#clint barton feels

[innkeepercore]

Clint Barton has few priorities in life and one of those is sleep

[sevdrag]

so many ppl angsting over Tony and arguing over Steve’s ending and critiquing Thor and can I get some goddamned motherfucking love for Clint and Natasha at some point, the two non-tech-y human characters that lost and gave up everything along the way for the Avengers family

[teachingoutsidethebinary]

I Think I Can Handle It

Summary: After escaping a HYDRA facility with flash drives full of information, you run away to an Avenger you think can help you out of this mess. The thing is…he’s kind of a mess himself.

Characters: Clint Barton, Reader, Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers

Warnings: cursing, implied smut

A/N: Thank you so much for this request, anon! I used the comic book version of Clint for this request because I thought his personality and situation were perfect for it. Feedback is always appreciated, and as always, thanks for reading!

One Shot Masterlist

You walked quickly down the dark streets, trying not to draw attention to yourself. An escaped HYDRA prisoner, you had spent the last week on the run from your captors. The fact that you stole a few flash drives with highly sensitive HYDRA intel meant you had also parted on pretty bad terms. You ran to the only place you could think to go to find someone to help you:

New York City.

You knew the Avengers lived in New York City, but you had only been able to get to Brooklyn so far. Your telepathic powers were weakening, and after an insanely close scare with some HYDRA folks earlier this afternoon, you knew you needed to rest and recover before trying to get any farther. You needed to be able to detect where the HYDRA operatives were in order to keep yourself out of danger. Thankfully, you had glimpsed at the Avengers’ folders on the flash drive and discovered one of them lived in Brooklyn. He owned his own apartment building, in fact.

And that’s where you stood now. The building looked normal enough with four stories and a fire escape running down the left side. You closed your eyes and used the last of your energy to figure out which apartment you needed.

“Apartment H,” you murmured as you opened your eyes. “That’s it.” You walked past a large tan van that held a few guys in god-awful track suits.

“Yo bro,” you heard one of them say. “We need to wait for him to come out, bro. Then we kill him this time. You feel me, bro?”

The other goons nodded in agreement. You shook your head and filed their conversation away in the back of your mind. You had much more urgent matters to attend to now. You quickly opened the door to the building and headed straight for apartment H.

The H hung crookedly on the door, and it seemed to bounce as you knocked three times. A  dog barked from inside the apartment, and you stepped back nervously. Clenching your jaw, you prayed that you were right about this guy. He needed to help you get to the Avenger’s Tower.

Eventually, the dog’s barking subsided, and the doorknob turned. Your jaw dropped as you stared at the man before you.

He looked like he got run over by a truck. Athletic tape covered various spots on his face and arms. A large gauze wrapping was tied tightly from his left wrist all the way up to his elbow. A nice black bruise covered his right eye, and his white shirt looked like it had seen better days. He looked like he had seen better days.

“Are…are you Clint Barton?” you asked cautiously.

He tilted his head and looked at you curiously. He tapped his index finger to his chin and then waved an open hand under it. You stared at him, completely unsure how to respond. He made the motion again, and this time, you focused your powers on him to see if you could read his mind.

“What did you say?”

Your eyes widened in shock. He couldn’t hear you. Your limbs were already shaking from exhaustion, but you mustered up the last of your strength to communicate with him.

“Are you Clint Barton?” you spoke inside his mind.

And then you promptly passed out.

Clint’s POV

Okay, I know this looks bad…

I mean, what are the chances a beautiful woman shows up at my door, right? Then, she can talk inside my head? As if those two things weren’t weird enough, now she’s unconscious.

Great, Clint. Just great.

Thankfully I caught her before she hit the ground. I mean, I can’t let her get hurt, right? She must have come to me for a reason. And there’s something up with her and how she can get in my head like that.

I really gotta change the batteries in my hearing aides…

Y/N’s POV

You felt someone staring at you as you slept. You slowly opened your eyes just a crack and were greeted with the sight of golden fur and a black, shiny nose. You opened your eyes all the way and gushed over your furry companion in the bed.

“Puppy!” you exclaimed gleefully. The dog thumped its tail on the mattress and climbed in your lap for some love. Its fur was soft and you noticed it was missing an eye. You eagerly pet the friendly dog, and one wet lick brought you back to reality.

Shit. You were still on the run.

You took careful observations of your surroundings as the dog hopped off the bed and went downstairs. You could see a metal staircase leading down the loft to what you assumed was the main floor. You peeked over the edge of the loft and saw complete chaos down below.

A purple couch sat behind a table covered in take out boxes. Arrows stood proudly against the pockmarked walls, and you could see a few black shirts scattered on the floor. But there was no sign of the blonde man from before.

You pulled the covers back and realized you weren’t in your own clothes. Loose, grey sweatpants hung comfortably on your hips, and you snuggled the soft material of “your” t-shirt up over your nose. It smelled faintly of aftershave and pizza, and you determined it wasn’t a bad smell at all.

“Oh, good, you’re awake.”

You pulled the t-shirt down and blushed as the blonde man from last night walked up the loft steps. His black eye had faded a bit, and he no longer wore the athletic tape over his face. You could now see various cuts and scrapes decorating his face. He held a dripping pot of coffee in his right hand, and a bagel in his left. Your stomach grumbled. When was the last time you had eaten?

“You can talk?” you asked.

“No, I’m just forming words and sentences out of thin air,” he shot back with a wry grin on his face.

Your already pink face turned a darker shade of red. “I just…last night…you used your hands…” You trailed off, not really sure how to continue.

Using his bagel hand, he tapped both his ears. You noticed two small devices curled around the tops of his ears.

“I’m partially deaf,” he explained. “Forgot to change the batteries in my hearing aides.”

“Oh,” you replied. Clearing your throat, you asked, “Are you Clint Barton?”

He chuckled and nodded. “That’s me. Unless it’s Simone asking. Then I’m not here.”

“Simone?” You scrunched your nose, and your eyes focused on the coffee pot in his hand. “Umm, your coffee is leaking.”

Clint stared forlornly at his broken pot. “Aww, coffee, no…” he whined.

You couldn’t help but giggle. “You’re weird.”

“And you’re cute.” Your mouth gaped open, and Clint realized what he had said. “I mean, I thought…we were, uh, stating things that were, you know, obvious,” he shrugged, trying to recover from his confession.

A silence hung in the room as Clint stuffed his bagel in his mouth to avoid any more embarrassing blunders.

“I need your help,” you finally said, focusing on your mission.

Clint nodded and sat on the edge of his bed. “Figured as much,” he concluded.

So you explained the whole story about your escape and the flash drives, which Clint had left undisturbed in your pant pocket. He nodded at the right moments, and didn’t look too surprised about your powers considering you had used them on him the night before.

“So can you help me get to the Avenger’s Tower?” you asked.

Clint pretended to think about it, and for a minute, you got nervous. Finally, he nodded. “Okay, I can help you,” he said. “One request though.” You looked at him expectantly. “Can you do the mind thing again?”

You bit your lip trying to hold back a smile. Your energy had returned, and you stole the rest of his bagel to give you some more fuel. As you were chewing, you thought of what you could say inside his head. You gave Clint a cheeky grin as you decided on your phrase.

“I think you’re cute too,” you said telepathically.

Clint nearly choked on his coffee at your revelation. “Well, um…” he chuckled as his cheeks turned bright red. He cleared his throat a few times. “So it’s still…uh, kind of early to head over to the, um, Tower. We should, you know, wait a bit if we want anyone to be awake when we get there.” He put the coffee pot down and scooted closer towards you on the bed.

“And what should we do until then?” you asked suggestively, placing the last of the bagel on a decrepit nightstand. You thought of a few raunchier scenarios and displayed them in Clint’s mind. His breathing became labored, and his eyes bored hungrily into yours. Clearly, he approved.

Before you knew it, clothes were shed and your lips were crashing with Clint’s. Because why the hell not? He was cute, you were a recently escaped HYDRA captive, and you certainly hadn’t gotten any action during your time in their facilities. You relished in the feeling of his calloused hands all over your body, as if he was trying to memorize every inch of skin. He handled you gently, and you carded your hands in his blonde locks as you placed steamy kissed down his neck.

Soon, you were both tangled in the sheets, coming down from your post-orgasmic high. You let out a tired laugh as you kissed from his bare stomach all the way up to his lips. Just as you were about to go for round two (again, because why the hell not?) a loud banging interrupted your intimate moment.

“CLINT!” a woman’s voice shouted from behind the front door. “I know you’re in there!”

Clint groaned and rolled out of bed. “Shit, we gotta go.” He tossed you your borrowed clothes and quickly pulled his own back on.

You just stared at him with his blanket pulled up against your bare chest. “Seriously?” you asked incredulously.

“Seriously,” he echoed. He snapped his fingers. “Hurry up!”

You mumbled a few choice words under your breath as you got redressed and hurried down the stairs behind Clint. You made sure to grab the flash drives from your old clothes as well. The woman was still banging on the door as Clint gathered his bow and some arrows. He sighed in front of the door.

“Here we go,” he muttered as he opened it.

A gorgeous woman with dark skin and natural black hair stood in his doorway with her hands on her hips. Her brown eyes were lit with a fiery determination as she pointed her finger at Clint.

“There’s an arrow in our TV dish again,” she accused. “You gonna fix it or what? The boys have a show coming on they really want to watch.”

“Simone,” Clint explained as he pulled you out into the hallway, “I have no idea what happened to your TV dish.”

“Really,” she deadpanned, pointing to the arrows in the quiver strapped to his back.

“Not my arrows,” he replied with a shrug.

“Really.”

“Yes, really.”

“Clint Barton, you are the WORST landlord ever.”

Clint sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, Simone, I’ll get someone to fix it. It’ll take a few hours though.”

It was as if Clint had said the magic words. Simone smiled and revealed two rows of perfectly shiny teeth. “Thanks, Clint,” she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “If you forget, I’ll cut your balls off.”

“Good to see you too, Simone!” Clint called as the two of you raced down the stairs and outside. You didn’t make it very far past the front door before he shoved you into a small alleyway next to the building.

“What the hell?” you exclaimed as your head met a hard brick wall. He covered your mouth and peeked carefully around the corner.

“Tracksuit Mafia,” he whispered.

“Tracksuit Mafia?” you asked, your voice muffled under his hand. He gave a curt nod and slowly removed his hand. “You mean the guys in the van?”

“Yeah,” he replied, trying to come up with a plan.

You thought back to what you overheard yesterday. “They talked about wanting to kill someone,” you informed him with a raised brow. “Any chance they were talking about you?”

“99.9% chance,” he confirmed.

“Seriously?” you gasped. “What did you do?”

Clint shrugged. “Just stole their building, beat up a few of their guys, the usual.”

“CLINT!” You sighed. “You are the most complicated guy I’ve slept with.”

His eyes lit up and he interlaced your fingers with his. “That’s it!” He pulled you out into the open and began kissing you in front of the van. You had no idea what was going on, but you played along, biting his lower lip and sliding your tongue into his mouth.

You could hear whoops and cheers from the Tracksuit Mafia.

“Is that Clint Barton, bro?”

“Yeah, bro, and he’s getting some action! What a way to go before dying, bro!”

Clint smiled against your lips and pulled back a bit. “Get ready to duck,” he said between kisses. His hands disappeared from your waist and you felt his body shimmy against yours.

The Tracksuit Mafia was getting bored of your little show by this point.

“Let’s just kill them both, bro,” you heard one of them say.

Clint pulled back completely. “DUCK!” he shouted, revealing his armed bow. You knelt down and cowered against him as he shot an arrow directly into the side of the van. It beeped urgently as one of the Tracksuit Mafia tried to pry it out of the warped metal.

Clint tugged you towards the opposite side of the street to a small car. You had just opened the door when a loud explosion drew your attention back to the van. It had been consumed by a huge fireball, and the Mafia was running frantically around their precious vehicle, trying to figure out how to quell the flames.

Clint started the engine and tires squealed as you raced away from the scene.

“YOU’LL PAY FOR THIS, BRO!” one of them shouted.

You cheered as you left the Tracksuit Mafia in your dust. Clint seemed proud of himself as he maneuvered the car through the tight streets of New York. Before you knew it, Clint was pulling up to an enormous tower with the letter A emblazoned near the top. You gulped nervously as he parked the car. What if they didn’t believe you? What if they didn’t trust you? What if-?

“Don’t worry,” Clint reassured you. “These guys are good people.”

You nodded as you prepared to change the entire course of your future.

Steve Rogers stared at you carefully as you finished telling your story. Tony Stark reached across the table and handed Nat the flash drives you had placed in front of you. Nat hummed thoughtfully as she plugged them into her laptop to make sure your intel was good.

“Looks like there’s HYDRA bases still in New York,” she murmured, frantically clicking her mouse. “And there’s some new names we don’t have in our database yet.” Her eyes narrowed and widened as she dug some more. “No viruses or tracking software on the flash drives, so it’s not a trap.” She glanced up at you. “I’d say she’s legit.”

Steve considered Nat’s words as he continued to study you. “You interested in helping us out?” he finally asked, folding his hands under his chin.

“I’m really interested in not dying,” you admitted. “And not being held captive anymore.”

Steve let out a small chuckle. “Fair enough.” He held out his hand for you to shake. “Welcome to the team.”

You let out a huge breath you didn’t even realize you were holding and felt Clint squeeze your knee under the table.

Tony clapped his hands and got right to business. “There’s a few empty rooms you can choose from. The one on the fourth floor has fantastic views-”

Clint cleared his throat. “Actually,” he interrupted. “She can stay with me.” He turned to you, and you couldn’t keep the surprise off your face. “If you want to,” he added.

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered, blushing profusely. Nat glanced between you and her best friend and grinned slyly.

Tony and Steve began talking about the details of your new life, but you had completely tuned them out.

You really want me to stay? you asked Clint silently.

Absolutely, he thought clearly. If you can handle the craziness that is. So apparently he didn’t want it to be just a fling either. You could definitely live with that.

Oh trust me, I can handle crazy.

“And that about wraps it up,” Tony announced. “Any questions?”

You focused your attention back to the room. “Nope,” you replied. “Thank you so much.”

“Any time,” Steve said warmly.

Just as you and Clint were about to leave, he turned around to face Tony. “Hey, Stark, you think you could swing by my building and fix a cable dish?”

Tony let out an exasperated sigh. “Seriously, Barton? Again?”

“It was an accident!” Clint insisted. “Please? I’ve gotta get Simone off my back.”

Tony caved. “Fine! I’ll come over in an hour.” He turned to you. “Are you sure you want to deal with him?” he asked.

You smiled and interlaced your fingers with Clint’s as you gave him a wink.

“I think I can handle it.”

TAGS: @buckyappreciationsociety @iamwarrenspeace @theassetseyeliner @yknott81 @sammnipple @snapplejuice @capttainamericaa @fuckkoffcourtney @melconnor2007 @4theluvofall

[innkeepercore]

just a little babygirl

[innkeepercore]

aka Clint sleeps with too much on his bed

alternatively, on vacation, he’s the last to get up (Tony keeps him up)

[sevdrag]

OMFG ENDGAME. VORMIR. Do you think it would have worked if BOTH of them fell? I kept waiting for that to happen, and for the soul stone to be like OKAY I GUESS and bring them both back, but that may be because I’m still in denial about Natasha 😭😭😭

Honestly those Vormir scenes were the worst for me - Clint and Natasha have been my MCU favorites for a while, and knowing what was coming the entire time they’re making the trip was so incredibly painful. That forehead touch. The fight. So poignant and ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

I have so many theories about it! I need to write a fix-it fic, even though I respect Natasha’s agency and her choices and her own personal arc, it hurt and I need her back to fix Clint

[teachingoutsidethebinary]

Salty

Summary: Clint is stuck at the Avengers Tower for the weekend with nothing to do. Not being one to come out and say he’s bored, he takes his frustrations out on his friends in the Tower.

Warnings: None really

Characters: Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson

A/N: Thanks for the prompt request! 

Drabble Masterlist

Clint stared at the tree outside the common room window of the Avengers Tower. He tried very hard to find something in the vast landscape to entertain himself, but so far, he was coming up empty-handed.

“M’ bored,” he mumbled, falling back against the couch. He sighed and stared at the ceiling. Laura and the kids were both visiting her parent’s for the weekend, and he had opted out of spending time with his in-laws to take a mission. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but the mission had ended early, and now he was stuck at the Tower for the weekend.

Suddenly, the smell of cookies filled the air, and Clint followed his nose to the kitchen. Wanda stood at the oven, removing one rack of cookies to put in another. Two of Clint’s favorite things were in one room: cookies and human interaction.

“That smells delicious!” he praised.

Wanda turned around and blushed at the compliment. “Thank you,” she replied, a grin pulling her lips upward.

“Need any help?” Clint asked hopefully.

Wanda shook her head. “No, the last batch is ready for the oven.” She placed the last pan of raw cookie dough inside the oven and set the timer. “Would you like a cookie for the road?” she asked, handing him a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie.

Clint smiled sadly and took the cookie. It was clear he wasn’t needed. “Thanks,” he said, stuffing his face. He gave Wanda a small wave and left her alone.

His ears perked up at voices coming from the other end of the hall. Clint quickly shuffled towards the voices and found Steve, Bucky, and Sam all walking towards him. Sam and Bucky were engrossed in yet another argument, and Steve was playing the middleman.

“You had no chance!” Sam said, waving his arms emphatically.

Bucky shook his head and glared at Sam. “Like hell I didn’t!” he exclaimed. “I would have been fine if you hadn’t messed it up!”

Steve stood between both men. “Knock it off, it’s not that big of a deal,” he begged.

“Hey guys,” Clint interjected. “Need any…”

They all turned to face him. “Not now, Clint,” they said in unison. Bucky and Sam got back to arguing, leaving Clint completely ignored in the hallway.

Clint scoffed and turned around. “Fine,” he grumbled, crossing his arms. “They don’t want my help, no big deal. Whatever. Not like I need them anyway.” He stomped his way down to Tony’s lab to see if Mr. Stark himself could help relieve some of this boredom.

Before he could even make it down to the lab, he was stopped by a big sign on the door.

DO NOT DISTURB. ACTUAL WORK IN PROGRESS.

“Awww, c’mon!” he yelled, banging on the wall. Unsurprisingly, no one answered.

Invisible steam practically shot out of Clint’s ears as he wandered aimlessly through the Tower until he got to the gym. He just wanted someone to hang out with him!

Nat stood in the center of the gym working on a punching bag. She stopped as soon as she noticed her best friend walk into the room.

“Hey,” she said, nodding her head at him.

Clint didn’t even bother to reply. He just slid down the wall and stared at her.

“What’s gotten into you?” she asked, going back to her punching movements.

“Nothing,” he replied gruffly.

She hit the bag with a strong left hook and gave it a good spin kick. “Really?” she panted, hitting the bag again. “Doesn’t seem like nothing.” She paused and turned around again. “What’s up?”

Clint banged his head against the wall a few times before responding. “Everyone’s busy!” he complained.

Nat just stared at him. “Yeah…?” she asked. “Go on…?”

Now that Clint had permission to vent, he couldn’t stop the word vomit from leaving his mouth. “I coulda gone to the lake this weekend. The lake! It woulda been with my in-laws, which isn’t always fun, but it would be better than sitting around here doing nothing while everyone else goes on with their lives!” Clint finally stopped and sighed.

“Feel better?” Nat asked, sitting next to him.

Clint rested his head on her shoulder and nodded. “Yeah.”

“So you’re bored,” Nat clarified. “And no one wants to spend time with you.”

Clint looked up at Nat and gave her his sad puppy dog eyes. “Uh huh.”

Nat bit her lip and grinned. It was so like Clint to throw a tantrum when people didn’t pay attention to him. She looked up at the ceiling. “Hey FRIDAY?” she asked.

“Yes, Ms. Romanoff?” the AI replied.

“Please inform the rest of the team that we’re having a movie night in 25 minutes. If they’re not in the common room by then, tell them they’d better hide somewhere I won’t be able to find them.”

“I love it when you’re feisty,” FRIDAY cooed. “Consider it done.”

Clint’s eyes brightened. “Do I get to pick the movie?” he asked hopefully. Nat nodded, and Clint stood up, cheering. “YES!” He held out his hand and helped Nat up.

“You okay now?” she asked. Clint practically bounced with excitement as he nodded. “Good,” she replied. “Just do me a favor, okay?”

Clint stopped bouncing and tilted his head. “What?”

“Next time you’re bored, TELL someone. Don’t just go sulking around all day waiting for one of us to guess.”

Clint grinned sheepishly and nodded.

“You’ve got a deal.”

TAGS: @buckyappreciationsociety @iamwarrenspeace @theassetseyeliner @melconnor2007 @yknott81 @sammnipple @snapplejuice @fuckkoffcourtney @capttainamericaa @4theluvofall

[luredin]

A snippet from some Winterhawk of mine that has been languishing in a folder for eons:

Every now and then, though, Clint’d get an itch that just needed to be scratched. The desire to hover above it all, perched precariously on top of the tower, where the wind whistled and the world appeared sharper. His focus widened to encompass all of the below and all of the around and every detail of the city coalesced into stark relief and he felt it all. He was simultaneously alone and surrounded by everything. All he needed to do, when he was up here like this, was breathe. Just breathe, and be.

Clint couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten the chance to come up here and just be. He wondered idly if Bucky would care if he slept out here tonight. The city lights were too bright, and the humid night air was too dense to really see the stars, but he could imagine. He could close his eyes and see the stars in his head, just like when he was a kid back home, laying in the tall grass next to Barney, staring up at the Midwest sky, watching the constellations twinkle in and out of sight.

Clint never remembered himself as being innocent, never thought of himself that way, like other normal people did when they remembered their childhoods. But if he did, if he could, then that would be the memory he’d chose to point to, to say, look! see! I was a child once, too, and I believed in the magic of the stars.

The sun had completely set, and the twilight was fading into night. The temperature had dropped a few degrees, and Clint no longer felt as sticky, wet, gross as he first did when he had stretched out. He felt uncommonly loose and relaxed and a little bit guilty that he was enjoying himself without Bucky. He didn’t need to feel guilty though, because almost as soon as the thought crossed his mind, he heard Bucky’s soft footfalls in the garden.

He turned his head in their direction, but didn’t open his eyes. He could imagine exactly how Bucky looked as he moved cat-like across the roof, all sinuous and loose-limbed, after his work-out. Clint knew every curve and plane of Bucky’s body. Knew he’d be barefoot, and probably shirtless, his hair soft and still damp from showering. Was he wearing his black yoga pants? Clint imagined he was. He knew the way they hugged his ass and drifted over his strong thighs and pooled delicately around his ankles, making Clint want to reach out and run his fingers over the soft material and the hard body underneath.

Clint smiled at the thought and stretched out a hand when he felt Bucky within a few feet of him. He caught the mixed scent of sage and bergamot—the ridiculously expensive shower gel that Tony kept him well-stocked in, because he could. And because Bucky had turned into a legit product snob but that was alright because he had every damn right to surround himself with things that smelled good and were relaxing and Clint would never make fun of him for it.

He opened his eyes just as his fingers brushed against Bucky’s stomach. He curled them around his waist, drawing Bucky nearer, and still smiling, looked up at him. “Hey, babe.”

“What’s got you grinnin’ like the cat that ate the canary?”