#hawkeyedarcher

[theslytherinspider]

Hey beautiful, happy late Valentine's Day!

I’m never on time for things but… um… here.

I saw this and thought it was perfect. Tony was nice enough to help so…. I hope you like it, you know?

This is beautiful, Clint. And never worry about being on time, I love you no matter what.

I absolutely love it. Help me put it on?

[theslytherinspider]

Snowtime | Natasha and Clint

Natasha was sitting up in the clock tower, looking out over the courtyard quietly. She’d slept there the night prior, curled up in the blankets that still smelled like Clint. Now she was wearing one of his sweaters, and she felt more than a little pathetic as she crossed her arms. It wasn’t exactly great, but... Well, she wasn’t sure what else to do, still.

If nothing else, she had to admit that the view was nice. It was early enough that the snow was still untouched, sunrise tinting the world pink and orange. It was peaceful, in a way. Distracting. Maybe she’d make it out for a walk, she mused Maybe it’d be cold enough that nobody would try to join her. Or maybe she’d just stay hidden away in the nest. That seemed easier.

With a soft little sigh, she waved her wand. A kettle poured some steaming tea, and the cup drifted over to her easily. She stared at it for a long moment before setting it down, opting to tug the blankets around her shoulders a little tighter. She wasn’t doing too well, and she knew it, but she also couldn’t seem to shake it. A part of her wondered if she ever could, really.

[theslytherinspider]

Assemble. | Nat, Tony, Steve, Clint

Natasha was unbuckling her seatbelt before the car had even stopped, popping the door open as the tires screeched. She landed hard on her feet but kept running, her bag swinging on her shoulder as she pulled out one of her knives. “What the hell is that?” Her voice was high as she called out to Steve, clenching the handle of the knife tight enough that her knuckles were white.

The ‘that’ in question was what looked to be a giant metal person-shaped thing. That was so far beyond her experience, she didn’t know what to do. All she knew for sure was that she didn’t want to pull out her wand and cast a spell. It seemed like the worst possible plan, even as she ran towards the wreck. She could see Clint, and that was enough to keep her pushing forward.

[theslytherinspider]

Drunk? Never. | Clint and Natasha

Natasha hadn’t failed to be spectacular, that much was for sure. She was dressed a bit excessively, if she did say so herself, but not in a bad way. Lavish, maybe, was a better word. But it was one of her favorite things to do, when she had means and reason, and she always had means.

Her smile broadened when Clint finally showed up, and she pulled him close for  a kiss. “Evening, handsome,” she murmured in his ear. “I was waiting for you before I got started. I hear there’s alcoholic butterbeers, and I’m dying to try them.” Her hand found his easily, fingers meshing. “I bet I can get away with drinking more than you can,” she added playfully, smirking.

[theslytherinspider]

hawkeyed-archer replied to your photoset:OOC: Natasha’s dress for the Lady’s Choice Noir...

Gorgeous as always, Tasha.

Well thanks, Clint. Bet you won’t look too bad yourself.

[theslytherinspider]

A Little Noir Shopping | Natasha and Clint

Natasha was waiting in the Nest, wondering when Clint might show up. It was the middle of the day, for once, and she didn’t have anything to do. The dance was coming up far too quickly, and she needed to actually get her damn dress. Between that and the fact that Clint was bound to have put it off, that seemed like an excellent use of her day.

So she waited, legs dangling into the open air, reading a book quietly in the midday sun. He was bound to get there soon enough, if her estimates were close to correct.

[theslytherinspider]

Sneakin’ Up the Backstairs | Clint and Natasha

Natasha had made an agreement with Clint to meet up tonight, explore, wander. As always, they planned to meet up where they’d first really met--the space behind the clock, a place they called the Nest. It was nice, quiet, rarely visited. They spent a lot of time there, honestly, and it was home to a lot of good memories.

It was hard to get there, honestly, even with the silence afforded her by bare feet. She’d had to take some strange routes, jumping between staircases and ducking down odd corridors for cover. The damn patrols were annoying, stifling her explorative nature. But she made it there, a little before eleven, and now she just had to wait for Clint in silence, in the dark.

[borntobecenterstage-blog]

hawkeyedarcher reblogged your post: hawkeyedarcher started following you Hello...

Nothing much. Just keeping an eye on things. It’s Nightwing, right?

..I'm wondering if that's just a clever remark or a joke or actually being literal right now.

And yes, I'm Nightwing.