Major Tags: Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Kate Bishop, Yelena Belova, Steve Rogers, Birthday Party, Surprise Party, POV Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes & Clint Barton Friendship, clint and nat and their huge collection of orphans, natasha's birthday, Post-Movie: Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014), Minor Steve Rogers & Bucky Barnes, can be read as platonic but why would you, Hijinks & Shenanigans, just another 13k fic by me
Length: 12.9k | Complete
Summary:
“I need your help,” Clint says reluctantly, like every old mentor in the book.
“No way in hell,” Kate says, like nobody ever, “Am I helping plan a surprise party for a Russian assassin that could kill me with one breath, that I haven’t even been invited to!”
Clint blinks. “Oh. Shit, I can put you on the guest list.”
Hey all! So I have a new fic! Its actually a marvel fic! Like most of my fics its AU because I can never ship anything that is cannon. Anyways. Its a Clintasha fic that features both Maximoffs as well as Daisy! Anyone interested in me posting it here?!
clintasha - "I know she'll be my 3rd degree / Embers in her eyes, she's gonna make a mess of me / Lights me up, I can barely breathe / With her flame so bright, the only thing I'll ever see" ("She's A Fire" - Jeremy Renner)
Clint hides his shock.
She’s laughing.
The sound burns in his soul and etches into his memory, the magic of this night somewhat amazing.
He’s never heard the sound before. Not like this - the lightness in the sound.
He’s not even sure what he did to make her laugh so hard, but he shares it with her; her laugh contagious.
She slows, before they make eye contact and she laughs again. He can’t help but laugh with her.
.
He touches her shoulder gently, only to be met with a flinch and shudder.
For once it doesn’t wake her up.
She’s dreaming, something terrible. He knows because she’s crying, in her sleep.
He’s in two minds about whether to keeping on trying to wake her or just leave her alone; be close but let her mind wake her up.
Clint tries again, despite himself, saying her name loudly.
On the third try and minutes later, she wakes with another flinch and fresh tears.
Making eye contact with him, she pushes him away gently, leaves the room and heads for the bedroom.
He doesn’t follow, knowing she’s needing space.
She’s made a mess of his heart, as he feels it beats double.
.
Natasha climbs ahead of him. Clint grumbles and growls as he loses his footing, rocks tumbling below.
It wasn’t his idea to go on a hike.
She’d convinced him with the promise of a waterfall, knowing he’d follow her anywhere.
It doesn’t feel worth it in this moment, the harsh light of day breathing warmth on him as he attempts to catch his breath.
She stands waiting for him, gesturing at the view below her.
He’s in awe.
Not because of the view.
Because of the way she looks.
Hair swept up in a pony tail, the light frames her face. Her beauty is truly unmatched.
His breath catches and he can’t breathe.
He’ll remember this moment for as long as he lives, etched permanently in his memory just like her laugh.
This time tomorrow; it’ll be done - I’ll be walking out of the movies having seen Nat on screen for the last time.
Thanks everyone for hanging with me over the last month and sending in fic requests, chatting and sending prompts. You’ve all be too lovely with your words and kindness.
The following is all the fics of Black Widow Fest 2021.
It’s a day late, but aren’t so many things? Happy Boxing Day, it’s time for a little more holiday shenanigans before the new year!
Summary: It's Christmas, and Clint is determined it's going to be a good one, full of cookies and family, and enough crazy kids to fill a barn. But somehow with his typical luck, hard conversations loom over him like angry rainclouds, and he just might not be brave enough to face them...
Tags: Clint Barton Natasha Romanov (Marvel) Kate Bishop Wanda Maximoff Yelena Belova Laura Barton as in laura barton is clint's sister that laura barton if you catch my drift Barton Kids - Freeform trans nathanial barton everyone is someone else's chaotic sibling Slow Burn Love Confessions Not Canon Compliant no beta we die pointlessly like nat in you-know-what Fluff Happy Endings For Everyone Christmas Deaf Clint Barton POV Clint Barton Jewish Wanda Maximoff
this is kind of specific but this has happened to me and so I can’t stop thinking about it…… what if clint is trying to be thoughtful and gets Nat a weighted blanket (good for anxiety) but it totally backfires and she ends up having a nightmare because she feels like she’s being held down??? bonus points for POV of her dream. thanks so much for your awesome work!
Anon; thanks so much for sharing this one with me; and trusting me to write it. I really enjoyed this prompt. And yes, I love my weighted blanket too.
I know it’s not too long (~750 words), but I hope it’s something around what you were thinking.
Warnings for general Red Room horribleness (a bit of forced breath holding & being held down), nightmares and Clint musing on Natasha’s sense of overwhelm. Other one shots are here.
.
The Purple Blanket.
Clint notices.
He would gladly sit and watch Natasha and all of her weird little quirks, especially when she thinks he’s not looking. He does; and he just wants to help. She’s not in a good place.
It’s the come down from missions lately, they’re sent out, or she’s sent out, and it takes her time to return to herself. It’s nothing big, and to everyone else he’s sure she seems normal, but he knows.
It’s spending more time on her phone.
It’s blank stares of dissociation.
It’s not wanting to go out and preferring to stay in, where it’s safe and controlled.
It’s a stumble or lack of body awareness.
It’s not noticing when she’s scratching an itch and goes too far, drawing blood that prickles on top of her skin. And then the look of shock that comes with it.
Separately, it’d be one thing, together; he knows it’s struggling.
.
She likes his blanket.
She snuggles underneath it it her head poking out and it makes both of them grin when he calls her an enchilada, to which she responds she’s more a calzone. It’s soft and purple and he makes sure it’s always clean, putting it on her side of the couch.
Clint talks to his therapist about it, telling her it’s happening to him, and she suggests a weighted blanket, for both of them (she always knows; and knows enough about Natasha that she can deduce so much from what Clint is not saying). The deep pressure, she says, might help decrease the time it takes to decompress or even perhaps help with the apparent anxiety.
He’s not sure if this is what’s happening, or more apprehension, trauma, depression, or a nice amalgamation of everything.
He purchases one when she’s in Ireland, it’s purple as well, and heavy. He needs two hands to hold it up, but he folds it over and leaves it next to the other one.
Natasha laughs at him when she finds it and tries to pick it up, tells him it’s not the dumbest idea he’s had.
He tells her the rules, no longer than 20 minutes under it, otherwise you can become habituated to it and it won’t work the same. It’s what the therapist had said, she’d also mentioned that it should be 10% of her body weight but he’d figured heavier is better if it works.
He’s wrong.
They fall asleep on the couch spread out with blankets on top of them. She’s jet lagged and he’s tired.
It’s almost 8pm and they’re fast asleep; Natasha listening to the sound of his heart, the repetitive beat resounding in her dreams.
.
She’s running but it’s not fast enough, she hears the sharp laugh of Ivan as she’s caught and thrown back.
.
She’s held down, arms, legs, she can’t move. It’s like razor wire around her and she panics. There’s a pushing on her chest and she feels the old feeling of the medical strap across her chest and the mouth guard in her mouth; she’s forced to breath through her panic through her nose; but it’s not enough air.
.
She’s under water. They’re timing how long they can hold their breath. She watches Ana struggle and Yelena look panicked as she tries to help them to stay calm. She signals for them to watch her fingers, tapping Morse code on her thigh. If they watch they’ll have to think of something else, not the burning of their lungs, and the black spots that dance in their vision.
.
Natasha wakes; her body jolting as it struggles for the breath in her dream.
She’s held down and quickly shoves the heavy blanket off of her.
Bad idea.
That was a bad idea.
She steps away from the couch, away from Clint and goes for the bathroom.
“Tasha?” He questions, half awake. “You ok?”
He knows she’s not.
Heard the rasping grasp of breath and the way she pushed the blanket away; the look she gave the offending item and now has locked the toilet door.
He was wrong, he thinks, he should have stuck to his regular blanket. Or maybe they shouldn’t sleep with it on like the therapist said.
He shakes his head and sits on the edge of the bed, feeling guilty. He waits until he hears water running, and knocks again. She unlocks the door and opens it letting herself out.
“Bad dreams.” She says as explanation, taking a breath that makes her shoulders rise and fall. He takes her hand and leads her to the bedroom, turning on the television and laying with her.
“Sorry.” He says quietly.
“Me too.” She replies, eyes wide, breath deliberate.
He glances at the time, 8.38, he kisses the top of her head and intertwines his legs with hers.
