Imagine Clint Barton

is it a bird? is it a plane? no the first one was right, it's hawkeye!

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Imagine Clint skating around the kitchen in his socks.

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Imagine Clint getting drunk-- like, really drunk, and then proceeding to bother any of the Avengers he can get near.

He hides Tony's wrenches in seemingly random place, and he's finding them for weeks afterwards. He tries to tackle Steve, who just side steps him and shakes his head. Thor thinks it's hilarious, and they both end up singing very badly in the common area.

He tries to scare Nat-- gets in the ventilation system and tries to hang upside down to scare her, but she's gone. "What are you doing?" she asks, suddenly behind him. He screeches and falls to the floor. 

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Imagine Clint in a too large beanbag chair. 

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Imagine Clint singing 'Fergulous' loudly.

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Imagine Clint putting his shoes on the wrong feet and not noticing for half the day. 

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Imagine Kate taking Clint to the West Coast to try surfing. Imagine Clint being awful at it, spending more time in the water than on the board. Imagine Lucky being surprisingly good at it, riding with Kate. 

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Imagine Clint getting a knock on his door and opening it, only to be knocked over by Lucky, where they roll on the floor for a moment. He looks up and Kate is still in the doorway laughing, saying "I'm glad you're okay, dork." 

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Imagine Clint winning 50 dollars off of Tony for pulling off a shot on his bow that Jarvis said he only had a 1 in 75,000 chance of hitting. Imagine Clint smirking as he closes Tony's gaping mouth and pats him on the shoulder, saying "Better luck next time." 

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Imagine Clint finding an action figure of himself. 

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Imagine Clint sleeping through his alarm the morning of a very important Avengers mission.  

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imagine Clint and Natasha going to Busch Gardens (huge theme park if anyone hasn't been). She drags him on all of the rollercoasters

Clint, growing up at the carnival, is convinced that he’s gonna hate the entire thing. Rides at the carnival exist for one reason, and one reason only; to get whoever’s foolish enough to puke their guts up. The Ferris Wheel, maybe, doesn’t fit that mold. But that’s it. No roller coaster rides. Nuh-uh. 

So when Nat suggested the idea, Clint wasn’t too pleased about it. But when Natasha Romanoff shows up outside your apartment with sunglasses on and says “Get in the car,” you get in the car. 

When they get there, it’s hot and sticky and Clint grumbles about Florida weather, but Nat just hooks her hand around his elbow, dragging him through the park. She’s got that big, goofy grin that tells Clint he’s about to regret everything. 

“‘Tasha.”

"Yes?" She tries to hid her smile, looking as innocent as she can. Which is surprisingly innocent. Clint doesn’t believe it for a second.

"What is that?" 

"It’s called the SheiKra." 

"We’re— we’re not going on that, are we?" And then the grin is back. 

"You’ll love it." 

Clint isn’t so sure as they start up the 200 foot climb, Nat practically bouncing with excitement— seriously, adrenaline junkie, much?-- while Clint can see his knuckles turning white on the shoulder restraints. They reach the top,  and for a second, it stops, and Clint can see everything— the park, all the little people an entire building height below them, and for a moment, Clint hopes against hope that the ride has broke and he’s not about to—

And then they drop. Clint’s glad his screams are lost in the other riders around them, and he can feel Nat’s arms somewhere near his head, hear her scream wildly, and suddenly they’re looping, looping, and Clint is pretty sure that he’s left his internal organs elsewhere. 

The whole thing lasts less than a minute, and then they splash against the water. Clint’s pretty sure he’s lost control of his knees, which is such a weird thing to lose control over, but he’s smiling, and Nat nudges his ribs with her elbow, the grin even wider than it was before. 

"Told you. What next?" 

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And this is a friendly reminder that we are totally open for submissions, either in the ask or submit box! Just check out the rules first! 

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Imagine Clint with a series of bad hair days, each somehow worse than the last. 

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Imagine Clint getting stuck in a tree. 

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Imagine Clint raking up a giant pile of leaves from around his apartment building, only to have the kids jump in it. He grins and joins them. 

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Imagine Clint leaning out the window to look at something, only to fall and land in a dumpster. 

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Imagine Clint being jealous at Kate's proficiency with other weaponry, so he tries to learn some sword fighting skills. Kate comes home to the couch in shreds.