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nothoughtsonlynat · 3 years

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Human (Natasha Romanoff)

Human: Chapter 1

A/N: Troyes, France is 6 hours ahead of NYC so 7pm there is 1pm in NYC. For the sake of this fic we’re going to pretend that the Battle of New York lasted quite a few hours.

*This is my first ever fic and I wrote it at 3am so bear with me

WARNINGS: swearing; mentions of weapons; violence; panic attack; anxiety; my crappy writing; and I think that’s it (lmk if there’s anything I should add)

Barcelona, Spain; January, 2012:

The repetitive ticking of the clock registered in my brain before my eyes even opened. I didn’t need that clock to know what time it was, of course. It was 4:30 am— the same time I've woken up everyday for the past twenty-five years of my life. I no longer need to wake up this early, yet it’s a habit so deeply engrained in my framework that it’s seemingly unbreakable. I roll out of bed and make my way into the dingy kitchen with light footsteps. With some quick math I figured that I got barely two hours of sleep last night, but that’s more than usual. I started the coffee machine and asked with a sigh, “Would you like some coffee or are you just going to lurk in the corner?”

The leather-clad stranger with an eyepatch stepped up to the kitchen island opposite of me and responded, “I wouldn’t mind a cup. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you knew I was here.”

“Well, you know what they say about old habits. You got a name?”

“You can call me Fury. We have a lot to talk about, Eight.” I slid him a mug of cheap coffee and gestured for him to take a seat.

“Then we’d better get started so you can get the hell out of my apartment.” He simply chuckled in response and I could already feel my patience wavering.

Two Hours Later:

“Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division? Really, dude?”

“Yeah, it’s a mouthful. Trust me I know.”

“I’m sorry that you came all this way for nothing, Fury, but there’s no way in hell I'm working for some government spy circus.”

“It’s technically an extra-governmental spy agency-“

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not joining,” I said, cutting him off.

“So, you’re just gonna hop from one shitty apartment to the next until you die? That doesn’t seem like a great life.”

“Better than the one I lived before.”

“You aren’t the person to live in hiding. You’re the person who thrives in the action and lives to kick ass, and we both know it.” When I didn’t respond he continued, “I’ll leave you my card. When you change your mind, which you will, you’ll know where to find me. You don’t have to be the bad guy anymore, Eight.” With that he slid off the stool and left my apartment, leaving me with nothing but my rapidly spiraling thoughts and a black business card.

Troyes, France; May, 2012:

It had been four months since Director Fury came to my apartment in Barcelona. We’d kept in contact and he hasn’t given up on me joining S.H.I.E.L.D.. I'm living in my third apartment since then. Wow…those landlords must really hate me. I was watching the seven o’clock news when I saw something that made me choke on my Cheerios. “An alien invasion?! What the fu-” My Cheerio-muffled exclamation was interrupted by the ring of my burner phone. “Hello?”

“Eight, you watched the news recently?”

“Uh yeah, I'm watching it now. You fighting aliens now, Nicky?”

“Okay first of all, I told you to stop calling me that. Second, yes… aliens. I’m forming a team of…extraordinary people to help protect against these threats and they could really use a hand to finish off this fight.”

“I may be weird as hell but I ain't ‘extraordinary’, Fury. I don’t wanna join your band of misfits.”

“Alright, how about a compromise? You fly your fancy jet here right now and help them out and if you still don’t wanna join once the battle is over, you can go right back to France and I’ll stop bothering you about joining.” After a few seconds of silence I agreed.

“Fine, but I’m not gonna change my mind. Wait, how do you know about my jet?”

He gave a hearty laugh and said “I know everything, Eight. You should know that by now.”

New York, New York; 96 Minutes Later:

I flew my jet into the city, making sure to take out a few flying Chitauri in the process. We don’t need to talk about how I got my hands on a German jet that can fly 2100mph. I saw a few interesting characters standing in a circle fighting off an endless sea of aliens. I maneuvered the jet and— wait…is that guy wearing blue tights? Is this what Fury meant by extraordinary? Whatever. I landed in the street about 20 yards away and killed the engines. I hopped out and started jogging towards the group. A couple of them turned around, probably wondering who the hell the chick in the black uniform is and— whoa that’s a beautiful woman. After realizing my steps had literally faltered in a mini gay panic, I slowed to a walk and said “Y’all need a hand?”

“Depends on whose hand it is,” replied the redheaded source of my panic.

“I’m a friend of Fury’s. He practically begged me to come save your asses.”

“Fury doesn’t beg,” she said in a doubtful tone.

“Not typically, but I'm just that awesome. If you don’t believe me then call him up but I’m gonna go kill some aliens.” With that I took off down another street where there was a group of the repulsive bastards. After unloading all of my magazines into Chitauri bodies, I switched to my swords and daggers. After another hour or so of fighting, there were no more aliens in sight. I started jogging toward the rich dude’s tower when I saw said rich dude falling through the rapidly-closing portal. I stopped next to Mr. Blue Tights and the buff blonde guy with the hammer when the big green dude grabbed Mr. Rich Dude from the sky and landed next to us. The green guy yelled, waking Mr. Rich Dude up with a start. “What the hell? What happened? Please tell me nobody kissed me. Except for her, she’s pretty hot,” he said nodding toward me. Just then the redhead jogged over to us and eyed my blood-soaked form from head to toe.

“See something you like, Red?”

“No. I’m pretty sure I'd be classified as a sadist if I liked the sight of that much blood,” she said with a raise of her eyebrow.

“Yeah that’s fair.” She shook her head at me with a small smirk. There was barely a second of silence when Mr. Rich Dude spoke up.

“Anybody want shawarma?”

Three Hours Later:

I had gone to the Triskelion after the band of misfits apprehended Loki. Agent Hill showed me where to park my jet and directed me to a room so I could shower and stay the night if I wanted to. I had put on black jeans, a white tee, and a black jean jacket, all of which had been in a to-go bag in my jet. I was toweling off my hair when someone knocked on the door. I opened the door to see none other than the one-eyed-wonder standing there. “What can I do for you, Nicky?”

“The Avengers are being debriefed in Conference Room 6B in ten minutes. You should come.”

“The Avengers? Is that what you’re calling them? That’s cute. But I'm not an Avenger and I don’t want to be an Avenger, so no thanks.”

“You should come anyway.”

“I don’t actually have a choice, do I?”

“You know me so well, Eight,” he said with an amused grin.

I walked into the conference room and the Avengers were already there. Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Thor, and Natasha Romanoff—whose names I learned from Hill— were scattered around a large table, along with Fury. Romanoff eyed me from where she was standing and arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at me. I squinted my eyes and wiggled my eyebrows in response, and I could see her stifle a laugh. “What’s your name?” She accompanied the question with a blank expression, which made me feel oh-so-special.

“That’s a very personal question, Miss Romanoff. Let’s slow the pace, please.”

“You know my name but I can’t know yours? That doesn’t seem fair.”

“The world isn’t fair, Miss Romanoff, and I love a good mystery.”

“If you two are done flirting, we have business to attend to,” interjected Fury.

“Right, my apologies, Nicky.”

“Don’t call me that, Eight.”

After an excruciating 43 minutes and 27 seconds, Fury finally let us leave. I was so close to freedom when that unbelievably sexy voice called to me. “Eight!” Romanoff hastily walked towards me in an effort to catch up.

“Yeah?”

“Is your name actually Eight?”

“If you want it to be.”

“Why are you so damn stubborn?”

“It amuses me, Red.” There was a brief silence during which both of us were trying to figure out if the conversation was over.

I was about to leave when she continued, “So that’s it? You’re just gonna leave?”

“Well, no. I’m going to stay the night, steal some really expensive jet fuel, and then leave in the morning before Fury can get up my ass about joining his little team.”

She rolled her eyes and responded, “Why won’t you join the Avengers? And why won’t you tell me your real name?”

“It’s just not my style. I’d rather fly solo.”

“You ignored my second question.”

“Then maybe you should take the hint and stop asking.” With that I turned around and started walking away, but a hand on my arm stopped me dead in my tracks. Alarms started going off in my head, and I'm pretty sure Romanoff was saying something to me but I was too caught up in the memories of beatings, punishments, and psychological conditioning to register it. After a few of the longest seconds of my life, the white of my vision cleared up and the voice telling me ‘physical contact is strictly forbidden’ faded into the background. My heart was still hammering in my chest and I was trying to keep my breathing steady despite the inevitable panic attack trying to drag me under, I regained my neutral expression and said. “Sorry, did you say something?”

“Are you okay?” She had a concerned expression and if I wasn’t so blinded with anxiety, I would’ve appreciated how cute the furrow of her eyebrows was.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just gonna turn in. It’s been a long day.” I turned around and walked back to my temporary room at a brutal pace. As soon as the door closed behind me, hot tears raced down my cheeks and I lost the ability to breathe. It was gonna be a long night.

3:21 am:

I finally managed to calm myself down and stop the panic attack after almost four hours. Well, I passed out because I couldn’t breathe but it did calm me down. Trying to sleep would be pointless, so I decided to leave before anyone woke up. I didn’t really have much to pack so I grabbed my duffel bag and left the room. I made it to the corridor attached to the landing pads and ran into the one person I really didn’t want to see. “What are you doing out and about, Red?”

“I’ve got places to be and things to do. Were you just going to sneak out in the middle of the night like a teenager with a rebellious streak?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m doing, actually. Do you need a ride? Where are you going?”

“Madrid. Fury said I could hitch a ride on another plane that’s headed for Germany.”

“Well I’m going to France if you wanna ride with me. My jet will get you there a lot faster.” She studied me for what felt like way too long, probably debating if I would try to kill her or not. You know how spies are with their trust issues.

“What the hell, why not?”

And that is how I ended up in a jet with “Candy Shop” playing over the speakers and Natasha Romanoff in the copilot seat yelling at me to, and I quote, ‘slow the fuck down.’ “Why would I slow down, you psycho?! That’s the whole damn point of this thing!”

“Where did you even get a German jet this fast?”

“Germany.”

“No shit Sherlock. How did you get it?”

“I went to Germany, stopped in at the local speedy-jet dealership, and walked out with this beauty.”

“Sarcasm is a defense mechanism, you know? You’re only being like this to keep me from seeing the real you. You built walls. You want everyone to think you’re fine when in reality, you’re falling apart.”

“Okay…um…there was no need for that, Dr. Romanoff. I can find my own therapist, thank you very much. And don’t go pretending you’re all healthy in the head, Miss Assassin.” It was quiet for all of five seconds before we both burst into laughter.

Madrid, Spain:

I landed the jet at the local S.H.I.E.L.D. base and killed the engines. Romanoff and I removed our headsets and I stood to help her get her bags. “Welp, I’ll see you around I guess.” I really wasn’t good at this type of thing. Or any social interactions, really. Twenty-four years in a cell will do that to you.

“Will I? See you around, I mean?”

“Um, I don’t really know, honestly. I’m not part of S.H.I.E.L.D. so we won’t just run into each other or anything but…”

“Why won’t you join S.H.I.E.L.D.? I mean what else are you doing?”

“Ohhh, I see. You just love me so much that you don’t want me to leave. You’re gonna miss me so much-” I was cut off when she threw her backpack at my head. “Hey! You’re lucky I caught that! Freaking crazy woman.”

When our laughter died down she said, “Well I should probably go. Thank you for the ride.”

“Of course. Hitchhikers are always welcome aboard my beloved jet.” A small smile appeared on her face and she stepped forward to give me a hug but she must’ve seen my body go rigid because she stepped back. She might’ve said something but the voice in my head was too loud for me to understand her. I don’t know how long it was before I unfroze but when I did, she was gone. I walked to the front of the jet and started the journey to France.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff fluff

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coco96 · 4 years

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LDAF - The Avengers

Hiding Magic (Avengers X Teen!Reader) Warnings: Mention of crime (stealing) Request: ... reader who is a very powerful magician ... who also robs because their family is poor ... One day all the Avengers comes to their school to give a speech. However, the reader gets there late and sees the Avengers thinking they’re about to get arrested. They then go to the Bathroom to use magic and escape. Right when R using magic Peter, Tony, Strange walks in. After talking the R ends up an Avenger.

Serenity (Avengers X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Sick child, illness Request: ... reader being a part of the avengers, but the others gets suspicious when she starts refusing missions on particular dates and she always sneaks of, but it turns out she visits a children’s hospital or something because she wants to give them hope? ...

Crushing The Grape (Avengers X Male!Reader) Warnings: Spoilers to Infinity War. Death. Reader basically tortured Thanos. Think Magneto with blood. Request: Could you do avengers x male reader where male reader kills that giant purple grape(thanos) on Titan

The Happiest Avenger (Avengers X Reader) TRIGGER WARNING: Depression and self harm mention Request: ... R is very happy to a point where they’re the happiest person on the avengers but the R is secretly messed up, they never shows it. The R has a secret they self-harm. So one day Steve finds the scars while they’re talking in the kitchen then thinks the worst. So he sets up a meeting with the crew and the next day R walks in and the crew have to act normal but then comfronts the R but the end is very fluff

Young Weapon (Avengers X Teen!Male!Reader) Warnings: Mention of violence, mention of fire, death of parents, mention of torture Request: ... reader where he’s discovered as a brainwashed assassin (like bucky) where he was taken when he was like 5 and is now 15 and he suffered worse than bucky did and they try to help him oh wow that was long

Not Happening (Avengers X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Mentions of torture, brain washing, ptsd/nightmares and killing. Request: ... reader is a superpowered teenager that the avengers took care of after finding her in a hydra base. She’s still trying to fit in but the government is trying to take her away due to her past crimes when she was still controlled by hydra ...

Scratches (Avengers X Male!Reader) Warnings: Sexual mentions Request: … Where male reader was training and took his shirt of and the avengers see he has scratches(from late night activities) on his back and tease him about it and he comes up with a sassy response. The whole late night activities don’t have to be detailed

No More Fighting Pt 1 (Avengers X Reader) | Part 2 Warnings: Death of character Request: ... before the battle cap and iron have a fight but the reader plays peacemaker and makes everything alright. At the battle the reader sacrifice themself to help the avengers get away before getting captured ... but the avengers think they k.i.a. And at the funeral cap and iron make peace for the sake of the reader

Ranger (Avengers X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Fighting Request: .... a steampunk style and meets the avengers after they see her beating up bad guys or something ...

Testing Patience (Avengers X Fem!Reader) | Part 2 Warnings: Mild swearing Request: … a very calm reader who life with the avengers in the tower and one day she is mad at something and all the avengers are there and think she is very cute when she is angry and hug her and joke on her, and she gets more angy because they think she is cute …

Anomaly (Avengers X Teen!Male!Reader) Request: ... reader who is a powerful being and all they know about their life is that they’re human with powerful powers. Avengers are trying to capture them, they’re trying to capture him to question him. because he robbed a bank and seen what the reader could do. The powers he has are called Imagination Manifestation its like imagining something and comes true. And at the end he some how gets a job at avengers

Blind Meeting (Avengers X Blind!Reader) Request: ... reader is really nervous to meet the avengers because shes blind but peter assures her that itll be fine and the avengers end up loving her

Loyalty (Avengers X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Torture, memory loss Request: ... reader gets compromised, tries to take down the avengers ... They refuse to fight her ...

Revenge Is Bloody (Avengers X Vampire Reader) | Part 2 Warnings: Blood and gore Request: ... hydra operatives keep showing up dead drained of their blood? The team are called to investigate. Bucky is fine with it but everyone seems kind of nervous cause they don’t know what their dealing with. They find out it’s a girl in her teens that hydra experimented on turning her into a vampire and she was able to over power and hunt them down. They track her and she willingly goes with them to join the team.

Much Needed Sleep (Avengers X Fem!Reader) Warnings: passing out, swearing. Request: ... reader has insomnia and barely sleeps. She lies to the rest of them (the avengers) so they don’t worry. She has about 4 hours sleep a night, sometimes less. When she’s doing a mission, she collapses from exhaustion ...

Mistake (Avengers X Reader) Warnings: Injury, death Request: ... one day the reader messes up badly on a mission and the avengers talk about how the reader let down So the reader quits and the avengers go looking for the reader and finds them and talks about how they’re sorry ...

Real Magic (Avengers X Fem!Reader) Warning: Falling from heights, presumed deaths, dangerous stunts. Request: Peter and The avengers go to a circus they decide to go see a magic show, and tony is totally not buying it. It turns out the reader is the star, and her magic is real. Maybe they try to get her on the team. …

“Did you have to seduce the entire team!?” (Avengers X Fem!Reader) Request: … reader is young and beautiful and starts living in the tower with the avengers and she flirts with all of them just for fun, and all of them think that she is in love with them and at the end they start fighting ... and ask reader which one would she choose finally and she chooses ruce ...

I Don’t Know What I’d Do Without You (Avengers X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Self conscious reader, teasing Request: Can you do a female reader, where she feels as if she isn’t worthy enough to be in the avengers, she feels as if she’s the odd one out. Nat overhears her talking to her friend on the phone about thinking about leaving and she gets the others to convince her she is worthy?

Auntie June Came Early (Male Avengers X Fem!Reader) Warning: Period time~ Request: … reader is in her days and Nat and Wanda are away, and the male avengers got nuts because they think she might be in a lot of pain and overprotect her and dont let her do anything, not even move, and she complain about the pain just once and they all freak out and she thinks is hilarious! ...

Helping (Avengers X Teen!Reader) Warnings: Bulimia, throwing up, bullying, self conscious reader. Request: ... reader is Tony’s daughter (although all of them are protective of her) and she has bulimia and she gets caught purging by one of the team members.

Hello, I’m Pansexual (Avengers X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Mention of homophobia, anxiety. Request: ... reader’s part of the avengers and has powers, but is pan and struggling w how to come out to the team bc she’s scared they’ll kick her off?

Surprise! (Avengers X Reader) Warnings: Sad emotions Request: … reader thinks everyone forgot their birthday but they were just planning a surprise party for them? …

If You Get Killed, Walk It Off. (Avengers X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Grieving, supposed death, explosion, blood, death Request: … reader is in a mission with the avengers and then there is an explossion and the reader was in that building and everybody thinks that she died, and start to cry and remember how they love her, and finally she was ok, and goes with them and ask what happen? …

Help (Avengers X Reader) SERIOUS TRIGGER WARNING: SELF- HARM MENTIONS Request: ... a super angsty self-harm one with avengers.

Where Do Babies Come From? (Avengers X Child!Reader) Warnings: Mild swearing, sex ed talk Request: … reader is the little protect one sister of the avengers (like 12 years old) and she goes around the tower asking the avengers how babies are made. (she doesnt have a mom, so she doesnt know anything) and Tony freaks out because doesnt want her to grow up! …

Phantom (Avengers X Fem!Reader) | Part 2 Request: ... reader’s super badass the team rarely sees her shes like a ninja and according to clint who ever sees her outside missions will have a lucky day (lmao) and like when the teams having movie night shes just like standing behind them in the shadows ...

No Spoilers (Avengers X Reader) | Part 2 | Part 3 Warnings: Spoilers of AOU SET BEFORE AOU Request: ... reader from our universe gets dropped into the avengers.

One Last Goodbye (Avengers X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Death, mourning. Request: … reader died during a mission. Fury give Tony a USB key and told him to watch the video with the rest of the avengers. on the video the reader is talking about how much she loved them and tells each avenger little facts that she loved about them and she thanks them for being her family. …

Birthday Girl (Avengers X Fem!Reader) Request: ... it’s the female readers birthday. She works with the Avengers but aside from that she doesn’t have any friends. She is having a bad birthday, the avengers don’t know. They find out it’s her birthday and surprise her, making it better. …

Welcome to the Family (Avengers X Elf!Reader) Warnings: Mentions of neglect Request: ... reader is half human, half light elf but you were taken from Alfheim and abandoned on earth when the dark elves attacked. (From Thor) The avengers find you and take you in. Thor offers to bring you home but you’ve gotten attached to the human world and decides to stay. You’ve especially gotten attached to Tony cause he treated you like a daughter since you were very young and petite. Smaller then normal elves

Not Your Fault (Avengers X Fem!Teen!Reader) Warnings: Mention of extreme injury, disability, guilt. Request: ... reader is Tony’s teen daughter and she is really good friends with everyone in Team Cap but then during the airport fight she gets hurt and is unable to walk again ... and then when she sees Team Cap again they feel really guilty specially because one of them caused the injury and Natasha feels angry at herself because she was supposed to be her mother figure and look out for her ...

Fitting In (Avengers X Adopted!Reader) Request: ... Tony, being known for his impulsive choices adopts a 14 yr old girl. She’s got the innocent girl next door look but she’s a complete devil. Nat loves her, Clint is afraid of her and Loki, Bucky and Sam are her partners in crime for evil pranks. All is well until she pulls a prank on Bruce and he hulks out. But even Hulk falls under her innocent spell and can’t seem to do anything to her.

Hair Pulling (Avengers X Reader) Warnings: Hair pulling, pulling hair out Request: ... One of the Avengers finds out that the reader has trichotillomania and try’s to help them to stop?

Headaches (Avengers X Reader) Warnings: Spoilers of AoU, Illness, swearing, mention of getting high and drunk Request: The reader is sick all of the time and the avengers are concerned about them, so they have to try and convince the avengers that they’re okay in the long run ...

Killer Cupcakes (Avengers X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Serious illness, near death Request: ... reader is like really sick/hurt and tries to hide it from the other avengers, but they find out and freak bc she almost died ...

The Ultimate Sacrifice (Avengers X Male!Reader) Warnings: Death of character, description of death, mourning Request: ... they’re trapped in a capsized (upside down) cruise ship and the reader ... sacrifices himself to save the group, based on the song My Immortal by Evanescence ...

Animals (Avengers X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Swearing Request: ... reader is sort of spiritually connected with animals or has some sort of connection with animals where they just adore her ... and the avengers ... keep finding random animals around the tower and Tony keeps telling her off for it; secretly everyone finds it amusing and the reader knows this.

I Need My Family (Avengers X Reader) Warnings: Mention of harrassment, assault and swearing Request: ... reader is part time university student - part time Avenger ... and reader somehow gets into some trouble that involves the police, and they try to keep it secret from the others, but Steve finds out and tells Wanda, then they tell the others ...

Other Me (Bucky X Fem!Reader) | *PREQUEL* [Part 2] | Part 3 *Sequel Warnings: Needles, stabbing, blood, death Request: … reader joined the avengers before Bucky. He sees her as sweet, shy and innocent but during missions she’s a complete psycho? After missions its like nothing happened. So he asks Steve about it and he says she’s like that cause before missions they take her off her meds that keep her in check. If she doesn’t have them she’s kinda over the top angry.

Hidden Art (Avengers X Fem!Reader) Request: ... reader is a shy recruit at the Avengers and she doesn’t really talk to anyone and didn’t let anyone in her room, and one day someone walked to her room and found out that she was very good at art ...

Joining The Team Pt 1 (Avengers X Reader) | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 ~Finale Warnings: Blood, Violence, torture Request: ... Avengers x reader fic, really angsty ...

Compromised (Neal Caffrey X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Nat kills someone, violence Request: ... Neal Caffrey (reader’s boyfriend) finds out she’s an Avenger, and the Avengers find out she has a boyfriend? Mozzie is protective of Neal and Nat and Bucky are protective of reader and try to scare Neal into backing off?

I’ll Kill Him (Avengers X Fem!Reader) Warnings: Mentions of Domestic abuse. Request: Reader is the Avenger’s assistant and like a little sister to them, and one day she doesn’t come into work and Bucky goes to her house to make sure she’s OK and finds out she’s in an abusive relationship and helps her.

Where’s Nat? (Avengers X Teen!Reader) Warnings: Blood. Looooots of blood. Request: teen reader has period and goes to avengers for help but Nat isn’t home – Tony is her uncle!

Not alone (Avengers X Reader) SERIOUS WARNING: SELF HARM MENTIONS. Other warnings: Getting shot. Request: Avengers see Reader’s self harm scars and confront her

Overprotective much? (Avengers X Fem!Reader) Warnings: One swear word, threatening, flirting, drinking and attempted murder by an overprotective brother. Request: ... reader is Tony´s sister and she is really beautiful (thats why Tony won´t introduce her) and the avengers are surprised and start bothering Tony and he gots really jealous and protective ...

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avengerscompound · 3 years

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It’s You and Me - Chapter 6

It’s You and Me: A Hawkeye Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Clint Barton x F!Reader

Word Count: 1588

Rating: E

Warnings: Nothing much this chapter

Synopsis: You and Clint Barton go way back. Since you joined the circus as a child, he took it upon himself to keep you away from the people who really wanted to hurt you. For years the two of you danced a line between dark and light.

When he chooses light the two of you go your separate ways.

Fifteen years later he tracks you down. Those feelings the two of you shared never went away, but now he is not only an Avengers but a single father. Can the two of you make it work after all this time when your lives have gone in such different directions?

A series told in flashbacks and current day.

Chapter 6: Then

Clint swung the sword in a lazy arc from left to right and back again as he watched you stretch. The springboard was set up between the two of you, and Clint hadn’t quite worked out how they’d hide that in the arena to make this look like you could get as much air as you needed without assistance. That was if the two of you could get it to work at all.

You’d come a long way since you first came to him for help. In the year and a bit since it happened you and he had started performing together. To begin with, Clint had just started training you to use the sword and the bow. While you learned he had incorporated you into his act doing simple things that didn’t require you to have any actual skills. Shooting an apple off your head. Putting you on a rotating wheel and firing arrows around your body.

Jacques kept complaining that it wasn’t enough. He tried to argue that anyone could stand there while Clint shot at them. Thankfully it was enough for the Ringmaster, and so Jacques couldn’t touch you. Maynard Tiboldt was the head of the circus, and what he said was law. Clint had known that it wouldn’t be long until Jacques got in the Tiboldt’s ear and he’d come for you again, and if not that, that Tiboldt himself would think up some criminal activity he needed you to do. So Clint honed his act as you got better. New tricks were added and he trained you in more things. When he started training you in acrobatics, he knew he was on to something. You took to it even faster than you took to the sword. You were a natural and Clint ended up roping in the other acrobats to help train you.

The act gradually grew as your skills became more honed. Little routines were added that had you backflipping out of the way of his arrows even though he was aiming not to hit you, and having you do handstands while he shot through your spread legs. As you got better the routine became more complex. Most recently Clint had you doing flips over the arrows he shot at targets as they traveled through the air. You’d even gotten to the point you could fire an arrow with your feet while you did a handstand. You weren’t particularly accurate but it served as a good starter for Clint to copy and spit your arrow in two.

He knew - the way he knew it about himself too - that you needed to keep getting better or it wouldn’t be enough anymore and they’d drag you right down into the pits with them. So he kept planning out more things you could do together. You were good with the horses, so he thought about incorporating them somehow. He thought about trick arrows and how the two of you could use them together. Anything that would keep drawing in a crowd and make the circus money so neither of you had to make it elsewhere.

“You ready?” He asked.

“Yeah. Are you?” You answered.

He nodded and thrust the sword forward as if he was going to stab you. You jumped rotating straight up through the air and landed with both feet, on the flat of the blade. Clint’s shoulder strained and the blade wobbled. You managed to stay standing on it for less than a second, but Clint couldn’t hold the blade steady and you slipped. You managed to get some leverage off the blade as you fell and turned mid-air, landing in a crouched position on the ground.

“Shit,” Clint cursed, rolling his shoulder. “Sorry. It’s the weight when you land. It’s hard to keep steady.”

“I could just immediately backflip off again,” you suggested. “Make it look like I kicked you in the face.”

Clint laughed. “I mean, sure we can start with that. But I think the crowd would appreciate it more if they get a moment to applaud it.”

“Yeah, but if I wrench your shoulder you’re not going to be good for anything, are you?” You said.

Clint looked down at the blade. “Reinforcing the blade helped with its stability. I wonder if we could rig something for me.”

“I dunno, Clint,” you said. “You’re better with those gadgets than I am. But wouldn’t that make shooting an arrow harder?”

“We can do an overdramatic jacket removal,” he suggested.

“Anything to get your shirt off,” you teased. “You trying to scare the customers away?”

“Why you little shit,” Clint gasped playfully and lunged at you, you ran but he got his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into a headlock and ran his knuckle back and forth on the top of the head.

“Clint!” You squealed, trying to struggle out of his hold. “Stop it!”

He stopped rubbing your head but kept you held under his arm. “I dunno if I should. You’re a big bunch of trouble.”

“I’m gonna kick your ass!” You shouted as you struggled.

“Yeah, yeah. How are you gonna do that when you’re trapped under there?” He teased.

The sound of someone clearing their throat cut through the clearing and Clint turned you to face Eden who was standing at the side of the tent. “What are you doing, Clinton?” She asked.

Clint rubbed the top of your head again. “Someone seems to think I am some kind of hussy that likes to use his body to get attention.”

“And you’re not?” Eden teased.

“Not you too!” She said, and dragged you after his girlfriend, as she backed up against the tent.

“Clinton Francis Barton, you had better not!” She shouted.

He wrapped his arm around Eden’s shoulders but instead of putting her in a headlock, he dipped her back and kissed her passionately, which only made you struggled under his arm more.

“Stop it! I don’t wanna be pinned here while you make out!” You yelped.

Eden pulled back laughing and Clint looked down at you with a smirk, before letting you go. You backed off of him scowling. “You suck.”

“Oh come on now,” Eden said. “You could have broken out of that, surely. Clint? Aren’t you teaching her how to fight?”

“Well I could have punched him in the nuts, but who knows where those have been,” you teased.

“Why you little…” he said and lunged at you. You ran away laughing as Eden caught his wrist.

“Let her go,” she said. “You spend entirely too much time around her anyway.”

“She’s in my act,” Clint said. “We have to rehearse. I was thinking of adding horses… I saw this thing where people did this act, riding them standing up. Jumping on and off. I reckon I could do that and maybe we could do the handstand arrow while riding next to each other. I bet that would…”

Eden stopped him by pressing her lips against his and pushing him up against one of the tent poles. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her even closer, trying to push out the thoughts of potential acts as her fingers tangled into his hair and ran along his scalp.

“I think you spend entirely too much time with her,” Eden said. “I thought I was your girl.”

“You are, baby,” Clint assured her. “She’s just a kid. I only have eyes for you.”

“She’s not so much a kid anymore,” Eden said. “She’ll be turning seventeen soon.”

“Pfft,” Clint scoffed. “She’s a kid. You don’t trust me?”

Eden raised her eyebrow at him. “Do you always trust me?”

Clint furrowed his brow. The truth was he wasn’t sure if he did always trust her. Which had nothing to do with Eden at all, and everything to do with him. It was hard to equate trust and love together when all the people who showed him any kind of affection always hurt him so much. Even his brother who had spent his life protecting Clint was just as likely to hit him as he was to save him. So despite the fact that Eden hadn’t done anything to make him not trust her, anytime he saw her even next to another guy he felt possessive.

“See,” she said. “Maybe we just need a little extra reassurance.”

Clint nodded and pressed his forehead against hers. “You don’t have to worry about me and her. It’s just our act and I gotta keep it fresh so Jacques doesn’t make us take part in his schemes.”

The shadow of a frown fell on Eden’s face so briefly that Clint wasn’t sure if it was really there at all. “Do you worry about me like that?”

“Of course I do, babe,” Clint said. “You and me, we’re gonna keep our noses clean.”

“What if they tell me what I’m doing isn’t enough?” Eden asked.

Clint cradled her jaw and looked into her eyes. “Who said that? Did Jacques - “ he pulled away and squared off his shoulders. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

Eden grabbed Clint’s arm. “No one did anything. It was a; ‘What if…?’ I’m fine.”

“You’ll tell me… if he does? You’ll tell me?” Clint asked.

“I’ll tell you, Clint. It’s fine,” she assured him. “Hey. How about you and I find somewhere quiet, so we can… you know?”

Clint smirked, the worries about trust and Jacques quickly pushed away. He took Eden’s hand and the two of them went to find somewhere private together.

// NEXT

#clint barton #clint barton x reader #hawkeye #hawkeye fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #it's you and me

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babylooneytoonz · 3 years

Text

Blood Trails [ Pt. 6 ]

Chapter Summary: What if Bucky's plan works? What if he finally comes face to face with a ghost of his past? How will he react?

Warnings: ANGST

Word Count: 3000+ (Allegedly)

Masterlist

“You really didn’t think this through, did you?” Clint raised an eyebrow, as he mumbled into his comms. He was perched on a high vantage point, just above the massive red tent of the circus that was in town. The Avengers had planned this all out in such a way, that was going to be no show today. They had even had the circus inhabitants evacuated for a day because they didn’t want any civilian to suffer for something they wanted to do. Besides, Bucky wasn’t even sure if this would work; if you would turn up.

“Not really,” Bucky replied back into the comms, as he stood behind a vehicle, and only peeped out from against a corner, just to check if there was any movement in the perimeters, when Sam started speaking.

“Have you even thought about what you’re going to do if she actually shows up? Are you going to protect her? Even if you know she is one of them?”

To be honest, he hadn’t thought about what he was going to do when he found you. Now, the more he thought about it, the more he felt that he had made a mistake of hurrying up to find you. You were HYDRA, you were an enemy, yes he hated you for what you had become, but you were just like he once used to be; helpless. He wanted to help you , just like Steve had helped him get back on track. But he didn’t know if he could face you, without wanting to know the truth, of why you lied to him, why you faked your death and why you left him, and your own daughter. There were too many loose ends that didn’t make sense; he didn’t even know if your affiliation to HYDRA was from before you met him, or the two of you fell in love; or were you actually caught by HYDRA after you faked your death. Nothing made sense to him, and the only one who knew the truth just didn’t remember it.

“She could have killed my girl Sam, she didn’t. There is still a part of her left in there, and I don’t want to abandon that little part, just because her other more prominent part is a monster.” Bucky mumbled into the comms, just when a loud , screeching sound of a motorcycle reached their ears.

“Looks like she’s here, Barnes,” Clint mumbled, as he could get the most clearest vision right now from the top.

“You see her?” Bucky asked, his voice suddenly filled with inquisitiveness, still hiding behind the vehicle, and Clint informed them back on comms that he could see a woman walking towards the circus, a glistening piece of metal in her hand; definitely a gun.

“What the actual fuck? Am I at the right place?” You couldn’t help but frown when you realized that there had been some confusion. You looked around in a daze, wondering why the circus looked empty, and there wasn’t a single car parked around. You slid your gun in the holster in your waist, and your hands flew through your short cropped hair in frustration, and you were about to inform Vasili in your comms, that the mission was nothing but a failure, when you heard something behind you.

You were sure you'd heard a footstep behind you and instinctively, you drew back out the gun that you had just secured into your waist, your fingers coiling against it. You swirled around, only to see a man snaking his way towards you, but he paused when he saw that you had seen him, his hands almost going up in a move of defense.

"Don't shoot, I'm here to talk."

Your hand was gripping the gun hard, and your finger was inches away from the trigger. You almost lifted the gun, aiming it at the man, but before you could do that, you found yourself being swung around, as Bucky charged at you, at full force, his arms grabbing your waist as the impact took you both flying a distance, and the two of you crashed into an abandoned mini tent. Bucky pulled himself up quickly, snatching your gun from your hand, as you were still reeling from the suddenness of it all. Your eyes, however, narrowed down at him, when his metal hand came to rest against your face mask, and he swiftly pulled it off your mouth, revealing your face.

It was like time stopped for him, when your (y/e/c) eyes finally met his; your eyes confused, and widened, lacking any emotion. He kept staring at you, letting this ghost of his past soak him completely, the way your familiar eyes met his and you didn’t look away. He almost pulled his hand to your cheek, and his fingers were ready to brush against your scarred skin and stroke it, when the moment just ended.What felt like an eternity for James Buchanan Barnes, was actually just a minute, for before he could react, you curled your palm into a fist and punched him hard in the face, with a sickening crack. You didn’t stop, you pushed yourself from the mound of his weight, and sauntered now on top of him, fixing yourself on his abdomen, as you prepared yourself to give him another blow to the face, but at the right time, his metal hand grabbed your fist, and his cold metal fingers tightened his grip over your fist, and the two of you were reduced into a fight, just to free your fist.

“Y/N, stop.” Bucky finally mumbled, in the lowest of voices.

This only worsened the confusion in the back of your mind.

“Who the hell is Y/N?”

“Yeah, I figured you won’t remember a thing, doll,” he didn’t smile, but there was something unnaturally familiar about being this close to this man. The way he was staring into your eyes, it was way different that what Vasili’s eyes on you felt like. He suddenly rolled you over, his grip on you strong, as now you were facing away from him, but your back was pressed against him, and he was gripping your wrists.

“Let me go, Soldier,” you hissed, through pursed lips, struggling to pull free from his metal grip, but it seemed to be in vain.

“No can do, sorry. There are things you and I need to talk about. About who you are, and why are you after my daughter’s life.”

You opened your mouth, ready to reply, and probably ask him to fuck off, for an Avenger could never break you, but at the exact same time, two heads poked through the small tent, and a voice rang out, causing your head, and your captor’s, to snap in that direction, “you need backup? Oh, looks like you’ve got it.”

“Get her up and tie her hands, I don’t trust her.” Bucky pushed you slightly, and Sam grabbed your arm, pulling you up, ignoring how you were trying to pry your arm off his grip, but he was stronger than you were. Clint then stepped closer, his eyes scanning your face for a few seconds, before he grabbed your hands, and placed the cuff on your left wrist, tying the other cuff to Sam’s wrist, ignoring his wild protesting, “ Hey! Why me?! Why do I have to be cuffed ? It’s his girl – “

“Come on, move.” Bucky snapped, placing his metal hand on the back of your shoulder as he tried to push you forward for you to make you walk, but you smacked his arm away, using your other free hand, and were about to lift your leg to kick him when his metal hand caught your calf midair, and he grunted as he pushed your foot back, hissing through pursed lips, “don’t even think about it, Y/N.”

“Stop fucking calling me Y/N.”

“Whatever, I won’t call you Y/N if you move.”

“Where the fuck are you taking me?” You snarled, as you found yourself being roughly taken out of the tent, as Sam, and Bucky fixed themselves on either of your sides, and Clint was behind you, their footsteps moving towards the SUV that was parked a few meters away.

“Oh, you’re paying the Avengers Towers a visit,” Clint slyly commented, as Bucky pulled open the passenger side door for you, and placing his hand on top of your head, he shoved you into the back, and then Sam got in with you, his hand being tied to him.

“You scum are messing with the wrong people. Когда он узнает, он придет за мной. (When he finds out, he is going to come for me.)” You spat your words but this time no one responded. You finally gave up; you had been caught and you might as well do what these people were asking you to. Besides, a small part of you felt relieved you wouldn’t have to see Vasili’s face for a while now.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

"I don't know if I can go in there," Bucky paced up and down the hallway, right outside the door to the interrogation room, his thick arms crossed over his broad chest.

Sam tried his best to comfort him, but he didn't say anything because he didn't know what he could say that would actually make Bucky feel better and go in there to face that woman who was seated in there. He placed his hand on Bucky's shoulderblades, almost slapping him and then nodded, when he finally saw that Bucky was making his way inside. He moved away, and fixed himself with Clint and Tony by the glass from where they could all see the interrogation, and you.

You tried to move but your hands were cuffed to the side of a metal table in a bland room with pristine white walls. You screamed, and you yelled, trying to pry your hands out but it failed. You kept cursing, muttering curses in Russian when the door finally opened, and the man with the metal arm, the Winter Soldier, spiraled in, his eyes cold and his expressions calculated. He had a piping hot mug in his hand and you could see smoke bellowing out of it as he took a sip, placing the mug on the table as he noisily pulled the chair and slumped on it.

“You can start with telling me about yourself.”

“Yeah, dream on, Soldier.”

He slammed his metal fist hard against the surface of the table, and the coffee mug spilt over, hot coffee spilling all over it, some of it now on your lap as you hissed when it came in contact with you. Briefly, you shut your eyes, when something hit you at the back of your mind, but you didn’t know what it was. It was as though this was déjà vu for you and you didn’t know why, you could almost feel that this had happened before; only you couldn’t remember.

Bucky stood up again, his tiny display of anger now vanished, and an almost stoic look draped over his face. He moved over to where you were seated, and he bent slightly, pulling out a handkerchief from one of his pockets, as he started wiping the coffee off your uniform, and you just kept watching him. He took your arm, as much as he could lift it, owing to the shackles that bound you to your place, and he rolled your sleeve up slightly, his eyes falling on the darkening marks on your skin.

Bucky knew that his blood was boiling up every second, and even more so when he saw those scars on you. But he bit back on the anger, and instead, started wiping that piping hot coffee splashes from your skin. As if on cue, or perhaps he had eyes at the back of his head that told him that you were staring at him, he looked back at you, “You gonna speak now or what?”

“What do you want to know?” You didn’t know why you spoke, even though you didn’t want to.

“Start with your name, who you are.” He stood up again, placing the now dirty handkerchief on the table, and went back to resume his sitting place in front of you, his eyes now on you.

“They call me Johanna.”

“Is that what your name is?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why did you kidnap my daughter?” His eyebrow twitched, and you could see that he was fighting an urge to either rip your eyes out, or shove you into the wall. His fingers were now clenched together, and his lips were pressed shut.

“She was my mission. I was doing my mission.”

“And who gave you this mission?”

“Vasili Dreznov.”

“HYDRA.”

“You’re smart.” You smirked, biting your lip slightly.

“Since when – “ He leaned forward, and for the first time since the entire interrogation had begun, you noticed that there was a bit of an apprehensiveness in his posture, the way he placed his elbows on the table, trying to sit straighter, “ – are you with them? With HYDRA?”

You parted your lips to answer him, but it felt as though words were lodged to your throat, and stuck there, refusing to part from you. You shook your head, almost nonchalantly, but one look into his eyes made you stiffen, as you whispered in a low voice, “Ever since I probably learned to walk.”

Bucky didn’t know what hit him, and why he felt like oxygen had been knocked off, and he couldn’t breathe. His heart shattered at the words that you had unknowingly said. Were you a HYDRA puppet all through your life? Even when you were with him? Is that why you had left? The worst part of it that stung to the back of his mind like a needle was, were you tortured all your life like this? It wasn’t like he couldn’t see the scars on your face, and your neck, that you so desperately tried to hide under the makeup and the concealer that was coming off.

“Do you remember any of your life that wasn’t HYDRA?”

You bit your lip, skewering your head to one side so your short cropped hair now fell to your left as you raised an eyebrow, trying your best to understand what he meant. Finally, giving up, you shook your head and gave him a ghost of a smile as you mumbled, “Not that I remember.”

A deafening silence filled the interrogation room, and you didn’t know why it was so silent now, for you could hear your heartbeat strumming through your ears. You swallowed the bile forming in your throat, and averted your eyes, wanting to look anywhere but at the man sitting right in front of you, who was just staring at you like there was something he wanted to say, but he just couldn’t.

“One last question before I leave you to rot in here.”

He finally said, and you couldn’t help but let the side of your lip curve upward, and a flicker of a smirk form on his lip as well, that he quickly masked. This man was your enemy, yet you couldn’t help but feel more comfortable in his presence than you ever felt in the presence of only man that was there for you, Vasili Dreznov.

“Why’d you save her life in Hungary?”

You smiled because you knew this question was coming for you.

“She didn’t deserve what I went through. I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if she had been treated the way I’ve been made to grow up, and it would have been my fault.”

Bucky had gotten the answers he wanted, atleast for the time being. Besides, he could practically imagine Tony, and Sam standing outside and staring at them through the glass, without anyone inside even knowing that they were being watched. He cleared his throat and a with a faint nod, stood up, the chair creating a noise as he stepped up and took a step away. He then twirled around and started walking away, when you spoke again, “Soldier. You’re leaving with one of your questions unanswered.”

He paused but he did not turn around. He was listening to you though. You knew it, so you continued speaking.

“I never came to kidnap her again. At the circus, if you’re thinking.”

“What do you mean?” He slowly turned towards you, so he could look at you.

“You think I wouldn’t have just done it if I wanted to? Last time, you didn’t prove to be much of a challenge. It’s just that I didn’t want to.”

“Then why did you come?”

“I came to warn you, to take her and get the fuck out of here. Because Vasili won’t rest until he had her, but looks like you finally caught me.”

Bucky’s breathing hitched at your words, and a part of him wondered if he should believe you, or you were just playing. After all, you were just a HYDRA puppet, but then, you could have done it, and you were right about that. He finally nodded, and cleared his throat, slowly mumbling, “Someone is going to get you something to eat –“ and then, he left, his footsteps retreating away, leaving you alone in that annoyingly white room.

Bucky stepped out of the interrogation room, and the minute he stepped out, he finally felt that he could breathe again. He swiped his palm through his face, clenching his eyes shut as he fixed himself against the wall outside. His breathing was laboured, and the back of his head was resting against the wall when Sam decided to check in on him, after having watched the entire interrogation from the outside, “You,uh, okay?”

“I just don’t know what to believe. I really want to believe her but I just don’t know if I can.”

Sam placed his palm on Bucky’s shoulder, and patted him in an attempt to comfort him, giving him a weak smile, “Its not my place to say, but I think there was a reason she left Bucky, and I am ninety nine percent sure it was because of her connection to HYDRA.”

“Yeah, I know.” Bucky mumbled, letting out a weak exhale as the two of them turned to look at you through the glass.

“Now I have to fucking wait for her memories to come back to her, so .. I could get the answers I want.”

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cagestark · 4 years

Text

Introduction to Ink//2

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Chapter Four

About this: nff, fem!Tony. College AU. Discussion of past kidnapping.

There’s the eight of them: himself, Nat, Steve, Clint, Thor, Wanda, Bruce, and Toni. Natasha has an incredible firepit, all expensive paving stones and matching brick inlaid into the foundation of the patio. Bucky drags his chair back an extra few feet until he can barely feel the warmth of the flames; he doesn’t care for fire.

Toni is seated across from him, her figure sometimes lost to the flames and shimmering smoke when someone stokes the fire or adds a new log. It’s a mercy and a crime to lose sight of her, her tanned skin glowing orange, the flickering flame enhancing the shadow of her cheekbones and jaw and the modest arch of her breasts. They’d barely be palmfuls to him, easy for him to cup and flick his thumbs over her nipples.

Fucking hell, he thinks, shifting in his seat. Thinking that kind of pornographic bullshit about a girl he’s barely spoken to is perverse at best. To distract himself from the sight of her and the growing tingle in his groin, he reaches for the pack of cigarettes beside his chair and lights one up.

Around the fire, conversation never ceases. Thor, evidence provided by his deep tan, has been on the west coast and brought home with him a collection of stories with each wilder than the last. The group gets a kick out of teasing Toni for her horrified reactions, the collective good-natured laughter of the group drawing his eyes back to her, reluctantly. She flushes each time, gritting her teeth and rolling her eyes.

“Come on, T, your turn to tell a story,” Nat goads, trying to draw the reclusive girl into the conversation. All eyes turn to her. Bucky catches her heavy gaze on him before she looks down at her lap where her hands are clenched tightly together. “You’ve told me some. Tell them about your Uncle Obie—”

“I’d rather not,” Toni mutters dryly.

“Oh, please? Please, please, please?” Natasha slips from her perch on Steve’s lap to kneel dramatically at Toni’s feet, her hands clasped together in beseechment. God, she’s so much fucking looser when she’s drunk. Less Macbethian rigidity and more Midsummer Night’s Dream-esque silliness. Murmurs rise up around the fire as the others chime in, hoping the chip away at the girl’s reserved exterior.

“Isn’t the point of a party to distract yourself from the mundane and unsavory aspects of your life?” Toni wonders, reaching out to pat at Natasha’s hair, red as the flames. (Clint boos, but at least this time Toni’s lips quirk upwards in a smirk. She’s learning to take pleasure in Clint’s disappointment. She’ll fit into their friend group fine, thinks Bucky fondly).

Nat leans up, pressed flush against Toni’s side. She cups a hand around Toni’s ear as if to give them privacy, only she’s cupping it the wrong way, directing the sound of her stage whisper towards the rest of the group when she says: “Isn’t Bucky distracting you enough?”

Bucky drops his cigarette, flinching to wipe it away from where it lands on his jeans before it can burn a hole through them. The circle grows quiet, the sound of the fire as it crackles nearly deafening in the awkward silence. Toni’s gaze flicker to Bucky—an instinct thanks to Natasha saying his name—and those dark eyes grow wide like moons, her entire face flushing with a cocktail of embarrassment and anger. Nat gapes, suddenly aware of her faux pass, but she has no time to remedy it before Toni is standing.

“I’m going to go—get a drink,” she mutters, turning away and disappearing inside the house.

“Damn it,” Nat sighs. Steve reaches out to coax her back into his lap.

“Great one,” Bucky snaps. He reaches down to pick up his cigarette from the patio, tucking it back into his mouth. No use wasting it. “Really. Can we all give Natasha a round of applause, please?”

“Lay off, Buck,” Steve says with a frown. Even in the safe circlet of his arms, Natasha’s frown is heavy.

“I’m sorry, it just came out,” she says. “She’s been staring at you all day.”

“Toni and Bucky?” Sam says, eyebrows high. “I wouldn’t have seen that coming.”

“Not like that you dumbass. She can’t stop looking because she thinks I’m a circus freak,” says Bucky. “And you embarrassed the both of us. Anybody else says another word about it and I’m out of here.”

“Hey,” Clint says fondly, leaning out to lay one of his broad palms on Bucky’s shoulder. With exaggerated coolheadedness, he suggests: “Chill the fuck out.”

While the two of them begin to trade biting comments much to the amused delight of the rest of the circle, Steve presses a comforting kiss to Natasha’s temple and murmurs in her ear, “How much have you had to drink tonight?”

Natasha turns her head into the side of his neck to hide from the rest of their friends, lets her quirking lips brush against Steve’s skin as she murmurs, “ Nothing .”

The patio door opens. Toni appears, cheeks still a little red, with a beer in her hand. Brave little thing, Bucky thinks to himself watching as she returns to her seat and smoothly uses the metal arm of the patio chair to pop the cap off like some kind of expert. She takes a long sip, resolutely looking into the fire as if she can sense everyone’s eyes on her.

“So,” she says at last. “My Uncle had me kidnapped.”

A long moment of silence.

Then, from Clint: “What the fuck . While you were in the kitchen?”

The group’s drunkenness makes them the perfect audience. There are gasps and exclamations and No fucking way’s! as Toni relays a story that’s dramatic and horrifying and apparently entirely true: how a group of hired men had killed one of Toni’s bodyguards and carried the girl off; how her own father hadn’t been willing to pay the ransom; how she had escaped thanks to her own inventiveness only to be picked up by her Uncle Obie, who instead of driving them home, had driven deeper into nowhere. She’d put the puzzle pieces together and thrown herself from the moving car and spent 8 hours walking through the woods before she’d found civilization and returned home. Apparently Uncle Obie is serving a life sentence in Attica.

“That’s trauma. That’s like, first-class trauma. That’s not carry-on, either. You need to have that trauma luggage checked,” Clint rambles, though everybody is making noises of agreement. “Wait, I’m not the authority on childhood trauma. Wanda?”

“Trauma,” she decides concisely. Her face hasn’t yet returned to its normal color, not since Howard refused to pay the ten-million-dollar ransom.

“Hey,” Toni says, grinning. The bottle she’d brought out from the kitchen is empty now, and since it’s completion, she’s been noticeably looser. Light weight, Bucky thinks, the corners of his lips quirking up around his latest cigarette. “I warned you! Honestly, though, it wasn’t that bad. Not my worst kidnapping by far.”

“Please, no more,” says Wanda.

“No more,” Toni agrees. The two girls’ chairs are close enough that Toni can lean and rest her head on Wanda’s shoulder, the most outgoing and affectionate she’s been all night. Bucky isn’t going to be fucking jealous of Wanda’s bony shoulder.

“Should we break out some glow sticks and play more pong?” Natasha suggests. “I’m losing my buzz.”

Steve makes a face from behind her, probably not eager to see his girlfriend slip back into the verbacious phase of drunkenness, but everyone else promptly agrees, standing to vacate their chairs.

“Dibs on Bucky as my partner!” Clint shouts.

“I’m sitting out,” Bucky says. Everyone boos. “I’ll play the winner, okay?” Everyone cheers.

Natasha’s property is huge, so Bucky lets himself skirt along the edge of the woods, staying within the glow of the fairy lights but walking far enough away that he loses sight of his friends and can only hear their shouts and laughter carried on the wind. It’s become cool enough that he shrugs his jacket back on, his black on black ensemble probably helping him blend into the darkness whenever he steps into the treeline.

Ever since Becca died and Bucky moved upstate to be with his ma, Bucky has been prone to episodes of melancholy. He used to be a party animal when he’d first met Steve and Nat; they’d become thick as thieves partying together and watching out for each other. Now he can’t make it through a party without feeling the urge to wander off and away, to detach himself physically the way he so often feels emotionally. Finding a sturdy tree, he lets himself rest against it, head pressed against the rough bark, eyes closed (though he can see the glow of the lights through his eyelids).

“Oh shit—” There comes the violent cracking of sticks and the sound of a body tumbling. Heart pounding from the sudden shout, it only takes a few steps for him to find Toni on the ground, her skirt in a pool around her slim body, dark hair wreathed in gold from the lights above them. She looks up at him, flushed. “I hate nature. Really. And I’m pretty sure that the feeling is mutual.”

“Are you okay?” Bucky rasps, reaching one of his hands down even though his heart is in his throat. She hesitates at the sight of it before reaching out and tucking her smaller hand into his own and letting him gently pull her up from the ground. “You didn’t twist somethin’ did you?”

“Just my pride. Wait, you said twisted not destroyed.”

“Happens to the best of us. And to Clint, too.”

“Clint more often than others?” she asks. This close, the size difference between them is enough to go to his head and to his gut: she must barely be past five feet tall, slim and willowy and nothing like the girls he usually dates. Then again, he’s probably the last kind of guy she’d ever date. Still, she’s fucking pretty: those dark, big eyes with pinpoints of light in the pupils since she’s got her head tilted up to look at him, her mouth full and wide, chin pointed.

Bucky clears his throat, already having forgotten her question. “What are you doin’ out here?”

Toni sets her jaw. “I came to find you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, I—wanted to apologize.”

Bucky blinks. “What for?”

She waves a hand back towards the distant sound of their friends. “For today. I didn’t treat you very, very, god, what’s the word. Does being drunk always feel like this, feel like my brain is scrambled eggs? Anyway, I came off like a real bitch.”

“Nah,” says Bucky, even if it’s a little true. He raises his chin, puts the honeycomb on his neck on display just to watch her eyes be drawn to it, her mouth parting a little. “I’m used to it, kid. Lookin’ the way I do. I understand.”

“That’s not right, though,” Toni is quick to supply. She still has her eyes on his throat. “It’s your body. Obviously. Also I'm not a kid, I'm twenty-two with a doctorate in engineering. I just, I’ve only ever seen one tattoo before. Excluding TV. It was like, this big? Maybe a little smaller. Of a peony, I think, maybe paeonia lactiflora , something in the paeonia family, anyway. I’ve just never seen anyone who looked like you before.”

Bucky doesn’t wince, but it’s a close call. “I get it.”

“You look so—” Bucky prepares himself for some kind of noun or adjective that he’ll have to swallow down like the most bitter medicine, grit his teeth and accept. Based on her expression, she’s still struggling to find the words she wants, her expression open and almost-awed in a way that makes him feel like he’s standing on the ridge of a tree root liable to fall over any moment. “You look like art.”

Whatever Bucky was expecting—it wasn’t that. She means it, too. He can tell. The shell she’s fortified around herself all night has cracked, and inside he can see the embryonic hints of a girl very young (though not nearly as young as he had thought, thank god), whose life until recently has been forcefully closed off and punctuated with moments of real terror. She isn’t horrified. She’s awed. She’s intrigued. She’s curious.

On a whim, Bucky shrugs off his jacket. It’s intoxicating to see her expression change: the eyes widen, the mouth parts, all at the sight of him alone. It’s a heady power that he isn’t used to feeling. But does the power belong to him, or is it simply washing over him? Maybe this slip of a girl is really the one with the power, power that he feels helpless to bend to.

Holding out a hand, he feels something like a princess offering his knuckles for her to kiss. She reaches out on instinct, stopping just shy of his skin to look up in question. The area beneath her slim fingers buzzes like the air before a lightning strike. He nods, willing to be struck.

Fingers with calloused tips brush from his first knuckle down over the letter (H, HATE across his left proximal digits and LOVE across the right ones). He holds his breath, begging his hand not to tremble at her touch as she trails her burning fingers up over the hill of his knuckle and down into the valley where the skin is thin and sensitive.

“I can’t even feel it,” Toni mutters. “Which, I mean, I knew. The ink penetrates all the way down to the dermis to avoid the keratinization process, but it’s just—I thought I would feel it.”

More breathless than he’d like to be: “Not sure what all that means. Sometimes you can feel them, though. When they don’t heal right.”

She looks up at him with wide, glittering eyes. “Is that so?”

Bucky nods. She hums, turning her eyes back to his hand where she runs her fingers over the ivy along the back, mussing the soft thin hairs that grow there. His throat clicks when he swallows, but he doesn’t think she can hear it, not over the screech of the evening insects and not through the trance she seems to be in, turning his hand this way and that way, coaxing it into supination so she can follow the trail of leaves.

She drags the tip of her fingernail gently down the center of his palm and he can’t help but shudder. There’s a dangerous heat blooming in his gut and several inches lower the tell tale feeling of blood rushing south. Thank God his jeans are tight enough to pin his cock close to his body.

“Why nothing here?” she asks, tapping the center of his palm just over his head line.

“They don’t take as well.”

“Thicker skin,” says Toni. “Epithelium on the palms and soles can be three times thicker than your average layer epithelial tissue. That must make it difficult to get to the dermis.”

“You learn that at school?”

“No; I’m at NYU for physics. But I read a lot.” She moves on from his palm, tracing the ivy down his forearm. The skin is so sensitive that he can’t hide the goosebumps that bloom or the way his body shivers. She doesn’t remark on it, but her eyes do flicker up to gauge his expression. Fuck, she must see right through him. He’s got no idea what he looks like, but if it’s anything like how he feels (and his ma always did say that he was an open book), then she knows everything in a single glance. How infatuated he is. How attracted he is.

She shivers. He reaches down to pick up his jacket and offers it to her, the both of them laughing when she slips it on and has to push the sleeves up. It shouldn’t feel so good to see her in his clothes, but it does. Jesus, it does.

With firmness, she guides his arm outward away from his side so that she can see the entire upper portion of the sleeve, the portrait of Strazza’s the Veiled Virgin. The way she moves him, twists him this way and that way has his cock aching. I’d take orders from her all day long , he thinks to himself, wishing he could reach down and adjust himself without drawing attention to his aching hard on. All night, too.

On his right arm, she repeats many of the same gestures, tracing the hills and valleys of his knuckles, examining his pale, unmarked palms, tracing the veins up his forearms, pausing to scratch gently at one of the dotted geometric shapes on his bicep. It’s torture to stand there and feel her touch on him, her eager, intoxicated eyes eating up his skin. You look like art, she had said. Under her hands, he feels like it.

When she runs into the sleeve of his t-shirt, she coaxes it back, trying to follow the trail of a chain. She makes a soft, unhappy sound when she can’t expose any more skin. It makes him swallow on reflex, bicep tightening under her hand as a thought comes to him. He opens his mouth to offer but shuts it again quickly.

“What?” she asks, looking up at the motion in the corner of her eye.

“Nothing.”

“Wh-at?”

“I was just—I’ll take it off for you. If you want to keep looking.”

Her eyes get heavy-lidded, roaming over his face as she searches for something. Somehow, she looks even drunker than she did moments ago when he first found her sprawled out on the ground. Not that he blames her; he hasn’t had a drink since the bonfire began, but he still feels drunk enough without it. Then he realizes why: she isn't drunk, she's turned on. The way she's shifting and can't stand still, thighs pressing together tight. This is turning her on, and that thought is nearly enough to bring him to his knees.

“Okay,” she says. She pokes his shoulder, her aim affected. “I want to see where this one ends.”

Bucky steps back to give himself the room needed to take off his shirt, though Toni seems to sway towards him. Like he’s got a gravitational pull, like she’s fallen too deep into his atmosphere to pull away now. With a shaking breath, he reaches for the neck of the shirt and tugs it off over his head, losing sight of her for just a moment.

She takes him in. His chest isn’t as saturated as his arms are. The honeycomb runs down to his collar bones before the lines begin to break down, reassemble into sheet music. Strict black and white linework that uses his own pale skin as the paper of the page. The chain that led up over his shoulder curves around his back to knot itself around the middle of his backpiece. From the base of his sternum down to the V of his hips, he is bare. Planning something big, he thinks, though he only has half-formed ideas.

Through each of his pale pink nipples are barbells.

“Good God,” Toni mutters under her breath. She places a burning palm on one of his bare shoulders so that she can lean in and remark, “Why would you do that? Didn’t that hurt?”

She’s so close that he can feel her breath fan across his chest. God, to reach out and tangle his fingers in her dark hair and draw her mouth those last six inches, to feel the soft rasp of her tongue over his sensitive nipples. He nearly groans at the thought. His nipples tighten under the attention of her gaze, aching in the best way.

“It all hurt,” Bucky rasps. The bite of the piercing needles, the sting of the tattoo gun—all of it had given him a sense of euphoria. A sense of pride in his body the likes of which he hadn’t had when he was young and insecure. “I guess I liked it anyway.”

She draws her fingers over the lines of his clavicles before turning her hand over so that the soft backs of her fingers trail down one defined pec. Maybe she tries to avoid it, her spatial reasoning fucked thanks to the beers she's had, but her pinky drags over his nipple. He does groan this time, the brief spike of pleasure going straight to his aching cock. One of his own hands drops, almost grabs his erection on instinct before he wills it away, reaching out to grip at a nearby low treebranch.

Toni pulls back like she’s been burned. “Sorry,” she says. “Did that hurt?”

Bucky clears his throat but doesn’t trust his voice. Instead, he shakes his head in the negative. She resumes her teasing touches, asking him to turn this way and that way, giving a delighted laugh at the spinal column tattooed from the nape of his neck down. Anatomically correct, she says. Though some of the cervical vertebrae are missing.

Every word she says goes straight to his cock whether it's about intervertebral disc space or whatever else. With his back to her and her attention on the tattoos there, he lets his hand drop as covertly as possible, rubbing without mercy at his confined cock, desperately willing the thing away. The rough touch nearly brings him to the brink, he’s that fucking close, innervated by every drag of her fingers, every press of her palm, every scratch of her curious fingernails. His head falls back, eyes shut tight against the lights above them, wondering if he can hide cumming in his pants long enough to get back to the house, say goodbye, and scram.

He pulls his hand back just as he feels the firm pressure of her turning him to face her, but this time there is no avoiding it. Her eyes have fallen naturally to the lines of ink peeking just over the waistband of his jeans. But centered in between and six inches lower is a bulge that can’t be disguised as anything but what it is. Bucky winces, reaching up to drag one palm against his forehead. This is probably the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to him, and Jesus, when Toni tells Nat about how Bucky coaxed her to feel him up and then popped a stiffie over it, the redhead will kill him.

When Toni speaks, her voice is an octave lower, letting one thumb brush against the flash of ink on his right hip. “Should—I mean...should you take your pants off?”

Bucky blinks. That was the last thing he expected to hear come from her mouth. “I...don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Toni’s face crumples a little. “Right. Sorry. I misread things. My therapist says I struggle with social cues.”

“Hey, that ain’t it,” says Bucky. He doesn’t like that look on her face, that burned, insecure expression. He’ll wipe the expression right off of her even if it means he embarrasses himself further. “It’s just been a long time since—Jesus, Buck, don’t say that. I mean that I’m not really known for my self control, and I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret.”

“I can’t fathom a world right now where I’d regret you taking your pants off.”

“You can’t fathom it right now. But what about later when you sober up, huh?”

Toni rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her thin chest, the picture of childish petulance. “Oh come on. I’m not that drunk. Look, I’m an adult and you’re an adult. I’d really like to—to touch you, and correct me if I'm wrong but you seem like you’re receptive.”

Bucky’s cock supports the idea, twitching towards her. Fucking traitor. He steps back to put distance between them, to stop breathing her in and feeling the heat of her and to maybe clear his fucking head. It’s no wonder if he doesn’t have the oxygen to use his brain when all the blood has gone right to his dick.

“Toni,” he rasps lowly. “Come on, honey. Don’t do me like this. I’m trying to be good here.”

“I like the way you say my name,” she says, taking a step forward to make up for the distance he tries to put between them. Her face is a helpless mix between arousal and innocence: eyes heavy and pupils huge, cheeks flushed, mouth parted. She can’t have any idea what she’s doing to him, what she’s been doing to him since he saw her head ducked over a textbook in the middle of a raging party.

His back hits a tree, the rough bark scratching at his bare skin. He lets his head fall back, working to keep his breathing stable. “Toni. You should go back to the house.”

She pursues him with a single-minded intensity. He feels frozen under her eyes, just one of Medusa’s admirers helpless to look away. She’s so short that when she presses herself flush against him, his cock is nestled against her belly. The pressure makes his head spin even as he presses his hips backward, pinning himself to the tree to keep from grinding against the firmness of her body.

“I don’t have any practice,” she says, placing a palm against his sternum and dragging it down, down, down until it cups his clothed cock, hand looking downright dainty against him. He sees stars behind his eyes, cock jerking beneath her grip even though she is being far too gentle. “But I’m well versed in the theory, and I think you’ll find I’m a quick learner.”

If she thought that would seduce him, she is both right and wrong. A tiny primitive part of his brain revels in confirmation of what he already expected—if she’d barely seen tattoos in person, of course she didn’t have any sexual experience. He would be the first, the one to stain her like ink across her skin. His cock would touch places inside of her that hadn’t ever been touched. There is a darkness in him that would revel in splitting her open, in being the first to make her cum with his fingers and mouth and cock.

But there’s no fucking way he’d ever even voice those thoughts, much less give into them. What kind of a person is he to be aroused by the thought of taking her virginity, of taking advantage of her drunken state and lack of experience?

His fingers wrap all the way around her wrist when he pulls her away. With firmness, bending down so that they are nearly nose to nose, he says: “ No . I’m not that kind of guy. You want me so bad? Come find me when you’re sober.”

Toni staggers away from him, nearly upending herself. Her face is pale, and she looks a little like she’s going to be sick. “Right. You’re right. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—I know what no means.”

“I know you do,” Bucky says softly. He lets his hand fall, fingertips brushing against the pale skin above his waistband, above his aching cock. Her eyes track the movement, throat bobbing while she swallows. Fuck, that hungry look on her face is almost too much. She’s hungry for it even if she’s never had it, even if she hardly knows what she wants. “You couldn’t take advantage of me if you tried. Trust me. I just—I ain’t gonna take advantage of you neither.”

Her eyes roll. “My hero. Thanks. Can’t believe I’m going back to the party with sticky panties. That’s really uncomfortable, you know.”

Bucky groans. “Don’t tell me nothing about your panties.”

“At least we’re both suffering,” she says with a vindictive smile. She jerks a thumb towards the sound of their friends’ voices just as a cheer rises up, echoed by the angry shouts of someone losing and demanding a rematch. “Are you coming? We can walk back together.”

Shifting, Bucky reaches down and adjusts himself. “I’ll be there as soon as I can walk.”

He watches as she walks away, her hair and dark skirt blending into the darkness until he loses sight of her completely. Bucky lets out a long breath. Is he the stupidest man in the world or the strongest? Maybe both. Turning her down had taken everything in him, and a part of him knew that come morning when she sobered up she would probably avoid his presence, avert her eyes from his gaze, embarrassed of how she had come on to him. To someone like him.

But just then? She had wanted him. Wanted to touch him. Touching him had made her wet. The thought has him groaning. In solitude, he can let one hand drop without guilt to grope as his aching erection. There’s no chance that it will go away on its own, not when his every waking thought is her. There’s only one way to be able to return to the party with some semblance of normality.

Bucky unfastens his belt and then the button of his jeans. He slides the zipper down and his cock bulges free, still covered in his dark boxer-briefs. The head of him has wet the fabric, steady precum leaking from the tip and he presses his thumb against it until the pleasure threatens to slip into pain, his balls throbbing with a load the likes of which will probably set a new personal record for him.

Reaching past the waistband, he draws his cock free. The first touch of the cooling night air has him letting out a noise from low in his throat. Widening his stance as best as he can with his jeans still on, he lets one hand drop down to cup his balls. They’re firm, ready to draw up at a moment’s notice. His fingers wrap around the shaft giving one long, tight stroke. He usually likes lube, but as much as he’s leaking, he can make do without it.

“ Fuck ,” he mutters, eyes rolling in relief.

That’s the moment when Toni comes barreling through the trees again, freezing at the sight of him half-naked with his cock in hand.

#winteriron #fem!tony stark #toni stark #cagewrites

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quietlyimplode · 4 years

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@whumptober2020 - Day 19 - Survivors Guilt.

Day 1 - Waking Up Restrained // Day 2 - Kidnapped // Day 3 - Manhandled // Day 4 - Caged// Day 5 - Rescue // Day 6 - No More // Day 7 - Support // Day 8 - Isolation // Day 9 - Take Me Instead // Day 10 - Blood Loss/Trail of Blood // Day 11 - Psych 101 // Day 12 - Broken Down // Day 13 - Oxygen Mask // Day 14 - Alternative Prompt - Comfort // Day 15 - Into The Unknown // Day 16 - A Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day // Day 17 - Wrongfully Accused // Day 18 - Paranoia // Day 19 - Survivors Guilt

CW - Discussions of Child Abuse.

She’s looks at her hands.

“Nothing. It’s fine. It’s just thoughts.”

“Sometimes talking through your thoughts helps, right?”

“They’re not good thoughts.” She cautions.

“That’s ok, that sometimes happens.” He says carefully.

——-

She’s been cranky all day. He doesn’t want to bother her again with a suggestion to do something so he sits on the laptop and writes up mission specs, research into bows that can have delayed explosions once they hit and anything else that lets him sit with her but not interact. Every time he’s suggested something like getting something to eat or watch or do, he’s met with a ‘no’ or a look. He’s stopped now, the days pretty much gone. She’s been intermittent in reading and staring at nothing, he wonders if he should be concerned. It’s like she’s mulling over something, but whatever it is it must be a big something, because whatever got her into this funk is not going away anytime soon.

He throws a cookie at her and it hits her in the chest. Leaping up, she draws her gun on him. Hands up, he cocks his head. “That’s not the response I thought I’d get by throwing you my last cookie,” he says flippantly for someone how has a gun aimed at his head.

“What the actual fuck, Clint.” She puts the gun back under the pillow (god she has guns everywhere) and sits back on the couch. Where before she was laying down and relaxed, she’s now on edge. Whoops. He hadn’t meant to do that.

“You okay?” He checks in, knowing the answer is no.

“Yeah.. I -“ she lays back down, not finishing the sentence.

“You hungry?” He looks pointedly to the cookie now on the floor. “I can throw you something else?”

“No,” comes the response, then a beat and “thanks though.”

He gives up.

If she wants to be in a mood, that’s ok. He tries not to let it send him into one.

As a last ditch effort, he asks, “wanna spar?”

She looks up.

“Yeah. Yeah ok.”

He grins big. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, just let me get changed.”

He tells her he’ll meet her on the mats, and heads down to the gym, making sure they’re free and that no-one is around. They haven’t spared in ages and he’s seen her take on Steve. They’ve come to an understanding since they spoke the other day to come together in the gym. He knows Steve is going easy on her, hell she knows too.

She arrives in a zip up hoodie and shorts, still not ok with neck things, he notices.

“How you wanna do this?” He challenges.

“Wanna do take downs?”

“Umm. No. How about tagging?” The ‘game’ of choosing a body part and protecting that by all means whilst trying to attack your partners and tagging it. Clint finds it a good warm up game, but also helps to gauge where she’s at.

“Sure. What part? Head?” She follows up immediately.

“God Nat, are you angry with me? No. You’ve lost enough brain cells.” A wry grin.

“Ok, stomach?”

“Nah, how about butts?”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine. But I chose next. Best to five?”

“Ok, but no heads,” he cautions.

They move around each other, Clint throws some easy shots, which are parried by Natasha, each choosing opportune times to attack. They’re up to 2 shots a piece when Clint calls for a break. They’ve been going for 20 minutes and he’s tired. Deconditioned might be the better word. Grabbing water from the nearby fridge he throws one to her, and takes another for himself.

“What’s up?” He says sitting on the mats next to her. “You’ve been in a mood all day, and you’re clearly not thinking here - I left several openings and you didn’t take one.”

She’s looks at her hands.

“Nothing. It’s fine. It’s just thoughts.”

“Sometimes talking through your thoughts helps, right?”

“They’re not good thoughts.” She cautions.

“That’s ok, that sometimes happens.” He says carefully.

“Do you ever think that we shouldn’t be here? That I shouldn’t be here?” She starts. He ponders whether to cut her off or let her go now she’s started, if he interrupts he worries that she’ll shut down. He lets her go on, prepared to cut her off.

“The odds of me surviving the Red Room, the sadists, the torture, the lessons; I can’t tell you how slim that was. It was only by chance that I survived that and others didn’t. Once, they had us locked in the basements with no food, only water and then gave us food after 5 days. I think the expectation was that we’d fight over it, kill over it. But you know, we were smart; we knew what they wanted and even though we knew we’d be punished; we shared it. I think we all thought it would be our last meal, we didn’t say it but I know we all felt it.. I don’t even remember their names. But I know their faces. The repercussion of that incident was, for lack of a better word, brutal.” She pauses takes a drink of water, Clint nods at her to continue, these are things Natasha never talks about. Things he’s only heard snippets of, from dreams or nightmares, from flashbacks to dissociation. Therapy must have opened some wounds right up, because volunteering this information is something he’d never thought happen. “we were separated after that. Only brought together for lessons. To fight each other. To best each other. Kill. Maim. Torture. To weed ourselves down to 28.” She takes a deep breath. “And now. Gods and monsters, we hold our own Clint, but I don’t have your skills, Tony’s armor, Bruce’s abilities. I have a boss who trusts my judgement on others but doesn’t trust me. Not enough to tell me that he’s faked his death or to tell me that Hydra was coming because in my previous life I was a turncoat, a ‘predatel'’ and that I might be playing both sides as well..”

Traitor, Clint’s mind supplies, tripping up on the Russian.

“Sometimes I can’t help but wonder, why me? Why did I survive it, when so many others didn’t? I’m not special or smarter or anything.. I just. I don’t even know..” she stops. Looks up at him.

“You know?”

He does. He really does. But he really doesn’t know how to address it other than talk of his own feelings of self worth. A story for a story, he supplied in kind.

“Barney would leave me, for hours, when we were at the circus. I didn’t trust any of them. Some of the others would pick on me, come looking for me when they knew Barney was out. I didn’t know at the time he was helping them with some pretty illegal shit, but I did know to hide myself, and I did know how to become invisible. There were others, my age, maybe older, that didn’t have that skill so when they’d move on from me, they’d go look for them. Beat them. Make them do tricks for the sheer fun of making them do something over and over again; taunt them. I’d watch, from up high, and wonder if I should save them from it. But if it wasn’t them, it’d be me. Those kids, they didn’t last long; they’d leave, some died and others; well I don’t really know what happened but I know it wasn’t anything good.” he grabs his own water and feels his heart rate quicken. Suppressing a memory.

“My point is, that there’s been shit that’s happened to us that no kid should go through. That’s not on us, yeah?”

She nods, slowly.

“And I suppose as adults we build our own support systems. Look at you, and how much work you’re putting into getting rid of this trigger? God Nat, we’ve made it this far. Not only that, we’ve found each other. And others that have our backs. Look at Tony; he’s done everything to make sure we are safe, Pepper keeps baking us shit, and Steve holds back on whooping our asses daily, Bruce and Cho, even Fury and Maria and May too. What are the chances we’d find them, or find a team that’s as fucked as us?” He smiles.

“Right?”

She nods slowly.

“I suppose.”

“It’s never going to go away, that feeling of why us.” He reckons. “but maybe it’s like the lottery; you win some you lose some.”

Natasha stands. Looking, he supposes, somewhat brighter.

“Come on slowpoke. It’s 2-2, someone has to win. Like the lottery,” she teases.

———

#whumptober2020 #day 19 #survivors guilt #clintasha #natasha romanoff #black widow #clint barton #hawkeye #tony stark #clintasha fic #child abuse tw #violence cw #discussion of child abuse #let me know if there are other tags i need to put in #red room cw

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etherealwaifgoddess · 4 years

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Run To You - Chpt.5

Summary: Bucky & Steve’s date has some unintended consequences forcing Bucky to make some hard decisions. Master list is HERE :)

Content Warnings: Attempted child abduction. Emphasis on ATTEMPTED. Becca will be fine ya’ll.

Word Count: 5.5k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! Remember last chapter where I was like “oh hey enjoy this unusually large chapter”? Well, I went to write a normally sized chapter and my hand slipped. Whoops! Enjoy another giant beast chapter lovelies! And don’t hate me for the angst!! I promise this fic has a happy ending, it’s just a long road to get there. XOXO - Ash

Chapter Five

Bucky wakes to bright light streaming in his bedroom window and Becca sitting on top of him. “Wake up sleepy head!” she chirps, shoving his shoulder as hard as she can.

“Whoa, calm it down little miss.” Bucky grumbles.

“I’m gonna be late!”

Bucky looks over at the alarm clock and realizes she’s right. “Shit.”

“Bad word!!”

“Becca!” Bucky snaps and instantly regrets it. “Quieter, bug. Please. Come on, let’s get moving.”

Bucky hurries Becca through her morning routine, grabbing her tiny backpack and breakfast on their way out the door. Bucky knows he’s a mess, hair sloppily thrown up in a bun, sweatpants and a hoodie because he just can’t take the time to find real clothes. He doesn’t even bother to throw on his prosthetic. Becca nibbles at her string cheese and mini muffins as they hustle down the busy city sidewalks to her school, just finishing as they round the last corner. He gives her a quick hug and kiss before she runs into the building screeching hello to the teacher at the door. The teacher gives Bucky an odd look that he chalks up to him looking like a hot mess and he gives her a small wave and terse smile in return.

It’s early yet and Bucky doesn’t have to worry about work for a few more hours so he decides to splurge and stop for coffee and a breakfast sandwich on his walk home. One treat won’t hurt and he’s still holding on to the warm feeling in his chest from last night’s date with Steve. Waiting in line a few other people give Bucky strange looks and he wonders how rough of shape he’s in. He prays there isn’t a giant rip on his clothes or something but after a discrete check he doesn’t think that’s the case. Just a weird morning then.

The hoodie actually comes in handy once Bucky realizes he can’t carry both a sandwich and his coffee when he’s down an arm. Tucking the sandwich in his hoodie pouch, he sips the pumpkin spice latte slowly enjoying the sweet fall flavors on his way home. His phone starts chirping at him but with no free hand Bucky is forced to ignore it until he gets back to the apartment. It was going off earlier too and he figures who ever needs him so damn bad can just wait five more minutes.

Bucky stretches out on the sofa to enjoy his breakfast, throwing on a random movie from his queue, when he finally looks at his phone. He wonders if the world is ending and he missed it somehow. Eight missed calls from Steve, two voicemails, and four texts. Two calls from Natasha, one voicemail, and two texts. Three texts from Clint.

Natasha wants to know if he’s seen the news, if he’s okay, and what she can do to help.

Clint also asks if he’s okay and tells him he’s an ass for not sharing the deets.

Steve asks him repeatedly to call him, frantically apologizing in between.

Still confused and becoming increasingly worried, Bucky brings up the news on his phone and finds his own face on the front page. The picture is from the night before, he and Steve walking back to his place with Becca on Steve’s shoulders. They look so happy that it tugs at Bucky’s heartstrings before the realization of what this means sinks in. He shoots a quick text to Natasha assuring her that he’s fine and he’ll catch up with her tonight. Clint gets two emojis in response: a thumbs up and the middle finger. Steve, he actually calls back. The blonde had sounded so worried in his voicemails.

“Bucky, thank god.” Steve blurts out in lieu of hello.

“Well good morning to you too.” Bucky jokes.

“Are you okay? Is Becca okay?”

“Yeah, Steve, we’re good. I just dropped Becca off a preschool. I don’t know what you’re worried about, it was a normal morning outside of a few funny looks. But honestly that was probably me going out looking like a hobo because I overslept.”

“Buck…” Steve falters, “It won’t be long ‘til they figure out who you are. We can keep the press at bay here in the tower but you’re going to have some serious issues as soon as a reporter gets your name. You and Becca could come stay here for a bit or I can have a security team allocated to you both until the news dies down.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down a minute. We don’t need security and I’m not dragging Becca to Manhattan just because some dudes with cameras may or may not come pester us. We’ll be okay.”

“I’m just worried about you guys. You didn’t sign on for the shit storm that’s blowing up right now. I’m so sorry, Buck.”

“Actually, I did.” Bucky points out, “I’m not stupid, Steve. I knew what I was signing on for the minute we started talking. It’s gonna be okay, nothing lasts forever and Becca is a resilient kid.”

Steve is quiet for a long moment, trying to compose himself to say what he knows he needs to say. “If you need to take some time apart until this all dies down…” he chokes up and lets the sentence lie.

“No.” Bucky’s voice is firm. “I’m not running on you again. We’re gonna deal with this together.”

“Okay,” Steve sighs heavily in relief, “I’m going to be tied up today doing interviews. Apparently there’s no hiding the fact that I’m bisexual now. It’s funny that I’ve never tried to hide it but the news is claiming I’ve been ‘publicly outed’ by the tabloids. I’m not going to say a whole lot about you, about us. I don’t want to speak for you or anything. But if you’re okay with it, I would like to confirm that I’m in a relationship and that I care about you very much.”

“Aww, you big sap. Yeah, of course that’s fine.”

“Can I call you later when I have time?”

“I’m working tonight but I’ll have a chance for a quick break around 10pm.”

“I’ll talk to you then. If you need anything, I mean it Buck, anything, just call me. I’ll pick up on national TV if I have to.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and hopes Steve can feel his exasperation through the phone lines. “Get going, ya punk. You have a country full of conservatives to horrify with your secret homosexual agenda.”

Steve laughs, the first bit of happiness he’s had since waking up to the news. “Will do.” he says quickly and hangs up before his overly dramatic heart can blurt out something terribly stupid like I love you. He pushes down the tender, fledgling emotion, knowing it’s too fast but feeling the gentle flutters nonetheless.

Natasha arrives at Bucky’s apartment a full hour early that night so he can get her caught up while making dinner for her and Becca, while Becca watches an episode of Wonder Pets in the living room. Natasha apparently watched a few interview clips of Steve’s and teases Bucky over how completely smitten they both are. It’s nice and normal, the teasing and banter over a new relationship with his best friend. It makes him think Steve really was just being overly concerned with his fears.

It’s a blessedly slow night at the ER and no one seems to recognize Bucky as he hops from one patient to the next, getting people stabilized and ready to be seen by one of the doctors on shift. When Steve calls at ten he sounds better than he had that morning. He’s exhausted from the media circus but pleased that he was able to get the story out in his own words. He asked for privacy for all their sakes but knows it won’t last long. Bucky continues to assure him that they’ll handle things as they come and to not worry. Steve can’t help but feel like it’s the calm before the storm.

The calm only lasts until 2am. Dr. Strange pulls Bucky out of a patient room, pushing Darcy in to take his place and dragging him down the hall to the staff break room. “What the hell?” Bucky demands once the door is shut.

Strange’s face is grim, “There are currently fifteen reporters in the lobby all asking if you’re working and if anyone has a statement they’d like to make.”

Bucky’s stomach drops, “Fuck.”

“Yes, fuck indeed. I’ve already made some calls and the police are on their way to clear house. We don’t expect that to last however. HR is willing to give you the rest of this week off, paid, while we sort out protocol for this sort of thing. Amanda will call you tomorrow to talk details once the board meets and decides what we can do to protect both you and our patients. We obviously can’t have reporters milling around every time you work.”

Bucky doesn’t even know what to say.

“If you want to go gather your things, Paul in security will escort you out the back away from the reporters.”

“Okay,” Bucky agrees, because really what else can he do?

Darcy catches up with him as he’s packing up his locker, “They’re sending you home?” she cries, pulling him into a hug.

Bucky nods numbly, “Rest of the week, yeah. They have to, there’s too much going on right now. It’s paid at least.”

“Well that’s something.” Darcy concedes. “How are you getting home? It’s a madhouse out there.”

“Paul’s gonna have me go out the back. I’ll be okay.”

“Call me if you need me.” she insists, giving him another tight hug.

Bucky promises he will and then follows the kindly old security guard through the maze of hospital halls and outside.

The air is bitter cold and Bucky’s thankful for his heavy jacket as he hurries down the mostly empty streets home. Natasha is tapping away on her laptop when he arrives. She does cyber security work and swears she gets most of her work done after midnight anyway. It works out well when he needs help on his overnight shift rotations.

“What happened?” she demands and slams the lid of her laptop down.

Bucky shucks off his jacket and joins Natasha on the sofa. “Reporters showed up at the hospital, like a lot of them. Strange was on tonight, thank god, he’s a tough son of a bitch and he wasn’t putting up with crap from anyone. They snuck me out the back while the cops got rid of the reporters.”

“But what about tomorrow? Is this gonna affect your job?”

Bucky shrugs, trying to ignore the low level fear humming in his veins over that exact concern. “I honestly don’t know. HR is gonna call me tomorrow once they figure out ‘protocol’ for this. Somehow Strange got them to give me the rest of the week off with pay. I don’t even know what I’m going to do with myself for the next six days.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, surprised and happy for him. “I vote catching up on your Netflix queue and being a lazy ass. You never take a break, Bucky. And you of all people deserve one. Maybe go spend some more time with that gorgeous boyfriend of yours. Some kid-free time, if you know what I mean.” She wiggles her eyebrows until Bucky throws a pillow at her. She ducks easily, laughing. “I’m just saying! It’s been a long time since he-who-shall-not-be-named.”

Bucky bristles at the mention of his ex. He should have seen Brock for the piece of shit he was, but he’d missed it at first, too wrapped up in the bliss of a new relationship. In the end, Brock’s true colors had come out and Bucky had ended things before it could become even more toxic than they already become. He sighs, pushing the ugly memories away. “It hasn’t been that long. And you’re forgetting Micah from the hospital cafe.”

“It’s been four years since him. And Micah doesn’t count. That was a year ago and it didn’t go past a lunch date where he, and I quote, kissed you like a St. Bernard.”

Bucky shudders at the memory. “Okay, so it’s been a while. Maybe I will go see Steve one day while Becca’s at school.”

“That’s more like it!” Natasha cheers quietly, cautious to not disturb Becca. “So, do you want company or should I scoot and let you get some rest?”

“I love you for offering but I just wanna crash. If I can get a few hours now I’ll be able to get back on daytime hours easier.”

“Love you too.” Natasha leans over to hug him before packing up her stuff and heading out.

It was a crazy day but as Bucky climbs into bed, he’s still resolved that it’s going to be okay again soon.

Bucky is groggy when his alarm goes off at 7am but it’s better than he would have been if he hadn’t gotten any sleep. Becca is thrilled that he’s home and even more so when he tells her that he’ll be home the rest of the week. They make plans over breakfast for things they can do after she gets out of school since they have all the time in the world now. Bucky compromises with one quick park trip, which he cringes thinking about but he’ll just have to pack her inhaler and make sure she takes breaks, two trips to the library, and one night they’ll grab dinner at the neighborhood diner for their kids eat free night.

The week flies by and Bucky gets the all clear on Thursday to return the following Sunday once the hospital is able to put additional security in place. He’s thankful they’re not just letting him go to avoid all the hassle but several nurses and doctors apparently made their opinions loud and clear that he was worth the additional security measures. Bucky is eternally grateful for his coworkers and makes plans to take in a tray of thank you brownies on his first shift back.

A second round of good news comes in a few hours later; Steve is back early from his latest mission. They make plans for the following day, unwilling to wait any longer to see one another again. Steve will be, in theory, just hanging around the tower wrapping up some post-mission paperwork from earlier in the week so he’ll be able to take most of the day to show Bucky around the tower and spend time with him. He also offered to take them all to The Met after Becca gets out of school and Bucky said he’ll consider it. It’s a little extravagant, but something about picking her up together and going on an outing tugs at his heartstrings. It’s so perfectly domestic, like a real family would do. Bucky tries to ignore the longing he feels for something he’s never let himself consider before.

There’s a lone reporter lingering outside his apartment when Bucky heads out to pick up Becca from school. There were a lot the first two days but their numbers dropped off drastically when they realized he really wasn’t all that interesting. “Hey man.” Bucky gives the reporter a little wave. He has to give the guy credit for determination. “Still not going to do anything interesting, sorry.”

The reporter huffs a laugh, “Ya never know!”

Bucky laughs in return and heads off, trying to ignore the fact that the man is following him a few steps back. He gives the guy a few more days before he gives up too. Bucky is a single parent with a full time job, he doesn’t have the time to do anything interesting.

Rounding the corner to Becca’s school he spies the little girl talking to a man in a long beige wool coat. The man is tall and thin with greying hair and wire framed glasses. His appearance screams of wealth in a way that would make him fit right in as a parent of someone at the school, but something is off and Bucky steps up his pace. Becca hasn’t spotted him yet but he hears the man ask “Your daddy is friends with Captain America isn’t he?”

Becca, all proud smiles, informs him, “He’s my brother, not my daddy. And Captain America is his boyfriend.”

“Isn’t that nice. Hey, I have something you can give your brother for me, okay? Can you be a big helper? It’s right over here.” Becca looks unsure so the man smiles brightly and takes her hand, leading her down the sidewalk away from the school. A black van pulls up at the end of the block, a door swinging open and the man hurries her along.

Bucky screams Becca’s name and breaks out into a full run. Icy fear consumes him, driving him to move faster than he ever has before. Please God no, please, don’t let them take my baby girl.

The reporter realizes what’s going on and sprints right along with Bucky. They collide with the man and Becca at the same time. The reporter tackles the man, pinning him to the ground, leaving Bucky to grab Becca and roll to the ground shielding her in his arms. A teacher runs over with her phone out yelling “The police are on their way!” to them.

The man writhes underneath the reporter, trying to free himself while looking panickedly at the van. The van door slides shut and then the vehicle flies off with screeching tires. Once it’s out of sight the man lays his head back on the pavement in defeat.

“Just stay put buddy.” the reporter grumbles.

Now that Becca is safe Bucky is filled with a depth of rage he didn’t even realize he was capable of. Somebody tried to snatch his baby girl right in broad daylight. Bucky checks her over one more time before passing her off to the teacher who’s still holding on the line for 911.

Bucky stalks over to where the reporter still has the man pinned. His movements are predatory, his voice low, practically a grow, when he demands, “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

The reporter just stares at the man, also waiting for an answer.

“I am one of many.”

Bucky shakes his head. God, he just wants to punch this guy in his smug face. “Fine. Who do you work for?”

“Cut off one head and two more take its place.”

“I’m getting real sick of riddles and I still got at least two minutes before the cops show. Last time, asshole. Who the fuck do you work for and why do you want my kid?”

“The child, or you, it matters not. Either will get us the captain. We are everywhere. We will come again, and we will succeed. Hail Hydra.” The man crunches down on something and within seconds he’s foaming at the mouth, his eyes rolling lifeless back in his head.

Bucky looks to Becca, thankful the teacher is shielding her away from what took place. Ice cold fear runs in his veins. He knew there could potentially be a risk dating Steve, but it was an abstract sort of knowledge. Up until minutes ago he’d thought the only real concern was pesky reporters. Most of which, he has to admit, are actually good people just trying to make a living. A real threat, a fucking terrorist threat, is something he’d never really put much thought into. That name too: Hydra. Everyone knows of the Nazi group who Captain America has been trying to destroy since the 40s. A threat from them is very, very real.

The cops arrive and start dispersing the crowd that’s formed. It seems like forever until they’ve taken statements from everyone and the body is removed. Becca holds up as well as a four year old can trying to answer the police man’s questions, and Bucky fills in gaps as he can. They take his statement too and let him know they can provide a security detail if he wants. The officer looks sheepish but also recommends he call Steve because Shield and the Avengers can likely provide better security than the NYPD can. Bucky thanks the officer and agrees to call Steve as soon as possible.

Becca is shaking so hard by the time they head home that Bucky scoops the little girl up to carry her the whole way. Two uniformed officers follow them back and do a full sweep of the apartment just to err on the side of caution. Buck appreciates the security but as he stands in his too quiet apartment he realizes he can’t do this every day. He adopted Becca to give her a better life and now he’s put her in more danger than she ever would have been in being raised by their parents. All because some small part of him still held on to the hope that there was someone out there that he could love and would love him back wholeheartedly and forever. That despite his upbringing, he could have a perfect family of his own one day. Bucky feels painfully childish that his pathetic longing for a partner had almost cost him his sister.

Ever the responsible parent, Bucky stifles the emotions whirling in his chest and puts on a good front for Becca’s sake. She falls asleep halfway through Frozen II and Bucky doesn’t even bother trying to wake her. He knows there’s no fighting the adrenaline crash she’s feeling. His own crash will be equally brutal when it comes, but for now it’s still nowhere in sight. Bucky is too keyed up, restless and desperately trying to find a solution that keeps all of them safe and happy. He drags a cup of coffee and a blanket out onto the fire escape where he sits to watch the sun drop lower and lower among the roof tops. He’s almost finished his drink when a knock sounds on the door.

The security detail is supposed to be vetting anyone going near his apartment so the odds are good it’s someone he knows, but it doesn’t stop him from slipping a kitchen knife into his hand on the way to the door. Peering through the peephole Bucky sees red hair, black leather, and a very pissed off Natasha. “Let me in.” she says, it sounds like a warning.

Bucky opens the door and stands out of the way. It’s not worth arguing with Natasha when she gets like this.

“You turned off your phone.” She comments without emotion.

Bucky nods. “I don’t want to deal with it right now.”

Natasha follows him as he heads to the kitchen to return the knife, seemingly pleased by his caution. “By it, you mean Steve.”

“Amongst other things.”

“You know I’m here for you. Whatever you need, just name it.”

“That’s just it, I don’t know. I keep coming to the same answer and I hate it, Nat. I just… I can’t do this to Becs.” Bucky’s voice cracks on the little girl’s name and Natasha wraps her best friend into a tight hug.

“You’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do.”

“I don’t even know how to do what I want to do. I’m sure it’s not nearly as easy as movies make it out to be.”

“Let me help. You and Becca mean the world to me. Whatever it is we’ll figure it out together.”

Bucky sighs heavily, still leaning on Natasha. “We need to disappear.”

Natasha goes still, “Are you sure?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know. I can’t think of any other way to keep her safe. Even if I break up with Steve, Hydra can still use us as leverage. Feelings don’t just disappear... But people can.”

“Okay. Give me four hours.” Natasha pulls back and starts texting rapidly on a small cell phone Bucky has never seen before.

“What the fuck, Nat.”

“Working in cyber security has some perks.” She shrugs.

“I don’t think it’s normally supposed to have those kinds of perks.”

“Well, it depends on who you’re keeping secure.” Nastaha’s smile is cheshire.

“Damn. Okay, then. What do you need me to do?”

“Stay put. I’d say try to get some sleep but I know you won’t. Pack a duffel bag for each of you. No more than that, I mean it. Think in terms of what you absolutely can’t leave behind, this is not packing for vacation. You can buy basic stupid shit when you get where you’re going. Two outfits and whatever else you can’t leave that fits in two duffels. Got it?”

“Okay, got it.”

“Oh, and your phone. You won’t be needing that anymore.”

Bucky holds the phone out but doesn’t let go. “I have all of Becs’ baby pictures on there.”

Natasha gives him an understanding smile. “I’ll move them all to an online cloud storage site. You won’t lose a single one.”

Bucky releases the phone. “Thanks, Nat.”

Natasha hugs him tightly again. “Four hours. Be ready.”

And with that Bucky is left alone in his living room in shock. He supposes he shouldn’t be all that surprised. Natasha has always been a badass. He used to joke she was really a Russian spy and their friendship was just a cover for her real identity. Bucky now wonders now how close to the truth he might have been.

Four hours later, down to the minute, Natasha is striding through his door once again, a large envelope tucked under her arm. There’s no warm welcome or pleasantries, Natasha has her game face on and Bucky is still too rattled to try for levity. Spreading the papers out on the coffee table Natasha organizes everything quickly. “Birth certificates, immigration paperwork, social security cards, school records, medical records, a resume with work history and references, and a quick life history fact sheet for both of you.” She places a wallet from her pocket onto the table as well, flipping it open quickly to show him it’s fully filled with cards, cash, and an ID card.

Bucky scans over the documents, unable to believe she had pulled this off so quickly and how real everything looked. “Sebastian Stan?” he asks, nose wrinkling.

Natasha nods, “Yep, you’re Romanian. You moved here with your daughter Elena when she was two months old. Your wife died in childbirth and so you brought her here to start over.”

He spies the address on the drivers license. “Rochester? Is that where we’re actually going?”

“No, of course not. You and your daughter have recently moved to Cape Elizabeth, Maine. That’s where you’re headed. You’ll be happy to know their local urgent care center is looking for a new triage nurse. The pay is pretty good and it’ll be enough to cover rent for the cute little apartment that you just put a down payment on.” Natasha pulls something from her pocket, it’s flesh colored and rolled up tightly. She hands it over with a simple, “Here, you’ll need this too. Don’t want that guy drawing too much attention to you.”

Bucky stares at the silicone sleeve, realizing it’s a perfect fit for his prosthetic. The details are down to an art, from light arm hairs and tiny freckles. It’s soft enough too that as long as you don’t grasp it very hard, it’ll feel shockingly similar to his right arm. “Damn. You don’t miss a thing, do you?”

“Of course not. Who do you think you’re dealing with?” Natasha glares at him affectionately.

Bucky chuckles, of course she’s the best at this. She’s been the best at everything since the day they met. “What happens to Bucky and Becca Barnes then?” he’s afraid to ask but he needs to know.

“They got on a flight to Moscow two hours ago. There’s a few nice security officers and cab drivers who will all verify they were sighted leaving the airport about eight hours from now.”

“That works for the rest of the world, but what happens if Steve goes looking? He has an awful lot of friends in high places.”

“Steve isn’t going to go looking right now. And even if he did, the alibi will hold up. Trust me.”

A tiny piece of Bucky’s heart shatters that Steve would just let him go so easily.

Natasha recognizes the look on his face and quickly adds, “He called you non stop after the news broke. Sent you dozens of texts too. You very nearly had the full force of SHIELD and the Avengers on your doorstep if it wasn’t for Tony Stark.”

“What happened?”

“Tony convinced Steve that if you weren’t calling or responding that he was as good as dumped. The rumor mill always hinted their relationship was strained but Tony really is good at kicking Steve when he’s down and Tony played his cards right on this one. Steve has been holed up in his apartment all night, he’s not doing too great.”

It kills Bucky to know he’s putting Steve through this pain, but he’s firm in his decision. He’d be more disappointed in himself but he’s too tired. Things got tough and he’s doing exactly what he’s been doing since he was a kid to protect himself: he’s running. “How do you even know all this?” Bucky asks, realizing Natasha shouldn’t have this level of detail on the goings on at the tower.

“I hacked into the security feed at Avengers Tower. Jarivs was a handful but not more than I could handle. Tony Stark is brilliant but he’s also arrogant, and that’s his downfall.”

“You are, without a doubt, the scariest person I’ve ever met. I’m gonna miss you.” Bucky can’t hold back the tears at the thought of leaving Natasha behind.

“What do you mean, miss me? You went to college with Natalie Rushman, you’re even Instagram friends. You haven’t seen me in a few years but we still keep in touch regularly.” Natasha brings out yet another little black phone he’s never seen and shows him Natalie’s Instagram account.

“How many of those little phones do you have tucked up your sleeve?” he teases.

“The world will never know.” she quips in return. “I do need to go though.” she adds in a more serious tone.

Bucky nods, he knew this was coming. He can’t get words past the lump in his throat.

“You have a train to catch in about forty minutes. That one will take you as far as Boston and there’s more tickets from there. Try and get some rest, you’ll be getting into town in Maine around eight in the morning.”

“I’ve gone longer without sleep pulling doubles at the hospital, this won’t be nearly as bad.”

Natasha gives him a half hearted smile, “You’re all set then.”

Bucky pulls her in for one last hug. “I’ll message Natalie when we arrive.”

“Mmm, yes. Sebastian would definitely snap a pic of his new hometown when he arrives. I’ve heard it’s very Insta-worthy.” Tears shine in Natasha’s eyes but they don’t fall. She swallows thickly. “Be safe.”

“You too.” Bucky manages to croak out through the overwhelming tide of emotions. He holds her for one last heartbeat before she slips out the door like a ghost.

Bucky goes through all the documents Natasha left behind and finds a thin red iPhone in the stack. There’s a post-it note stuck on top warning “do not activate until after you are on the second train”. So much for keeping himself occupied while he waits. In the end he spends most of the time pacing around the apartment and double checking his bags. He checks the time again, making sure he’s down to the final few minutes when he finally goes to get a sleeping Becca from her bed. She barely stirs as he carefully slides her into her warm purple jacket and slips socks and shoes on her feet. He slings her over his shoulder and collects the two duffels with his free hand. It’s a little jarring to see tan skin where he’s used to seeing shiny steel but he appreciates that Natasha thought of everything.

He worries momentarily about the security detail outside his apartment but quickly realizes they’re distracted helping an elderly woman catch her escaped pomeranian who’s barking up a storm. It’s a good diversion, one clearly planned out. Bucky holds on tightly to Becca and all but runs down the hall to the stairwell. He doesn’t slow down until he’s two blocks away and he realizes he really did escape without being sighted. Slowing his pace to a normal New York hustle, he heads towards the train station and to their new lives.

#stucky #stucky fanfic #steve rogers x bucky barnes #non winter soldier bucky barnes #captain america steve rogers #shrunkyclunks #parent!bucky #nurse!bucky #becca barnes #kid!becca barnes

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bcrtonarrcws · 3 years

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Meta: Claire's relationship with Barney

HELLO, HI, YOU HAVE JUST UNLOCKED AN ESSAY THAT IS PROBABLY JUST A LITTLE TOO LONG, if I do say so myself and given that I wrote it, I would say you should listen.

Anyway, the Bartons are actually my favorite comic siblings to ever exist – probably actually my two favorite comic characters ever ever. Their relationship is so dysfunctional and a little broken, yet held together by shitty guardians and a rough childhood. It’s kinda beautiful, how after everything that happened to each other, they’re still close?? Like they trust each other, tease each other, they have each other’s back?? The relationship between Clint and Barney is truly one of my favorite representations of a pair of siblings who didn’t have the easiest life, mainly because, like without the superhero nonsense, their relationship is actually very similar to my own relationship with my siblings – a severely messed up ride or die that might end with one of us killing each other.

Yet, this question is what does Barney’s and Claire’s relationship look like, not Barney’s and Clint, which despite how little it would change, does change some things. To figure out what it changes though, I’d like to head to what their relationship is like, in canon, for me. I know that the fandom has it’s own view of Barney Barton – I don’t agree with it nor particularly like it, so it’s probably best if I explain how I look at their relationship.

So Barney Barton, born Charles Bernard Barton, is the eldest of the two – no ages because this is the comics and characters can’t have canon ages ?? I guess it’ll break the suspension of disbelief but like shrugs – and he showed up in the comics in 1969, before this, he never existed. Of course this is during the age of the 60’s so most superheros didn’t really like have a life outside of the comics they were in so it’s not that big of a deal, but like still, Marvel just creates this character to be Clint’s brother, tells us he’s a racketeer that’s been on the Avenger’s radar for a while, and then kills him in the same issue, only revealing at the end that he was an undercover FBI agent.

(yeah, they gave Clint a family and then killed said family right away, sounds so similar, y’know kinda like the movie-verse which gave clint a family with very little characterization and then snapped them – no wonder I love Laura so much)

Anyway, later issues of Clint’s will explain that their parents were abusive, they died and Clint and Barney ran away from the orphanage they were in when they were like teenagers – this would be retconned to young teenagers, then implied to be younger as of the Hawkeye (2012) series, which puts Clint sleeping under the tents at age 9 (src), which could or could not imply them being their already - it’s whatever, like it’s just gonna get retconned again. Running away to the circus always puts strain on their relationship no matter what age they are though, mainly due to Clint receiving training from their mutual “father figure” Jacques DuQuesne and Barney becoming jealous; a completely and natural thing according to all child psych I’ve read, it creates an environment that allows one kid to be the “golden child” and the other to be the “scapegoat” – now of course, we don’t know much about the dynamics of their full childhood, Marvel hates sharing any information like that, but we can extrapolate a fair amount.

(also, just so everyone knows, this jealousy did not pave the way for their relationship in later comics, namely Blindspot. In that it’s very clearly stated that Barney was found by Egghead to still be slightly alive. He was then held onto, for nefarious reasons, in a healing chamber, until he was found by Baron Zemo years later who then manipulated Barney against his brother so that Baron Zemo could get his revenge against Clint Barton. I’ll say it again, Barney was used against his own brother by an evil guy who hated Clint because Clint slept with Zemo’s wife; that is where the “Cain and Abel” dynamic comes from – not childhood)

Back on the tangentially related topic I was writing about. This jealousy grows until Jacques DuQuesne leaves after Clint finds out about his illegal dealings ( though the all new hawkeye actually kinda, maybe, a little, I’m unsure, retcons this with Clint finding out about it much earlier, when he finds out about Jacques having Barney stealing from people and places and finds the hidden cache of a gun, money and some other things under Jacques’ bed??? I don’t know, I’m now a little confused if Jacques still fucks off thanks to that comic ) - of course, this is after Jacques chases Clint through the circus, cutting the high wire Clint tried to hide on. Barney tells Clint, while his brother is in the hospital (and in literally a comic that got retconned basically) that he should’ve kept his mouth shut and stuck by Jacques no matter what (can we say that that sounds like trauma?? because guess what, psych 101 says that that’s kinda sounding like trauma since Jacques was trash to these kids, like literally, fuck Jacques DuQuesne – all my friends hate him – he’s an interesting villain but fuck the whitewashing of his bullshit).

This doesn’t sour their relationship at all – no seriously, it doesn’t which uh shows that neither of them really take each other at face value anymore – and they go back to the circus, Clint heals up, starts working with Buck (a man currently being written out of the comics world which is a shame because he’s kinda important but kinda not) and then Barney decides he wants out. With Barney in the army, Clint continues down the crime street and well, now that we’ve got a bit of background (over 800 words of background), let’s get onto what their relationship is really like for Claire and Barney.

Simply put, like in the comic relationship with Clint and Barney, Barney is a protective older brother, he taught Claire how to fight and aim, how to patch up simple bruises and cuts, taught her to drink her first shot (at like age fourteen, but like what do you expect when that boy was drinking much younger???). He was her first teacher, her best teacher – yes their relationship got complicated; it’s Claire when isn’t her relationships complicated – but at the end of the day, he helped shape her into who she was.

Less simply put…

He is her everything—in all the P L A T O N I C (I’m emphasizing platonic because please don’t take this in the romantic sense, they’re fucked up but not like that; I am not Marvel, I don’t ship siblings and pretend that shit is fine.) sense of the word—he was her guardian when all the guardians around her failed to properly take care of her; he was her brother who teased her and made fun of her; he was her best friend who understood what she went through, the only other person who did; he taught her as much schooling as she would sit down and listen to, he taught her how to cook herself some basic food.

He was a father, a mother, a brother, a best friend, a moral compass – which is why when he went off to the Army, Claire found it a betrayal. She hated him for the time that he was gone, though she forgave him not long before she first shot him because she could understand that to him (the little purple box in the third panel: Carnival of Death, of course this is how Barney would remember things) the circus was never a home, just another temporary place to stay.

(btw this is “shooting barney” thing that is part of my main verse, is canon. Clint shot his brother, who was working undercover as a bodyguard, while Clint was breaking into a mansion with the aforementioned soon-to-be-retconned-I’m-sure-of-it Buck Chisholm, which led to Buck shooting Clint in the shoulder when he refused to leave his brother’s body and pinning him to a tree – I don’t quite recall how Clint got out of getting arrested, I’m pretty sure it never explained, but I’m rusty and not really up for pulling out some old comics to read up on)

(I lied, here’s the comic strip: 1. 2. Clint “somehow” managed to get free, take his brother to the hospital and then leave??? yeah sure. )

Anyway, let’s get on with it. So if that was their relationship when they were younger, what is it like now?? Now that Claire has found a place – a sturdy, yet unsteady, comfortable, yet spartan, to call her own –

( and yes, this sounds angsty, but Clint has issues accepting that he is where he wants to be – Clint is always running, even when standing completely still. It’s a trauma response to his shitty childhood where they never stayed in one place for too long; even when their parents were alive, they moved from above the family butcher shop to the Barton farm. Barney had it too, but apparently a relationship helped with that (and okay, look I love Simone and Barney, but that part in All New Hawkeye rubbed me wrong as a fellow wandering child turned rootless adult; the guy needs therapy, not just a relationship – but then again, Barney Barton does not get agency or a personality outside of Clint Barton; his life must revolve around Clint Barton, even when he was on the Dark Avengers, it was about Clint – and yeah, they’re brothers, “two sides of the same coin”, and all that jazz but like I’ve got three sisters and a brother, I’m my own person at the end of the day – something Barney Barton cannot say, which means ending his story on the note of retirement and falling in love is just the best thing so they don’t have to keep finding a reason to try to remember that Clint has a brother I’ll stop with the rant, I’m sorry.) )

where does a man who no longer has to be a father, mother, brother, best friend, and moral compass stand when his sister has all that? Well, for the most part, he stands next to her – in my main verse at least. After he has come back wrong (Buffy much?), he finds his place standing beside his sister, no longer solely protecting her from the world (as he had always done because the world is not kind to lost little girls or boys), because he’s learned that she can, for the most part, protect herself, and Claire finds herself less on a lower standing (less of a burden in her eyes, less of a child in need of comfort) with her brother, but more like an equal, something that’s a bit of a new situation for the both of them.

In truth, Claire’s relationship with Barney is complicated and messy but it’s hers, and when you have something that’s complicated and messy, you have to figure it out, and that’s what, in my canon, she’s doing. Sure Barney isn’t around a lot - he’s got his own shit to figure out - but he’s her brother, and she loves him, and he loves her and they’re trying to get to a place where they don’t accidentally poke the trauma they’ve got and ruin a good thing.

......

Okay, so like did any of this make sense??? I don’t know. I guess, to sum it up really quick, in my main verse - and most of my canon - I’d say Claire’s relationship with Barney is slightly yet not really awkward – it’s awkward because once upon a time, it was simple. Yet at the same time, it’s a really important relationship because Claire was shaped by her brother (and of course all those shitty adults because there are no good mentors in the Marvel world, not for kids at least).

Idk, this is really just me rambling. Like I should just state that tis is just Mun taking all the retcons that Marvel stuck her babies through and trying to make sense of them along with a healthy dose of a smattering of psychology shoved all about because unlike Marvel, I have no desire to ignore the C-PTSD/PTSD that seems to follow both boys around thanks to their childhood – of course this crazy amount of words actually kinda ignores all the trauma they have as adults, but that’s a whole nother post for some other day

I also know that I carry some ~controversial ~ barney barton views - ie. he’s not a villain and that him and clint share a close relationship, that he isn’t dumb muscle (bitch got a 1350 SAT score with like minimal schooling, i’d like to see you do that) and that he wasn’t a shit older brother when they were kids - i’m not apologizing for them. not at all. i will never apologize for them. characters are more than one dimensional and if i gotta be the one to wade through all this vague ass bullshit to get those other two dimensions then i’m going to do just that, which i have done.

plus it doesn’t even matter because through all the retcons clint and barney has gone through, this is what their relationship is; a fucked up dysfunctional sibling relationship gone off the rails when Barney was brought back from the dead and manipulated/brainwashed into hating his brother. it eventually got better, how? we’ve got none of that, but it did and and at the end of the day, as clint said:

#murder-popsicle #/ i am so sorry this is so long #it's over 2000 words cause i couldn't shut up #long post #general trauma tw #child abuse tw #⤗ your friendly neighborhood wine aunt : bubbles speaks ❛ ooc ❜#⤗ the past is only a story : headcanons ❛ meta ❜#⤗ i am a leaf on the queue : queue ❛ claire barton ❜#⤗ sometimes your moral compass gets fucked up a little : barney barton ❛ brother barton❜

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asthearrowflies · 4 years

Photo

Cursed

Word Count 1068

TW: Mature Audience , Abuse , No self worth , loss

Clint Barton

CBB bingo - Middle Square Birthday

Picture drawn by Essoulfe found on Google

Summary

First Dark fic so be kind . Clint never has had a good birthday. So he belives that his birthday is cursed . Lots of sad Clint moments

Story

Clinton Francis Barton at the age of five had just started to discover what other children had that he simply did not. Like Birthday Parties.In his Kindergarten class it was birthday season, One of the boys, James a friend of Clint was having a party at something called Chuck E Cheese. He was so excited when he got the invite . He waved it at Barney when his older brother came to collect him.

“Barney Barney” He called excitedly

“Clinton whats up short stuff Good day at school” He asked putting on the Captain America backpack on the younger boy. It was a little faded and ripped but Clint didnt mind It had Captain America on it , He didnt know it had been a dumpster find, that Barney had gone searching for when Clint had told him he was going to be a Hero some day

“Im going to a Birthday”Clint informed him with self importance

“A Birthday? “Barneys heart sunk for the boy “Really now” He found himself asking as they headed home , taking the long way around, in the hope that Harold, their father would be passed out drunk. It would give Barney time to distract him hopefully. Talks of Birthday and the mysterious land of Chuck E Cheese kept invading his plans . As his bad luck carried on just as Clint asked his mother about the birthday, and would not take the hint . Harold back handed him enough to make him to bruise on his face . Meaning days of missed school . Clint didnt mention birthdays again. It was a bad word that made his father angry.

Time moved on as it always did, things staying the same, his father drunk or hitting out at his Mom, or occasionally him and Barney. Barney was his quiet hero. Keeping him safe, protecting him. Something that contuined well beyond his years,.He no longer needed a fictional picture on a faded backpack . There was one time Barney wasnt there . It was on his six birthday he tripped up , waking up Harold who then in a drunken rage punished the boy , hitting him hard enough to loose some of the hearing in his left . Birthdays was a bad thing , a bad bad thing.

Clinton liked the circus there he didnt have to worry about bad words, not catching words when he tried to listen to foster carers. The boys had been thrown into the system after their parents had dued. It hadnt stopped the beatings, and the fact he was bullied more on his birthday, an extra punch or locked up. Once again Barney had been his hero and come to save the day. Barney was his hero bringing him to the Circus to live. Here there was no bad words , no birthdays, no school or ripped clothes Just hard work, and talent. Praise was earned and brand new to the young teen. Barney didnt like Clint getting the praise or the fact by ten he was a star attraction instead of helping backstage like Barney did. So once more Clint became careful of his words , of his actions in the bid to make his brother happy. He was careful not to question Barneys dissaperance at night. Yet still he did something wrong when Barney beat him and left him alone .

He was just fourteen when he first got his record. Processing him for the crimes Barney and his gangmates had left him to take the fall for. He would spend the next few years in and out of Juvenile prison system. Not that it could hold him . During this time his birthday got fortten he didnt need it. He didnt need a hero . Hero's left you alone, without a home . He created an identy while on the street Ronin. An Archer for hire. He wasnt a hero, just a man with a bow. Not caring why he had a job , he just wanted money and a place to live. He didnt care for anything .Not his heros just the money.

His Heros came for him though . Shield came for him in the form of Coulson. He wanted to hire the archer and self trained assasian. Clint was cautious , waiting for the reject once more. His assignments grew and they tested his ears. Gave him aids and slowly tamed him alittle. The young archer had created nests, hide aways where he could be secure. A habit that didnt go away even though Shield became a family of sorts, he even brought Natasha to its folds. He wasnt sure at first if that was a good idea. She tamed him a little more , teaching him how to accept friends as she in herself learned forgiveness. He was surprised that on meeting Steve Rogers , the man from his backpack all those years ago , he was a little unawed by the blond. More intrested in the man with the metal arm Bucky. Although he let down his walls he still would not risk a birthday . Taking missions when he could arround the time of the day of his birth. When that didnt work he took to finding a bolt hole and drinking till it was over.

It just wasnt worth risking another bad birthday that would take this life from him. This time he wanted to keep a family even just for a little while . That was his one hope, not to be rejected by the other Avengers. He was after all the weaker one of the team. It was why he didnt miss on his shots , to prove his worth to them all,

He just couldnt go back to the streets, to be alone once more. It would break him he was sure of it

So no more cursed birthdays He would do anything to keep his place here, do anything they told him, go anywere they wanted . Just to be a part of something again, because even though he had tried to stay distant as they promoted him to Shield Agent, to Avenger . He found being in Shield he found he missed being part of a family , being part of a team and it would hurt being on his own again

It might just break him for good this time ….

@averyrogers83 @shield-agent78 @withoutadoubt-bingo @marvel-ouslythirsty @threeminutesoflife @ past-perfect-future-tense @phoenixwithoutadoubt @clintbartonbingo @darkbuckybarnesanon

#pain #cursed #cursed birthday #tissues needed

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thorin-is-a-cuddler · 4 years

Text

With all I have

A/N: So, BLACK WIDOW TRAILER made me go write this, yayy. 7500 words. I called the blonde woman from the trailer Yelena, because I believe there was a Yelena in the Black Widow comics working for the Red Room. This is my imaginative idea of how Clint recruited Natasha. So enjoy reading and if you want let me know what you think. :)

“Who is he?” Yelena asked, her russian accent making Natasha twitch unvoluntarily. This accent had the tendency to make the Black Widow feel threatened. Also she might have reacted to Yelena mentioning him. The man on the video footage they were watching just now. He was wearing a mask, but Natasha had already seen him without it. On their first encounter, when he had been bleeding...

“Er,” She shook her head slightly to wash away the picture of his reddened teeth, “This. Is Clint Barton, Hawkeye. SHIELD agent since six years. He ran away from some circus. Lost his brother. The usual. Oh, and he’s absolutely perfect with the bow, as you can see.”

He hit his mark. He had hit his mark. Natasha still felt somewhat stiff in her shoulder where he had gotten her about a year ago.

“Perfect is subjective,” yawned Yelena, not at all impressed by Hawkeye’s athletic shooting from rooftops. She didn’t yet know what it was like to meet him personally. The hardness, the force, the ... dumb jokes. He could fool you, confuse you. Natasha had already understood that he acted dumb to strike even harder. He wasn’t dumb at all. Not the slightest bit.

“You shouldn’t underestimate him. He’s been chasing me for months.”

Yelena snorted. “How’s that anything triumphal? He hasn’t caught you yet.”

“No.” Natasha mumbled, staring at the frozen frame of Clint Barton’s masked face. “But he’s only ever one step behind me.”

------------------------

“Phil... yeah... uh huh... can we- ... no, I know. ... Would you please- ... okay, okay. OKAY. ... I’m not! ... Yeah, sure. I’ll call you then. ... No, I do not find this amusing. ... She’s good, what did you expect? ... Other villains, other agents. I have my villain to take care of. ... I told you she’s good. This is why I won’t stop. ... When will you eventually resist the urge to make circus references? ... It’s not. ... Fine. ... Yep. ... I’ll hear you tomorrow then.”

Hawkeye made a face as if he were screaming, but no sound exited his lungs. He merely huffed frustrated at his phone and tried not to crunch it. Phil didn’t understand this mission he was on. Fury didn’t necessarily care. Or at least that’s what it seemed like to him.

He couldn’t resist throwing the phone rather forcefully on the table he had his equipment laid out on, ripped the sweat stained shirt from his body and walked to the tiny balcony he had on this floor. It was a military hostel. For people with equipment and fake passports like him.

Cold air washed against his chest. He looked at his scarred body and smirked when his fingertips grazed the new grown skin on his hip. Where Natasha Romanoff’s bullets had hit him twice.

For a moment he let himself go, relishing the memory of stripping off his mask and congratulating her on her good aim, while he had been sure he would bleed out. What a meeting that had been. Her standing in the shadow of the room, not moving, not talking. Him in the other shadow, opposite to her, trying to hold himself up against a wall, talking nonstop.

“You know, it almost feels peaceful. Almost. I’m also a little turned on. Not necessarily by the blood. Though that is some people’s thing or so I heard. Are you turned on by blood? Is that why you shot me? Come on, admit it, I’m fanciful am I not? Oh well. Are you okay? I mean, aside from sadistically watching me die. That is really not okay, you know. You should talk to someone about this. Even though I gotta say, if you left me now, I would feel way WAY worse.”

“Do you ever shut up?” She had stepped into the light and for the first time he had seen the softness in her eyes. It had actually made him shut up for about five seconds. Then he had almost winced at the pain in his hip and so he had continued talking, just to distract himself.

In all those years of working for SHIELD Clint had rarely felt fear. He had seen too much in his life to experience that feeling anymore. But in this situation, bleeding in front of Natasha Romanoff, he had been the furthest away from fear he had ever been. Dying there in front of her feet had seemed ... good.

What he had not expected was her saving him.

What he had not expected was her kneeling before him, kicking his bow out of reach and searching him for other weapons.

“Careful, I’m ticklish.”

What he had not expected was her holding his sweaty face in her hands and whispering to him. “Shut the fuck up already.”

What he had not expected was falling unconscious and waking up patched up on a hotel bed late the next morning.

Why had she done that? They had been chasing each other for months. Shooting, firing, kicking, biting, laughing, okay yeah lauging at each other. Sure, you could grow fond of an enemy. But more in the “Awe, how sad, he’s dead now” sense. She could have felt that the night before. But she had saved him.

Sure, she had broken into the hotel and sure, the next guests had been sent to this specific room, finding him and alarming the security. But, what is a little bit of swinging out of windows and hiding behind chimneys against being saved from bleeding out?

Clint stared into the starless night, running his fingers across the scars on his hip and realized he was smiling. Widely.

----------------------

“How do you know he’s in Russia? Did you see him?”

Natasha tilted her head in a way that allowed less sunshine into her blinded eyes. She squinted at Yelena. “I just ... know.” They were sitting on the balcony of their old hide out which was now only Yelena’s hide out anymore. They had shared many bottles of liquor up here, many smokes and many bandages.

The blonde woman narrowed her eyes at her. “You know.”

Natasha sipped at her pitch black coffee, avoiding eye contact with her “sister”. Back in the Red Room, they had all been sisters. A ridiculous idea that was supposed to make them less traitorous. Many sisters had been killed by their own kin. No family word could change that.

The silence of the beautiful November morning stretched out and Natasha dwelled in it, the warm mug between her palms and the hot steam in her face. Then Yelena was done with waiting for an explanation.

“Why is he not dead yet, Natalia?” The sharpness of Yelena’s words rang in Natasha’s ears. Not Natalia, not anymore, never again. Her jaws wanted to clench, her heart wanted to race, her stomach wanted to tremble. Unimportant. She had all that under control. She had trained her body to this state of absolute stillness over years. Yet her voice sounded cold when she spoke.

“What do you mean?”

Yelena’s suspicion annoyed her. They had nothing to share apart from a hide out and the circumstances. Why did Yelena keep pushing her business around as if it were a dead animal and her suspicion a stick of wood? Wow. Had she really just thought that? Bad metaphor. Clint Barton’s dirty laughter rang at the back of her mind. He was rubbing off on her.

“I mean, Natalia, that people who hunt you down don’t tend to live that long. What did you say how long you have been playing cat and dog? Ten months?”

“It’s cat and mouse!”

Angrily Natasha pushed away from the table and marched over to the old, out-of-tune piano that had stood in this moldy room for as long as they had known it. Years. She started playing and it sounded horrible which is just what she had intended.

Yelena groaned and fell back in her chair, staring up at the clear blue sky with eyes of fury. Natasha knew what she was thinking. That they had been trained not to show mercy, not to anyone or anything. That they had been trained to kill. Efficiently, effortlessly, neither cheerfully nor angrily. There was no rest for them. Not along their path.

But they had gotten off of it. The Red Room was no longer paying for their weapons, their kills, their deals. Yelena was a fear-inducing jewelry thief. And Natasha was hunting down the big bosses she’d suffered under. Whatever that made her, whatever attention it had gained her from SHIELD, from her old enemies, from new enemies, she didn’t care. She was on the run and as long as she could say that about herself, she was not a lost soul with nowhere to go and nowhere to stay.

So yes, Clint Barton had been chasing her for ten months.

In her life, he was the only reliable person. He would follow her wherever. He had to be in Russia as surely as she had to get this piano tuned. Whatever Mozart had composed on the yellow sheets that were crumbling under Natasha’s fingers as she turned them, he hadn’t composed it for dead pianos. Or for dead people.

And that is what she was.

Because Clint Barton, the only reliable person in her life, was on his mission to kill her.

------------------------

Clint waited patiently.

Ten months of chasing could bring a certain ease with them. He splashed around in his coffee with a tiny metal spoon and tried to move a sugar cube with the force of his mind only. He had never quite given up the hope of possessing certain supernatural powers. He was seconds away from a nosebleed when the little bell at the door rang.

In the mirror opposite to the entrance Clint recognized her immediately. His heart took a short flight through his left ribcage before settling again. Huh, if those weren’t supernatural powers he didn’t know what was.

She walked to the cashier with her hood over he red hair and her hands in the bag that was attached to her black sweater. She looked just as plain as he did that day. They were both trying, but the mere fact that he had recognized her with one glance made him hunch over his coffee more and try to disappear more into the shadows of the café.

Natasha bought some bread, coffee to go and two little bagels filled with cream. Then she headed his way.

He kicked out in surprise, pushed over his cup of coffee and actually fucking blushed. Well, hell to that. The people at the other tables looked at him shortly, figuring he had fallen asleep and then startled awake or something like that, before ignoring him again, the way everyone always ignored everyone.

Everyone except Natasha Romanoff who had walked over to his table with her food and coffee and now pulled out a few napkins to throw on the big black stain Clint’s coffee had produced on the tablecloth.

“Whoopsie, I guess.” She actually grinned at him from under her hood and held one of the two to go cups she was somehow juggling in her hands in his direction. “I figured you’d need a new one.”

“How did you know I would push over-”

“You’re very predictable.”

They stared at each other for a second, before Clint took the cup out of her hand and grumbled about his choices self-pityingly.

Natasha poked him in the shoulder, making him feel her fingernail, his nose scrunching up reproachfully.

“Hey!”

“Come on. We go for a walk.”

There was another moment of trust-questioning, but it was even shorter than the first one. Clint put on his leather jacket and followed her easy steps. The hairs on his neck were up, alarmingly. He wanted to nod to them and tell them he’d be careful, but he didn’t want to say that out loud in front of Natasha.

Out on the street she handed him a bagel. Clint burned his tongue on the steaming hot coffee and hissed.

“It says “Careful, contents hot” on the lid.” Natasha said nonchalanty and sipped on her own coffee without showing any signs of discomfort.

“You playing tough now?” Clint asked disgruntled, pushing his poor tongue against the cold whipped cream.

“Don’t need to.” Natasha was quick to answer, pulling his awful Adidas cap off. “This is actually an insult to me.” She threw it in the mudd and stepped on it. “We go this way.”

Clint looked at her as she gracefully walked away on the pavement and waited for her to notice that he so wasn’t following. He couldn’t help but giggle when she said something to the total stranger hurrying to walk past her, mistaking him for Clint. He looked at her in shock and she stopped walking immediately, leaving the poor confused man whom she had probably just threatened right where he was to threaten the perfectly right target that was actually quick to get away.

Clint sneaked into the next alley, making sure Natasha was following him this time. Her face was less soft and less mocking than it had still been at the café. Two could play a game of prediction and surprise. And Clint wasn’t walking into her trap, that was for sure.

He turned around and nodded to the tiny, dark court at the end of the alley. She didn’t react much, merely glared at him. But she followed, when he started walking anew.

In the middle of the court Clint turned around again and took a quick step back when he realized how close she had gotten during that short time. She was in punching range so that’s what she did.

Her fist hit him right in the stomach and he dropped and spilled the second coffee that day, as he bent over in pain. “DAMN it.” He wheezed and then started laughing. “You don’t got much of a sense for waste, do you?”

Natasha grabbed his chin and pushed him up against the red brick wall. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh, here? In this specific spot? I don’t know. I can’t even read the street signs, russian letters, ya know, I just wanted to get on your n-”

“Stop the act. I know that you can read the street signs perfectly well.”

Clint’s shoulders sagged a little. His chin felt heavier in her palm now. His stubble felt nice against her fingers. Not that it mattered...

“Does this mean you know I’m not dumb?” Clint shook his head slightly, his voice getting a teasing tone. “And I thought I had you fooled.”

“Stop it.” Natasha wasn’t in the mood for his jokes. Yelena had succeeded in making her feel wary about herself, her own intentions in this game of cat and mouse. What were they doing? This endless road trip, this constant making and following of hints, it was leading nowhere but on. They could keep dancing around each other for another ten months. Maybe hurt each other again, so SHIELD wouldn’t suspect too much. Suspect what they both already knew: they couldn’t kill each other. They were way too curious about the other, way too pulled in by the other.

Natasha didn’t know how it had happened, how it had come to this. But she was a hundred percent certain that she was fond of Clint Barton and that she was protecting him by leading him on. She always knew where he was, because he always knew where she was. She kept an eye on him, he kept an eye on her. A part of her was still careful, still suspected betrayal, even death. Still, she knew what they said about him, about Hawkeye: he never missed. And he had missed. Big time.

Her grip on his chin loosened a little and she noticed she was stroking over his cheek. The humor hadn’t left his eyes, but it had transformed. He wasn’t teasing her anymore. There was affection in his gaze.

“Natasha.”

She felt his fingers on her elbow and jerked slightly. A soft sound of surprise exited her mouth. She hadn’t noticed him reaching for her. She was letting down her guard, his stupid blue eyes were bewitching her.

“Stop!” She pulled back suddenly, pushing her hand against his chest and grabbing for her gun which was hidden in her waistband. The weapon she had suspected to be in his free hand was invisible. Meaning there was no weapon in his free hand. He was holding up his arms gently, showing them to convince her he wouldn’t hurt her. She swallowed.

“Natasha Romanoff, I was sent as an agent of SHIELD to exterminate you, as they put it. You know that. We have been putting up quite a show, the two of us. I got into a lot of trouble for that. Barton, you’re wasting our time. Shit like that. I wasted their time, because...” Clint took a deep breath and chuckled insecurely. He scratched the back of his head and one could have almost forgotten that he was as cute as he was deadly. Natasha quit hunching, hadn’t even noticed that she was doing it. Her face felt frozen. Her eyes were fixed on Clint’s face. The face she’d been looking at again and again for the past months. Hidden by a mask or uncovered, at daylight, at nighttime. She felt like she knew him.

“I wanted to ask you, you know, under my protection and all, I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, that has to be clear. If there are any doubts from you or or ... from my side I won’t even sleep, make sure nobody even thinks about-”

“You know, you annoyed me enough with letting me walk down the street alone and talk to some complete weirdo, so... get to the point.” She tried to keep up their banter, she had grown fond of it over the time they had been following one another from country to country, but at that specific moment her eyes were too dry and her throat was too cold for herself to be easy about the situation.

What was he proposing? She could feel hope flare up inside her chest like a magic trick. She couldn’t quite believe it, but she also couldn’t understand how it worked.

Clint chuckled, but choked on it like he was shivering on the inside. She knew that he was 26 years old, just like her. They were so young. Wasn’t it good and human to still hope?

Something hit Clint so quietly that only his stung reaction proved the collision. He grabbed his neck with wide eyes and Natasha could see blood between his fingers. His cheeks turned pale. With a piously untroubled expression Clint pulled a tiny bolt out of his delicate flesh. It was red. Darker than his own blood. Natasha knew that signature. The Red Room.

A poisoned arrow.

Her head whipped around and she saw Yelena’s blonde locks disappear inside a window up on the fifth floor.

Forget about hope, she thought. We need an antidote.

--------------------------

“The good news is I can still feel my legs. The bad news: I’m sweating on your pretty sweater.”

Natasha stumbled down the street, her right arm wrapped around Clint’s shoulders to support him. He was muscley and heavy and Natasha was strong, but her resources were being strained. She had to get back to the hide out. The antidote was inside the piano. It had always been stashed away there. Multiple flasks of it.

Yes, she was running into a trap. And yes, Yelena might have already destroyed all reserves. But a part of her demanded her to keep going. She couldn’t give up on this man. This god damn nuisance.

“Seriously ‘Tasha, where’d’you get it, that sweater?” Clint wasn’t aware of the fact that his poison-induced slurry slang sparked something inside Natasha’s emotions. She had been Natalia in the Red Room, Natalia in the hide out, Natalia in the last curses of her enemies. She had chosen to be Natasha for herself. And Clint gave her Tasha.

She looked at his sweaty, grief-marked face and saw nothing but affection. It seemed so easy for him to...

Quickly she shook her head and shortly butted their foreheads together. It was supposed to be gentle and reassuring, but it whipped his head back rather harshly.

“Ow.”

“You will be okay.”

“This’ll grow blue.”

“I will ... protect you.”

Clint smiled and stumbled, almost falling to the hard ground, but she kept him up, wheezing from the effort. She groaned, her muscles were protesting, burning. She had to keep going. Just five more turns. They could make it. They had to make it.

“You hesitated.” He chuckled and Natasha couldn’t help but huff at that. Feisty, gentle, good-humored archer.

“You have to help me move, Clint. How about those useless legs of yours?”

“They feel less alive by the second.” He gritted his teeth visibly and marched on despite the lifelessness. She would have winced, but she couldn’t. She had to keep going. Stay focused. Don’t think about all the ways this could turn out. He’d make it. He’d make it.

“I got the stupid sweater at Primark.” Natasha spat out and pulled him on forward. They did get some suspicious looks from the pedestrians around them. Since they weren’t calling for help though, or breaking down in a pile of death, nobody seemed to care enough to ask or even offer help. Good.

“Primark.” Clint’s voice sounded hoarse. He was hobbling slightly. Natasha knew that his incessant talking distracted him from pain and unconsciousness. Therefore she kept it up.

“Got it for five dollars. I’m a horrible person.”

“Yes. You- you should be ashamed of yourself. I’ll get you a better sweater. It’ll say: “Don’t buy five dollar sweaters at Primark.”” Clint’s face turned even paler than it had been before. Natasha noticed her lip was bleeding. She had bitten it too harshly.

“Good. Yes. Where will you get that sweater?” Natasha asked, carrying him across the street and futher down the darker part of the district. There was a lot of garbage on the pavement. She could see the broken window in the first floor of the building across the street. The broken window that raised some feeling of home inside her. A home she despised. But at least a place she could go.

“Primark, of course.” Clint was powerless. He fainted.

--------------------------

Natasha could hear herself. Her breathing was hysterical. Her body was at its limit. She pulled Hawkeye up the stairs, cursing his name, his weight, the shards on the steps that threatened to hurt the man even further. She gathered him in her arms and activated her last energy to pull him through the door to the hide out, to the tiny, moldy apartment with the piano in the middle. The door broke, she stumbled over it and the next thing she felt was a numb pain on the back of her head.

The next thing she realized was that she was on her hands and tried to blink herself back into her body, because it felt like she had exited it. Yelena walked into view, a blurry view, but a view. In her right hand she was swinging a baseball bat. I mean really? A baseball bat? How original. Natasha almost laughed at that. Clint Barton’s voice had really found a way into her head.

“I’m sorry, Natalia. I couldn’t risk you trying anything.”

Yeah, sure, like this was totally going to stop her. Her hand was fumbling across the floor that felt less real under her callous fingers. Damn baseball bats. She found Clint’s hand, pulled at it. His head met her thigh. She searched his pulse, fingers fumbling around at his collar. She found it, found something else as her fingers brushed against metal. A spark of relief washed through Natasha’s chest. Wonderful genius nuisance archer.

“I don’t understand you, Natalia.” Yelena sat down on a wooden stool. Natasha wished it to break apart. It would have been a fun story to tell Clint when he’d be awake again. She felt tears fill her eyes. God damn heads and their fragility. She had to get that antidote, she couldn’t suffer a concussion. Not now. “What is it about this man that could possibly be more intriguing than your old career? You were glorious, back in the day.”

Natasha held on tightly to Clint’s little gift, her hand hidden inside his horrible sweater. His heartbeat was weak against her knuckles.

“I suppose you have already guessed it.” Yelena sat back and put the baseball bat over her lap.

“What? That you never stopped working for the Red Room? Yeah... I figured.” Natasha blinked, tried to get her brain into a normal position in her head. Where was it swimming?

“Hmm. Sorry about that. They kind of want you delivered. This is why I can’t, you know, let you go with him.” Yelena got on her feet again. “It’s tragic. I’ve never seen you like this before. It could have been a happy end for you. He’s pretty.”

Natasha wasn’t even mad at Yelena. For any of it. She knew what the Red Room could be like. They had probably tortured the blonde mercenary. Unfortunately, in their line of work, nobody was trustworthy. Unfortunately for Yelena. She was getting closer.

“Maybe they won’t kill you. You were one of their best killers. It is possible that they take you back. After a certain... ordeal of course.” Yelena kneeled down before her, her foot kicking against Clint’s shoulder. Natasha bit on her bloody lip again. Her hand tightened around Clint’s necklace.

“What did they do to you, Yelena?” Natasha looked up, trying to focus on the slightly widening eyes of the poor lost soul and then, when she was certain the other woman was distracted, she hit her mark.

---------------------------

The arrow stuck out of Yelena’s eye like a candle out of a birthday cupcake. It wasn’t a nice death, but a fast one. As long as you hit the brain.

Natasha puked on the blonde strands of hair. Then she scrambled to her feet, fell down again, hit Clint’s head with her elbow. The man weakly awoke. A huff of air coming from his lips. They were turning blue.

“Don’t you” Natasha got on her knees.

“fucking” She hobbled over to the black instrument in the middle of the damn room.

“die” Her hand slipped between the backside and inside of the thing.

“on me!” She hauled herself up by the side of it, looked inside and saw nothing but broken vials.

A wail was about to break out of her. Long, loud and desperate. Instead, she dipped her head down until her lips met the wet bottom of the wood. Her brain was not happy about this change of positions. She ignored the nausea that started to build up. Tiny evil shards grazed her lips and tongue. And they would graze Clint’s iips and tongue as well. But that’s the way life goes sometimes.

When Natasha’s mouth had gathered up as much of the life-saving liquid as it could have from the godless puddle at the bottom of a really old piano she fell on her butt and moved herself back to the pretty lifeless Hawkeye on the floor. Her calm hands grabbed his jaw and opened his mouth. Then she bent down. The idea of her basically spitting into his mouth wasn’t a nice one. It certainly didn’t help her nausea. But he was a courageous little dying man and swallowed all of it, the antidote, the shards and her spit.

Natasha put her palm on his cold forehead and looked at his very still face. She started laughing like a crazy person. Then she cried a little, but shh, that’s between us. She concluded her hysterical session with a loud intake of breath and slumped in on herself.

-----------------------------

Later on, she wondered how long she had remained in her hunched sitting position. While doing it, it didn’t seem like much of an effort. Clint was either asleep or dead. And she wasn’t willing to find out which option applied.

As long as she could just sit here, all was possible. All was undecided.

The night was cold, but short. The morning was cruel with its ever growing light. More and more did Clint’s face reveal itself to her. And she couldn’t make out entirely what it indicated.

She must have waited about thirteen hours. Maybe a little less, maybe a ittle more. But it took many hours for Clint to wake.

He stirred on the floor and Natasha’s dry, dry eyes enjoyed a nice little shower.

“’Tasha?”

“I’m here.”

“Crazy.”

“Yeah.”

That was all he could muster. Then his head rolled back to the floor and he fell unconscious again.

It was more than enough for Natasha. She wiped away her tears, laughed about herself, got to her numb feet and rolled Yelena under the out-of-tune piano. Her head was better. Way better. She realized there was dried blood sticking to her hair. But she didn’t worry much about it.

She took up the baseball bat, walked to the fucked up instrument and destroyed it.

---------------------------------

Two hours later Clint woke to the steam of coffee being basically held in his face. He instinctively pushed the white, hot object in front of his nose away and shrieked when hot driplets of coffee splashed on his cheeks.

“Hellfire and endless agony!” He yelled as he sat up and wiped at his wet skin.

Natasha was sitting next to him, with a smirk on her face. Playfully she shook the cup in her hand around and leaned in as if to tell him a secret. “Just coffee actually.”

Clint looked at her as if he had never seen her before and for a moment the Black Widow felt uneasy. What if the poison had deleted Clint’s memory?

But then Clint cocked his head and asked “Gary?” with so much conviction that Natasha couldn’t decide which wish to give in to first: laughing or punching him. Which is why she did both.

“Ooooww.” Clint chuckled and dramatically leaned to the side of his hurt arm.

“That’s what you get for... for... “ Natasha was lost for words as she remembered the agony and hellfire she had spent the night with. Her face turned serious.

Clint sat up straight again and looked at her with his tilted head. His eyes were so soft. They always had been. Every damn time they had met along the way.

“What you did yesterday must have been incredible.” Hawkeye bent over and obviously wanted to grab something hidden inside his sweater. He was surprised not to find it.

Natasha watched him. “It probably was.” After a while, she added: “I had to use that necklace of yours.”

Clint slumped down a little. “Oh.” He only took a second to recover from that loss, but the fact that he had needed it showed Natasha how meaningful the jewelry must have been to Clint. He was back to his grinning self in no time. “What, did you put it in somebody’s eye or...?”

It was supposed to be a joke, but Natasha’s expression must have given the truth away. Clint’s eyebrows rose an inch. He saw the remaints of the piano and pieced the puzzle together. “You have been efficient.”

“I tend to be.”

With a nonchalance Natasha immediately liked about him Clint looked at his watch. “Oh well. We gotta go. Let’s burn this place down.”

He was about to get up, but fell on his backside again rather elegantless. He furrowed his brows and looked at his slightly trembling hands. “Huh.”

“Take it slow maybe.” Natasha advised, her hand extended to him to offer help.

“I’ve never been poisoned before. I can’t say it’s for me.” Clint took her hand with an adorably crooked smile and additionally grabbed for her shoulder when he was standing on his feet. Sweat broke out on his forehead, but he did his best to breathe it away. His stomach grumbled. “Oh, would you look at that. Being hungry is a good sign, right?”

Natasha patted his hand and blinked ironically. “I’m sure it is.”

The archer took another few breaths to steady himself, holding on to Natasha all throughout it. What a weird pair they were. Natasha watched him calm down his shivers, watched his knuckles grow less and less white on her shoulder and on her hand. He wasn’t acting tough - well, he definitely was to a certain degree, but not in that specific moment - and he allowed her to see that he was weak. She pushed the backside of her left hand to his nice and stubly cheek, the way she had done it the day before. The stuble had grown over night.

Clint’s blue eyes focused on Natasha’s green ones. His breathing was getting more steady and his shivers disappeared. He smiled ever so lightly.

“Please don’t hit me now. I don’t think I could ever get over that.”

Natasha smiled back at him, the skin on her almost healed bottom lip breaking again and leaking some blood. She didn’t mind it.

“Do you ever shut up?”

“Nope.” He grabbed her hand from his cheek, kissed her fingers too quickly for her to pull back and turned around to bend down and search through the jacket she had taken off of him.

Unimpressed Natasha raised her eyebrows and looked at her fingers. She couldn’t hold back the tiniest smile. She cleared her throat. “Bet you’re so nice to all your missions.”

Clint made a noise that could have meant so much as “I beg to differ” or “God, I really need to pee”. Probably a bit of both. The archer slid inside his jacket and extracted a hand to her. “Not a mission anymore. Partners.”

Natasha blinked at him. What did he mean by partners?

“Well, before you ask any rude questions. Let’s really burn this place down!” Clint concluded and pulled a lighter out of his jacket pocket. He grinned so dumbly, Natasha had to cross her arms to keep from mirroring him.

“You don’t got any gasoline nearby, do you?”

------------------------------

They sat in the cafe again, when the firefighters rushed past them with sirens whailing.The coffee-stained tabelcloth had been badly washed. There was a big brown spot on it where Clint had been so graceful to cover it with the hot liquid a day before.Natasha poked her smashed potatoes around like someone had hidden a fly in them and she had yet to find it. She didn’t like flies. Clint’s stomach continued to rumble, but he didn’t touch his food. It was unusual for him to be this serious. But the situation called for it.

“Like I said I would protect you. At all costs. Nobody will be able to hurt you.”

“I don’t need your protection.” Natasha hissed reflexively and felt bad for it immediately. Felt.. bad for it? Seriously? Gosh, this man was annoying. Natasha dropped her spoon and rested her head in her palms.

To her surprise Clint looked down quickly, badly hiding his sudden smirk.

She kicked him under the table. He hid his wince with a chuckle. “You are responsible for so many bruises on this shin, you got no idea.” Natasha ignored that. “What are you grinning about?”

Clint shook his head and smiled openly now. “You... you pout.”

The reaction from the Black Widow must have been an even more indignant pout, because Clint’s grin widened. She kicked him again, but this time he pushed his leg out of reach fast enough. His left eye-brow raised triumphantly. Natasha narrowed her eyes at him. So many thoughts and doubts and hopes were flaring through her slightly concussed head, she could barely focus on one at a time. Still. This smirk. This softness. This almost playful side of him - or well, definitely playful side - she was pulled in by it.

“I... “ She started, then looked away, bit her scabby lip and started again. “I don’t want to say yes because of you. But I would have to say yes because of you.”

Clint’s smirk vanished, making room for a very sympathetic expression. Worry. He was just as worried as she was. This is why he kept on promising her protection. To calm his own mind.

“If it helps you,” Clint stated with a self-ironic chuckle, “I am offering it because of you. And you alone.”

Natasha tilted her head questioningly.

“Well,” Cint started to explain, “I have been working for SHIELD for six years now. They pay well. And I’m good at the whole bow and arrow thing-”

“The best, I heard.” Natasha interrupted, looking not the least impressed.

Clint grinned and pointed at her face teasingly. “Pouting again!” He sing-songed. She blushed - actually blushed for God’s sake - and slapped his hand away. He chuckled and continued his monologue.

“It’s just... I don’t recruit people. Obviously. That’s Phil’s job and Nick Fury’s. I get my missions and I finish them. And now there’s you. Natasha, you are the first mission I didn’t finish. I won’t finish. Because you are impressive. And there’s good in you, intelligence, so much will. You saved me so many times. It’s kind of twisted, isn’t it? My mission was to kill you, so you would stop killing. Now we are here, you saved my life more times than I can count and I want you to-”

He looked at her almost desperately and Natasha felt that she was looking at him the same way. What he was proposing there was a future. It was a job, it was redemption, it was forgiveness, it was friendship and more than that. In front of all, it was a risk. He was taking a huge risk. For her.

Clint took a deep breath and closed his cold fingers around her hand on the table. “I want you to be my partner. I want you to work with me.”

You could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall above them. You could hear more sirens blaring outside, more firefighter, maybe the police. You could hear Clint holding his breath and Natasha’s voice stuck inside her throat.

Then Clint’s phone started to ring. He squeezed his eyes shut in discomfort and grabbed it out of his pocket, not letting go of Natasha’s hand on the table. She believed, it was an unconscious thing from him and it endeared her. With his eyes he conveyed her the message that he had to take this call. She nodded with a patient smile.

“Eyyyyyy Phillie, Phil’oh’boy, how’s it gooooing?... Yeah, I didn’t, that’s right. ... Oh why, you ask? Why I didn’t call? I was poisoned, almost dying. ... Busy night, yeah. ... I know. ... Yep, I know that’s what was our deal. ... Sure. ...”

Clint furrowed his brows when he saw Natasha taking out a pen and writing something on a napkin. He realized he was still holding her hand. A slight blush colored his cheeks. But he didn’t let go. Partly because he didn’t want to, partly because she was smiling while writing.

“The meetup is in an hour already? ... Huh. ... Yep, I think we can make it. ... Yes, we. ... Well, I’m a hopeful person. ... Love you too, Phillie. ... That’s just rude.” Clint ended the call and slid his phone back inside his pocket.

Natasha watched him with attentive eyes.

Clint smiled crookedly again and scratched the back of his head. “We uhm... we gotta be at the airport in an hour. If that’s where you want to be.”

The Black Widow had banned all emotions from her face and merely looked at him. Then she raised the napkin from the table top and held it in front of her sweater. It said “Don’t buy 5$ sweaters at Primark.”

Clint closed his eyes and hummed with a smile that was banning all worries and pains he had ever suffered from. When he looked at her again, his blue eyes were shimmering.

“Is that a yes?”

--------------------------

Phil stood in the opening of the helicopter, sunglasses on, in a suit as usual, and shook his head so obviously dismissive that Natasha’s stomach rebelled worriedly.

Clint held her hand and he didn’t let go, even when she made an effort to slip out of his grip.

“With all I have.” Hawkeye reminded her loud enough to hear over the noise of the helicopter and squeezed her hand reassuringly. She stared into his soft blue eyes and couldn’t help but smile.

Phil Coulson helped them into the helicopter, closed the door and gave the SHIELD pilot the sign to take off. He looked pissed. Even with his sunglasses on. Even with this face of a passionless fish. So the first thing that Natasha could think off was smile.

“You must be Bill.”

The poor archer next to her had to turn around and act like he was searching for something to cover up his shaking shoulders. She grinned. Making Hawkeye laugh would be one of her favorite new hobbies.

“Natalia Alianovna Romanova.” Phil Coulson answered coldly, hitting a sore spot, just as he had probably wanted to.

Natasha bit on the inside of her cheek and gave a quick response. “Or just Tasha... though I haven’t yet decided who is allowed to call me that.” Her newly gained partner settled in more comfortably and pushed her thigh with his knuckles to remind her of putting on her seatbelt. She nodded and did so.

“This is adorable.” Phil said, looking not at all charmed by their silent conversation. “Hawkeye brings in a new recruit. A deadly new recruit who has been filed as one of the Top 20 most wanted assassins by SHIELD. The organization you work for, Clint.”

“Top 20?” Natasha asked, a little disappointed. “That could mean anything. It could mean that I am the eleventh most wanted or the nineteenth. That’s a huge difference. Could you be a little more precise?”

Clint had to bite his quivering lip and stepped on her foot gently but firmly.

“Ahh.” Coulson made. “I see. She amuses you. Wonderful. Just perfect. Can’t wait to see what Fury has to say to this.”

That was all Phil Coulson said for the remaining long journey back to America. It didn’t matter much. Natasha got used to him staring at her rather quickly and managed to ignore it.

Why? Because Clint was shielding her. Not with his body. But with his presence. Sure, she didn’t need his protection. She had had her own for years, Ever since she could remember actually. Yet, it was the nicest, most comfortable feeling Natasha had ever experienced. Sitting here, in a helicopter of an organization that had her on a list of most wanted assassins, next to a mercenary who had spent months hunting her down, opposite a man whose hidden stare alone made her see his wish she’d drop down dead immediately.

It was in the touch of his elbow against her arm, in his foot stepping on hers repeatedly to annoy her, in his head leaning in close to hers to whisper mean things about Coulson in her ear. It was in his soft blue eyes and in his little smiles. It was in the echo in her head, the echo of his words.

With all I have.

That is where her hope sat. Her safety. Her trust and ... affection.

Because, and she had thought it before and she would think it again, with every touch he gave so freely to her, with every laugh he spilled due to her, with every word he directed at her and every hug he embraced her in, it seemed so easy for him to love her.

#clintasha #clint x natasha #avengers #preavengers #fanfiction #black widow #hawkeye #phil coulson #shield #budapest #yelena #oc #with all i have

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innytoes · 5 years

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Clint and Parker AU

This time @hawkguyhasstarbucks is directly to blame. They should know better than to throw a sentence like ‘au where clint and parker grew up together’ at me.

They met in foster care, or maybe the circus. Maybe they met in foster care, and then got sent to different places, and both ran away to the circus. Barney was like ‘no way am I taking care of another small blond troublemaker’ and pretended he didn’t know her.

Parker is quick, light, and utterly unafraid of heights. She’s very quickly part of helping the trapeze artists set up their rigs. She starts learning alongside the performer’s kids. Sometimes they even feed her. It’s great, even though the other kids don’t like her and think she’s weird.

Clint doesn’t think she’s weird. He teaches her to throw knives, and she teaches him to do a flip. They hide behind the lion cages when the adults are drunk and mad and looking for an easy target.

She’s totes fine with the Circus of Crime thing. She’s probably the getaway driver, helps them steal cars, even starts helping break in. She’s still small enough to get through windows the adults can’t fit through. She only stops helping when Clint finds out and they beat him for it. Clint is her Only Friend, and she won’t stand for it.

They run away together, find Archie, get trained by him. Archie tried playing them off each other at first, but quickly realised that was not going to work. He trains them to work together, and apart. (They’re both very aware Parker is his favourite, but they don’t really care. They’re safe, they’ve got a roof over their heads, and their first break meant they had enough money to order PIZZAS FOR LIFE or at least ten years.)

Sooner or later they start taking more jobs apart, different specialties driving them to different kinds of jobs. They don’t exactly lose touch, but they don’t exactly keep in touch either. Especially not when Clint gives Parker a heads up he’s working for SHIELD now, which is like The Law, and she doesn’t want to admit how much that stings. She gets even more of a reputation for working alone than she did before.

But then she finds her team, and they change together, and one day when she’s breaking into a top secret location to steal some top secret data that hurt people and was being hushed up. And she’s sliding through the vents when she hears a familiar ‘aw, vent, no’ and finds her childhood best friend. Who is here to steal DIFFERENT top secret data that hurt people and was being hushed up. There was a lot of shady stuff happening in this building, is what she’s saying.

And she ignores the worried chatter in her ear, Nate and Hardison and Eliot all demanding who the hell the guy is, and she see Clint do the same, muttering ‘she’s a friend’ while holding his hand to his ear, and they still work great together, and they get both of the top-secret-data-that-hurt-people-and-was-being-hushed-up without alerting any of the guards (and okay, Clint has taser-arrows now, and that is so cool, she’s going to ask Hardison to make her some taser arrows).

Well, almost. They kind of get caught up telling their various ‘people on comms’ that everything’s fine and the other person is okay, so they miss one, and they only have to be rescued by Eliot a little at the end, but it’s okay. Eliot, once he sees who that ‘some buff guy with Parker’ actually is, sees that Very Distinctive Bow, just gives a grunt and a nod and helps punch out some more back-up guards before helping them get out.

She drags Clint into Lucile with her as they get away, and everyone is staring awkwardly at the newcomer, and Clint just seems 100% chill because between knowing Parker and being a superhero, being semi-kidnapped is just part of his life nowadays.

“This is my...” Parker pauses, frowning. “My Clint.” She says it like it makes sense. It does, to her.

Eliot, who is driving, growls over his shoulder that maybe she could have told them she knew a superhero before, it would have been handy when they were STOPPING A LITERAL PLAGUE.

Sophie, who doesn’t care about brash things like superheroes because the UK gave the world Peggy Carter and what more do you need, probably asks him which one he is. Is he that Iron Fist?

Hardison, now that he realises who Clint is, is doing a little fanboy freak out, because OMG THAT’S HAWKEYE and also SHE BROUGHT HAWKEYE INTO HIS CRIMINAL LAIR WTF PARKER, but also THAT IS A SUPERHERO AND HE KNOWS IRON MAN AAAAA.

So they take Clint back to the brewpub and he and Parker catch up in these little weird half-sentences. “I got a dog. And a Kate.” “Oh cool, I got the Hope Diamond and Pretzels.”

Sooner or later SHIELD comes and picks him up. Sophie later tells her that Nate and her friend Clint’s Coulson should probably not be in the same room ever again, but that’s fine.

#the clint and parker AU #AUs are awesome #leverage #avengers #hawkguy #hawkeye #clint barton #I wrote a thing #also when Clint brings in Nat and learns about her training in the red room he is so mad #SHE DIDN'T EVEN GET ICE CREAM AT THE END OF THE DEATH LASERS?#I blame hawkguyhasstarbucks

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natasha-romanoff-deserved-better · 4 years

Text

Children Of Yesterday- Chapter Three

Standing in front of him, are two more children, only slightly older than the one he had found. The blonde child was freakishly skinny with dark bags under his eyes, and was standing with another black-haired slightly taller child who had a bony arm wrapped around him.

The blonde was wearing an over-sized Captain America costume that drowned him, and the other only wearing a leather jacket with sleeves that covered his hands and fell to his knees.

Tony almost chokes.

The blonde in the Captain America costume. The black-haired child standing over him. The scared, timid kid on his hip with glasses and bruises.

He knows who these kids are.

After an accident with Hydra and the time stone, Tony and Rhodey are left with six of their teammates turned into young children. Trying to keep the six young, traumatized and rambunctious children safe all while finding a cure and attempting to give them a taste of a real childhood might be their biggest mission yet.

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Clint awakes to a rough shove on his shoulder. Jerking up, sleep gone from his eyes in an instant, as he scans the room for danger. There is none- it’s just Natalia. She’s standing by his bedside, clad in the leggings and jacket despite the clock on the wall reading almost 2:30am.

“’Atalia? What are you doing?”

“Get up. We’re leaving.”

“I knew it! You can talk!”

Natasha is unimpressed at his intuition. “Of course I can talk.”

“Then why didn’t you ever talk to Tony or the other guy?”

“Why would I let them know I can understand them? I’m not an idiot. People tell secrets when they think you don’t understand.”

Clint mouth hangs open in amazement at her thought process. “That’s so cool! I wish I had thou- wait. How did you get in my room?”

Natasha holds up her left hand, a keycard clasped between her fingers. “I stole it from the agent last night when he picked me up.” Natasha rolls her eyes at the thought. “But come on. We have to go, now. Before they realize I took it.”

Clint nods, and rushes to climb out from under the covers of the hospital bed. The commotion rouses Bruce, who sleepily opens one eye to peek at the pair. Natasha grabs his new glasses from the hospital bedside table and hands them to him.

He gives her a small smile in thanks, then looks between the two other kids. “You’re leaving?”

“Yup.” Clint nods. “I gotta get back to my brother. He says hospitals are bad, anyways… You’re coming too, right?”

Bruce sits up, gives them a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t have anywhere to go…”

“You can come with me! Barney says we’re going to join a circus soon! Doesn’t that sound so fun?”

Bruce chews on his bottom for a moment, staring at Clint as he considers his offer.

“Well, I do really like elephants…”

“So, it’s decided then!” Clint exclaims, a smile spreading across his face at his new friend. Natasha rolls her eyes at them and turns away from the pair to glance out the door, checking the hallway for any wondering agents.

“Are you two ready to go or not? We still need to get the others.”

“Yes,” The two of them say in unison. Neither of them had any possessions besides the clothes the hospital had given them, which; while annoying made things a lot easier. No packing required.

Steve and Bucky are not as excited as Clint and Bruce were.

Bucky stood in front of Steve, who was sat upright on their bed, with his arms crossed and expression hard. “We’re not going.”

“Why not?” Natasha asks, irritation in her accented voice.

“You didn’t plan anything!” He throws his arms up in the air. “How are we even going to get anywhere after we get out?”

Natasha shrugs. “We can figure that out later. I don’t see the problem.”

Bucky gestures over at Steve. “He can’t walk very far. And besides, this place has really good medicine here!”

“So just take some of the medicine?”

Bucky glares at the three of them, until Natasha finally rolls her eyes and gives in. “Fine. Stay here. We’re going home.” She turns around, and nods at Clint and Bruce to follow her out the door.

They shuffle out, quickly hurrying across the hallway to Sam’s door, where Natasha bounces onto her tip toes to scan the keycard across the electronic lock. There is a small click from the lock, and Clint pulls it open for her and Bruce.

Natasha moves over to Sam’s bed to shake his shoulder. “Sam,” She whispers, “Wake up.”

Sam grumbles, brings an arm up and take a swipe at Natasha, which she avoids easily. “Five more minutes.”

Natasha frowns and pinches his arm. He finally opens his eyes, confusion clouding his face.

“What are you all doing here?”

“We’re busting out of here!” Clint tells him.

“What? Why? All these people seem really nice…”

“They kidnapped us.” Natasha deadpans.

“What?”

“We all woke up in an exploded building, and then they forced us onto a plane and now they’ve locked us in here. For no reason. You’re not hurt, are you?”

“…No.”

“Exactly. Then explain why you’re locked in a hospital?”

“Um,”

Clint spoke up. “We’ll help you get back to your mom and dad. They’re probably worried about you- I know my brother is.”

Sam considers this a moment. He chews on his bottom lip as he meets eyes with the three other standing in front of him. They have a good point.

“Okay,” he says. “I’m coming with you.”

“We gotta get passed the dude at the desk in the front first, though.” Clint reminds them. Natasha thinks for a second, before turning to Bruce.

“Think you could distract him?”

Bruce’s eyes widen. “What? Why me?”

“They’ll never suspect you. You look too nice.”

“What do I do?”

Clint butts in. “It’s easy! Just pretend to be sick or hurt or something. Barney has me do it all the time.”

Natasha nods. “And then I’ll sneak up behind him.”

Bruce is clearly uncomfortable, but he doesn’t back out like he wants too. “Okay…”

Natasha doesn’t waste any time, just grabs his arm and shoves him out the doorway. He trips over his two feet but manages to right himself before he can completely face plant. He shuffles down the hall and around the corner, poking his head out so he can see the agent sitting at the front desk. He is clearly uninterested, lounging back in his chair while his feet are propped up on the desk. All his attention is focused on his phone, engaged in some kind of colorful game.

Bruce wraps his arms around his stomach and hunches over. “Excuse me?” He calls as he steps into view. He brings his eyebrows together, trying his best to put on the best puppy eyes he could.

The agent startles at his voice, jerking up and swiveling around to find Bruce. “Bruce? What- how did you get out of your room? I thought we- wait, are you okay?”

Bruce chooses to ignore the room question, instead shakes his head and motions to his stomach, as he takes another step. “I, uh. I feel sick.”

The man stands up, walking closer to Bruce and kneeling to his level. He opens his mouth to say something, but is cut off by Natasha launching herself onto his back.

Natasha uses his shoulders to lift and push herself up and get her legs around his neck. The man bucks up and reaches back to try and yank her off, but she continues squeezing with her thighs to keep her balance and restrict his breathing. With her right hand, she reaches down and pinches a point on his neck.

The man goes down. They tumble to the ground together, Bruce narrowly side stepping out of the way and Natasha rolls of his back, a wide smile on her face at her success.

“Whoa!”

“How’d you do that?”

Clint and Sam are watching wide eyed to the side.

“There’s a…” She pauses, trying to remember the English word. “A… sleep point? No. Pressure point on the neck. I pinched it.”

Natasha bends down to the unconscious agent and sticks her hands into his pockets. She produces another keycard, which she hands off to Bruce. She unhooks the gun from his holster and shoves it into her leggings waistband.

Clint runs over to the two large doors across the lobby, grabbing onto the handles. The doors open, revealing more into the compound. It’s the middle of the night, so there are less agents than normal, but still an unsettling amount milling around. Natasha turns back to them, eyebrows furrowed. “We.” She pauses, words elusive, “sneak by them. Find an exit.” She finishes.

“There.” Sam points to a small counter with several computer screens sitting atop. “We can hide behind that… and then sneak into that hallway on the other side.”

“I’ll go first.” Natasha doesn’t wait for a confirmation, instead just darts out into the open, crouched low as she silently moves through the room and ducking behind the counter between it and the wall.

One by one, with the help of Natasha on the other side motioning to them, the other three scurry across to their new hiding spot. Sam is the last to go, and almost there when he slips, drawing the attention of several agents who come dangerously close to spotting him.

Every kid breathes a sigh of relief when Sam makes it safely to them. Natasha worries her bottom lip. “There’s too many of us too all get around like this. We’re too noticeable.”

“What if we turn out the lights?” Clint suggests.

“Yeah!” Sam agrees, nodding along. “I saw that in a movie once. They shut off all the power.”

Natasha looks to Clint for guidance, giving in when she sees his and Sam’s confidence. “But how will we get to the power?”

“Usually it’s a whole room you needa’ find with tons of buttons and switches and things.”

“There’s a map on the wall over here.” Bruce speaks up, pointing at a framed picture labeled “fire escape route” in bright letters.

“Perfect!” Sam, the tallest of the four, stands on his tip toes to see the map clearly. The compound is big, the map almost slightly overwhelming as he scans over it. Not all the rooms are labeled, instead just the general wings. “There.. maybe?” He points to a section that doesn’t have any labels, guessing it must be the general upkeep rooms. “Or actually, maybe, there?” He points at another spot. “Oh, or-“

“Someone’s coming!” Clint warns. He grabs Sam’s wrist to pull him down, Natasha and Bruce on their heels as they take off running down the hallway.

“Which way, Sam?!”

Sam calls out for them to turn right, into a smaller corridor. “I think this way.” He says, trying to keep the uncertainty out of his voice as he leads them. They slow to a jog when they’re out of view from any agents, but the adrenaline pumping through their veins keeps them all on high alert. They don’t stop to catch their breath until they make it to the wing Sam identified and find a room titled controls. Natasha pulls out the keycard and holds it over the lock.

“черт возьми!” Natasha exclaims as the lock flashes red, signaling the keycard was not compatible. She brings the keycard down to examine it closer, before throwing it to the ground in frustration.

Sam watches her in concern, noticing the angry tears building in the corner of her eyes. “It’s okay,” he tells her, moving to pick up the card.

“It was only for hospital locks!”

“Maybe we could…break the lock or something?” Bruce offers.

Clint shakes his head. “I can get in.”

“The key doesn’t work.” Natasha repeats herself at him. She stomps a foot to help emphasize her point, as if he hadn’t just watched her explain it to Sam.

“I know that. I don’t need a key. Look,” Clint points upwards towards the ceiling, where a small vent is blowing cool air. “If I can get up there, maybe I can crawl in?”

Natasha is not impressed with his plan, but she can’t think of any other ideas. Bruce is already helping Clint push a chair they’d found over to just below the vent. “Okay,” Clint instructs. “Someone needs to help me up though.”

“I’m the strongest.” Natasha volunteers.

“No! I am!” Sam looks over at Natasha accusingly.

“No, you’re not!”

“Boys are almost always stronger than girls!”

“That’s not true!” And then quieter, under her breath, “Мудак.”

Sam jerks back. “What the heck does that mean?” He whirls around to Clint. “She just called me something!”

“Can you two shut up?” Bruce cuts in. The three other kids turn to him in surprise at the anger and annoyance in his voice. Once he notices them staring, he hunches back into himself. “Sorry. I just really don’t like fighting...”

Sam apologizes to him, while Natasha stays quiet, but a guilty look painted onto her face.

“Sam is taller than you, though, so he would be best.” Clint tells them. Natasha doesn’t argue, knowing he is right but not wanting to admit it out loud. As Sam climbs onto the chair, Natasha and Bruce hold the legs steady, making sure the chair isn’t going to slip out from under them. Clint steps up onto the chair with Sam and awkwardly begins climbing up onto his shoulders.

Clint takes a second to find his footing, whispering apologizes whenever Sam softly grunts in discomfort. He grabs hold of the vent, threading his small fingers through the bars and yanking the vent cover away. It clatters to the ground, all of them cringing at the loud sound. “Okay!” Clint gets a steady hold into the vent and begins to pull himself up into the small passage. Beneath him, Sam boosts him up the rest of the way. “I’m in!” He announces as he lifts his lower body into it enough to swing his legs inside with the rest of him.

The passageways are small, but much bigger than the ones in his house. Crawling through with practiced ease, he takes the first left he comes across and crawls several more feet until he finds another vent. He peeks through, finding a room below him crowded with all kinds of screens, keyboards, buttons and lights. Clint squeezes himself around, curling up so that he can kick the vent cover out of the way.

Lowering himself down and letting himself drop, he falls hard, his ankle twisting as he hits the floor, and he holds in a grunt of pain. Forcing himself up, he rushes over to the door, pulling the hatch and pushing it open to where Natasha, Sam and Bruce are all anxiously waiting for him.

The three bundle inside, closing the door behind them. Bruce excitedly runs up to the screens, eyes wide as he quickly reads all the words and labels. Sam takes a place next to him, scanning the buttons.

“How do you know what is what?”

Bruce frowns. “I don’t.”

Clint isn’t interested in waiting. “Just press some!” He comes up behind them, reaches out, and runs a hand over a row of buttons. “One of them is bound to be the lights and doors.”

Before Bruce can stop him, the group is plunged into darkness. Shock causes them to freeze for a moment, only broken by Clint letting out a loud hoot and high fiving Bruce.

~~~

Steve picks a piece of skin from his thumbnail, frowning at the small bead of blood that bubbles up. Next to him, Bucky slaps his hand away.

“We should have gone with them.” Steve grumbles at him.

“Why?”

Steve shrugs. “It’s not right for us to stay here and just let them go off. What if they get in trouble? Or need help?”

“Just because they’re doing something doesn’t mean we have to too.”

“No, but if the whole group is going, we should too!” He explains. “Also… I can’t stay here. Ma won’t be able to pay a bill like this. It’s bound to cost an arm and a leg.”

Bucky glares at him for several seconds, before looking up to the ceiling and letting out a heavy sigh. “So, what, you want to go catch up to them or something?”

A smile spreads across Steve’s face as he nods excitedly.

“Ugh. Fine.”

“Yay!” Steve claps. Just as he is slipping out of the bed, everything goes black. “Hey! Turn the lights back on, Buck.”

“I didn’t turn them off.” Bucky frowns, glancing up to the lights. “Look, the hallway is dark too.”

“They probably turned the lights out to save money again. They’re super expensive, probably.”

“Yeah, maybe so.”

The friends tug the door open, the electronic locks no longing functioning due to the power outage. They step out of the room together, coming to a halt when they notice the agent laying haphazardly on the floor in the medical lobby.

Steve rushes over to him, looking down at the guards body. “He’s still breathing. Should we do something?”

Bucky is about to suggest turning him over when he is cut off by a high-pitched alarm ringing out through the air. He covers his ears reflexively as he jumps. The unconscious agent’s walkie talkie sparks to life, a voice calling out for him to answer, and then something about a code 673. “Shit. We gotta go.”

“We can’t just leave him like this!”

“Yes, we can. If someone comes and sees us, they’ll think we did this to him!”

Steve is unconvinced, so Bucky doesn’t wait. He grabs Steve’s wrist and hauls him away from the man, through to the other large doors and pushing their way through. It’s dark, so they can’t quite tell what type of room they’ve entered, but it’s large, and there’s people dressed similar to the agent all running around frantically. They pause, unsure of what to do next or where to go.

A pair of agents run by, and someone shouts an order out to them, telling them “they” are in the west wing and headed towards an exit. Bruce and Steve don’t need to discuss it- they take off running, following some of the agents but keeping in the shadows the best they could, avoiding the emergency lights.

A gunshot echoes through the building, causing them to both flinch a second time. The panicked agents become more frantic at that, yelling at each other to not fire back.

“It’s probably that girl. She shot the machine man who helped us, remember? And they wouldn’t want to shoot a kid.” Steve nods in agreement, and against their instinct, force themselves to run towards the sound of the gun.

They find Natasha standing with a gun held straight out in front of her. Behind her, Clint, Bruce and Sam are all gathered. In front of them, stand several agents, including the eye patched man Bucky recognizes from earlier. Their hands are all up, and one of the women agents is gently trying to coax Natasha to put the gun down, to come back with them.

Tony and Rhodey step out of the car, both unspeaking as they walk side by side into the tower, thoughts weighing heavily on each’s shoulders. Tony had thought going back to the tower would provide comfort to him- his home, where he could be surrounded by all the things he owned and loved and where the love of his life was waiting for him. But walking in, he is flooded with reminders of the team’s absence. A tea packet from Bruce left on the counter. Steve’s sketchbook and charcoal pencil settled neatly on an end table by the couch. One of Clint’s stray darts lay under the couch, discarded and forgotten from an aiming contest with Sam. Even the absence of Natasha’s things is a sign of her, her spy habits of leaving no trace.

“I’m glad they’re staying at SHIELD.” Tony says, later that night. He stokes a thumb over Pepper’s bare shoulder as they lay under the covers, Pepper’s head on his chest. She glances up at him, eyebrows raised in question. “When that doctor read off all their medical issues… and Fury’s right. Some of them, Their childhoods… I wouldn’t know how to deal with them.” Pepper isn’t sure who is he trying to convince, her or himself. “I’d only do more damage.”

It had taken Tony over ten minutes, a confirmation from Rhodey and video evidence dug from Friday’s storage to convince Pepper it wasn’t some prank Tony was trying to play on her. She’d handled it calmly, the reality not quite sinking in until later that night, when the tower was unusually calm and quiet.

Pepper doesn’t speak. She knows there is no convincing her husband of otherwise. Maybe, it would have been possible, several weeks ago. Before Peter had broken his leg and been knocked unconscious while under his supervision. Before the liquor supply had been drained in the matter of just several days. His mind is made up. She draws tiny circles into his skin until they both drift off.

FRIDAY jerks them awake, loudly announcing urgent messages from SHIELD. Tony grumbles awake before remembering, why exactly, SHIELD would even be contacting him in the first place. He has several missed calls from Fury, along with one text message reading “Get here now.” Helpful.

Tony and Rhodey arrive to the SHIELD compound, both in their suits and ready for whatever. There are agents running around, yelling demands and questions into phones and walkie talkies. The power appears to have been shut off, besides emergency generator lights and a blaring alarm.

“What the hell is going on?” Tony shouts over the alarm to Fury.

“The damned kids escaped. All six. They’re gone.”

#look i actually wrote something #children of yesterday #marvel #marvel fic #natasha romanoff #sam wilson #bruce banner #clint barton #tony stark #james rhodes #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #marvel fanction #fanfic

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avengerscompound · 5 years

Text

Legacy - Chapter 6

Legacy: A Hawkeye Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Clint Barton x F!Reader

Word Count: 1820

Rating: E

Square filled: @clintbartonbingo - Cuddling

Warnings: Pregnancy, domestic abuse, post-endgame, angst, developing-relationship, hurt/comfort, smut, Laura and Clint have broken up. Comic Clint/MCU Clint mix.

Synopsis: Nothing is the same after the events of Endgame. When Clint has trouble returning to a life where his family hasn’t changed but he has lost everything, he moves back to the city and tries to move on as a single parent. When Nate finds you bruised and pregnant in the stairwell of his building, he decides that there might be another way that he can make Nat’s sacrifice worth something.

Chapter 6

You woke slowly and moved a little closer to Clint. His arms closed around you almost reflexively, pulling you closer to him still. You kissed his neck and he made a happy little grumbling sound. You kissed a little lower and ran your hands up his back and he slowly pried his eyes open.

He hummed softly. “That’s a really nice way to wake up.”

“Mmm hmmm, well you do have to wake up, we have a big day today.” You said.

He whined and nuzzled into your neck. “Really?”

“Yes, really. We have a doctor’s appointment and then we gotta drive upstate and get the kids.”

Clint whined again and he wriggled against you like he was trying to hide from you by burrowing inside of you. “Can’t we stay a little bit longer?” He mumbled against your skin as his hands skimmed up your sides. “I can think of something fun to do.”

You chuckled and tilted your head back. “I allocated time for that.”

He chuckled and raised his head looking into your eyes. “You did?” He asked. “You know me so well.”

You burst out laughing and kissed him. He deepened the kiss, his tongue coaxing your lips apart and circling yours. He cupped your breasts and teased your overly sensitive nipples with his thumbs, drawing out a deep moan from you.

You trailed your fingers over him, running over the dips and curves of his body, and tracing over old scars. He hummed softly and began to kiss along your jaw to the pulse point under your ear, where he sucked softly.

You moaned softly and ran your hands down to the waistband of his boxers, you slipped one inside and slowly began to jerk him off. He groaned and kissed lower, pulling one of your nipples into his mouth and sucking on it, sending a dull ache through it. As he did his hand slipped into your panties and began to tease at your clit.

“How are you already this wet?” He teased as he ran his finger up and down your folds.

You mewled and pushed against his hand. “Don’t know. Stupid being pregnant.”

“That seems like a nice side effect to me.” He teased and pushed two fingers inside you. You moaned and squeezed around them and he bit down on your nipple sending a sudden jolt through you that seemed to spread right down to your cunt, making your fluids run down his fingers.

He curled his fingers and slowly moved them in and out, seeking out your g-spot. When he finally hit it and pressed down on its surface you gasped and bucked up under him, your legs tensing and your toes curling. “Fuck, Clint!”

He looked down at you with a smug smile on his face and started dragging his fingers over your g-spot again and again until your whole body quivered and with a sudden jerk you came over his hand.

“There you go.” He hummed stroking you through your orgasm. When he pulled his hand away he licked his fingers clean.

“They weren’t lying when they said you never miss your target, were they?” You joked.

Clint snorted. “Nope, I hit it every time.”

You kissed him and rolled onto your side. He pushed his boxers off and spooned you from behind, one hand going to your breast, the other cradling your stomach. Slowly he began to rut against your ass, his cock rubbing up and down your folds and becoming slick with you wet.

He angled himself a little and with a snap, he entered you. You moaned and leaned back against his chest, nuzzling and kissing at his neck as he began to rut into you. “Harder, Clint.” You moaned, and he picked up his pace, thrusting hard up into you as he squeezed and massaged your tits.

“Fuck! That’s it!” You cried, moving with him.

He ran his hand down over the swell of your stomach and began to finger your clit as he pinched and pulled on your nipples. It was too much, your whole body spasmed and clenched and you came with a cry, arching back against Clint. He groaned and with a few more thrusts he came with you.

You both stayed like that for a moment. Him still inside you, cradling you. “How much more time do we have.”

You hummed. “A little bit.”

“Good.” He said, nuzzling into your hair and slipping out of you.

You ran your fingers down his arm, tracing along the sinewy muscles and defined veins. “Does your tattoo mean anything?”

Clint made a small sound against your neck before clearing a throat. “It represents a Ronin.” He said. “You know a samurai without a master?”

“Don’t you use a bow and arrow, not swords?” You asked.

Clint laughed and pulled you a little closer to him. “Alright. You’re gonna get my tragic backstory. You ready?”

You rolled in his arms to face him and looked up into the blue of his eyes. “Your tragic backstory, huh?”

He rubbed his nose against yours. “Mm-hmm… in all its gory detail.”

You kissed the tip of his nose. “Go.”

“So … when I was a kid, my parents died in a car accident. I wasn’t very old and me and my brother went into foster care and got bounced around from abusive family to abusive family.” He said.

You felt a slight pain in your chest. The reason why he’d originally taken such an interest in helping you now seeming that much clearer. You cupped his jaw and stroked his cheek with your thumb. “I’m so sorry, Clint.”

He shrugged a little. “Wasn’t any better when they were alive, to be honest. Didn’t catch much of a break with decent adults to model myself after.” You pressed your forehead against his and he smiled sadly and ran his hand over your stomach. “Eventually me and my brother ran away and joined the circus. Yes literally. It wasn’t that much better there but at least no one hit me.”

“Clint…” You said softly and he shook his head.

“Told you. Tragic backstory.”

The fact he had to hide behind the humor hurt you just that little bit more. You frowned and ran your fingers through the back of his hair and pulled yourself a little closer to him.

“Anyway, I had these two mentors who taught me things that they thought would work both in the circus and with the circuses less legal things. One taught me archery. The other taught me how to use a sword. I was good at both. Like really good. I liked archery more so in the circus I mostly did that, and then when I was recruited by SHIELD I just went with sharp shooting. I mostly used a gun you know? Swords and bows don’t work that well in the spy world. Just, I do better with a bow. So if I could use one, I would. Then the Avengers happened and I figured I’m just some guy with a bunch of people with gimmicks, I’ll give myself the bow as my gimmick.

“Then the dusting happened and I snapped. I went to my sword. It’s more personal like that. Up close. Face-to-face. That’s how I wanted to kill them. I didn’t have the Avengers anymore. I didn’t have my family. I was alone with my sword. Like the Ronin.”

“Now you’re stuck with it.” You said.

He let out a huff and nodded. “Yep. But… maybe that’s for the best. I don’t want to hold on to all that, but I did do it. This can be my, chill out Barton tattoo.”

“It is pretty hot for a chill out tattoo.” You teased.

He chuckled and rolled so he was above you, looking down into your eyes. “Well, as long as it’s hot.” He brought his lips to yours and you kissed him deeply. You hummed and tugged on his hair before pulling back reluctantly.

“We better get ready to go.” You said.

“Yeah alright.” He said and rolled out of bed.

The two of you showered together and got ready to go. Clint drank coffee with breakfast and then packed two more to go.

“Is there a reason you haven’t found out what you’re having?” He asked when you got to the hospital.

You shrugged. “Just… felt like something you learn so you can get all excited with your partner with and then go paint nurseries and get all pink or blue clothes. I didn’t have anyone to get excited with and I don’t really care for gender stereotyping. I also don’t have any idea what to call the little peanut.”

Clint took your hand, linking his fingers with yours. “You can get excited with me. I mean if you want. We don’t have to buy a baseball glove or a tutu or anything.”

You chuckled and leaned against him. “If I can find out today, we can find out.”

“Hi, I’m Doctor Swann,” Your doctor said introducing herself to Clint. “You must be the father.”

Clint shook her hand and laughed a little. “I’m the boyfriend, not the father. Clint Barton.”

A whole slew of reactions seemed to pass over your doctor’s face before they settled to a slightly off neutral.

“Okay, judgy. Be a little professional.” Clint said and you grinned and kissed his cheek. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and gave you a squeeze.

“Alright. I’ll start with your blood pressure, was there anything you were worried about.” She asked getting out the blood pressure cuff.

“We were wondering if there was a way we could find out the sex of the baby today. I know that’s normally a blood test or ultrasound tech thing that happens way earlier, but …”

“It should be fine. I wanted to take a look with the ultrasound machine anyway.” She said.

She went through all the routine things for the appointment. Then got you up on the table to take a look at the baby. She checked measurements and the heartbeat then moved the wand around to find out the sex.

“Okay, so… it looks like you’re having a little girl.” She said.

Clint grinned at you and kissed the top of your head. It was a weird sensation having someone to share this with after so long of just drifting through this pregnancy thinking about how much harder things would be when the baby was born. “A little girl.” You said.

“Wanna go buy a tutu now?” He teased.

You hit him in the chest and he leaned down and kissed you lovingly. He pulled back and looked down at you. “It feels good knowing doesn’t it?”

You nodded and cuddled into him as the doctor cleaned you up actually feeling really excited to meet your daughter. Now you just had to think of a name.

// NEXT

#clintbartonbingo2019 #clint barton #clint barton x reader #hawkeye #hawkeye fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #smut #pregnancy #legacy

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