walls of the house.

“That's it, love!”

His praises spurred you on just like the sweet, sultry sounds that you made kept encouraging him.

The room was soon filled with sinful sounds of approval and of skin slapping on skin as you both began edging closer to that magical precipice. The cool breeze of the night wasn't helping your sweat-drenched bodies anymore.

With one hand he gently moved some of the sweat-stuck hair from your face. Slowly, he brought the hand down the side of your face to your neck. Delicately wrapping his fingers around your throat, Clint dipped his thumb into your open mouth. He watched in awe as you closed your lips around it and sucked, twirling your tongue around it now and then.

With a loud moan, Clint closed his eyes, pushing into you harder. Your head rolled back, and your moan filled the night air, giving him the perfect opportunity to replace his thumb in your mouth with his tongue.

Clint carefully pushed your right leg upwards, so that your knee was close to your chest. This new angle allowed him to go deeper, hitting that perfect spot every single time, making your eyes roll back in your head and urging you to scream his name.

Not much later, you realised that his rhythm was faltering. He was close but was trying hard to hold himself for you.

“Touch me!” You rasped, and guided his hand down to your clit.

Cradling your head in the hand with which he had propped himself up, Clint rubbed you with that perfect pressure that made electricity jolt up your veins. The pace of his fingers matched the pace with which he pushed into you.

It was not long before you felt that familiar tightening in your belly.

“Clint! I'm-”

“I know, babe.” God, his hoarse voice was a sin in itself! “I can feel you.”

Whimpering and writhing beneath him, you kept clenching down on him involuntarily, pushing Clint faster towards the edge. You felt yourself coming undone when he bit on your shoulder with a grunt. And with the sound of his name echoing through the room and with you squeezing him with your entirety, he released into you.

You both took some moments to calm down, your sweat-sheened, limp bodies swelling and dipping with the pace of your hearts.

Clint slowly lifted his head to look at you. His attention was drawn to the way your tongue darted out to wet your parted lips, and he could not resist a tender kiss on them.

You whined when he slowly pulled out of you, an unwelcome feeling of emptiness making its way inside. Clint smiled and cradled your face.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised before getting off the bed.

A couple of minutes later, he returned with a warm, damp towel in his hand. Clint’s hands were unexpectedly delicate whilst cleaning you up. Once he was done, he bent down and blew a raspberry on your navel. You squealed and laughed like a child encouraging him to press loud kisses all over your tummy. It made you laugh. And it made you swell with love for this dork.

Throwing the towel on the floor - an action at which you scrunched your nose up but he chose to ignore with a shrug - he crawled back beneath the comforter, and pulled you flush against him.

“You’re one gorgeous piece of a woman! Did I ever tell you that?” Clint was drawing featherlight patterns on your skin.

“You did. Twice, I think. But both the times you were so drunk that I wasn’t sure if it was you talking or Tony’s booze.”

He laughed heartily. Oh, how you loved those crinkles around his eyes!

“Nah, it was me. It was me all along.”

“Yep,” you wrapped yourself around him. “It was you all along.”

You kissed again. The last thing you remembered before sleeping soundly was the feel of his mouth on you and the smiles and giggles that drowned the noises from the streets below.

***

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marvelwitchergilmore · 2 years ago

Text

Out Of Depth (But We’ll Be Okay)

Summary: Clint Barton x Fe!Reader -> You and Clint have been having an intimate relationship and it’s been hidden from the rest of the team. But, what happens when Fate throws you both a curve ball and it can no longer remain a secret?

Disclaimer: Fluff, swearing, feelings of being completely terrified of life, Sam and Bucky being idiots. Ignoring Endgame and CW. Clint has never been married or has kids in this fic. Friends/Co-workers to lovers. FwB SMUT (description is brief in the beginning, so feel free to skip), mentions of unprotected sex (be safe, wrap it up) MDNI. IF YOU CONTINUE READING THIS, YOU ARE CONSENTING TO READING 18+ THEMES. THIS IS YOUR WARNING.

Clint was good at his job.

He had to be. He had no other choice. If he wasn’t good, that meant he was bad and that could result in one of two things. Either, he’d get fired. Or, he’d die. If he was bad at his job, he’d prefer his exit to be the former of the two options, but when it came down to it, he wouldn’t really have a choice.

But, he was good at his job. So, it didn’t matter.

What he wasn’t good at, however, was being a dad. Or, at least, being told he was about to become one and not freak out about it.

You had told him three days after you had found out yourself.

You could remember it. Being stood in your bathroom until you saw the very pink double lines appear on the centre of the stick, which made you back up until you sat on the toilet seat and placed a hand to your mouth.

At first, you didn’t know how to react.

You and Clint weren’t exactly…together.

It had started just over a year ago when, after some strange happenings on missions, you found comfort in one another. It was just simple and casual. No strings. Just sex. But you were friends. And co-workers. So, you were both incredibly careful.

But then you remembered the night in the hospital. Well, medical bay.

10 weeks prior, you’d both been on a mission that left you more than worse for wear. Stage 4 concussion, three broken ribs, the rest severely bruised, cuts and scrapes to the rest of your body and loss of memory for the first 24 hours.

But, on your final check-up, you were left by the doctors, alone, in your room.

During your stay, Clint had come almost every night to sit with you. Even helped you get to and from the bathroom when the lights were too bright and your entire body felt like it had just been hit by a 1000 tonne truck.

Other nights, when he wasn’t helping you to and from the bathroom, he’d lie with you and you’d both sit and watch some crappy old movies that Clint had managed to find. Some were better than others, but even then, you’d both fall asleep half way through.

But, after 10 weeks, you had your final check up and Clint came to see you.

You both talked for a while, about what was to come. What missions would be given, when you were going to be put back into the field, what he had done to Natasha to make her so mad that she came to you to ask for help in getting back at him.

And then he sat beside you and asked how you were feeling.

“Like I want to get out of here.” you had answered honestly. “I just want to get back to normal.”

“And your head? You took quite the hit.” Clint pushed a strand of hair from your face so he could see you more clearly.

“The concussion has gone but I still have a small headache.”

“You know, there are ways to get rid of that.”

You smirked, already having an idea on where Clint was going with this. “So, I’ve heard.”

“Maybe I could help you out?”

“Really? How so?”

Slowly, Clint moved closer to you before you continued to lie back until he was flush against you and the mattress where he slowly kissed your neck.

“Well, there is the usual. Yoga,” a kiss, “Sleep,” another, “some weird tea that probably tastes like nail polish remover,” another kiss. “And then there's my idea. And, it technically hits two of the three.”

“Oh, really?” you laughed as he continued to press his lips against your skin. “And what is that?”

“I think you already know, baby.”

You smiled before his lips met yours. From there, your bodies took over. Your hands came up his side before pushing their way through his hair. His knee pressed between your thighs, teasing you ever so slightly. Meanwhile, his hands gripped at your hips pulling you closer as a moan emptied itself into his mouth.

“Let me take care of you,” you heard him tell you before his lips moved back down your neck, leaving a trail of, come by morning, love bites in their wake.

Usually, you were both so careful. But that night…that night you just wanted each other. Needed each other, even. You let him take care of you; his fingers pressing into your skin just hard enough to make you want more, his lips and tongue leaving marks across your body that only made it yearn for more, his knee pressing against you before he replaced it with his hand, his fingers curling up inside of you. All the while, he watched you curse underneath him, swear to God, swear to anyone who would hear your cries of pleasure. He felt your hands roam his body until he finally moved himself to your core where he felt your fingers and nails run themselves down the back of his head and neck, begging him for more.

You climaxed twice before he entered you, and even then, you came again.

He was the only man who had done this to you. Others, they had come close, but it was never like this. Clint took his time, teasing your body in ways you didn’t know would have you begging for him to the point where you felt as if it was going to last forever.

And afterwards, he’d take care of you then, too. He’d wipe away any wetness from you before handing you a glass of water and helping you stand despite wanting to fall asleep in his arms there and then. By the time you’d get back from the bathroom, he’d hand you a t-shirt of his that just covered you - but still, if you weren’t both so relaxed, he’d take you there and then…again.

And you’d let him.

But that night, rather than using any safe measurements, it all remained unprotected. Something that would only come to your mind after being sat in the bathroom for an hour and half, staring at the two very pink lines on the white stick.

It took you three days to initially come to terms with what was about to happen. Even then, you hadn’t fully accepted it. You were pregnant with Clint’s baby. And in 9 to 10 months, that baby will be born, hopefully healthy, and soon enough would be an exact share of your and Clint’s DNA.

On the fourth day, you went in search of Clint. And, you found him in his bedroom at the compound.

After giving your knock, he called for you to come in.

“It’s unlocked!”

The moment you entered, you locked the door behind you.

“Clint?”

“In here.”

Tony had created a connecting room for him to practise against targets so when you entered he had his arrow drawn and released it on bullseye.

“Hey,”

“Hey.”

“We need to talk.”

“I’m all ears.”

You nodded. Mostly, his focus was on the targets so at least that made it easier not having to look him in the eye.

“Okay, I’ll just get to it,” you took a breath, clasping your hands together. “I’m pregnant.”

The arrow that Clint had drawn and intended to go through bullseye once more…landed in the wall.

“You’re…”

“Pregnant,” you nodded. “9 weeks, I think, at least.”

“When did…”

“Three days ago. I know, I’m freaking out, too.”

Clint looked back to the targets, not knowing where else to look.

“I just thought you should know.”

Clint nodded before backing up and sitting down on one of the chairs beside the wall.

“You’re pregnant?”

You nodded. “Yep.”

“And I’m gonna be…”

“Yep.”

“Huh.”

You moved to sit beside him. “I know. Believe me, I’m still trying to wrap my head around the whole thing.”

“Does anyone else know?”

You shook your head. “No.”

“You’re really pregnant?”

Sighing, you lifted your hips from the chair to pull the fresh pregnancy test from your back pocket. “Pretty positive.”

You handed him the test where he let out a small gasp, covering his mouth as he looked down at the two pink lines.

“Look, I don’t know what I’m doing.” you said. “And…if you don’t want to be involved, I’ll figure it out. But, I want you. I want you to be involved.”

“No, no, no,” Clint cut you off. Despite the fact he was in complete shock, something he was certain of was…”I wanna…I wanna be involved. If we’re in this, we’re in this together.”

You nodded after a moment. It was nice to have some support and know you’re not alone in your fear.

Clint soon looked back to the stick before reaching over and taking your hand in his. “We’re gonna have a baby.”

You could see a small smile growing on his face, which mirrored itself on yours. “We’re gonna have a baby.”

A small laugh came from Clint’s lips before he pulled you closer into a hug, the pair of you looking at the double lines before he turned and looked to your stomach. You weren’t showing yet, but you would be soon.

Gently, Clint lay his hand over your stomach before you placed both of your hands over his.

“We can do this, right?”

“We’ll figure it out.”

You smiled. “Okay.”

It took a while to figure out how to tell people since they didn’t know you and Clint were together in the first place. But, one morning when Sam had woken up and found you in the kitchen, reading, whilst Clint cooked breakfast, he offered you a cup of coffee.

Usually, you’d never turn one down. And always had it at full strength.

Only, for the last couple of weeks, Sam hadn’t seen you with a coffee or even a beer on a Friday night. He also hadn’t seen you in the sparring ring for a while. Typically, you’d usually be against him or Clint and within seconds, you had them on the ground. That was a tactic neither of them could figure out.

“Are you on a cleanse or something?”

“Why?”

Clint looked over his shoulder to you, only to see your eyes focused on Sam.

“Because you haven’t been drinking coffee or any kind of alcohol or caffeine.” Sam said before letting out a chuckle to himself as he poured himself a coffee. “Either that or you’re pregnant.”

Silence settled over the room and the moment you and Clint locked eyes, having a telepathic

conversation between one another…Sam noticed.

Confusion was the first thing he felt. Why on earth would you and Clint look at one another like you had a secret?

“What? What is it?”

Clint tilted his head quickly. It was up to you.

You nodded and turned back to Sam.

“Actually…”

Sam put his coffee down and stepped back. “Wait, you’re…?”

“Pregnant.”

“Holy- Oh my - Holy shit.” Sam broke out in a smile before rounding the kitchen island and hugging you. “Holy shit, you’re actually- wow. Wait, who’s the-”

Then when Clint came behind you, laying a plate of food in front of you, and you looked at him, Sam took another step back. “Oh my God.”

“No-one else knows so, please, can you keep this to yourself for now?” You asked. “We’re still trying to figure out how to tell people.”

“I didn’t even know you two were, like, a thing.”

“Technically, we weren’t.”

“But you’re having a kid together?”

You nodded. “But, please, Sam, keep this to yourself for now.”

“Keep what to himself?” Bucky entered the kitchen.

“Nothing.” Sam answered walking back to his coffee.

Bucky, with narrowed eyes, made his way around the kitchen. His eyes barely left Sam. “Oh, come on, you can’t keep a secret to save your life.”

“I can.”

“Not with me. Took you all of five minutes to tell me that Jessica from accounting is having twins.” Bucky said before he saw a bead of sweat drip down the back of Sam’s neck as his eyes widened for a split second before looking at you. “Oh, my God. You’re pregnant.”

“How did you-”

“Told you. He can’t keep a secret from me. Also, you haven’t drunk a single ounce of coffee in, like, four weeks. So, it’s either that or you’re on a cleanse. And you would never give up coffee voluntarily.”

“Well, if you know everything, Einstein,” Sam turned to Bucky. “Who’s the dad?”

“Barton.”

You dropped your fork, finishing your mouthful before looking to Bucky with the expression of Oh, for God’s sake. How? Meanwhile, Sam seemed slightly offended and confused at the fact Bucky seemed to have the whole thing figured out.

“What? She’s wearing his shirt.”

You looked down and realised it was true. How had you not even noticed?

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. But, you should tell people soon or else they’re gonna figure it out. Also, you might want to add more ginger to your meals.” Bucky added. “It’ll help with the morning sickness.”

“How the hell do you know all of this?”

Bucky shrugged, sipping his own coffee. “I had to help a woman give birth in a small town in Germany. When I came back, I figured it was more likely to happen so I read a couple books. I can lend them to you, if you want.”

It was safe to say you, Clint and Sam were more confused over Bucky’s hidden history as a midwife than your and Clint’s relationship and baby.

“So, when’s your first scan?”

“Okay, this conversation’s too weird for me. Can we please change the subject?”

“Can we see the pictures when you do?” Sam asked. “I wanna see a picture of my nephew or niece. I call ‘favourite uncle’.”

“Who says you get it?”

“I do.” Sam told Bucky. “We all know Nat’s gonna have first dibs at Aunt. I call Uncle.”

“What about me? Or Steve?”

“Steve’s everyone’s Grandpa. He gets that title.”

Whilst the two idiots in front of you argued over the title of ‘favourite uncle’ before eventually coming to the decision that the kid will decide, Clint had come behind you, taking your empty plate from you.

“What do you say we make a run for it? Someone will find them and ask them what they’re arguing about. Let them tell the rest of the team.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Slipping yourself from the stand, you felt Clint take your hand in his before you both made a run for it out of the kitchen, down the hall and into Clint’s bedroom.

Miraculously, you both managed to shower and get dressed, packing a small bag before making a run for it and not being stopped or called by anyone.

Clint drove you both out of town for a couple of hours to a small town clinic. They were small enough to know that they were away from Shield’s radar as well as the Avengers. And, with barely any people in the waiting room, there were no people trying to report news over why you and Hawkeye were in a maternity ward.

The doctor called your name and you and Clint headed inside where you lay on the bed and began asking questions about your health and when you think you got pregnant before covering the lower half of your stomach in cold gel and began the ultrasound.

“One thing I will say is that you have to be careful. I understand the professions you two are in, but where you can, rest. Try not to lift anything heavy over your head as it can strain your lower back,” the doctor gave you both some more advice before they moved to find the baby’s heartbeat.

“See this, right here?” you and Clint looked at the monitor. “That’s your baby and this…” a small galloping sound from the speakers. “is your baby’s heartbeat.”

As one hand lay below your head, your other was in Clint’s hand. Swiftly, he brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckle as you both watched the monitor and listened to the sound of your baby’s heartbeat.

“Oh, my God.” It brought tears to both of your eyes.

“I’ll get you some pictures printed off.”

“Thank you, Doc.”

“Clint,” his eyes didn’t leave the monitor until you looked at him. “That’s our baby.”

“That’s our baby.” Clint smiled back before leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to your lips before laying his arm around you, both of you looking at the monitor.

The doctor handed you some paper towels to wipe the gel from your stomach before leaving the room for a moment to grab a couple of information pamphlets and other small things that would help you and Clint on your journey.

By the time you got back into the car, you and Clint simply looked at the photos you had been given. From the pile, Clint tore one away and placed it in his sun visor.

The rest of the day, you and Clint drove around the small town, taking in a couple of the sights, eating at their ‘Number One Diner’ before hitting a couple of smaller stores, buying a couple of baby things. Thankfully, anyone that you ran into didn’t seem to have a clue who you or Clint were. Either that, or they simply didn’t care. That made it a lot easier to buy baby clothes and books.

And, by the time the sun was setting over the horizon, you and Clint sat on the hood of his car, your laps covered by a checked blanket and a soda in your lap, Clint’s phone rang.

“Who is it?”

“Nat.”

The moment Clint answered, Natasha was already speaking.

“You’re having a baby and you left the members of Sesame Street to tell me?”

Clint turned to you, “They’ve blabbed.”

“Wow. Took longer than I thought.” You said, looking at your watch.

“Is she with you?” Natasha asked.

“Yeah.”

“Good, tell her I’m mad at her, too.”

“Nat said she’s mad at you.”

“She’s mad at you, too.”

“Guess we’re gonna have to find someone else to be this kid’s favourite Aunt.”

“Whoa, hey-”

“Guess we could ask Wanda?” you suggested. “Or maybe your Rookie?”

“Kate? Really?” Clint asked. “She is the closest in age to the kid. What about-”

“Hey, hey! Do not give my title away! I did not fight to save your life to have my title of favourite Aunt thrown to some Rookie.”

“You like Kate.”

“Besides the point.” Natasha brushed off. “That title stays with me.”

“What do you think? Should we let her?”

“Is she still mad at us?”

“I don’t think she can be if we give her the title.”

“Okay then,” you smiled before taking a sip of your soda. “You only get the title if you’re not mad at us.”

“Fine, hold on a sec,” in the background you heard Nat shout for Steve. “Rogers, be mad at Barton for me.”

“He threatened to take away your title?” you and Clint heard Steve laugh before the phone was passed to him.

“Maybe.”

“Hey Clint.” Steve said. “Congrats, man. We’re all really happy for the two of you.”

“Thanks. That means a lot.”

“Just a word of warning, though.” Steve began. “Tony’s already started clearing a space out in the compound for a nursery so if you two thought you’d be moving out, I don’t think Tony will let you leave.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

“What is it?” you asked Clint.

“You know how we talked about finding a house?” you nodded. “That’s not gonna happen.”

“Tony?”

“Yep.”

You smiled with a small chuckle. “Figures.”

Steve hung up soon after that, leaving you and Clint in your own little world for a while to watch the stars and moon settle over the land.

Over the next couple of weeks, time was spent between telling Shield and HR about what was going on and getting ready for what was to come. Hill gave you both a grilling but, off the record, she was happy for the both of you. Fury had done the same thing, fully expecting an invite to the baby shower. You had also been assigned to desk duty and advising from over Skype.

Clint could see you were getting agitated so he pulled a couple strings to get you into teaching the new recruits. It wouldn’t be a job that would put you into danger and it would keep you busy just enough for you not to be completely bored.

The nights you spent by Clint’s side. Each night you’d both ready a couple of the parenting books you’d bought from the small town outside the city or what Bucky had gifted.

Neither of you had really talked about what your status was together. The nurses at the hospital had referred to Clint as your husband, something neither of you had corrected. Not that you had noticed initially.

Even the team had questioned it at certain points, but never when you were together.

So, as you sat beside one another, reading over the books that spoke about ‘mom’ and ‘dad’, Clint turned to you.

“What are we?”

“I don’t know.”

“Me either.”

“Are we even meant to be something?”

“Well, we’re co-parents, right?”

“Yeah.”

A silence settled over you both for a moment before you placed a hand on your belly and spoke before looking at Clint. “We can do this, right? Be parents together?”

“Of course we can.”

“Then why do I feel so out of my depth?” you asked.

Clint sat up, pulling you with him. “Hey, look at me. We can do this.”

“What if we screw up, Clint?”

Wiping away the small tears from your eyes, Clint gave you a smile. “Then it means we’re parents. They all screw up, right? But, if we can’t do something, we’ll just send the kid to one of their aunts or uncles. This kid has got a big family. At least we can give the jobs of Birds and the Bees to someone else.”

You laughed. “Like Nat?”

“I love her, but probably not.”

You laughed again, wiping away the tears from your eyes, your emotions coming back into check. “Yeah, probably not. We should keep Bucky off that list, too.”

“Agreed.” Clint nodded. “What about Pepper?”

“We should probably tag team her with someone. She’s a strong woman but this kid is half you, half me. If it’s not awkward to begin with, it will be eventually.”

“That’s true.”

You and Clint shared a laugh as he took your hands in his, keeping his eyes on you before he moved closer and kissed your lips. He brushed the hair from your face, your hand coming to his wrist. For a moment, he thought you were about to push him away, but instead you brought him closer.

The months passed with pain and pleasure.

The further you got into your pregnancy, the more the nights became restless and the pain spread across your body. However, the only thing that seemed to remain pleasurable was being able to make a start on the nursery and the fact that your morning sickness had worn off. But also, having Clint by your side, knowing you weren’t alone in your fear or excitement…that made it all a little easier.

Natasha, with the aid of Bucky and Sam - who she sent on errands to keep them out of her way - planned the baby shower where you and Clint found out the gender of your baby and learned that Fury, Clint, Sam (by default as he and Bucky flipped a coin for which gender they guessed), Wanda and Yelena were the only ones to guess correctly.

A baby girl.

The moment the pink powder released from the target as Clint shot a single arrow to its centre, everyone erupted in cheers and shouts of enjoyment.

Yelena and Sam rubbed their success in Kate and Bucky’s face, respectfully, whilst Hill handed Fury 20 bucks and Clint came to find you, hugging you tightly from behind and you looked with joy to the pink powder.

“We’re having a girl.”

“We’re having a girl,” you confirmed with a smile.

Eventually, your due date came…and passed.

You were already on maternity leave, so your days passed slower than usual. Clint would come in and check on you at lunch and on his breaks.

Your days were spent in uncomfortable pain, watching crappy movies and tv shows. Sometimes, someone from the team would come and sit with you and Sam and Bucky had taken a liking to Bake Off - it led to them sitting in the kitchen, baking sweet treats for you to try until you declared a winner.

But, one afternoon, sitting outside with a book resting on your pregnant belly, watching the trainees run their drills on the ground, Steve came and joined you outside.

“How are you doing, Momma?”

You smiled as Steve stepped from the sliding door and sat at the end of where your feet were propped up on the sofa.

“Eh,”

“That bad?”

You sighed, sitting up a little higher. “I love this kid, but I just want her out already. Come out, please.”

Steve chuckled as you held your belly and yelled in the hopes she’d hear you.

She just kicked back.

“As stubborn as her dad.”

“She’ll be here soon,” Steve smiled. “And you and Clint will have your hands full.”

“Can’t wait.” you said. “I like being busy. This,” you motioned around you, “I don’t like it.”

You and Steve sat and chatted for a while longer, mostly about the missions coming up and the books you had been reading. He’d leant you a couple which you had managed to finish in four days.

But then…

You hissed in pain, holding your belly.

“Whoa, you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine, just uncomfortable.”

Then the pain came again. “Ow, okay, no. That hurt. Ow!”

Steve sat up quickly, helping you as carefully as he could. “Come on, you need to get to the hospital.”

“I guess she heard me.”

Steve laughed, and so did you - which only brought some more pain.

“Clint, I need to call him.”

“I’ll call him on the way to the hospital.”

“He’s on the other side of town-”

Steve helped you inside, “He’ll get there. I promise.”

Then Bucky and Sam came around the corner. “Hey, are you okay?”

“She’s going into labour. Do you know where Clint put your hospital bag?”

“Bedroom, under the bed.” you told Steve who then gave the instructions to Sam and Bucky.

“I’ll get the bag,” Sam shouted, running right before Bucky ran left.

“I’ll bring the car around.”

“Steve, I’m scared.”

“I know, but you’re gonna be okay.”

Steve gave you a kind smile that reassured you of his promise.

By the time you got downstairs, Sam and Bucky were rushing around like two headless chickens. Bucky hopped out of the driver’s seat and ran to the otherside, pulling the door open. Steve helped you inside before taking the keys from Bucky.

“One of you needs to go and pick Clint up. Buck, take the bike.”

“On it.”

“Sam, go and find Natasha.” Steve commanded. “Let her and the others know what’s happening.”

“Steve!”

“Okay, go.”

Steve jumped into the driver's seat before pulling out of the driveway and towards the hospital. On the way, he pressed a couple of buttons on the monitor inside the car, calling Clint.

“Clint, listen to me, Bucky’s on his way to you.” Steve explained.

“Is everything okay?”

“I’m going into labour! Ow, crap.”

“Oh, shit.”

“We’re on our way to the hospital now, just meet us there.”

“Okay,”

In the background, you heard the roaring of Bucky’s motorbike. He had to have driven through multiple red lights.

“He’s here now. Honey? It’s gonna be okay.”

“Just get here, please. I’m not doing this without you. Argh, fuck.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Clint!” Bucky shouted.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” you replied. “Just get here.”

“Clint we’re pulling in now,”

“Okay, I’m on my way.”

“Barton!”

As you were rolled into the labour suite, Steve kept watch for Clint before he came barrelling around the corner, not fully aware of where he was going.

“Barton!”

Clint followed Steve’s voice in a circle until he finally spotted him and ran down the hall to your room.

“How is she? Is she okay? Is the baby okay? What did the nurses say? Is everything-”

Steve took Clint by his shoulders. “Everything’s okay. They’ve just broken her waters so she’ll be giving birth soon enough. I’ll keep the others out here.”

“Thanks, and thank you, Steve.”

“No need,” Steve smiled. “Now go to her.”

Clint gave a final smile before entering the room and rushing over to you. And you couldn’t have held him tighter.

“I’m scared, Clint.” you told him as the midwife came in and told you you were ready to give birth.

“I know, baby. So am I, but you’ve got this, okay? Hey, look at me.” you looked at him as he held onto your hand. “You’ve got this. I love you,”

“I love you, too.”

It was only now that you realised today, of all days, was the first time you’d both told one another the truth of your feelings towards each other.

Clint pressed a kiss to your lips. “Stay with me?”

He nodded. “Always.”

“Okay, dad, help her up.” the midwife called your name. “When I tell you to push, give me all the strength you can muster, okay?”

You hummed nervously. Maybe you were wrong. Maybe you wanted her to stay inside, for a little while longer.

Clint held your hand the whole way through, pushing the stray hairs from your face and holding his arm across your back for support as you pushed and pushed and pushed until finally a cry rang out throughout the room.

“You did it, mom. A beautiful baby girl.”

“You hear that?” Clint looked at you, smiling as he pushed the last couple of hairs from your face. “You did it, momma. She’s here.”

“She’s here? Is she okay?”

Clint looked over to the nurses and midwives measuring, cleaning and weighing your baby girl. “Yeah, yeah. They’re just cleaning her off.”

Clint had tears in his eyes as he looked back at you, pressing a kiss to your head and your lips. “You did it.”

Moments later, you were handed your baby girl wrapped in the blanket you and Clint had bought her all the way back when you had your first scan.

Feeling her skin against yours, you felt your heart explode.

Clint didn’t leave either of your sides once, looking down to his baby girl and the love of his life.

“I love you, and I love her.”

“She’s so small.”

A few hours later, you and Clint were sitting in a clean hospital bed, your baby girl in his arms as she slept.

Wanda was the first to enter, Sam and Kate quickly followed behind before Bucky, Natasha and Steve followed suit.

“Hey, can we come in?”

“Yeah, come on in, guys.”

“Hey, honey, how you feeling?” Wanda asked you, walking over.

“Tired.”

“Can I see her?”

Clint carefully handed your daughter over to Wanda where Sam and Bucky stood around her. “She’s beautiful.” was the main repeated comment between the three of them. “And strong, too.”

“She gets that from her mom,” Clint smiled at you before looking towards Kate.

“I brought you a couple things,” Kate told both you and Clint. “Figured everyone will be thinking about the baby, they’ll forget about you - and you’d probably forget about yourselves. So, your usual from Benny’s.” You praised Kate as a saint as she handed you the familiar paper bag. “Plus, a bag filled with every post-birth thing you could possibly need. Wendy has a Nurse-friend who has had, like, a gazillion kids, so she knows all the tricks of the trade.”

You smiled, hugging Kate. “Thank you.”

“Oh, and, Clint,” Kate handed him. “This is more for the baby, but I figured you could hold onto it for her until she grows up.”

Inside was a kid’s bow and arrow with an old, small carving in the top.

K.B

And then underneath it,

E.B

“Figured it should be passed down to the next generation of Hawkeyes,”

Clint tried his best to keep his emotions in check as he smiled at the meaning of this gift.

The bow and arrow that had once belonged to Kate now belonged to his daughter and when she was old enough, she could learn to shoot just like her dad.

“Thank you, Kate. Really. This means…a lot.”

You rubbed your hand over his forearm before taking his hand in yours.

After an hour, and lots of pictures, everyone else headed home and you and Clint were left with you baby girl, fast asleep in the hospital cot.

“Our very own baby Hawkeye.” you smiled, leaning on Clint’s chest as his hand rested on the side of the cot, his eyes only leaving his daughter to look at you.

“I never thought I could be this scared and happy at the same time.”

“Ditto.”

“We can do this, right?” Clint asked you.

“She’s here now, we don’t have much of a choice.”

Clint chuckled and looked back at his daughter. “True. God, I can’t believe she’s here.”

“I know,” you smiled.

Clint kissed the top of your head, holding you closer before looking at you. “I love you.”

You looked up to him and nodded. “I love you, too.”

Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips before leaning his head against yours.

“I know this is nearly 2 years, too late, but…do you want to get dinner with me tomorrow?”

You chuckled, smiling. “I’d love to.”

“Great, I’ll meet you here, 6 o’clock, Benny’s included? I’ll be the one sitting beside you.”

Laying your arm over his stomach and leaning in closer, still smiling, you replied; “I can’t wait.”

Smiling, you could hear the thrill come from Clint’s heart inside his chest before he placed another kiss on your head and you both kept your eyes on your daughter.

Your baby Hawkeye, Evelyn Natasha Barton.

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shewhohangsoutincemeteries · 1 year ago

Text

appreciation

Clint Barton x F!Reader

Prompt: “is that my shirt?”

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

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

Word Count: 1,616

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, seriously. Now stop arguing.”

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

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

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

“Fuck…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck…”

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

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

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

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

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

“You can say that again.”

“Damn.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

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

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

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

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wild-lavender-rose · 10 months ago

Note

Hi love! I don't know if you still take requests, but looking at your MASH content and I forgot how much I fell in love with this series. If possible, with the Hurt/ Comfort Alphabet, I was thinking Nightmare x Unable to Breath for Hawkeye. Reader had succumbed to a bad case of pneumonia and is having to stay in Post- OP to gain some antibiotics via IV. With Hawkeye taking the night shift, he hears reader mumbling and stirring in her cot as she has a horrible nightmare. He wakes her up which startles her and throws her into a slight panic which makes it hard for her to breath from the sickness and the panic. Hope you're having an amazing day/night!

Hey, Mer! I will never not love and want to write for this series, these men *deep sigh of longing* I absolutely love everything about this show. I hope you enjoy!

Warning: Description of nightmare, pneumonia symptoms, panic attack, struggling for breath

"No. No! Leave me alone!"

"Hey, easy, easy,"

"No," you bolted upright, finding yourself tangled in the arms of Hawkeye. The demon in your dream vanished, replaced by the recuperating soldiers lying in the cots around you in post op.

Hawkeye was there, his blue eyes worried as he held you upright and brushed the sweaty hair from your face. "Easy, it's okay. You're safe, it's okay,"

You looked into his eyes, seeking his stability. You were sweaty and shaking all over, and the congestion was making it hard to breathe. You had been brought to post op for antibiotics after a common cold had mutated into pneumonia. The past couple days had been a haze of pain killers and fever. dreams, usually involving demons. It was hard to breathe when you were calm, but now it felt impossible.

"H-Hawk," you rasped, gripping his arms. "Can't, I can't,"

"Look at me, sweetheart. Just look at me." Hawkeye took deep breaths that you tried to copy. "Slow down, just focus on breathing."

You nodded, panic easing as your breathing began to slow. The nightmare left you weak and exhausted. You leaned over, resting your head against Hawkeye's shoulder. "I love you."

The words slipped out, unfiltered, a result of your illness and the warm, overwhelming safety you felt in his arms.

"I love you too." Hawkeye pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Just rest now."

Fanfic Masterlist

#mash hawkeye pierce #hawkeye pierce #hawkeye x you #hawkeye x reader #hawkeye x y/n #mash show #hawkeye mash #mash fanfiction #mash hawkeye #mash #hawkeye pierce x reader #Hawkeye pierce x you #Hawkeye pierce x y/n #mash series #mash 4077

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steinfellds · 2 years ago

Text

Not Your Hero

Pairing: Kate x Fem!Reader

Summary: Kate gets too wrapped up in her hero life and stops contributing to her relationship with you, you don't think you can stay with her anymore.

Warnings: angst without a happy ending, fighting, mention of depression, blood, injuries.

945 words

/ masterlist / / k.b masterlist /

"...That newest Avenger, Kate Bishop, is just incredible! Have you seen that video of her shooting that bow? She's insane."

You sighed softly and closed the book you had resting in your lap. You had decided to go to the library after Kate had cancelled another date night to distract yourself from the anger and sadness you felt. Though everywhere you went, Kate is always mentioned.

You left the library quickly, knowing that tears would form in your eyes. You loved Kate so much and it hurt that she put her work over you. You just wanted her to give you the love and affection that she used to give.

You hadn't driven your car to the library because you needed fresh air so you started to walk back to your and Kate's apartment (though it was really turning into your apartment with Kate's absence)

When you arrived at the apartment, your heart skipped a beat. Kate's car was parked out the front. You hadn't physically spoken to Kate in a week and you weren't mentally prepared to see her.

You went to unlock the door with your keys but froze. The door was already opened and had blood smeared on the handle.

You quickly ran into the apartment, "Kate?" Your voice was full of panic and stress. How hurt was she? Could she be dead?

The horrible thoughts started to crowd in your head.

The further you stepped into the apartment, the more blood you saw. It was smeared on the walls, it was on the floor. It was everywhere.

"Jesus fucking christ, Kate. Where are you?"

A loud slam came from the kitchen.

You ran into the kitchen and gasped at the sight of a shirtless Kate leaning against the counter with blood dripping from a massive gash across her stomach.

"Kate, what the actual fuck!" You yelled, making Kate jump in fear.

"I'm sorry, Y/n. I know there is a lot of blood and I promise I'll clean it up after this." Kate hissed out, her face full of pain.

You shook your head and grabbed the first aid kit from under the sink. You didn't know anything about first aid so you handed the kit to Kate.

"Do you want to explain to me why our house is covered in your blood?" You demanded. You honestly felt like screaming at Kate. The anger of her leaving you constantly and now the house being covered in blood was pushing you over the edge.

"It doesn't matter-"

"It fucking matters, Kate. I haven't seen you in a week and I come back home to you being covered in blood!"

"I know, I know! I'm sorry but I had this mission Clint needed me to go on and it went sideways." Kate let out a soft grunt when she pressed on her wound in the wrong way.

"Of course, it's from your work. Kate, do you ever think before you go on missions? Or do you just jump into them without ever thinking how your death would affect people if you died?" You didn't hold back your tears this time. You wanted Kate to see how destroyed she made you feel.

"I do think of that, Y/n," Kate argued. She had cleaned up all the blood and was working on stopping the blood from flowing out.

"Do you though?"

Kate glanced up at you, her eyes were shimmering with unshed tears. You couldn't bring yourself to pity her though. She had hurt you so much and it was her time to hurt as well.

"No- You know what? I can't do this, Kate. We're done." You turned around and started walking towards your shared bedroom with Kate.

When you slammed the door shut behind you, memories that you made with Kate in this room started to come back.

You remember when Kate got some sticky, glow-in-the-dark stars and stuck them to the roof. You remember feeling annoyed because it would leave a sticky feeling but then melted when you saw what Kate had set up.

She had put a bunch of blankets and pillows on your bed, creating a relaxing, fluffy spot to sit. She had a galaxy light pointed towards the roof, creating a space look.

You two had cuddled together and spoken about random stuff for hours. It was one of your favourite memories.

When you were just about done packing all your clothes, Kate slowly opened the door. She had her hand over her stomach and was limping.

"Please don't leave me, Y/n. I need you," Kate whimpered, leaning against the door for extra support.

You scoffed, "You need me now? Yeah, well I needed you months ago when I was doing my big exams and you weren't there for that. I also needed you when I was depressed, yet you weren't there for that either."

"I'm sorry-"

"You aren't sorry, don't pull that bullshit with me." You turned your back to Kate and continued packing, anger flowing through your bones.

"We can work through this! It's just a little bump in our relationship." Kate exclaimed, "My mom knows a person who does couple-"

"Stop it, Kate." You yelled. You were sick of her trying to bargain your relationship and you were sick of her voice.

"I love you

You slammed your suitcase shut and quickly walked past Kate. You couldn't even look at her. You have no idea what Kate was yelling out to you as you left and honestly, you didn't want to know.

All you knew was that an incredible amount of weight had been lifted off your shoulders as you drove away from Kate.

#kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x you #kate bishop x y/n #kate x reader #kate x you #kate x y/n #hawkeye x you #hawkeye x y/n #hawkeye x reader #kate bishop #kate bishop mcu #kate bishop angst

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marvelouslytrekking · 2 years ago

Text

Wrong Room

Pairing: Clint Barton/Reader (gender neutral) Summary: A night out with Natasha leads to you not remember how you got in a certain Avenger’s bed Warnings: drinking, black out drunk Word count: 1764 A/N: If you saw this get posted last week, no you didn’t. (I deleted it cause there was literally no interaction so please give this some love if you see it)

You knew that taking shots so late in the night was probably not your smartest idea. You were already quite drunk but Natasha suggested shots and suddenly you had done 3 back to back and you immediately knew you’d regret it in the morning but that was future you’s problem.

It was so rare that you had the chance to fully let loose so you were both taking full advantage of the opportunity. You were back on the dance floor with Nat, somehow you had another drink in your hand and you were having a great time.

It wasn’t much longer that Natasha told you she was heading out, you didn’t miss her dragging out the cute girl she had been flirting with all night. You rolled your eyes happily at your friend and decided to make your own way home. There was no one at the bar that you had wanted to go home with so you figured your bed was the next best thing.

You managed to hail a cab easily and gave them your address. The night shift of security guards chuckled at you as you struggled to make your way to the elevators. You did, however, notice one turn off the cameras so that Tony wouldn’t be able to use the video against you later. You would have to remember and bring them a fruit basket. Though you had a feeling that you wouldn’t be fully remembering tonight.

You finally made it into the elevator and quickly clicked your floor before bending down to unstrap your shoes. You were sick of wearing them and this would get you one step closer to being able to crawl in bed.

You made your way into the kitchen. Setting your shoes on the counter, you knew it was slightly gross, but you would make sure to wipe the counter down in the morning. You made yourself a glass of water, somewhere in the back of your mind, you had thought about the fact that you definitely hadn’t left any dishes in your sink and yet they were piling quite high in the sink, however you decided that your weren’t exactly in the right state of mind and that would be something to worry about in the morning. You finished one glass of water before filling it up again and heading into the bedroom.

You were too tired and too drunk to bother turning on the light. You knew the layout enough to not worry too much about running into anything. You set the glass down on the nightstand before stripping off your clothes from the night. You were tired but there was no way you would be sleeping in such an uncomfortable outfit. You quickly went over to the dresser and pulled out the t-shirt that was on top.. You were happy to realize you managed to pull out an oversized one, perfect for sleeping in. You were sure it was probably one that you have stolen from Clint.

You finally made your way into bed and fell asleep almost as soon as your head hit the pillow.

Had you taken longer to fall asleep you might have noticed that there was another body in the bed you had crawled into. You also might have felt them as they instinctively reached for you in their sleep and that they had quickly wrapped you in their arms.

You woke up slowly, feeling foggy and disgusting. You had a massive headache, you felt like you were going to vomit at any moment and you were sweating. The last thing might have had something to do with the warm weight you felt behind you. It took you a minute to register that it was another person that was currently clinging to you.

You immediately stiffened, trying to recall the night before, but the last thing you could recall was Nat declaring that you were doing shots. You groaned as you mentally cursed her for convincing you that you could keep up with her drinking.

As you looked at your surroundings you were confused as you recognized the room. It wasn’t yours but it was also clearly one in the tower. It suddenly hit you like a ton of bricks. You were in Clint’s room. You found yourself holding your breath as you slowing turned your head to confirm that you were in fact being held by the archer.

“Fuck” You muttered as you tried to think of how to get out of this situation. You also were trying to rake your brain for the ending to your night. Clint had declined the invitation to come out, so you were trying to decide how you ended up in his bed. You also had no way of knowing what had happened and if you had finally made your feelings known to Clint but couldn’t remember it, you would never forgive yourself. Nor would Clint ever let you live that down.

But speaking of that, had you come to Clint in such a state as you were obviously in last night, there was no way he would let anything happen. You had to hold out hope that you had just made your way here drunk and Clint just allowed you to cuddle with him. It wasn’t like you had never shared a bed with him, but usually you were in more clothes.

You realized then that you were only in your underwear and what looked like his shirt, not helping clarify what had happened last night. You had also noticed that he wasn’t wearing a shirt when you had quickly peaked over your shoulder.

You were trying to decide what to do, whether you should quietly slip out of his room and try and pretend like nothing had happened or if you should stay and talk to him to figure it out.

You didn’t get a chance to make a decision as you suddenly felt him stirring. A low groan escaped his lips as he slightly stretched beside you. “Good morning,” he quietly mumbled.

It wasn’t even a millisecond after that, that you were suddenly pushed out of the bed with a quick force as Clint let out a blood curdling scream. You weren’t sure what his reaction would be, but that had not occurred to you.

“Ow” You groaned as you sat up from your new position on the floor.

“What the fuck!” Clint exclaimed. “How- wait, y/n?”

You were left even more confused. Maybe he had decided to come out and you were both drunk.

“Yep, it’s me you just pushed out of your bed.” You sighed, “I was hoping you could explain what happened last night but that seems like it won’t be the case.”

There was an awkward pause, which you realized was because Clint was trying to read your lips. You sighed before quickly signing what you had just said so he didn’t have to try and guess. You added ‘I guess you must have decided to drink after all’ at the end.

“No.” Clint replied with a perplexed look on his face. He quickly turning to his nightstand to grab his hearing aids and put them in before continuing his thought. You finally forced yourself to move from your spot on the floor and sat down on the edge of the bed. You were still feeling shitty because of the hangover you had known you would be dealing with today.

“I didn’t drink anything last night besides coffee. I watched a few episodes of ______ before going to bed. Last I had heard from you, you had sent a rather incoherent text, something about shots and Natasha.” Clint explained his knowledge of the night.

“That’s where my memory gets hazy. I recall Nat ordering a few rounds of shots and that’s about the last thing I remember from last night. Then I woke up here, in your shirt apparently. I thought maybe- never mind, I wasn't sure what happened and then you threw me out of your bed which was only more confusing.” You explained your own account of the night.

“Wait you thought we-“ Clint looked at you with shock

“No, no, but also I couldn’t figure out why I was in your bed with nothing but your shirt on.” At that comment, Clint’s eyes drifted down to the shirt in questions. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t notice the way his eyes lingered on where the hem of the shirt was laying.

“You sound almost disappointed that we didn’t” Clint says with a cocky smile spreading across his face.

You rolled your eyes at him. “No I’d much rather remember that”

“Oh well if that’s your concern, no need to worry, if we had there would be no way you’d be forgetting it anytime soon.” His smile only grew at your admission. Truth be told, that second half had meant to stay in your head but apparently you still weren’t thinking clearly.

“Cocky much?” You chuckled at him. Moving to start picking up your clothes that you were finding thrown throughout the room.

“I am. I might make you forget your own name, but you wouldn’t be forgetting the experience.” He said in a low voice. You noticed he had stepped directly in front of you as you stood up from retrieving an article of your clothes from the floor.

You wanted to say something snarky in return but as you met Clint’s eyes, the words fell from your throat. You found your throat dry and yourself at a loss for words.

“Clint, I-“ You started but were quickly stopped as he took another step towards you. His gaze moved to your lips before he leaned in until his lips were ghosting over your own. He was giving you all the time in the world to pull away, to say that you didn’t want this but that was the last thing you planned to do.

You reached up, placing your hands of either side of his neck, before snaking them around his neck, interlacing your fingers through his hair and you closed the distance between you.

“What do you say we make what you thought happened last night a reality,” Clint suggested with a smile as you finally pulled away.

“I think that sounds like a great idea,” You smiled back “But I would really like a shower first”

“Don’t you worry, you’ll be needing one when I am done with you,” He smirked before pulling you into another heated kiss and leading you back towards the bed.

#Clint Barton x reader #Hawkeye x reader #Clint Barton/reader #hawkeye/reader #Clint x reader #Clint/reader #Clint Barton x you #Clint Barton/you #Hawkeye x you #Hawkeye/you #Hawkeye #Clint barton #hawkeye reader insert #Clint Barton reader insert #marvel #Jeremy renner #Jeremy renner x reader #Aimee writes

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ynscrazylife · 2 years ago

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hc for being kate bishop's sister?

Being Kate Bishop’s Younger Sister Would Include . . .

As Kate’s younger sister (and her being a superhero), she’d be very protective over you

And she’d totally want to teach you to use a bow and arrow and how to fence

The two of you fought like sisters would, but Kate always looked out for you

Even while she was at college, the two of you were constantly texting and FaceTiming

You also thought that her trick with the bell tower was cool

You hated going to the galas as much as Kate did

As kids, the two of you would frequently sneak off somewhere and get into trouble

Your dad found it amusing but your mom? Not so much

This gala was no different. You definitely approved of Kate’s suit and the two of you stuck together

When Kate found out about your mom’s engagement to Jack, you were as surprised and as pissed as she was

When you guys found Lucky, you begged Kate to take the dog home with her. She had her own apartment while you were stuck at home

“Y/N, do you really think that I’m going to be able to take care of a dog?” / “. . . Good point. You’re a disaster.” / “Hey!” (Kate ended up taking the dog anyway, but still)

When she got into the whole mess with the Ronin suit, Kate was very reluctant to involve you

Clint took a liking to you, though. He and you were constantly teaming up on Kate

The main reason you wanted to get involved with Kate and Clint’s business? You could hardly stand staying with your mom and Jack (He’s trying. Failing, but trying)

After Kate and Clint escaped after being kidnapped, she finally allowed you to help (mostly to patch them up)

You were just excited to be working with an Avenger

Clint became fond of the two of you, you reminded him of his own children

Yelena also took a liking to you, she didn’t want you to get in harm’s way even though she got into fights with Clint and Kate

You ended up attending the final gala with Clint and Kate and you served as a look-out/fed information to them

When the fighting broke out, Kate was definitely frazzled, as she wanted to watch out for you but she also had a job to do. She ultimately had to trust that you could take care of yourself

Yelena ended up saving you from some of the Tracksuit Mafia, to which Kate was grateful for

You reminded Yelena of herself and how she was as a little sister to Natasha

You were very shocked to find out the truth about your mom and you and Kate helped each other through it

It involved lots of hugging, crying, sometimes screaming, and move nights

Kate gives the best hugs. You can fight me on that

Her hugs are tight tho but you’re used to not being able to breathe when she hugs you so it’s okay

(You wished you had a camera for the look on Yelena’s face when Kate hugged her)

She’s always been the most fun person to hang out with

She can make anything fun, even chores and studying

Like, the girl will procrastinate all her own schoolwork but when it comes to you? She’ll do anything to help you and make it enjoyable

Though she definitely makes sure you’re taking breaks and will enlist Yelena or Clint to help her if you’re stubborn

There’s been multiple times where Clint has had to throw you over his shoulder while Kate hides your notebooks just so you’ll take a break

Ice skating with Kate is very fun too but if you’re holding onto her and she falls, she is definitely bringing you down with her

She drags you to see the Rockefeller Christmas tree every year, no matter how cold it is

Trust me, she’ll give you loads of blankets and not cocoa as a reward

Kate’s also convinced that Lucky loves you more than her

Lucky is your favorite. You don’t come over to her house for her anymore, only him

The two of you are inseparable

Kate also definitely takes you along with her to the Barton family Christmas

The two of you bounce ideas back-and-forth for different code names for her

TONS OF SNOWBALL FIGHTS

Kate can take it to the extreme sometimes

And snow men

And snow angels

There is no limit at all

She will force you to watch Frosty the Snowman and Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer

All in all though, Kate is the best big sister

She takes her job as one very seriously

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vibraniumarm06-bucket · 2 years ago

Text

It's Hard To Think With You Around

Summary: Drabble - Clint catches you on the phone with Steve and his jealous side is released.

Pairing: Clint Barton x Reader

C.B Masterlist || Main Masterlist

“Who was that?” Clint’s voice spooked you as you didn’t realise he was home yet. “Who was what?” You quip back, your heart beating fast hoping he doesn’t ruin the surprise you had begun to plan for him.

“The man’s voice on the phone” Clint spits out jealousy laced into his tone. You close your eyes trying to calm yourself instead of jumping onto Clint. Somehow seeing him jealous was absolutely sexy to you. “And don’t play dumb,” he says as he walks around the couch kneeling in front of you, giving you no room to escape. You bite your lip trying to hide your nerves, you see his eyes following the movement and have to swallow hard to stop the butterflies moving around in your stomach.

“It was Steve,” You say softly not looking him in the eyes. If you did you would spill the surprise and the team would be upset with you. “Aw come on Sugar, you know I know it was Steve, what did he want?” He asks leaning forward, cupping your chin and tilting it slightly. “Look at me baby, I wanna see your eyes as you speak to me, I know when you lie” . You gulp again as you meet his stare. His warm breath against you, his hand cupping your jaw and his other hand on your thigh rubbing it gently made it hard to think.

“It was nothing important” You manage to get out. Clint tsks softly “Then why was he calling if it was nothing, Sugar?” . You whimper softly as he spreads your thighs pushing his body closer to yours, his hand moving from your jaw to your neck. “Don’t lie to me, baby girl” his voice sent shivers down your spine and you couldn’t help the whine that came out. Why was it so hard to form sentences when he was like this with you?

You look up at the ceiling as if the team were there and whisper a mental prayer saying how sorry you are for the words that are about to slip your lips. “Surprise party. Your birthday” You say looking him straight in the eyes and seeing them darken. A smile bursts across his face “That’s a good girl, thought I would have to go up against a super soldier for a minute”. You shake your head slightly “No one makes me feel the way you do. When you touch me, my mind is gone” You mumble blushing as you admit this to him. “I know, Sugar. You just crumble under my touch. Now be a good girl for me okay?”. You look up at him and nod your head, a huge smile breaking out across your face. “ Always for you”.

#clint barton x you #clint x reader #clint barton #clint barton x y/n #clint barton x reader #hawkeye #hawkeye x you #hawkeye x y/n #hawkeye x reader #the avengers #steve rogers #jealousy #dom!clint

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vilentia · 2 years ago

Text

Two Worlds Embrace

Clint Barton x reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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saltsicklover · 2 years ago

Text

The Same Stuff

Title: The Same Stuff

Pairing: Clint Barton x Reader (First Person)

Word Count: 6,320

Rating: PG13

Warnings: Age Gap (10 Years), Mentions of Death, Probably poorly written, not enough plot to justify the ending.

Disclaimer: I do not own Clint Barton, or anything related to Marvel within this piece. Not Proof Read or BETA'd. All mistakes are my own.

I do not consent for my work to be edited, reposted, or translated.

You are responsible for your own media consumption. This is a work of fiction that contains mature themes. If you are sensitive to those subjects, please do not read.

Life has been swimming past me since I was seventeen. All of the choices I have made, things I have accomplished, life I have lived were made in some sort of fugue state. I was there, I know that for sure, but one day- today- at twenty-four, I "woke up". I was no longer treading just to stay afloat. And maybe that would be okay, to wake up from a muddled dream to actually feel like my life was back in my control, if I hadn't found myself in this situation. A job interview for a position I am well underqualified for and applied to when I was too stoned to think of the crushing anxiety that I might have to endure for such a task. How hard could being a personal assistant be, anyway?

I sit in a beautiful lobby, every part sparkling clean in the sunlight that drifts in through the wall of windows. I am completely underdressed, the dirt that has been worked into the threads of my jeans over years of wear is now meeting the white suede of the couch beneath me. Jeans, for a start, did not belong among the group of people I find myself in. Each person dressed in their business best, hoping to impress the interviewer and intimidate each other. My choice of jeans and long waffle shirt has earned more than their fair share of eyerolls. I wonder what they would say if they knew I washed my clothes at a laundromat.

I look down to my boots, the crumbling mud falling onto the pristine marble floor. I can't help but muster a laugh at the sight. I have no briefcase, unlike the other interviewees, let alone any paperwork to hold.

The bag I do carry is old, patches and visible mending holding it together. It was once my mother's, made for her by a man she worked with during what she called the Kermis days. As if the word spiced up what day to day life actually was for the two of us. We spent many hours under the big top, mending costumes and tending to the performers, most never knowing a life without her, or me, as I held tightly to her skirts, afraid to lose her in the shuffle.

I remember how she used to cut their hair with swift movements of her scissors, and the way she used to tend to their blisters and new forming scars with careful touches of homemade salve. I dreamed of the smell night after night, the clover mixing with the leftover firework smoke, powdery and full. During the Kermis days, we never had to worry about the clothes we adorned our body with or the way in which we presented, all of the thoughts busied on the performers as they were sewn into their tight costumes.

I left that life at seventeen, and life seemed to drift away from me. I loaded into a van with a couple of the token "gypsy girls" the derogatory term never escaping them for as long as they worked under that tent. We made our money reading tarot out of the back of the van and taking any odd job we could find as we drove cross country. "We will make it big in the city" We'd laugh like a prayer, each passing city limit sign feeling more like a death wish than a ticket to freedom.

In the years since, we have all lived in a one bedroom apartment on the outskirts of the city, our revolving schedules and bed sharing became a sort of solstice as we eclipsed each other with tight hugs and well wished words for the days ahead.

"Excuse me, is there a Miss L/N? here" A neutral voice pulls me from my thoughts, dragging me back into the lobby, my eyes still glued on the dirt I've managed to knock from my boots. "Miss L/N?"

"Oh! Hi! Yes I am here!" I stand quickly, absentmindedly pulling the sleeves of my shirt down over my hands, taking the cuffs into balls in my palms. A tall man in a almost fitting dark suit stands in front of the desk I checked in at about a half our ago. He looks at me, eyes wandering over my frame before gesturing me forward with the clipboard in his hands.

I try not to think about the trail of crumbling earth I leave behind me as I walk to him. He turns on his heel, not bothering to speak another word. I follow him down a large hallway, glass on either side allowing for beautiful views of the city. I'd look out them, if I cared to know what the world looked like from this high up, but the anxiety that twists my stomach makes sure to keep my eyes trained on the back of the man's head. His dark hair is beginning to twist at the nape, overdue for a cut. I move a bit to the right of him as he shuffles along, glancing at the length of his too-long sideburns and the way they are beginning to hide the sides of his face.

"You need a haircut." The words slip from my lips before I can stop them. There is no sweetness to the comment, only blunt direction. The tone sounding more like my mother than myself. My eyes go wide as I slap a hand over my mouth. He turns to pull a door open, looking at me with scrutinizing eyes, narrow and impassive.

"I'll take that into account," He deadpans with a crumpled up smirk. He quickly turns his attention inside the room, tilting his head to signal me inside. "Team, this is-" His voice moves to the background of my mind, introducing me to the group of people in the room before disappearing with the closing of the door.

I drag my eyes across the panel of people sitting on the plush furniture. Each wears a sticky nametag, names drawn out in pen. Bruce a dark featured, handsome man sits on one of the armchairs, a clipboard in hand. A cute, deep skinned man sits on the sofa next to him, the name Sam scribbled across his nametag. Sat next Sam is a very muscular brunette wearing the name 'Bucky'. Next to him is a very normal appearing man wearing a bright smile, my eyes dash down to the nametag- Scott. An unassuming name for an unassuming man. My eyes wander over to the loveseat where a beautiful young girl is sitting, the name Kate on her nametag in scribbles.

"Cricket?" A small voice whispers, sounding from the corner of the group. The nickname makes my heart jump, adrenaline soring through me at the drop of a hat. Cricket, a nickname I haven't heard since I left the big top. My gaze jumps from Kate to the man sitting next to her, his face a scrunched up mix of amazement and confusion. There is a murmur among the group as they look amongst each other for some sort of clarification.

I finally make eye contact with the owner of the voice, bravery surging through me. I look over his features more closely this time. Time has written itself onto his soft features, dark bags under his eyes from lack of sleep. I would know those eyes anywhere, their soft blue gray burned into my memory.

"Frass," The name spills from my lips, the end catching in my throat a bit. We hold eye contact like it's fragile, too heavy to let go of, to break, eyes boring into each other's. The memories of us spill into my head like oil slick, slippery, coating any other thought with their sticky image.

"You're going to hurt yourself if you keep trying to sew this up in the dark, and your Mama will have your head if I bleed on this costume," Clint scolds warningly, fidgeting beneath my touch.

"Well if you stopped moving I could sew this up and get you out before your cue with a proper costume," I stitch the sleeve to the yolk of his shirt carefully, the needle moving easily through the fabric. I stand carefully on a stool to reach the rip with ease. "Or I can send you out there with it ripped and we can see who's head my mother will have then." The archer huffs out a mumble of an apology, bouncing carefully on his toes. I keep sewing, moving along with his gentle motions, careful not to poke him with the needle.

"You know, you're pretty good at this for a kid." He sends the backhanded compliment my way, the words stinging my heart. I hum at him, a makeshift thank you.

"You know, as the adult here, I could leave you to fix your own costume." I inform him, bite in my voice, pulling the last stitch through. He fumbles around with the bow in his hands, fingertips brushing over it's length. "And I am twelve, basically a teenager, not a kid, and my birthday is coming up. Next week. " I tell him, cutting the thread with my teeth. I whisper the last part, trying not to over hint.

"Yeah, sure, whatever you say, Cricket." He laughs, turning to face me. I make a spin motion with my finger. He holds his arms out and spins, allowing me to take in the rest of his costume in full.

"You're all set," I tell him, pushing the needle into the pincushion on my wrist. "Why do you call me that, anyway?"

"You'd hate the reason, Cricket." He laughs again, brushing a hand through his spiky hair. I huff at the man as I climb off of the stool. "Okay fine, if you really want to know. It's because you've always been such a small thing, and you always hum while you work, just like your mom." He states coolly. I can't help but roll my eyes. "See, I knew you'd hate it!"

I pluck the stool from the ground as I turn to wander off. "You know what, Clint Francis," I turn back to him, now standing a few feet away, "Just for that, you've earned yourself a new nickname." He quirks an eyebrow at me, still visible in the low light behind the curtains as he tries to hide the disgust that flashes across his face from hearing his middle name. A devilish smirk creeps over my lips as I look at him. "Have a good show, Frass." I wave at him with a wiggle of my fingers.

"What does that even mean? He questions me, eyebrows knit together but a small smile plays at his lips. I stop in my tracks, turning around to meet his gaze once more.

"Francis the ass," I state, corners of my mouth curling up into a deeply devious smirk. I don't even wait for a response before I turn to leave.

"Hey, Cricket!" He calls after me, "You're the most annoying kid sister I've ever had!"

"Not your sister, Frass." I shout behind me as I push a curtain to the side, ready to disappear out into the lot. "Go shoot something, would you?"

I always knew my little crush on the much older boy was silly, something I was teased for by my mother. Maybe it wasn't even a crush, maybe it was a sort of knowing, that his soul and mine were made of the same stardust. My mom used to laugh when I'd say that, a knowing look falling over her features. "Whatever you say, sweet pea, whatever you say." She would repeat as she brushed her hands over my hair. "You can love him when you are an adult. Then ten years won't be such a big difference, okay?" I would roll my eyes at her, fingers working over a costume piece as I worked on my invisible stitches.

Clint held a special place in my heart, a new sort of love I never knew how to name. Cashmere told me one night as she read my tarot that we had a destiny, the universe pulling us together. She said it in a teasing way, maybe to help justify my young feelings. Her words only cemented what I already knew, Clint and I came from the same stuff, the borealis where souls were made. Essence shimmering in the great nebula, stardust turned sentient.

I counted down the days until adulthood, but I only made it 547 days before Clint left the circus, leaving me behind at the tender age of fourteen.

"Is anyone going to fill us in here?" Sam breaks the silence. I can't seem to look anywhere but Clint, my eyes tracing over his figure. He wears a dark purple tee-shirt and a pair of black cargo pants, his muscle visible beneath the clothing. I fight off a smile.

"Right, right, hello." I finally speak to the rest of the room. I turn to nod a 'thank you' to the man who walked me into the room only to find out he had already disappeared. I try to fight off the embarrassment that crawls over my skin, leaving pinpricks in it's wake, turning my skin a bright shade of crimson as I walk over to the empty armchair next to Bruce. "My name is Y/N L/N, it's nice to meet you all," I offer my kindest smile, eyes drawing themselves back to Clint. I want to hit him, or hug him, or both. Maybe I just crave the feeling of his skin.

"And you're here for the job interview, right?" Bruce asks, his voice wavering slightly. I nod, running my sweat slick hands over the tops of my jeans. I look at Bruce, eyebrows raised in an attempt to seem inviting. I smile, but it doesn't quite reach my eyes.

"I know we are supposed to ask questions about the interview, but I've gotta know more about what's going on here," Kate speaks as she looks around the room. She is picking at the ends of her hair with her fingertips like she is scrutinizing every split end. Clint adverts his eyes at her words, focusing his line of sight straight at the floor in front of his feet. The group voices agreements with Kate as they look between us again, each deciding on who they want to focus on with a trained gaze. Thankfully almost everyone settles on Clint, eyeing him carefully, but he doesn't acknowledge them.

"We sorta grew up together," I finally speak, folding my arms across my chest. "But, uhh, he left before I was grown." The tension in the air between us grows thicker the longer the silence lingers in the air. A guilty look falls over Clint's features, a blush crawling up from under the collar of his shirt. I stifle a laugh, if anyone should be embarrassed for how the situation went down, it should be me. But it's not like he would know anything of it.

"Mom, what are you doing with Clint's costume?" I question her, pulling out a stool to sit at the table next to her. She is making quick work of pulling off all the sequence and trim, sorting them into piles, small and careful. She looks up at me with sad eyes, a smile pressed over the thin lines of her lips.

"Oh Cricket, honey," She begins, tears welling up in her big brown eyes, "I don't know how to tell you this, but," She sets down the costume, holding her hands out to me. I take them cautiously, her bulbus joints creaking as she closes her hands around mine. "Clint left a couple of days ago, we were all hoping that he would be coming back, but there has been no sign of him. So, Mr. Carson is having me take his costume apart to save on materials for the new one we will have to make when they find someone to fill his place," She explains each bit slowly and carefully, running her thumbs over the backs of my hands to try and comfort the storm she knows is brewing within me.

I can feel my chest tighten, tears pushing out through my tightly closed eyes. I don't want to believe her. Clint wouldn't just leave, especially without saying goodbye. I can feel a distant sob escape me, my head too clouded with thoughts. I can feel my mom pull me into her arms, snaking them around me in a tight embrace. She coos and shushes me as the tears stream down my face.

That was the first of many instances like this that took over my life for the next sixteen months.

I can feel the long forgotten emotions begin to wrap themselves around my ribcage, causing a cough to crawl up the dryness of my throat. "Anyway, let's get this interview going, shall we?" I ask, pulling a cheek numbing smile onto my face. I try and push down the hurt, but it just squeezed me tighter.

"Of course," Sam coughs, clearing his throat of all the tension, "So, I suppose you know we are interviewing for an assistant. We are looking for someone to move into the compound up state and watch over everything up there. We all come and go so often for missions its hard to do simple things like grocery shopping. We try and keep up with each other's schedules, but we need someone to work as the go between when we aren't all in the same place. We do have a maid service, so you wouldn't need to worry about that." Sam explains, running a finger down his clipboard.

"Okay, sounds easy enough." I acknowledge with a nod of my head.

"What kind of skills do you have?" Scott counters, "How would you be any better than the rest of the people we have already spoken to today?" His tone is curious, not at all daunting.

"Well, I can cook, I can sew. I basically kept the big top turning after my mom passed away. That is, managing people time and making sure everyone was on the same page when shit hit the fan and we would have to move acts around." I explain, gesturing with my hands. "I am also quiet, and clean, despite my current appearance-"

"Mama died?"

"Clint, you were in a circus?"

Bucky and Clint speak at the same time, interrupting me. I can feel his eyes burrowing into my profile, and I know that if I look I will see tears in his eyes. I couldn't handle that, I know I couldn't.

"Yes, she did. When I was fifteen." I explain, wringing my hands. I stifle down more feeling of hurt before I continue. "But as I was saying, I haven't had any complaints when it comes to roommates, and I keep my word. Clint can vouch for that one." I pin that on him, knowing that he owes me as much. His name left my lips and it felt clunky on my tongue. I haven't called him 'Clint' in years, and it hurt.

The group gaze flickers over to Clint, and he just nods, a half hearted murmur crawling out of his lips. He has his head buried in his hands, elbows to knees. I can feel the pang of hurt run through me at the sight of him like this. It has always hurt the same way.

"Well, this has been, interesting. I think we will cut it here, take a break. Thank you for coming in. We will give you a call when we make our final decision." Bruce speaks, pulling my attention to him. He stands, holding his hand out for me to shake. I take it with a firm squeeze, just how Clint taught me so many years ago.

I bid the rest of the group goodbye before walking out the door. I follow back down the large hallway, the shock of the last fifteen minutes rising in me. By the time I reach the lobby, I can feel the broken pieces of my heart start to wobble in their place. After years of stuffing down the feelings of heartbreak and abandonment from Clint and his reaction to my mother's passing, all the old emotions seem to rush back through me.

I know I shouldn't hurt, so much life has passed since it all happened, but all I can think of now is the pressure of it all against my ribcage and the ever looming prayer that repeats itself over and over and over again. "Do not call me, do not call me, do not call me."

I duck into a nearby bathroom, crashing hard against the tile floor in front of the toilet before a mix of bile and anguish escapes me. I empty my stomach into the porcelain, the smell of lemon cleaner and bleach numbing the soreness of my chest. Tears leave hot, wet trails down my cheeks.

All I can think about is the last encounter I had with Clint before he left the big top. The way he spoke to me, soft and feathery.

"Hey Cricket, can I ask you something?" Clint grabs my bicep as I walk by, a big bowl of chili in my hands. Everyone is gathered around a caravan, dinner being served before we turn in for the night. The show has long ended, the crowds disappearing with the smell of popcorn and sickly sweet cotton candy.

"Yeah, Frass, what's up?" I peer up into his eyes, my heart thrumming against my chest.

"Are you happy here?" He questions, not quite meeting my eyes. I scrunch my eyebrows with question, never having expected those words to come out of his mouth. I think over them for just a second, mulling thoughts turning over in my head like acrobats.

"Of course I am," I chuckle a bit, "I can't imagine life anywhere else. This is all I've ever known, and these guys are my family, well most of them anyway." I let my eyes graze over the group around us, taking in each of their faces in a brief sweep. A warm feeling blooms in my chest.

Fourteen, living the life most people dream of, in love with a man I've known for most of my life, and a large chosen family, who wouldn't be happy with a life like mine? Clint lets out a strangled chuckle after a moment, his hand finally dropping from my arm only to run anxiously through his hair. I offer him a soft smile.

"Yeah, of course." He answers after another moment, eyes finally catching mine. He reaches up carefully to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, the touch innocent and sweet. My smile blooms a bit wider.

"You're really a good kid, you know that?" He offers, his words holding a bit of sadness even with the upturned swing of them as they leave his lips.

"I'm not a kid, Frass" I remind him, pushing his shoulder. He just smiles down at me, squeezing my shoulder lightly before turning to the caravan. He walks away without another look back.

A few days later, I sit in the bathtub at the apartment, fully clothed with no water in the tub. The only place with any sort of quiet. I turn the pages of the novel in my hand, reading the words but none of them make it to my brain. My mind keeps drifting back to the interview and how strange the whole situation was.

It hit me yesterday, that the group was the Avengers, or what was left of them, I suppose. I interviewed for an assistant position with the damn Avengers, and Clint was there, barely making an effort to look at me. Maybe I shouldn't even be surprised with what the world has been through the past few years. At this point, you could tell me just about anything and I'd believe it.

My phone rings loudly, vibrating against the bottom of the tub, causing me to jump. I grab it quickly, answering it with a cool hello.

"Hey, hi, is this Cricket, I mean, Y/N, is this Y/N?" I cringe a little at the nickname coming over the phone.

"This is," I finally speak, my voice wavering in question, "How can I help you?"

"This is Sam, from the job interview" He notifies me. I swallow thickly, a lump forming in my throat.

"What can I do for you, Sam?" I wring my hands together, a new layer of sweat beginning to coat my palms. Fuck all of this nervous energy.

"I am calling to offer you the job. We all talked after you left and Clint spoke so highly of you, I mean, we all agreed that there couldn't be anyone better for the job after he told us some stories." My blood runs cold at his words. I flip through the memories in my brain, trying to figure out what Clint might have told them.

Before I can even think, the words leave my mouth like I am possessed. "Sam, I'd be honored to take the position." I later blame the hasty decision on the hunger that panged through me, and the yearning in my soul to be surrounded by people again, working and serving and creating.

A month goes by and I have completely moved into the upstate compound. Life is different now, steady most days. I grocery shop and tidy up the messes the team leaves after they ravage the compound when they come home from missions. I cook for them too, even though Bruce insists it wasn't a part of my job. It feels right in my soul, so I do it anyway.

I haven't seen Scott, Kate, or Sam since I moved into the compound. They have been on mission since shortly after my initial interview. I can't decide if that's better or worse than having Clint here, avoiding my eyes like he did before. We pass each other in the hall, or in the common areas, and each and every time he averts his eyes from me. I don't think he has said anything not work related to me since I moved in and it makes my soul ache.

A few months go by and no progress has been made between us. I can't help but look at him, snagging glances as we pass each other, or in meetings. The compound seems lonelier when he is on mission, and I breathe easier when he is here. Maybe I should push past this childhood crush, even if that means breaking my own heart.

I push the thought out of my head as I finish brushing my teeth. I spit the suds into the sink before rinsing out my mouth. I point at myself in the mirror, toothbrush still in hand.

"Do not mourn those who are still living, it's a waste of precious heart space," I tell myself, repeating the words my Mom used to say to the performers after they went through breakups. She used to then turn to me and tell me not to date my coworkers, a goofy smile spread over her lips. I would roll my eyes at her.

A knock at my door pulls me from the mirror pep talk. I throw my toothbrush back into the drawer before headed to the door. I pull it open, the sight of Clint greets me. I try and wipe the confused look from my face, the harsh line between my brows only easing slightly.

"Hey," He whispers, avoiding my eyes. He fumbles with his hands a bit, pulling on his fingers.

"Hi," I respond, the word barely loud enough to hear.

"Can I come in?" He questions, eyes meeting the middle of my face, not quite making it to my eyes, but definitely closer this time. I step aside, pulling the door open wider in invitation. Clint pads into the room just far enough for me to close the door behind him.

I look him over carefully as he stands awkwardly in my small living room. The dark colors of his clothes standing out against the light gray of the undecorated room. He looks like hell, deep lines of exhaustion making purchase over the tenderness of his features. The dark flesh under his eyes almost eclipse the pale blue of his iris's, offsetting their normally bright color. His hair stands up in all directions. Sweat and dirt coat his whole body, smudges greasy on the light skin of his face.

"You look like hell, Frass," I finally speak. I want to reach out and touch him, run my thumbs over the fullness of his cheeks, the apex of his lips, allowing the dirt to coat my fingertips. He chuckles a bit, light and scratchy.

"You look," He stumbles a bit, "Grown up," He finally decides on his words, bringing his lower lip between his teeth.

"I'm sure I do, it's been a long time since we talked like this," My smile falters a bit, wavering at my words. My lungs burn in my chest. "You've grown into yourself, I think," I drink him in, dirt and all. He is even more handsome than he was back then, I think, or maybe it's because I now see him through the eyes of a women, the way he is meant to be seen. A bit of guilt settles in me for looking at him so unbashful, but as he stands here in my living room, I can't help but take him in. He can't run from my gaze here.

He smiles at me this time, but its fleeting. The feeling that blooms in my chest however, isn't.

"I came to ask you about something, but I'm not sure you're going to remember it," Clint looks almost defeated at the thought, and the look on his face crushes the joy in my chest just a little.

"Okay." That's the only word I can manage. I nod, though, my lips falling into a small and tense almost-smile.

"I talked to your Mom before I left," He starts, coughing a bit to try and clear the tension, "I asked her about a rumor that was going around." I nod at him, urging him to keep talking, "But she, she wouldn't tell me if it was true or not, so I guess I am asking you if it is." He takes a step closer but there is still a world of unknown space and unsaid words between us.

I can barely think with his body this close to mine, the fog of decade old feelings clouding my judgement. It tastes sweet, nostalgic and comforting, like a glass of sun tea.

"I heard that you used to say that we were made up of the same stuff. Something about souls being created together." He mumbles the words like he is unsure of how they are supposed to be said. I can feel pinpricks of a blush blooming over my skin. His words hang in the air between us, time stopping for just a moment, freezing us in place.

Maybe, if this were eight, or four, or two years ago, I would crumble. If it was six months ago, I might be able to take them with a shot of forty proof nausea. But now, I only bristle a bit, more under his gaze than around his words.

"Yeah, what about it?" I finally question. I hate the words as soon as I say them, wishing I could snatch them right out of the air. Erase them from our history. But I know if I could, I wouldn't stop, rewinding my life to the last conversation we had about happy lives and I would lie and tell him I was just as miserable as him, and maybe he would've taken me with him.

"Did you mean it?" He looks pained, the words hanging over him, or maybe they are dragging him down.

I laugh and it's the loudest sound that has occurred between us in years.

"Frass, you came here to ask me about a childhood crush?" I lie a bit, the crush began in childhood, but I am still doing everything in my power to deny it's current existence. His eyes go a bit wide, but he tries to crinkle the rest of his expression to cover it up. I can't help but let a low chuckle fill the room again, the sound breaking through the dense air.

"Yeah, sort of, I guess," He runs a hand through his hair, but it does nothing to tame his messy locks, and I suspect it does nothing to quell his anxiety either.

"Sit, would you?" I gesture to the sofa, my voice soft. He moves to sit, not caring about the dirty he is covered in. "What exactly do you want to know, Frass?" He flounders for a moment, mouth opening and closing without a sound.

"What exactly did you tell your Mom? That's the first question,"

I smile at the memory, playing it over in my brain on fast forward.

"I told her only a bit, at first. I said that your soul and mine were made of the same stardust. She laughed at the thought, no doubt telling other people about it, because they would tease me all around the big top, and that's probably how you heard it. She knew I was in love, well, as in love as a kid could be, you know?" Clint nods at my words, taking them in carefully. "After you left, especially after she got sick, I told her more and more about the little moment we shared, and about how much I loved you. She always said it made her happy to see how happy you made me, even if it was just talk of memories."

"When did you leave?" Clint asks, his voice low, barely there.

"I left shortly after I turned seventeen. I left with Cashmere, Cherry, and Jacinda. We got in a van and travelled across the country. Those girls saved my soul, in a way, got me here. I owe them a lot. I was slipping before we left." I shake my head to get that thought out of my brain.

Clint scoots closer, placing a tentative hand on my knee. I take in the feeling of his hand on my body again, for the first time in so long, but his touch is gone before I can commit it to memory.

"Cashmere agrees with me, you know. Stardust turned sentient." I mumble the last part, pulling my bottom lip into my mouth.

"I like that." Clint smiles to himself, eyes closed, corners of his lips turned upward. For the first time he looks content.

"What was your other question?" I ask with a light voice, trying my best to not disturb the calm that has fallen over him.

"You said you loved me. Was that part true?" He seems hesitant to ask, but does anyway, avoiding eye contact. I don't blame him.

"Of course I do, Frass. We grew up together. I have loved you since I was eight. Of course, back then I just liked that I wasn't invisible, but you know what I mean."

"How could you be invisible when you clung to your Mom's skirts so tight that your knuckles were chronically white?" He laughs, the bright sound filling the room. I smile at that, a full smile that reaches my eyes.

"Do you love me now?" His eyes meet mine, a low burning beneath his irises. Maybe this is a trap, but I can't find it in me to care. After all, love is meant to be shared, is it not?

"Yes, Frass, I do love you. Always have, always will."

"Oh thank god," And with that, he grabs me by the wrist and pulls me into his lap, my legs straddling his as he takes my face in his large hands. His rough skin scrapes against my cheeks as he pulls me down to his lips, and the only thing that makes sense anymore is this. My hands wrapped around his neck, fingers digging into the too long hair at the nape of his neck while he kisses me like our lives depend on it, and maybe they do.

"What the hell was that?" I laugh as I push him away, a smile spreading across my lips.

"You have been living here for months now, and I have been slowly falling in love with you since you walked into that meeting room in the city. The sight of you almost killed me, Cricket, and living here at arms length from you has made me realize something. I can't live a second more without you, the stardust that runs through my veins is pulling me towards you and I just can't resist anymore, I love you, Cricket." Clint's eyes never leave mine as he speaks, each word filling me with a warmth that spreads over the whole expanse of my body.

"I love you, too, Frass," I whisper, leaning in to meet his lips again, I stop just before they meet. "Mama was right. All I had to do was wait, it just seemed to take you a long damn time, Clint Francis," Clint chuckles a bit, eyes bright now, standing out against the dirt that coats his face.

"And I thought coming in here and kissing you would be moving too fast," I just roll my eyes at him before closing the distance between us. Stardust calls to stardust, atoms to atoms, me to him and him to me; the feeling of our bodies settling into each other with each gentle touch, each caress of skin or hair, cementing the idea that we are meant of each other. Made from the same stuff.

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