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#Clint
unsafescapewolf · 4 months
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Based on the hit VN
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spacepatrolhana · 9 months
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i don't think you have a chance
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clint: i have feelings for emily and am to scared to admit them. when she gets together with someone else, i dont blame it on her but i cant be friends because of my crush. i respect her autonomy but will not let my mental health suffer for a relationship i cannot keep.
stardew fans: CLINT IS A STALKER AND AN INCEL WHO TREATS EMILY LIKE PROPERTY AND DESERVES TO BURN IN HELL
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theclassyissue · 6 months
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@clint
@ellacervetto for @gooseberry.seaside / @gooseberry ☀️🌻
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toxicanonymity · 4 months
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You finally scraped enough pennies together, but he found your train ticket.
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pinsterwglasses · 2 months
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Where I've been? In the thick of this fandom.
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feralkidbucky · 4 months
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My boyzzzzz
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Hawkeye in Black Widow (2020)
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boliv-jenta · 2 months
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Clint x f!reader
Just a little something to fit in with the movie.
Warnings: TW: Pregnancy. Aftermath of violence. Cheating. Smut. P in V sex. Light degradation.
WC:2.8k
The Dance
The dull roar of the late evening traffic on the nearby highway is almost soothing in the otherwise quiet night. The urban equivalent of waves on the shore. The neighbour's dog a few houses down lets out a few warning barks before silence returns to the darkness. The beginning of a sound in the house has you trying to quiet your pounding heartbeat to allow you to listen more closely. As the sound grows more familiar, you swallow your anxiety to drag yourself from your soft bed. 
By the time you release yourself from the comfort of its warm embrace, the source of the sound is already standing in your bathroom. Broad shoulders hunched over as he searches the contents of your first aid kit tipped out onto your counter. 
“Clint?” Your sleep thick voice is quiet but the bathroom is small, he hears you even if he acts like he doesn't. 
The smell of him fills the space, copper, oil and fire. The blue plaid shirt that clings to his wide frame is torn and muddied. The hair that brushes his collar is curled with sweat. When he reaches out for a towel you see his knuckles are split. Blood covers the back of his hands, whose blood is anyone's guess. At least some of it is his but you doubt all of it is.
“Clint.” You try again stepping closer, your hands skimming his back.
As if he's avoiding your touch he finally turns. His knuckles aren't the only thing split, his bottom lip and left eyebrow are slashed with red. Beneath his left eye is beginning to swell. The skin is mottled with purple.
“Clint?” You reach up to touch his eye only for him to catch your hand and push it away. 
“You should see the other guy.” He says flatly.
A shudder runs through you at the thought of it. Clint feels it too. His work has always been a sticking point between you. It's the reason you aren't together right now. It's why you're dating the manager of the local bowling alley. When that fizzles out because he isn't Clint and you go running back to him, it will be the reason you split up again. Round and round you go. Pulled together to be torn apart.
“Let me help.” You might not agree with his line of work but you will always be there when he needs you.
“I'm good. I'm sorry. I took a good shot to the head. This was the first place I thought to come. I forgot that you…I saw his car wasn't in the drive.” Clint begins to pick up a few items from the counter. Gauze, iodine solution, some bandages.
“He's away on business. Setting up a new location.” Your partner had been gone for three weeks and you'd barely noticed. If you don't see any sign of Clint for that long dread claws at your insides. “If you've had a knock to the head you need to get checked out.” Clint rolls his eyes. 
“Fine.” You concede. “At least stay here so I can keep an eye on you.”
With a huff, he leans back on your counter. It's as much of an answer as you are going to get. All this time the only light in the room had been from the hallway and Clint's cellphone. Pulling the cord for the overhead light, the extent of Clint's injuries were revealed to you. His eye was going to be swollen and bruised for a long while. The right side of his face was streaked with blood as if he'd attempted to wipe it off. His thick hair was matted with dried blood. 
“Get in the shower. I can't tell if you're bleeding or if it's just….” Sighing you reach into the tub to turn the overhead shower on. You bring the water to the bearable side of boiling, just how Clint likes it. 
Without a second thought he strips naked in front of you. You take note of the fresh bruises on his body. Someone had been taking shots at his kidneys. To keep your hands from his body you busy yourself with picking up the supplies that Clint had picked out. Through the screen over the tub you can see the outline of Clint's body. An outline that you could trace in your sleep. You knew every inch intimately. They say you never forget your first and you hadn't. It probably helped that over the last thirty years you'd found yourselves together more often than not. He was the one you ran to when you dropped out of college. He broke down at your door when his mom passed away. He fucked away the last doubts that leaving your fiance, the week before the wedding, was the right thing to do. Though his job and other circumstances kept you apart you always found your way back to each other. Like now as he sat on the edge of the tub, a towel wrapped low on his waist. Your fingers skim his brow as you tape up the gash there. Finally, he relaxes, leaning into your touch. His own touch wraps around the back of your bare thighs. The heat of his thick fingers burns into your skin as he holds you there, not moving until a sigh leaves your lips. It's a sigh of contentment. Clint knows the dance has begun again. You'll give into each other. Devour each other's bodies in carnal haze until you are dizzy with it. Until the world twisted and all the things that kept you apart were straightened out. Until a life together seemed possible. And for the briefest time it would be until reality settled itself back in.
Clint's large hands cup the full flesh of your ass to pull you close. He presses soft kisses to your stomach and your breast through the thin cotton of the t-shirt you were sleeping in. Your fingers knead at the kinks in his strong shoulders. His touch is unhurried, there's no shame in it, even with the toiletries that clearly belong to your partner dotted about the room. He doesn't care that you have a boyfriend. Neither do you. No matter who keeps your body warm at night, it always belongs to Clint. 
Even with his injuries Clint was more than strong enough to carry you to your bed. With great care he lays you on the now cool sheets. More sweet kisses litter your skin. Until he draws level with your hips and feels the heat radiating off of your barely covered core. Then another side to Clint makes itself known. This is the side that you know makes his job bearable to him. One with an animalistic clarity. The one that taps into, that acts on impulse to get the job done. 
“Fuck. So warm for me. I bet you're soaked too. I haven't even touched this pussy but it's ready for me. What does it want? Hmmm? Does it want my tongue? Does it want me to suck that clit?” He licks along the centre of your panties. When your hips rise to meet him, he pins them down with an iron grip. 
“Does it want to see how many of my fingers it can take?” His fingertips tease the edge of your panties, grazing the soft flesh of your thighs. “Or does it just want to be stuffed full on my cock?”
Before you can answer he yanks your panties down and spreads your legs.
“Look at you. So wet for me. I bet I could slide right in, balls deep in one go.” His towel slips away as he crawls up your body. Form a thick thatch of brown curls his cock stands thick, bobbing heavily with each motion until your view of it is obscured by him settling between your legs.
The two of you moan in harmony as he circles your clit with the fat head of his cock. As he teases your excited bundle of nerves, he works to coat himself with your wetness. Dropping his hips, his slides his cock through your slick folds until he catches at your entrance. True to his word, he fills you in one long slow thrust. No matter how many time you take him it feels like the first all over again. He splits you in two. The feel of him overwhelms you until all you can do is cling to him and take it.
“My girl. No one takes my cock like you.” He breathes into the crook of your neck.
The next few minutes pass with you both being impossibly close and you begin impossibly full as Clint barely pulls out and just pushes deeper and deeper into the warm bliss of your pussy. Fuck he needs you. Not just to take his cock. He needs you to mend his soul. The cracks in his spirit aren't as easy to hold together any more. They aren't clean solid spills, they've begun to splinter, the delicate shards keep falling away no matter how hard he tries to keep himself together. He's nearly fifty and what does he have to show for his life? The only thing he has is you and even that isn't real. You're not really his. He can have you for a moment. He can buy you a cup of coffee now and then. He can fuck you like your lives depend on it, and he swears sometimes that his does. He can stop by to check on you now and then but anything more, anything longer and his past catches up. If he holds you for too long or too tight those shards will shred you too.
The dull sound of your cell phone vibrating next to your pillow catches Clint's attention. The screen lights up with your boyfriend’s contact details. Clint notes that he doesn't have his own ringtone or an image with his contact. When Clint calls, your screen lights up with a photo of the two of you at the fair and intro to Eric Clapton's Layla plays. It was playing on the radio when he first said I love you. Laying in the back of his dad's pick up with a million stars and possibles ahead of you.
“Answer it.” At first you don't even know what he's talking about, you're too lost in the feel of him. Snatching up the phone, he slides his thumb across the screen to answer it before holding it to your ear. 
“Hey.” You try to sound as casual as possible with another man's cock deep inside you.
“Hi, Babe.” Clint finally pulls out, allowing you to breathe as your boyfriend starts to chat to you. “Work is slow so I thought I'd check in.” 
As you open your mouth to answer Clint slams back in causing you to stifle a moan. “Babe? You ok?”
“Yeah, sorry. I couldn't sleep so I did a workout. I'm just using my massage gun to loosen up my muscles.”
A wicked grin splits Clint's perfect lips as he watches you lie for him. 
“Shame I'm not there. I could loosen you up.” There's no mistaking the suggestive tone is your boyfriend's voice. 
Luckily, you managed to tap mute before Clint's hips picked up speed. The moan you let out is inhuman. The neighbour's dog pipes up again. Probably mistaking you for a beast in the night.
Clint drops the cell phone to brace his hands on the headboard. “I wish he was here.” He grunts he used the strength in his whole body to pound you deeper. “I'd show him how to fuck this tight cunt properly. Can he make you come with just his dick?”
You can't answer at first. You're now pushed up so far that you are propped up by the headboard. Your legs are spread wide, one hangs limply off the bed, bouncing with each thrust. All you brain can think is about the ecstasy between your legs.
A sharp slap to your cheek makes you focus. “Does he make you come with just his dick?”
“No.” You admit.
Clint seems satisfied with that answer. He moans deeply for a few moments enjoying the feel of your pussy choking him.
“How does he make you come?” When you refuse to meet his eyes, he grips your jaw and stills his hips.
“He hardly does. He tries to finger me or eat me out but he never quite gets me there.” You quietly confess as you use the moment to catch your breath.
The laughter that bursts from Clint is wicked. “Poor Baby. This cunt must have been waiting for me to come around to treat it right. No wonder you were so wet. Don't worry. I'll take real good care of you.”
The air is punched from your lungs when Clint starts thrusting hard and deep. His cock is so big that it rubs up against your g-spot before battering your cervix. There's nothing else in this world for you except for Clint. The feel on him inside you, he sweat slick skin sliding against yours. The distance drone of his words that don't quite make it to the plain of bliss that he has you ascended to. 
A sharp tug of your t-shirt up barely registers until it's followed by a sharp tug of your nipple. “Fuck me. Look at you. Too cock dumb to answer. I said, "Is this what you needed?”
Drool spills from the corner of your mouth as you try to answer before settling on a nod. 
“Shit.” He laughs. “I'm not even trying that hard. I'm so worked up I'm just using this perfect hole to jerk off. I need to blow my load. Where should I? Hmm?” He takes a second to catch his breath as readjusts to push even deeper. An howl from you rings in the night. It's accompanied by you clawing  at Clint's back. Maybe the neighbour’s dog is right, you are a beast in the night. One that only Clint can transform you into.
“I hadn't shot it all over your pretty face for a while or your tits. I don't think I could pull out though. Guess I'll just have to fill you with it. Did he fill you before he left? Are you going to have two men's loads dripping from you, you little slut?” His large hand is on the base of your neck now, squeezing even so slightly.
“He n-never has. Make him…wear a condom. Just…just you..” your orgasm building makes it hard to speak.
“Just me that fills this pussy. Isn't that special? Just me that uses you like a cock sleeve.”
Clint stops taunting you as he puts all his energy into fucking you closer to you peak. He moans and grunts into your hair while his whole body stretches and flexes on top of you. He is the most gorgeous creature you have ever had the fortune to lay your eyes on. Everything about him gets you closer. 
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I'm close. Oh, fucking milk my cock. Come on.” His thumb finds your clit and with a few strokes you do exactly as he says. Your channel clamps down on him and pulse around him until all his thick white cum is warming your walls. After you muscles all contact toward your centre at the pinnacle of your pleasure they all release leaving you limp underneath him. 
“Are you okay?” Clint finally comes back to you. His demeanour softens along with his cock inside you.
“I'm perfect.” You sign now even trying to fight the smile on your face.
“I know you are.” His whiskers tickle as he kisses your forehead. “I'm sorry. I should have stayed away. You have someone…”
“He's not you. He's just a placeholder. We both know that. I'll call him now. I'll have his stuff out on the lawn in the morning.” You expect him to laugh. For the same excuses to leave his lips.
“Do it. Just give me a few weeks. I'm close to getting out.” His tone is deadly serious.
“What? How?” Your heart swells so much with hope that it almost chokes you.
Clint holds you close his eyes sparkle with promise as yours begin to close. “It's better that you don't know. But I am going to do it this time. Then you and me will get that little place back home and no one will bother us.”
The dance was shorter this time. Clint was gone by the morning. Even after all the sweet nothings you whispered to each other in the night. Little did either of you know that the dance would be different next time. The steps would change to match the new song. A song with an extra beat. The heartbeat of the baby growing inside you.
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randomstuffjustrandom · 4 months
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Names
Bruce: Guys! I just realised that’s Tony spelled backwards is Y not. Everyone: *looks at Tony* Rhodey: Fitting considering that is Tony’s answer to everything. Sam: If that’s the case then Natasha back wards is Ah Satan Everyone: *looks at Natasha* Clint: yeah that sounds about right.
Bonus:
Shield agents: mmhmm
everyone: *shudders* Natasha: *evil grin*
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iamasaddie · 2 months
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random Clint horny mood board because I can’t stop thinking about the headcanons by @bonezone44 🥵
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unsafescapewolf · 9 months
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musings-of-a-rose · 1 month
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A New Life
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Pairing: Clint “Freaky Tales” x f!readers (there’s 2, both have nicknames)
Word Count: 11,000+ (it's a long one, folks!)
Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!
Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 
Notes: a huge shoutout to @nerdieforpedro for beta reading this and giving me the confidence to actually hit post. And to Mr. Rose for helping me out of a corner.
**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!
❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)
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**Reader is not described
Main Masterlist
Clint Masterlist
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CLINT
“No! No, please! Tell The Guy I'll step back from his territory!”
Clint stares down at the man who's now covered in his own blood, coughing and spitting up the red liquid onto the floor, splashing a little onto Clint's shoes. He looks at the man and grabs his hair, yanking his head back and staring him in the eyes, seeing fear at the rapidly approaching end of his life. 
“Then you should've stopped when we warned you.”
Clint slides his knife into the man's abdomen, watching as the man coughs and sputters, small gasps all he can manage as the life leeches from his body. When he slumps, Clint knows it's over. He sits back, shaking his head and sighing, looking around at the mess all over the tarp he'd placed on the floor. I'm getting tired of this.
He cleans up and disposes of the body properly, his stomach rumbling by the end of his work. A quick glance at his watch tells him it's nearly 3am. He hopes there's still someplace open where he can at least get a cup of hot coffee. 
He drives in the general direction of his apartment for nearly 15 minutes before he sees the neon OPEN sign on the side of a little corner diner. He parks around the back, adjusting his pants and smoothing down his shirt before heading inside, a little bell ringing as the door swings open. It's quiet, only one other person sitting at a booth in the back corner, a man who doesn't look when the bell dings, too absorbed in his own issues. 
“Hey, hun! Have a seat wherever and I'll be right over!” The waitress calls from somewhere behind the counter. Clint looks around and finally settles on sitting at the counter, spinning to face the counter on the bar stool. 
The waitress suddenly appears, smoothing out her skirt before turning to face him and when she does, Clint momentarily forgets how to breathe. She is the most gorgeous woman he's ever seen and her smile makes him feel warm and safe, things he hasn't felt since he was a child. And even then, that's debatable. 
Her smile is bright and wide. “Sorry to make you wait! That damn sink pipe’s entire purpose is to annoy me, I swear. Want some coffee, hun?” She's already got the pot in her hand, regular, not decaf. He nods and she pours him a mug with a smile, sliding a small bowl with some creamer and sugar packets towards him. 
“You look hungry. You a steak man?”
Clint pours one of the sugar packets into his black coffee. “I like steak.”
“Great! The steak here is-” She leans closer to him “-edible. But it's best in town at 3am!”
Clint chuckles, the sound almost unfamiliar to him. “Sounds perfect.”
She writes down his order and turns, placing the ticket in a clip and rotating it, dinging another bell so the cook knows he has an order. 
“James? You back there? You have an order!”
There's some sort of affirmative grunted towards her that she accepts with a shake of her head, turning back to face Clint. 
“James is a nice guy. Lost his hearing in one ear in the war. Sometimes you have to be a little louder for him. At his request of course.” 
Clint nods and takes a sip of his coffee, expecting it to taste bitter and cheap, exactly like what you'd expect coffee at a diner open at 3am to taste like. But to his surprise, it doesn't. A pleasant mix of coffee beans washes over his tongue and he can't help a little moan escape him. 
A different smile, this one more sly. “You enjoying your coffee?”
Clint feels the tips of his ears heat up. “Uh, yeah.”
“I'm glad you like it, Mr….” Her eyebrows raised and Clint chokes down his sip. 
“Clint. No need for a Mr., ma'am.”
She waves her hand with another smile. “No ma'am here. I'm not that old!” She chuckles and tells him her name. “But everyone calls me Poppy.”
Poppy. He likes that name. It makes him feel happier somehow, like she's somehow taking care of him, not just because she's a waitress. 
She continues chatting with him while she bustles around, cleaning things and restocking sugar trays, and cleaning menus, Clint chiming in now and again. The man in the back corner eventually leaves and they're alone in the diner together. Aside from James in the back, who had just set his plate down on the back counter. 
“Thanks, James!”
“I'm going out for a smoke, Poppy.” 
She gives him a thumbs up and James takes off his apron, walking out of the side door. Poppy turns and makes a little fanfare of bringing him his diner steak and potatoes, setting it down in front of him and then casually placing the A1 steak sauce next to him. 
“You might need this.” She winks at him and he melts, what can only be described as butterflies in his stomach. 
Get it together, Clint. You don't do this. You don't like people like this. Fall for people. 
But then he's done with his steak, telling her some funny stories from his childhood. She's sitting across the bar from him, leaning on her elbows as she listens, laughing at all the right places. He's trying desperately hard to not be obvious in staring at her boobs, which had been pushed together tighter the more she leans forward. 
“If you don't mind me asking, Poppy. Why are you working this shitty shift?”
She cocks her head to the side slightly, her eyes on his. “Someone has to be here to serve you.”
He nods. “Yes but why you?” 
She waits a moment. “Maybe I'm just waiting for the right man to come on by.”
Shit. He had told himself she wasn't flirting, that she was just being nice to him for a tip. That he could just flirt a little and then be on his way. Normally, he'd take her out back and fuck her in his truck, promises to call again that he knows he'd never fulfill. But none of those women were her. None of them made him feel this way, her laugh and big eyes smiling at him while he sits here with blood on his hands and his past full of monsters.
So instead, he surprises himself. 
“Can I take you to dinner sometime?”
She glances at the clock on the wall. “If you're not too tired, I'm off in an hour and you can take me for breakfast.”
He smiles an actual genuine smile. “Breakfast it is.”
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The conversation flows between them at breakfast, both of them laughing and joking throughout it all. And at the end, he walks her to her car, asking her on another date before they reach it, her enthusiastic “yes” giving him the confidence to kiss her, his hands cupping her face as their lips melt together. He presses her back against the side of her car, his body aching to be with her, inside of her. But not like this. She's different. She's special. He wants to take his time with Poppy. So he pulls back, a promise to pick her up in 2 nights for dinner. 
Clint takes her out on several more dates, falling harder for her each time he sees her, hears her laugh, sees how attentive she is towards him. He doesn't think he deserves her, knows he doesn't, but maybe she's his way out of his world of darkness and bad deeds. The world he's kept hidden from her, whether because he's afraid she'd leave him or he's too afraid to bring his darkness into her light he's not sure. 
But Clint knows he can't leave her. He's gone too far. 
2 weeks in, and his resolve to treat her like a lady, an actual relationship, which is what they'd finally called it, snaps when she opens her door in a black dress that accentuates everything about her that he loves. 
“I know we were supposed to go out tonight Clint, but I thought maybe I could cook for you instead?” She looks nervously up at him and he knows right there, he'd do anything she asked him to.
“If it's not too much trouble.”
She shakes her her, chuckling lightly. “Not at all. Come on in.” 
Clint follows her inside, hearing her lock the door behind him. He kicks his boots off and places them by the door. 
“I thought we could have steak. A real one. Dear James does his best with what he has but…” her voice trails off and Clint chuckles. 
“Steak sounds delicious.”
“Great! Would you like a quick drink before I start cooking? Or are you too hungry?”
“A drink sounds great, thanks.”
He takes a beer from her and she leads him to the couch. They both sit, taking sips from their drinks before setting them on the coffee table. He's nervous, his palms a little sweaty. Why is he so nervous? Clint looks at Poppy and he can see the way she's shifting around slightly, obviously nervous herself, which somehow gives him the confidence he needs. Confidence that he's never had a problem with before. 
When he touches his lips to hers, he knows he belongs to her forever. 
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POPPY
I knew what I was doing, inviting Clint in for dinner instead of going to a restaurant as we had planned. But I wanted to take care of him, try and help quell that sadness and regret hidden just behind his eyes, the darkness he swallows and blinks away when our eyes meet, for the sake of me. 
We settle on the couch, each taking a sip of our respective drinks before setting them on the coffee table. I see him wipe his palms across his jeans, a sweet, nervous gesture and I smile shyly, turning my head to the side to tuck some hair behind my ear. I look back up at him and find him looking at me already, his deep brown eyes seeing into me and I feel myself stepping off the cliff, diving headfirst into love. Could it be love this early? I’d felt it before once, in my youth. But I had been burned and so kept my heart behind a lock but somehow, Clint already had the key. 
He keeps his eyes on mine when he slides closer to me, hesitating briefly before placing his hand on my bare thigh, my skin tingling where he touches me. I angle my body towards him a little more, feeling his large hand cup my cheek, a soft smile on his lips before he leans in, pressing his lips to mine. We’ve kissed plenty, made out in the back of his truck for hours and hours, but this is different. The energy has shifted, our paths fully converging to become one. 
He slides his hand on my thigh up higher and I spread my legs for him, opening more than just my body to him. His fingertips brush against my panties and I inhale sharply against his lips, his hand stalling. 
“Is..is this ok?” He asks, a nervous tremble in his voice.
“Please,” I whisper, begging him to touch me again. “Please touch me.”
He kisses me again, pushing his tongue into my eager mouth and I feel him between my legs again, gently stroking up and down, up and down, feeling how wet my underwear has become. He pushes aside my panties, slowly swirling one thick finger around me before pushing in, my whine breaking our kiss before he grunts out, mumbling something about how tight I feel. 
He deepens the kiss, his finger gently stroking inside of me, brushing against me and I moan into his mouth, my legs twitching. When he stops, pulling away from me, I think I’ve done something wrong. But then he slides from the couch, getting on his knees, kissing my thighs as he hooks his fingers in my underwear, sliding them off and tossing them over his shoulder. He pushes my legs open wide, putting them over his shoulders as he stares between my legs, eyes dark and admiring. 
He looks up at me and I nod, knowing what he wants even though I’m not really experienced with it. He places soft kisses on my inner thighs, slowly moving to where his hand had been moments before. When his tongue touches me, I gasp, a breathy “oh” escaping me while my thighs try to slam against his head of their own volition. He chuckles against me and I moan at the vibration, feeling him wrap his hands around my legs to push me open wider. His tongue is relentless, swirling around, tapping, and I reach for him, tangling my fingers into his hair and tugging on it when he lightly sucks on me.
“Oh…oh, I-” I break open, cry out as I come, Clint’s tongue guiding me through my release. I release his hair, my legs falling open as he sits back, wiping his face with the back of his hand. 
He stands, offering me his hand and I take it, allowing him to pull me up against his body. He smells like cedar, a hint of cigarette smoke, and me, my head swimming with the scent of it all. 
“Bedroom?” He asks, his eyebrows raised.
I nod, almost too much in my enthusiasm. “This way.”
I take his hand and lead him on wobbly legs down the small hallway to my bedroom, grateful that I had made the bed this morning. Clint closes the door behind himself and turns to look at me. Several long moments pass where we just look at each other, the energy in the air electric, as if he didn’t have his head between my legs just moments ago. He closes the distance between us in a step or 2, stopping just short of me.
“Turn.”
I do as he says, feeling his large hand work my zipper down, his fingers brushing against my skin as he pulls the dress down and off, coming back to do the same to my bra. He moves my hair off my neck, placing soft kisses there as one hand wraps around my boob and the other dips a finger between my thighs. My head lolls back and I moan, feeling him pinch and tug at my nipple as I get wetter and wetter. I can feel him nearly bulging out of his jeans, the denim pressed against my ass, so I gently grab his wrists and turn around. 
I say nothing as I start to unbutton his flannel, sliding it down and off his broad shoulders, noting the appearance of a new scratch on his chest since the last time he’d taken his shirt off around me. I keep my eyes on his face as my hands unlatch his belt, popping open the button on his pants before carefully sliding down his zipper. I push his jeans down, getting on my knees to help slide them off of his legs. I look up at him as I pull down his underwear, a small grunt from him as he springs free. I want to return the favor, take him in my mouth but then his hand grips my chin, pulling me back to standing. 
“I’d love to feel your mouth on me, but Poppy, I want to make love to you.”
He helps me lay back on the bed, his eyes roaming over my naked body, more dark loving than I’ve ever seen them.
“You’re so beautiful, Poppy.”
I spread my legs, allowing him to settle between them. He kisses me, soft at first, his mustache tickling my upper lip, his hands sliding across my body, goosebumps following in his wake. His lips travel down my neck, finding a spot just below the side of my jaw that has me squirming, my fingers burying themselves in his hair. 
But then he pushes in and the world stops, nothing else in the world exists but us. We meld together, our bodies moving as one, slotting together like we were made for each other. I writhe under him, his hips breaking me open out of my cocoon, showing me what pleasure really is, what love really is. His hips thrust a little harder and I come, his name tumbling from my lips like a chant, praising him as my nails dig into his back. I feel his hips sputter, soft grunts and pants in my ear as he comes with me, his forehead coming to rest against mine. 
“Holy shit,” he says, his breath puffing out against my face. “That was..”
“It was.”
He lifts his head and looks at me, kissing me softly before pulling out, and getting a washcloth to clean me up. 
A steak dinner never tasted so good.
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CLINT
He was the happiest he’d ever been. Poppy was a beacon of light in the darkness that was his life, always there to welcome him with open arms. It had only been a few weeks, but he loved her. He knew deep down that he never wanted to be without her. 
He just felt so fucking guilty about it. 
He was torn on telling her about his job, his real job, not the one he told her he did. He wasn’t a delivery man, although he did deliver whatever terrible fate that The Guy bestowed upon those who crossed him in business. He’d been a little too preoccupied tonight and his mark managed to slice his cheek with a knife before Clint snuffed the life from him.
But Poppy doesn’t even question it, just takes him into the bathroom and gently cleans his cut, dabbing some alcohol on it that burns, but not enough to distract him from the guilt he feels. He knows he has to get out. 
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A few months go by and he couldn’t be happier with Poppy. They had been dating for about 8 months and he wanted desperately to ask her to move in with him, but first he had to leave The Guy. He couldn’t have him showing up whenever he felt like it. No matter what, he would protect Poppy from that side of his life. 
After he kills his next mark, he heads back to The Guy to give him his confirmation of delivery, so-to-speak. 
“What would I do without you, Clint?”
Clint shifts his weight to his back leg, hands on his hips. “Actually, I need to talk to you about that.”
The Guy sits back in his chair, lacing his fingers together. “Oh?”
Clint clears his throat. “Yeah. I uh, I need to retire.”
The Guy raises an eyebrow. “Retire?”
“Yeah. My body isn’t what it used to be. My knees almost gave out tonight. I can’t continue like this.”
The guy sits there, his fingers still laced together as he studies Clint. “You have served me well, Clint. I’ll let you out, holding onto that evidence in case you try to cross me-”
“I would never. I’m not a snitch.”
The Guy holds up a hand. “I know. One can never be too careful these days. I think you get that?” Clint nods. “Good. I’ll let you out but I have one more delivery for you to make first. You’re the only one I can trust with it. What do you say?”
Clint stands there for a moment, thinking about his options. He only has one. “Deal.”
They shake on it, The Guy gives him the details, and Clint is out the door, feeling a little lighter now that he can see the light at the end of the tunnel. He’s finally getting out, starting a new life free of bloodshed with the love of his life.
He killed that last mark in near record time, The Guy shaking his hand and thanking him for all of his hard work. 
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He knows she’s on the late shift again tonight, so after he cleans up, Clint heads over to the diner, their diner, watching Poppy move about through the dusty window. She smiles at a customer, but when Clint walks in and she sees him, her entire faces lights up, her eyes beaming as she crosses the room, pressing her lips to his and forgetting herself for a few seconds before pulling back, her face hot.
“Clint! To what do I owe this surprise?”
“Move in with me.”
He hadn’t meant to ask it like that, so blunt and harsh. But he couldn’t wait anymore and it sort of just came out when he opened his mouth. Surprise on her face, her eyes widening for a moment before that smile splits her face again, the one she has only for him.
“When can I get my things?”
They get married exactly 1 year from the day they met.
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“Poppy! What are you doing?” Clint rushes into the kitchen, quickly snatching the knife Poppy was using to spread peanut butter on her sandwich. 
“Clint, I’m pregnant, not sick. I can do it myself.”
“The doctor said to rest.”
She smiled, a soft smile and squeezed his bicep. “The doctor said for me to relax the last 2 months. Not stay in bed entirely.”
Clint sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just..let me do things for you, ok? Have a seat on the couch and I’ll bring your food.”
Poppy looks like she wants to argue for a moment, but then gives in, tossing her hands in the air before heading into the living room. 
“And don’t forget the-”
“Apples. I got it, Poppy.”
Clint arranges 2 peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and some apple slices on a plate, also grabbing a glass of water to set on the coffee table in front of her. She reaches for the plate with grabby hands, smiling and shifting her weight as she settles in, making light work of the food before downing half the glass of water. 
“Thanks, babe.”
Clint puts his arm around her shoulders and kisses her head. “Anything for you.” He shifts a little. “You need a foot massage?”
“The day I turn down a foot massage, just know I’m a clone.”
Clint chuckles as he helps Poppy turn, laying back on the couch, her head on the arm. He takes one of her feet in his hands and starts to work them, spending extra time on the knots and sore spots. The sounds Poppy makes has him shifting in his seat, his hands starting to work up her legs. He gets to her upper thighs, leaning down to press kisses along her inner thigh before she gently grabs his wrist. 
“Hey now, that’s what put this here,” she gestures to her belly. 
Clint presses another kiss to her inner thigh, higher up this time, listening as her breath hitches. “Well then, let me help you relax.”
Clint spends the next hour buried between her legs, Poppy’s fingers twisting in his hair, his fingers digging into her legs as she chants his name over and over and he thinks this would be the perfect way to go: smothered between his wife’s thighs.
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“And that makes the last payment! Will you be taking home the crib today, sir?”
Clint puts his wallet in his pocket, nodding to the cashier. “I’ve got my truck out front.”
“Let me call for some help.” The cashier leans over her mic and asks for someone named John to come to the front for customer assistance. She makes idle chit chat with Clint, asking how his wife is doing so close to her due date.
“She’s stubborn and better be sitting her ass down and letting me take care of her,” Clint chuckles along with the cashier. 
“Don’t be too hard on her. She is fighting that nesting urge. It’s hard to resist, trust me!”
John comes up and takes the other end of the large box that contains a beautiful wooden crib that Poppy had laid eyes on months ago, determined to have that exact one for their baby. Clint had put it on layaway that same day, making sure he’d pay it off in time to assemble it before the baby’s arrival. He thanks John and takes off, glancing in the back at the box and smiling a little, already envisioning Poppy’s ecstatic face when she sees what he’s brought home. He turns onto their gravel drive, pulling into his parking spot and shifting the truck to park. He glances up at the house before reaching for the handle and freezes.
The door is cracked open. 
It’s very unlike Poppy to leave the door open, even when bringing in groceries. Clint’s eyes remain glued to the door, but he leans over to open the glovebox, carefully extracting the handgun he had stashed there. He checks the make sure it’s loaded before getting out of the truck, cautiously moving towards the front door, his stomach twisting tighter and tighter the closer he got. 
There were wood chips on the front step, an indication that this was not simply a case of forgetting to close the door. Someone had broken in. Gently, he pushes the door open, waiting a moment and hears nothing. He steps inside, gun raised and ears on high alert for anything, any sound. The main hall and living room are empty, aside from furniture tossed about, some of it destroyed. But as he cuts through the dining room just about to reach the kitchen, his boot slips and he looks down, choking back the fear and panic that immediately threatened to take him over.
Blood. 
He pushes into the kitchen, eyes roaming around at the mess and then he steps around the island, dropping to the floor and tossing the gun aside. 
“Poppy? Oh God Poppy? Can you hear me?” He cradles her head in his lap, tears flowing down his cheeks. Her color is pale and he can’t tell where the blood is coming from exactly. But then she blinks and he lets out a choking cry as she looks at him.
“Hey baby! Don’t move. I’m gonna call someone.”
“C…Cl…Clint…” Her words are choked and he can tell she’s holding back tears.
“Ssshh don’t talk, baby. You’ll be alright. I’m here now.” He reaches up on the counter, hand tapping around and landing on the phone before pulling it down to him. He quickly dials 9-1-1, barking at the responder to send an ambulance immediately before Poppy calls his name again and he drops the phone.
“They’re coming, Poppy. Just hold on.”
“Clint…I…I love you.”
“Hey now, none of that. You’re going to be ok, you hear me?” His throat is tight, his stomach churning as he pets her head, wiping the blood onto his pants. 
“Please..be happy. I want…want you to be..be happy.”
“I will be happy because you’ll be here with me.” He cradles her head in his lap, the tears falling harder and she reaches up, a wavering hand smeared with blood that she places on his cheek. Their eyes meet and in them he can see her resolve, her sorrow not for her own life but for him, for not being able to be here for him.
“Be happy, Clint. Have..have a good life. I can’t wait-” she gasps and closes her eyes for a moment before blinking them open and he can already see the glossiness in them. “-can’t wait to hear..all about it. I…I love you, Clint.” 
He swallows hard. “I love you too, baby.”
She smiles, one last time before she slumps, the light in her eyes that hard brightened his life gone, snuffed out too soon. Clint wails, yells, screams, and sobs into the empty house, holding her close. The pain is too loud, too raw and real, threatening to overtake him. But then people are in their house, his house, trying to take her from him. He fights back, yelling and screaming they can’t take her from him, and then he feels a sting in his neck before the world blacks out around him. 
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It’s a bright and sunny day, the sky a vibrant shade of blue, and just the right amount of fluffy, white clouds in the sky. Poppy would call it the most perfect of days, warm but not too warm, the perfect day to spend outside. 
Clint blinks in the sunlight as he watches them lower 2 caskets into the ground, one considerably smaller than the other, the priest saying some sort of prayer over them as the people gathered around shed their tears. Clint picks up a handful of dirt, holding it in his hand for a few moments while he stares down at the wooden boxes that contain his family, his future, all taken from him in the blink of a violent eye. He always thought he’d be the one to go out that way, in a bloody mess. But not them. They didn’t deserve this.
Clint tosses the dirt on the caskets and steps back, letting her parents toss handfuls on top as well, not really hearing them when they bring him in for a hug and mumble something about coming over for dinner. He doesn’t hear any of them as they file past him, patting his shoulder, telling him if he needs anything to just call. That they were all here for him. But what he needs the most, they can’t provide. No one can bring them back, bring her back.
Clint returns home, skipping the wake at her parents’ house for some quiet contemplation. The house is nearly silent, only the clock on the wall and the hum of the appliances make any sort of noise. Clint sits at the little table they had in the kitchen, staring down at the floor where he had held her for the last moments of her life. 
He had cried so much since then, wailing and screaming at the world, begging whomever is listening to take him instead, that he would gladly switch places with them, give up his sorry life for them to have a chance. But of course, nothing happened besides his throat hurting, his eyes stinging from overuse. 
But as he stares at the floor, depression and sorrow washing over him, a small thought ticks at the back of his head. He initially had thought it was a random break in, not all uncommon in Oakland. But when he had picked up the pieces of his broken life, he had noticed that nothing had been missing. All of Poppy’s jewelry, despite most of it being costume jewelry, was still there, so was the tv and pretty much everything else. It hadn’t clicked then, too preoccupied in his immediate grief to really think. 
This wasn’t a random act of violence. This was targeted. This was specific. This was for him. 
Clint hates himself anew, burying his face in his hands at the idea of him being the cause of their death. But then it hits him, washes over him and changes his purpose. Once it was to take care of her, of his family, but that had been ripped away and so had his future, his purpose. 
Vengeance. 
He had nothing left to lose. Nothing that anyone could possibly take from him. So why not go out in a blaze of violence, taking down everyone that was connected to his wife and child’s death.
Clint pushes his sorrow aside, locking it away gently as he gets to work locating those who would soon meet their day of judgement.
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Several months later…
Clint sits in his truck, staring at the entrance to a seedy bar, watching a few wayward souls enter, one punching the other in the arm before the door closes behind them. He glances down at the paper in his hand, triple checking that he had the address right. He takes out a lighter and burns the paper, waiting until the last embers fade out before getting out of his truck and heading inside. 
He sits at the bar and orders a drink, taking a few sips before flagging down the bartender again, asking him if he recognizes a few names. The bartender, a middle aged man with eyes that had seen war, stares at him for a few moments before nodding towards a corner, a small group of men standing around the pool table. Clint thanks the bartender, leaving a large tip on the counter before turning in his stool to watch the men. There were 4 of them and they were already towing the line between buzzed and drunk, slightly stumbling around before taking their shots. 
Clint moves silently over, quietly sliding his blade into 2 of them, not waiting for their bodies to crumble to the floor before the other two even noticed he was there. One tried to swing at him, which he dodges easily, his blade quieting the man’s movements. The last guy, Rick, backed into a corner, desperately fumbling with something he had in the back of his pants, presumably a gun. Clint takes 2 large steps towards him, a second too late to see the man stop searching for the gun and grab a knife instead, swinging it wide and slicing into Clint’s side.
Clint stumbles, grunting for a moment before straightening up, dodging the man’s swings, ignoring the yelps from the other bar patrons as Rick swings wildly, knife cutting into the air just in front of Clint. He gets a few more blows in, pain searing into Clint before he grabs Rick’s wrist, turning it with a crack, Rick yelping in pain as his knife drops to the floor. Clint gets his knife to Rick’s side, pinning him against the wall.
“You killed my family.”
“Wh..what?”  
Clint presses the knife a little harder and Rick grunts in pain. “You killed my family.”
“Look look look. I don’t know who you are, man!” Another small push and Rick yelps again. “Can you be more specific?”
Clint glares at him. “In my kitchen. Woman. Pregnant.”
The color seems to drain from the man’s face as he recognizes the situation. “Oh..oh..well, listen, we were just given’ the assignment, right? No hard feelings. We were just doing what we were told!”
“Who told you?”
“Ah, look man. I can’t just-” Clint pushes the knife further, feeling warmth start to seep out around the knife. “-ok ok! Fuck, stop! I’ll tell you!” He whispers a name to Clint, a name that sounded vaguely familiar. Frances Stokes. He thinks he’s worked with him before.
“Is that all?” Clint barks out.
Rick furiously nods his head. “Yes, yes!”
“Thanks.” Clint drives the knife further in and up, waiting for Rick to slump over. But when he turns around, the barrel of a gun is pointed at him, the bartender obviously nervous.
“Get out of here, man! Just go!”
Clint doesn’t need telling twice. He doubts anyone in here will say anything, each of them involved in their other dark dealings to be in a place like this. Clint makes it to the front door, stumbling out onto the sidewalk, his hand clutched to his side. He glances down at his hand, seeing the crimson shine in the street light. He glances up and for a moment is transported: a woman, the same hair as Poppy’s stares back at him, only a few feet away, eyes wide as she takes him in. 
“Look out!” She yells at him, just in time for Clint to turn, stopping the man that had been running up behind him with a fist to his stomach. They both fall to the ground, rolling and punching before Clint gets on top, letting his fists fly as the guy’s head slams against the pavement. Clint shifts off of him, turning to see the woman still there, her hair like a shining beacon before he feels himself falling backwards, the blackness swallowing him.
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Sunlight warms his face and for a moment, Clint feels transported. Like he was at home, safe in his bed with-
He blinks awake, reality slamming into him as he remembers punching the guy out before blacking out. His head feels like it’s splitting in 2, and his side hurts bad, like he had been stabbed - wait. He had been stabbed. He tries to sit up, groaning and laying back down when his head felt like it was splitting open.
“Hey, he lives! I wouldn’t sit up just yet.” 
Clint blinks rapidly a few times, the disembodied voice trying to permeate its way into the meat that is his brain right now. But then a person moves into his vision and it all comes flooding back: the woman from outside the bar. The one with hair just like Poppy’s.
“Where..” Clint coughs, just realizing how dry his mouth is. 
“Take it easy. I have some water here with a straw.” The woman grabs a cup off the side table and holds it next to him, pinching the straw inbetween her thumb and pointer finger so it stays in place. Clint debates for a moment on taking the drink from a stranger, but then again, if she had wanted to kill him, she’d have left him on that sidewalk. So he takes a few greedy sips before she pulls the straw from his mouth.
“Take it easy. Small sips.”
“Throat..dry.”
“Yeah, I know. You’ve been out for 2 days. But you have to take small sips so you don’t overload your system.”
Clint nods and the straw returns. He does as she says and realizes she was right. She sets the cup back on the side table.
“Where am I?” Clint lets out a small cough.
“You’re at my apartment. I couldn’t just leave you there, not after you took care of that man.”
The man. Right. “He ok?”
“I shouldn’t have bothered checking him, not after he nearly attacked me, but I’m a nurse and I took an oath so,” She gestures vaguely around the room. “He died on the sidewalk.”
Well that’s one less thing he has to worry about. “You don’t seem shaken about that.”
Her eyes go somewhere else for a moment before she blinks. “I’m no stranger to death.”
Silence rules the room for several long moments. 
“Are you hungry? I have some pain pills but we should get some food in you too. I also have some clean towels and clothes in the bathroom if you’d like to shower.”
“I think food sounds good.”
She nods and heads out of the room, distant sounds coming from the kitchen. Clint looks around the room. It was obviously her bedroom, sparsely decorated but a few photos of presumably family sit in frames on her dresser, as does an empty vase. She has a random poster on the wall, a movie poster for The Thing. The blanket he has is soft and light blue, but not frilly like he’d expect. But it is warm and comforting. She comes back in with a tray, a bowl of vegetable soup and a grilled cheese sandwich sitting on it, a glass of water off to the side. She places it on the dresser and walks to him. 
“Let me help you sit up.”
“Oh, I don’t want to mess your sheets up.”
She waves her hand. “Don’t worry about it. I can always get new sheets.”
She helps him sit up, Clint holding his head for several moments before the searing pain abates. She puts the tray over his lap, tapping on the tray next to 2 small pills. “Make sure to take those now and eat some food after. I’ll let you eat.”
Clint reaches for the pills. “Thanks, Flo.”
She cocks her head and looks at him. “Flo?”
Clint pops the pills in his mouth, taking a few more sips of water to swallow them with, hoping they act fast. “Yeah. Like Florence Nightingale. The nurse?”
She smiles and tells him her name. “But Flo. I like it.”
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That night, Flo insists he takes her bed again, that he needs the space to recover. He tries to argue but she’ll have none of it, promptly telling him goodnight and to yell if he needs anything before closing the door most of the way. 
The pain in his side keeps him from getting a good sleep, pain throbbing out from the wound Flo had stitched up. He didn’t want to bother her, he could just grunt through it, but then she was there, softly pushing the door open and rubbing sleep from her eyes. 
“Fuck, didn’t mean to wake you, Flo.”
She yawns and stretches, her sleep shirt lifting a little and exposing a sliver of skin. “You didn’t. I have to get up for work anyway. But I can see you’re in pain. The meds not working?”
He shakes his head. “Not really.”
“That happens sometimes when you gain consciousness. Give me a minute.” She disappears into the other room and returns a few minutes later, some scrubs tossed quickly on. She has a small pill bottle in her hand and she shakes one out, handing it to Clint.
“You can have one of these now but not another until I get home, ok? It’s pretty strong so don’t go mixing it with alcohol or anything.”
Clint nods. “Got it.” He pops the pill and swallows it, thanking Flo as she sets down some food next to him. 
“I’m going to be home this evening, but if you need me, here’s my work number. Just ask for me.” She sets a piece of paper down next to the phone on the nightstand. She pauses for a moment and looks at him. “I’ll uh..see you tonight.”
The meds kick in when she leaves and mercifully, they knock him out, Clint finally able to get the sleep his body desperately needed.
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Fuck, getting injured at his age was not fun. Stabbings hurt a lot more than they used to. When Flo gets home she brings him more food, then has him take another pain pill. He passes out again, his dreams carrying him to dark places with familiar violent themes. He thrashes about, trying to rid himself of the images, and is yanked from his nightmare by a hand squeezing his shoulder. Clint’s eyes fly open and Poppy is standing there, her hair framing her face. He reaches out to touch her cheek, his fingers barely touching her soft skin.
“Poppy?”
She’s saying something that he can’t make out, so he shakes his head and blinks a few times. But when he opens them, he sees Flo standing there, worry etched in her features. 
“Clint! Are you with me?”
He puts his hand to his head and nods. “I…I think so.”
She puts her hand on his chest, trying to help him slow his breathing. “Are you ok? You were making a lot of noise.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t be. Are you ok?”
He takes a moment, his head still foggy. “I…will be. I think.”
She stands there for another moment. “Who’s Poppy?”
Clint's eyes harden as he glares at her. “What did you say?”
Flo pulls her hand back, regret in her eyes. “Poppy. You were calling her name. Is it someone I can call for-”
“NO! Don’t ever say that name again! Get out!”
Flo nods and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. Tears immediately fall down his cheeks and he buries his face in the pillow, remembering the first and last time he’d seen Poppy.
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It was nearly a week before he could tolerate not being on those heavy pain meds. Basic ones now worked just as well and his head started to clear. He was having flashes of memories from the week but nothing concrete. He did feel like he needed to apologize to Flo but for what, he couldn’t clearly remember.
Clint walks to the kitchen, the movement feeling good. He puts together a dinner of sorts, random things he can find in Flo’s fridge that seems to just have ingredients, nothing premade. He just sits on the couch, taking a bite of a sandwich when the front door opens and Flo walks in, gently shaking out her coat before hanging it on the hook. 
“Raining?” Clint asks, his mouth still full of sandwich.
“Oh, hey! Yeah. Not so bad here but it was pouring by the hospital.” She moves around to sit next to him on the couch, her eyes studying him. “How are you feeling?”
“So much better. I really can’t thank you enough.”
She glances down at his plate with his small sandwich. “Why don’t I whip us up something warm? Just give me a few minutes to wash off the day.”
“Oh you don’t-”
“I have to eat too. I’ll just make more.”
She made something called pesto pasta, which Clint had never heard of before. It was different but he would eat it again for sure. They watched some game show and then the news before Flo was yawning. 
“You want to take your bed back tonight?”
“No, that’s ok. You take it. I’ve got my own little nest going out here.”
Clint chuckles. “If you’re sure.”
He gets ready for bed and sits down to get comfortable. It was then he noticed that he had left his medicine in the living room. Before he could do anything, there was a soft knock at the door and Flo comes in carrying the pain meds. 
“You forgot these. Figured you’d want them.”
“Thanks.” Clint takes the bottles and pops them open, swallowing the pills with the glass of water on the nightstand. Flo turns to leave but Clint stops her.
“Wait. Can I ask you something?”
Flo turns around to look at him. “Sure.”
“Did I…did I do or say anything to you when I was on those big meds?”
Her face hardens slightly. “Nothing I’m not used to. It’s ok.”
“Fuck. I’m sorry. What did I say?”
“It’s ok, really. I’ve had worse.”
“It’s not ok to me.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Flo, please. Tell me.”
She hesitates a moment, her eyes bouncing between his before she sits on the bed. 
“You were making a lot of noise one night and I came in to check on you. Your eyes opened but I don’t think you were really seeing things. You kept calling me Poppy. And when I asked who she was, you flipped out.”
Clint’s jaw tightens as the memory floods back. Her hair. That’s what made him think…
“Listen, you don’t have to tell me, Clint. I just wanted to know if I needed to call someone-”
“Poppy…was my wife.”
“Oh.”
Silence stretches on for several seconds before Clint swallows hard, continuing.
“She was…the love of my life. Made me a better man. Great woman. We got married…got pregnant. And then…” Clint clears his throat, blinking back tears, Flo waiting patiently, letting him take his time.
“I came home one day and they were…I held her while she…died.” He whispers the last word, but it’s like he yelled it, screamed it. He’d never talked about it with anyone, not even Poppy’s parents. 
Flo puts her hand on his and squeezes. “I’m so sorry, Clint.” He just nods, trying not to lose his shit in front of her. 
“You have her hair. It’s almost exactly like hers. So I guess I saw it and mixed with the meds, I thought…you were her.”
Flo nods, squeezing his hand a little harder. “I understand.”
Clint looks at her, his eyes hardening slightly. “How would you understand? How would you know what it’s like?”
She takes a deep breath before puffing it out. “I was engaged once. High school sweethearts. We were waiting to get married until we were out of school. Anyway, he was taking night classes and one night, this other guy decided it would be super fun to get drunk and drive….I lost my future that night. And I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”
Fuck. So she did know exactly how it feels.
“You remind me of him sometimes.” She says it so quietly Clint almost misses it.
“I do?”
“Yeah. It’s not…it’s in your small movements, the way the light hits your hair sometimes. So..I get it. Honestly, it’s just nice having someone else here. Someone who gets it.”
“Yeah. It is.” Clint squeezes her hand back and she looks at him, her eyes big in the lamp light, the glow bouncing off her hair and looking just like Poppy’s. 
Their hands stay intertwined for several long moments, Clint rubbing his thumb gently over the back of her hand. She scoots a little closer to him, her hand gently sliding up his arm. Clint’s breath picks up as her hand cups his cheek and they lock eyes, both silently asking the other if this was ok. Clint hesitates for a moment before slowly lowering his head to hers, their lips gently touching. Flo’s lips are soft and a little more plush than Poppy’s, but her tongue timidly brushing against his lips is all the permission he needs. 
His hand slides to the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pulls her close, his tongue dancing with hers. She moans softly, clutching at his shirt and he feels his pants growing tighter. Flo pulls back slightly, resting her forehead against his. 
“Bedroom. Nurse’s orders.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Flo takes his hand and leads him to the bedroom, the door closing behind them. For a moment they stare at each other, another moment of confirmation before she starts to pull her shirt off, the rest of her clothes following. Clint matches her actions, his own clothes falling into a pile on the floor. His eyes roam over her body before stepping forward, pulling her face to his again. Her fingers glide up the sides of his body, her warmth pressing into him and it all feels so intense, but not bad. He walks her backwards, her legs hitting the bed and she breaks the kiss to climb up it, Clint crawling over her, Flo’s legs opening to give him space. Her hands lightly squeeze his biceps, which feels nice but then the light from outside hits her hair a certain way and for a moment he’s transported, sees Poppy. 
His hips push against hers as his hand grips her hair, her heat enveloping him as she moans, her legs wrapping around him. He blinks and it’s Flo again, but as he works his hips against hers, the light catches every now and then in her hair, he gets flashes of Poppy.
Fuck, this feels good. It had been so long since he’d held someone, felt them touch him like this. He had been alone for too long, not letting himself live fully. He felt guilty, even with Poppy telling him to live his life. His eyes find Flo’s and he can tell she goes somewhere else occasionally too, his guilt slightly lessening at the thought he’s bringing her some comfort like she is him.
He can feel himself getting closer to the edge. He licks his fingers and snakes them between their bodies, teasing her between her legs. He can feel her starting to squirm, her breaths starting to pick up. Clint grabs her hand with his free one, lacing their fingers together as he pushes her hand into the mattress slightly above her head. Her fingers dig into his skin but the second she tightens around him he comes, burying his face in her hair. 
When he rolls off of her, Clint pulls her to him, feeling her nuzzle further into his chest before falling asleep. He stays awake a little longer, gently tracing shapes on her back as he thinks.
In the morning, just before the sun rises, he gets dressed, gathering up the handful of personal items he had. He hesitates briefly, staring down Flo as she sleeps. He presses a kiss to her head, silently thanking her for everything she had done for him before he steps out into the morning light, back into his life of violence.
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A Few Months Later…
“You thought you could just kill my family and nothing would happen?” Clint twists the knife he had in the man’s leg, smirking when he screams out in pain.
“N..no!”
“Then why did you come for them?” Clint taps the knife and the man whimpers. 
“I wasn’t…we weren’t going to.” Tears were streaming down the man’s face, fear at seeing the end of his life.
“But then you decided to try and find me? Why?”
The man takes a shuddering breath. “Will you not kill me if I tell you?”
Clint grips the knife and the man cries out. “How about I’ll kill you if you don’t?”
“OK! OK!” He takes another breath, inhaling sharply through his nose. “We weren’t trying to seek revenge. But then one day, we get invited to this house and get handed everything on you. Who you are, where you live, all of it.”
Clint cocks his head. “Who gave it to you? Why?”
“They..they said they would give us a chance at revenge. Only if we promise to…to take you out.”
“Take me out. Why did you kill my wife?”
The man blinks, swallowing hard. “We were told to since she was…since your line would be carried on.”
Clint had to take several deep breaths so he didn’t turn this man inside out. He still needed one more piece of information. Someone had betrayed him, and he had a strong feeling he knew who. He swallows down his rage and looks the man in his eyes.
“Who?” He grunts it through gritted teeth and the man shivers. 
“He’ll kill me.”
Clint twists the knife hard and the man screams, jerking around against his restraints. “Who?”
The man seems to rethink his situation. “The….The Guy.”
That was the answer Clint was hoping not to hear but had a suspicion he would. It was the only thing that made sense. The Guy didn’t want him to quit, his best hitman. He knew the only way Clint would come back would be to have someone take away his new life. And The Guy made sure of that. 
Before the man could beg, Clint yanked the knife from his leg and slit his throat, waiting until the gurgling and sputtering stopped, his body still before he sighs, getting to work on cleaning up the mess. But his mind was elsewhere, planning and plotting. Which is why he didn’t hear another man coming up behind him until it was too late, his body falling sideways and slamming into the ground. 
The man gets on top of him, pulling out a knife. Clint dodges as best he can, but he does get a good knick on his shoulder. Grunting, Clint throws his body weight and the man, a lot skinnier than him, gets thrown off balance. Clint pushes up and manages to flip them, gripping the man’s wrist and slamming it against the floor, the knife clattering across the ground. No weapon in hand, Clint reaches for the man’s head, but his shoulder sends searing pain down his arm. He must have dislocated it when he hit the ground. Instead, Clint grabs the man’s hair, slamming his head into the ground until he stops moving. He gets off the man and sits for a moment to catch his breath, his shoulder throbbing.
Well this will make cleaning up suck. 
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He can’t go to the hospital, but he knows he needs stitches. He can’t do it himself because of his fucking shoulder, which is just violently throbbing at this point. He knows where he can go, but should he? Finally, he gives in, knowing he has no other option. It’s not that he doesn’t want to see Flo, he does. He really does. But that’s the exact reason he shouldn’t go. He doesn’t need to bring his shit to her.
He sighs, knocking on her door. It takes a moment but the door opens and there she is, almost glowing, just gorgeous. And for a moment, he’d forgotten why he was there.
“Oh! You’re bleeding!” Flo takes his hand but he jerks it back.
“Shoulder is dislocated.”
“You’re just all kinds of fun. Come on in.” 
Clint heads inside, kicking off his boots before following Flo into the kitchen. She pulls out a chair from the table and motions for him to sit down as she goes to get her med kit. She returns a moment later and sets it on the table, moving to stand next to him. 
“I take it you’ve had a dislocated shoulder before?” 
Clint looks up, her eyes big and round and he momentarily wonders why he had left. He nods, preparing himself while she gets into position, gripping him.
“Ready?”
“Just do it.”
Flo nods, looking down at his arm. “1…2…I’m pregnant.”
“What?! FUCK!” His arm pops back into place, the initial sharp pain quieting down to a dull ache. Flo hands him some pain meds and a glass of water but he pushes them away.
“What the fuck did you say?”
“Take these. You’ll need them. I’ll also sling your arm.” 
“Fuck the sling. Flo, you’re…you’re pregnant?”
She takes the sling off the table, not meeting his eyes yet. She helps him get situated in the sling and reaches for the alcohol to start dabbing at his other arm. Clint had completely forgotten about the knife gash. But before she starts, he grabs her wrist, giving it a little shake so she’ll look at him. She sighs and meets his gaze, worry etched in her face.
“I..am.”
“Who…am…am I…”
“I’ve only been with you since the accident.”
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He didn’t mean to get her pregnant. Fuck, this is not what either of them need. It’s not that he doesn’t want the kid. He would love to be a dad, was going to be a dad before…fuck. He has to kill The Guy or he’d find them and kill them too. FUCK. He has to protect them. Clint is so wrapped up in his thoughts that he doesn’t even feel it when Flo starts to sew his wound, tying it off and putting a bandaid over it.
“You should be all set. Just try not to fuck with that shoulder too much.”
Clint’s mind clears and he focuses on the main objective: to keep Flo and his unborn child safe. He can’t let them die for him, for his mistakes. He will never let that happen again, even if it kills him.
“I’ve gotta go.” Clint abruptly stands and pushes past a bewildered Flo, grabbing his keys and closing the door gently behind him. It never occurs to him to say anything to Flo. She doesn’t need to know about this. About any of it. He’s so absorbed in his thoughts, he doesn’t hear the sobs coming from inside the home as he walks away from it. 
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It takes him another month to locate The Guy’s new hiding place. He imagines it would be difficult for anyone to find - anyone who doesn’t know The Guy like he does. Clint watches from his steakout point, his eyes hardening and his brain sliding into his job mode, compartmentalizing what he needs to do to protect his family. What he should’ve done before.
The bodyguards at the door hesitate when Clint walks towards them, but soon they are silenced, slumping to the ground before they even had time to draw their guns. Quietly, Clint moves inside, making his way down the hall, silencing another several guards. The Guy really needed to hire better employees. He pauses outside of what looks like a main door, listening. From inside, he hears a familiar voice, a voice that has commanded him to do so many violent things for him.    
“I don’t care what it takes, I want it done!” A phone slams down, The Guy sighs. “I swear, it’s so hard to find good help these days.” 
Clint listens for a few minutes, hearing no other movement behind the door aside from The Guy, assuming he was alone in his office. Clint takes a deep breath and stands straight, holding his gun at the ready before pushing in the door and aiming his gun directly at The Guy. When Clint enters, The Guy glances up, all color draining from his face. He was totally alone and he knew from looking at Clint that the cat was out of the bag.
“H-hey Clint. How’s retired life?”
“Why?”
Beads of sweat start to drip down The Guy’s temples. “Why what?”
“Why did you kill them?”
He seems to debate for a moment, settling on the truth instead of pretending he didn’t know. “Look man, good workers are hard to find. And you were the best. You did everything for me and so when you wanted to leave….well, you knew too much.”
“So you took out my family?”
The Guy shrugs. “I figured maybe you’d come back if you had nothing left. Besides, I couldn’t have you continuing your line if they’d go to work for someone-”
POP!
Clint fires his gun, hitting The Guy directly in the forehead, his body crumbling to the ground. He listens for a moment, but no one comes running. No one else is here. Clint lowers his gun, dropping to his knees and buries his face in his hands, wailing and screaming, as he gets closure on the last chapter of his life.
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Clint stands in front of Flo’s door, hesitating for a moment before knocking. He had been sitting in front of her apartment for another 2 weeks, making sure no one was casing the joint. But no one would - Clint had taken out the remainder of The Guy’s associates. No one would be coming for them. 
The door opens and Flo stands before him looking absolutely breath taking. Her eyes widen and her mouth nearly drops on the floor.
“Clint?” She whispers it, hesitating for a moment before reaching her hand out. 
“It’s me.”
SLAP!
Clint rubs at his cheek, chuckling a little to himself at the assault. He deserved that. He deserved more than that.
“What the fuck Clint? I tell you I’m pregnant with your baby and you just leave? Not even a word?”
He holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry, Flo. But I had to…had to make sure you were safe.”
“I don’t expect you to be involved, but you could’ve- safe?”
He nods. ”Can I come in?”
She studies him, her eyes somehow seeing through him and she nods, opening the door. “Lock it behind you.”
This time, he decides to tell her everything, about his past life, about what happened to Poppy, what he’d done now to protect them. How he couldn’t let it happen again, not when he has the chance to have a family again. To his surprise, when he was done, she flung her arms around his neck and hugged him, holding him tight. He hugs her back, swallowing down some tears and melting into her embrace. It’s several long moments before she pulls back, cupping his face with her soft, warm hands.
“It’s not your fault, Clint.”
He looks down, shrugs a little. “But-”
“You can’t control what other’s do. Poppy knew that. Why do you think her last words were of love and not revenge? She doesn’t blame you, Clint. She would want you to be happy. So, be happy. Even if…even if that’s not with us.”
His eyes snap to hers and he’s surprised to find tears there. “Do you want me to leave? I understand if you-”
“No!” She grips his face a little tighter. “No. I want you here, but I need all of you here. We need it. But if you can’t, I understand.”
“You…you want me? Even though I’ve…I’m a violent…”
She cuts him off by pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Look, I knew you were in some shit when we met. I’m not stupid. You came tumbling out of that bar stabbed and then tussled with another guy. I had to patch you up and you bled all over my floor. I figured you were in some shit. This is Oakland. But..you were also gentle with me and patient, even when I told you about my past and I thought…we had that moment and I know we were both a little in our heads during it, but it was..fuck, it was nice having someone, especially someone who..gets it. I like you, Clint. I don’t expect you to like me in the same way, but however you want to be involved in our lives, that’s fine with me.”
How the fuck did he lead such a violent and fucked up life, all the shit he’s done, and he managed to find not one but two amazing women who just cared for him despite it? Poppy never knew exactly what he did, but Clint always suspected she knew he wasn’t really a delivery driver. She just never pressed. Just carried on loving him. 
Clint reaches forward, cupping her face in his hand this time. “I want to be involved with the baby. And I’d…I’d like to see where this goes,” he gestures between them and she smiles, realizing his intent. 
“Really?”
“Really. But know that no matter what happens, I’ll always be here for both of you.”
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Clint and Flo dated for a month or so before they decided it was easier to just move in together. They found a little place for their growing family, a little 2 bedroom place in a better area of town. Clint had had some extra money after taking out The Guy (and raiding his safe) and happily moved them all in. Clint is there for every weird craving, anytime she wanted something at 3am, foot massages, all of it. He loved being there for her, talking to her belly, but also being with her. Flo was the first person to help him realize that he still deserved love. And even if he didn’t believe it, he knew that Flo deserved it and he would spend the rest of his time making sure she had it. 
Their son Christopher came screaming into the world right on time. They got him cleaned up, wrapped in blankets and a little tiny hat and handed him to Clint. He gently takes Christopher in his arms, walking over to Flo who was still laying on the bed. Tears well in his eyes as he stares down at his son, Flo leaning her head on his arm and he sighs, happy that he’s finally getting the life he wanted. 
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xstrikeapose · 1 year
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JOCELYN CHEW ph. Clint for Gooseberry Intimates.
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fernacular · 1 year
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Unpopular Stardew Valley opinion:
I don’t think Clint is as bad as people make him out to be. 
People often accuse him of being a creepy stalker incel but he always came off to ME as just a painfully awkward guy with low self esteem. He never actually blames Emily for his failure to speak up about his feelings, and him continuing to try even after you start dating her is I think less a character trait and more another example of the game’s occasionally wonky coding.  (Robin will sometimes ask you if you’re friends with her son even after you’ve married him, sooooo)
But so yeah, I’m not a huge Clint stan or anything but I don’t dislike him I think he’s just a sorta anxious dude who people jump to hating because he shares some superficial traits with actual assholes.
(also I have a sneaking suspicion that people would be a lot more forgiving if he wasn’t fat)
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yourmomsgranddad · 9 months
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— ISN'T SHE LOVELY
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— PAIRING: Mama!Kate Bishop x fem!reader
— SUMMARY: Kate accidentally slips up and tells the team about the family she was hiding from them.
— WORD COUNT: 4.2k
— WARNINGS: i don't think there's curse words but i'm not sure, parent!au, kate bishop being MOTHER, probably bad (i'm sorry)
— REQUESTED BY: @fairy-geek-ackerman, thanks for the request!
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Ever since she was a kid, Kate wanted to be an Avenger. She never thought it would actually happen but here she was, drinking her coffee with the Hulk. She wouldn't have it any other way.
Well she would.
She definitely wished she could be with you and her daughter at this moment.
She hated that she had to be away from you two on days like this. But you two agreed Kate should stay with Avengers when they had big missions. She wished she didn't have to but it was for your daughter's safety.
She cared about that the most.
She would do anything for her daughter's safety.
She thought back to the day she adopted little Ava. One day, when you and Kate's relationship was getting serious, you decided to discuss kids. Luckily, your brain's were in the same spot.
You both wanted them so badly.
Neither of you wanted to do the pregnancy thing. Sperm costed a lot. Sure, Kate's mom was rich but you didn't want to be helpless while Kate was on missions and she didn't want to be out when they needed her.
So you decided to start the adoption process.
And you were lucky you did cause if you didn't, you wouldn't have found Ava, your pride and joy.
Her mom thought she wouldn't be able to take care of Ava, but here she was 6 years later, happy as ever. Well as happy as she could be. Of course, she missed Kate but they had their weekly phone call.
If Kate wasn't home, they would schedule a video call at night before Ava went to sleep.
And then she would have to sneak up to her room.
She felt it was crucial to keep you both out of the public eye of the Avengers. She thought about introducing you guys until she found out about Clint's arrangement.
Only Natasha and Kate knew about Clint's kids.
And that's the way it stayed.
She thought about the things that could happen if people knew about her daughter. And none of them were good. So she kept things on DL, and the only people who knew were Clint and Natasha.
And it was going to stay that way.
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Kate was hanging out on the couch, just watching whatever Ava left on the tv. She wanted to get up and do something else but she was wrapped in.
She didn't even know what she was watching, she just liked the colors.
"Katie, aren't you supposed to be mopping the kitchen?" You mentioned from behind her but she was not paying attention. She was stuck.
"Why are these dogs Australian? And why are they so entertaining? I can't look away from them. It's like hypnotizing me." Her eyes were wide and it looked like she was not blinking.
"Alright, Kate. Why don't we put Bluey away? Hmm? You're an adult." You went to reach for the remote and her head snapped to you.
"DON'T." Her voice came out demonic and you were suddenly scared but that didn't stop you from leaning forward and clicking the off button. "NOOOOO!" She tackled you to the ground, trying to pull the remote out of your hand.
Luckily before she could pry it from your hands, the phone rung. Saved by the bell. You ripped the remote away as Kate crawled over to the phone, picking it up.
"Bishop residence, Katherine speaking."
"Katherine? Really? That's your full name?"
She recognized that voice as Natasha, the only person who asked for her house phone number. "What do you need, Natasha? I was cleaning."
"We both know you were not cleaning anything."
She nodded, even though she knew Natasha couldn't see. She crossed her legs, getting out of the uncomfortable position she was in before.
"I was calling to let you know that there is a mission briefing tomorrow. Just figured you would want to be there." Kate's shoulders slumped.
They didn't really take Kate as seriously as she wanted. She always had to find out about things either from Nat or Clint. Everyone saw her as this incompetent kid that couldn't get things done.
Little did they know.
"Thanks. I'll be there."
She nodded once more before reaching up and dropping the phone on the reciever.
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One of Kate's favorite part of the day was the end. That was because at bedtime, she got to read a story to Ava before going to bed. It was her's and Ava's favorite thing.
They read every book.
"Harry, did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire? Dumbledore said calmly."
This month's book was Harry Potter.
But before Cedric could die, Kate looked over and surely enough, Ava's eyes were shut. She closed the book, gave her a forehead kiss, tucked her in, and bounced.
She put the book back on Ava's book shelf and went to bed, where you were already tucked in, reading some type of gross magazine.
"Really? Our daughter is in there, reading real books and you're reading that junk?" She scooted into bed, already latching onto your side. "To be fair, Kim & Pete just broke up."
(yes this is when this took place. i gave this story a date)
"Who cares? She's Kim Kardashian. She'll find someone new. She's stupid rich and has a fat ass. She'll manage." You chuckled. Kate crossed her arms over her chest and just stared at you.
She was very grateful to have you in her life. Even if you made questionable reading choices. She loved it.
"So I have to go to the Compound for a meeting tomorrow but I should be back before lunch." You nodded, not looking away from your magazine.
She was about to burrow into the covers and give into her tiredness until- "Mommy!" She jumped right up, grabbing her socks and rushed out of the door, going to Ava's across the hall.
"Yes, marshmallow? What do you need?"
"Can I have some juice?"
Kate wanted to say no. You said Ava wasn't allowed to have sugar past 10. But who was going to tell?
"Sure, but don't tell Mama."
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Ava was sitting on the counter, sipping down her Caprisun at epic speeds. Well to her. To Kate, she was going particularly slow.
"Come on, babe. You know you're not allowed to have anything other than water in bed. Let's get this show on the road." She started snapping, letting her know the severity of the situation.
She squeezed the rest of in her mouth and threw it in the trash.
"Awesome. Let's go." She picked her up and began making her way up the stairs. "Now before we go in your room, you don't have to pee, do you?"
"No."
"Ava. What happened last time?"
"I wet the bed."
"Exactly. So why don't we go to the bathroom first?" She nodded, just making her nod back. Mom magic.
After 13 confusing minutes on the toilet, it was time for Ava to get back in bed, underneath her blanket, the blanket Clint's wife knitted for her.
Kate was about to go back in her room when she felt a little hand grab onto hers. She turned back around.
"Mommy? Do you love me?"
Kate's expression changed. Into something that just said what Ava just said was the oddest thing she had ever heard.
She got down to her level and put on that mom face. "Of course I do! More than anything. I would do anything for you, my little marshmallow." She squeezed her little cheeks, making her laugh.
"And don't ever forget it."
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Eventually she made her way back to bed where your magazine was long gone and you were now watching some odd show that Kate couldn't decipher.
"You're a good mom. Even if you defy me, you're good at parenting."
She put her hands up in defense. They were being very loud but she didn't think you caught it. Wishful thinking.
"She's very persuasive."
"Yeah right. She gives you her cute little pout and you give in." You squinted at her accusingly, in which you were very correct.
"Hey. It's not fair that she uses those little chubby cheeks against me. That kid is majorly smart."
"She's six."
"Exactly."
You snorted and went back to your show.
She was finally about to be in the sleep state she so longed for. But she then felt something drop onto the bed. She just knew what it was. It was the same thing that stopped her from sleeping the past few nights.
"Ava."
It was too late. Before she could try to coax her out of the bed, she had already staked her claim, getting in the blanket and falling asleep almost immediately. Great.
"Don't worry. I'll put her in her bed in a little bit." You whispered, giving Kate a little room. Well not physically.
As much as she didn't like Ava's elbow in her stomach, she loved moments like these. You all together and no one else. You didn't need anyone else, just each other.
She didn't care that her stomach felt like it was burning, as long as the two of you were comfortable. You definitely were.
And that's all that she needed.
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She wanted so badly to stay in bed with the two of you but she knew if she didn't go to this meeting, she wouldn't be taken all that more seriously.
So she fell out of bed and go right to it.
She walked in and everyone looked confused, like she wasn't a part of the team. Of course they did, no one invited her to the meeting.
But she was determined to keep her head up.
Even if no one wanted her there.
She walked right into the meeting room and sat in the back. All the other chairs were taken, but she wanted to make sure she was in there anywhere.
Tony went on to tell everyone what the mission entailed and who would be on it. "Clint, you're coming."
"Can't."
"How come?"
"None of your business. Just get someone else to take my spot." He shrugged and Tony didn't feel like asking for more information. So he just started looking around the room, hoping something would pop out.
"Is there anyone else here that Clint's skills?"
"Kate does." Natasha added, not even looking at him. "Who's Kate?" That had to hurt. Especially since she was sitting right there, staring at him. Both Clint and Natasha pointed behind them at Kate.
"Hi."
She did a shy little wave and she was kind of regretting her decision to stay. She wanted to be take seriously, not forgotten.
"Sure. Whatever."
He pretended to be fiddling with his papers as the room emptied, leaving only Tony and Kate. "So when do we leave?"
"Day after tomorrow. Don't be late."
He smacked his papers and left immediately. He never seemed angry before now so this was a new color.
But Kate knew why he felt this way.
Kate was a recommendation from Clint. It's not that Tony didn't trust Clint, it's just after Peter messed up his life, he didn't really support kids on the team. He didn't understand the situation.
And Kate didn't feel like explaining. She just decided to she was going to shine through her work.
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Kate was settling into bed, finally after who knows how many hours of scrubbing the crayon off the floor.
"So how was your meeting today? You didn't mention it at all."
"Well I wasn't invited to it, was forgotten about the entire time, and almost barely wasn't about to work on the mission."
You just sucked some air in through your teeth.
"Why must they treat this way? They do know this isn't your first time doing something important. You're an adult, Kate. Tell them to start treating you like it." You reached for her hand, wrapping yours around it.
"I figured if I worked hard enough, I would have to say anything. My work would speak for itself." She shrugged, her head landing on your shoulder.
"Well all you have to do is be overwhelmingly wonderful on this mission and you'll be on whatever one you want in the future. And that's super easy for you."
She nodded.
She got it, she was going to be great and be the best she could be. Then suddenly, she would be first on the docket for every mission.
Easy peasy.
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Nope, not easy nor peasy.
Things went bad as soon as she woke up. She woke up 35 minutes late and had to rush to get dressed. She couldn't even say bye to either one of you. She gave you both a kiss on the head and bolted.
Secondly, if she didn't get there when she did, they were going to leave her. Without any type of remorse.
She had to chase them down.
Getting there, Tony wouldn't stop screaming about where everyone was supposed to go and Kate couldn't hear a thing. She went to ask what he said but it was too late. The door was opening.
She had to hope and pray she did everything as well as she possibly could.
As soon as they exited the bushes that they landed in, it was open season. Bullets flying everywhere, hitting everything in sight. Kate got nicked right on the shoulder. She wanted to reach for it but then she felt another one enter in her leg.
She fell right down.
She was about to give up, just let her injuries overtake her and all the blood stain the ground she had walked on.
As her eyes started to close and she was about to stay there, a memory flooding her brain.
The day you brought Ava home.
You had something set up so that you could get Ava as soon as she popped out of the womb. Her mom knew she definitely didn't want her since she was too young and she didn't want to just get rid of her.
So she gave her to you as soon as she was out.
After a few days, you got to bring her home.
You were stressed out about literally everything. You read all the parenting books possible and knew almost all things to know about children. But everything you did felt wrong.
The way Kate was holding her. She was supporting her head and back but something about her position felt crooked.
When you were giving her bottle, it felt like it was going to fall.
You were not feeling the best about this decision, maybe you weren't ready for kids.
But then night fell.
You put her in the crib you gotten fixed a few weeks prior (kate gave up building it in a hour) and she was not going down without a fight.
You had been trying for a while and nothing you tried was helping her go to bed. At that point, you wanted to let her cry and go to bed yourselves. But Kate had one plan up her sleeve.
She stood up and leaned over the crib, looking right at the baby.
And she started singing.
"Isn't she lovely? Isn't she wonderful?" Her screams stopped as Kate started massaging her head. Her eyes were fighting to stay open. She was right where you needed her.
She just continued humming the song and there was no more hope left for Ava. Her eyes were in the back of her head, she was done.
Her attack strategy was successful.
A strategy?
That's what she needed right now. Or better yet, some type of attack. She was playing possum for a while. She sprung right up and scanned the area she could see.
Everywhere was covered with fog.
But she could see that her team and the bad people were standing on opposite sides, they were out of the way for what she wanted to do.
She anchored herself to the ground and lined up her shot. She put one arrow out and just began spraying all the explosive ones she had in her quiver. One after another, explosions left and right going off. She thought it wasn't the right decision, there was much more fog and smoke everywhere, making it harder to see.
But as it started to subside, she saw the team running out and the bad guys unconscious, she did the right thing.
They snatched her up and they were gone in a flash.
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"Woo! To Kate, our saving grace!"
They cheered as they clinked their glasses together. Moments after they got off the jet, they decided to celebrate their win.
And not only that but they finally saw Kate, not only did they remember her but she was now the saving grace. She was bouncing off the walls.
This was exactly what she wanted.
She was so into the party, she didn't notice that her phone was ringing. She excused herself to go into the hallway to answer it.
"Hello?"
"How are you doing? Did the mission go well? You didn't text me." She realized she was still reeling from the mission win and everyone congratulating her, she forgot to reassure you she wasn't dead.
"Sorry, my love. I forgot. I'm fine. Is Ava sleeping yet? Did she go down without a fight?" She wondered, trying to make convo.
"Kind of. She missed you for story time. She did not like my Dumbledore voice. Or my Harry Potter voice. Now I know why you do story time."
She chuckled and suddenly, she was there with you. She was no longer at a celebration party, but in bed with you, listening to your heartbeat.
"Maybe Harry Potter just isn't your strong suit. You can definitely make an appearance when we get to Percy Jackson."
Now it was your turn to laugh.
She loved your laugh. It was the laugh she got to come home to every night. It was the laugh she got to sleep next to every night.
"Well I'll let you get back to your superhero life. When are you coming home? I always miss you when you're gone."
"Don't worry, I miss you all the time too. I'll be home tonight. I'll be there before breakfast."
"Ok, I love you."
"I love you more."
She blew you a kiss through the phone before hitting the 'end call' button. Now she wanted nothing more for this party to end so she could go cuddle up next to you.
She was most likely going to leave early.
"Who were you talking to?"
Uh oh.
She turned around to see Tony Stark, looking at her very suspiciously. He sipped his drink, just waiting for her to spill her beans.
"What do you mean?" She tried to throw him off her scent.
"The call you were just on. Who were talking to?" It was not working. "I mean it sounded serious. You love this person. And who's Ava?" Wow, he was really asking all the right questions.
"None of your business. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a home to get back to. Bye." She went to leave but he hopped right in front of the door.
"Is it a secret? I love secrets. Especially if no one knows. Would I be the first one? Is Ava a dog? A secret sister? A cat? Your Playstation?"
She wanted so badly to stop herself from laugh at his guess but she could stop as it just fell out.
"Ok none of those. Why don't you just tell me and you can leave? Easy peasy." Heard that before.
She was battling telling him so she could bounce. But she knew you both wanted to be a secret. You did not want your kid to be in the spotlight, especially next to Tony Stark.
It was a bad idea.
But she had alcohol in her system and she wanted to face-plant into her bed. She would do anything to get there.
"I was talking to my girlfriend. Ava is my daughter. Can I leave?"
He looked as though as he was about to speak but then paused, taking in her words. Kate, the person everybody thought was a little kid, had a little kid. Interesting.
"Is it like a pet thing?"
"No, Ava is a human girl. She's 6, can I go?"
His eyes went wide and his mouth fell open. He could not believe what she was saying, and he was kind of excited about it. "You have a daughter?! That is so cool! Can I meet her?" He rubbed his hands together, manically.
"Never. My daughter is a secret and she will stay that way. I do not need her face plastered on a magazine."
She went to walk out of the door but he stopped her.
"Come on! I want to meet your kid! If it helps, I know the Masked Singer people, I could get her mask or something."
"Yeah because seeing a little person dressed as a monster in New York isn't a little eye-catching." He rolled his eyes, she was slurring her words a little. "Not those masks. The ones that they give people so no one on the street talks to them."
Weirdly enough, she was considering it. Granted, she was a little drunk. But still. She weighed all her options. She could put a mask on Ava and Tony's car had black out windows. If he tried really hard, no one would see her face.
And no one in New York asks questions. They've learned not to at this point.
"Okay fine. But if anybody finds out my daughter and threaten her safety, I will murder you and hide your body."
"Fair."
Now all she had to do was run it by you.
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"Absolutely not! That is literally the worst idea you've ever had." Your hands were in your hair, you were suddenly stressed.
"I don't think it's that bad."
It was the next day and the champagne was out of her, so she was finally thinking clearly. Somehow she still thought it was a good idea.
"We promised we would not bring her over there. Her safety is the most important thing." Kate nodded, she fully agreed with you. "I understand that. But Tony said she'd be safe. And imagine how protected she'd be if she had the Avengers in her corner."
You pouted, so she pulled you into her for a hug.
"You're the only Avenger she needs."
"I know but she likes Natasha more."
You nodded.
It took a while but you came around on the idea. You knew how big of fan Ava was of the Avengers. She loved when Kate came home in costume. You knew how much she would love it.
So you agreed.
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Even after you said yes, something in your stomach told you this was a bad idea. But you had to trust Kate, she knew what she was doing.
Walking in, it seemed like they went all out for Ava's visit.
Toys in every corner, a big sign with her name on it, and a cake. And she was ecstatic. She dropped Kate's hand and went right to the first thing that peaked her interest.
"Mama, come look!"
You rolled your eyes and went right to her. "What is it?" You faked some positivity but you did not like this one bit. "Look it." She just started shoving toys in your hand, asking you to open them.
"I don't know if we should-"
"Are you enjoying the gifts?"
Tony ascended the stairs like he was Cher Horowitz and it was not helping anything right now. In fact, it was making you a little angry.
Before you could answer, Ava stepped in. "Yes!"
As soon as he gave her the okay, she started ripping through every piece of plastic. It was like she gained superhuman strength. And super speed. In last than 20 minutes, every toy was opened and about to be played with.
It was like a new record.
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You went into the kitchen and decided to have some coffee. It was still rather early when you got there so you were still waking up.
"I cannot believe I am having coffee in the Avengers Compound right now. I don't know how to feel about it." You shrugged before taking a cautious sip.
You looked over at Ava, worried but she looked completely fine. She was giggling and having fun. With Tony Stark. At this moment, you didn't remember why you didn't bring her here.
"Okay, so this might've been a good idea." You rolled your eye, giving her past drunken brain the satisfaction. "I told you."
With your free hand, you reached over and entwined her hand with yours. You rubbed your thumb over her palm.
"You're not a bad parent."
You looked over at her confused. "You think just because you brought here, you would be qualified as a bad parent. You're not. You're letting her have fun for once. It's allowed. And Tony guaranteed her safety. We're fine."
You agreed once more.
"So what you're saying is, we're the best parents."
"Hell yeah."
"Mommy! Mama! Come play with me!"
"Coming!"
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