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Because really, you can't get enough Clint/Natasha love.
TITLE: Games in the Dark
PAIRING: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanoff
WORD COUNT: 3,592
SUMMARY: This is the way she’s always expected he’d be, when she’s allowed herself to think about it, images of Clint infiltrating her fantasies. She’s known it was inevitable for months now, possibly even longer, but she hasn’t imagined it would begin the way it did, with his usual certainty in pieces, needing her reassurance at every turn.
WARNINGS: Sex, light bondage
NOTES: This is a companion to Mission Bells, set about two weeks later (four weeks post-movie). I’ll have more of an actual sequel to that fic eventually, but for now, please enjoy some Porn With Feels.
She could defy him. She could free herself and flip him on his back, could put her hands around his throat and make him come undone underneath her. She could make him love it. But that isn’t what she wants, at least not right now. Clint has never been afraid to push her. Has never been afraid of her, and suddenly she needs to know that part of him has survived.
Summary: Natasha is a practical woman, but practicality isn’t everything.
A/N: So this is just a short little one-shot inspired by pictures of Scarlett Johansson from the set of CA:TWS where she is wearing a necklace that appears to be a tiny arrow on a chain. I needed this to have meaning (and I really hope it’s part of her costume) so here, have a tiny ficlet.AO3 Link:
Natasha was a practical woman, especially when it came to her job. Sure, she curled her hair and wore make-up but even those things were strategic as they tended to give her a tactical edge over the men who saw a beautiful woman first, and the back of their eyelids next. She was not to be underestimated, but playing up her looks made them do just that.
TITLE: Mission Bells
PAIRING: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanoff
WORD COUNT: ~ 7,000
SUMMARY: She is offering him sanctuary, he realizes, from the monsters he’s found inside of himself. But this is about what she needs too, her scars not so different from his own. A post-movie fic about learning to live when everything is different.
WARNINGS: This is a story about coping with trauma. I don’t really think there’s anything in it more disturbing than what’s in the movies and/or comics, but your mileage may vary.
NOTES: Thank you to shenshen77 for beta, and to everyone who’s encouraged me to jump
“You’re lucky you’re not paralyzed,” says Natasha, leaning over him as he perches on the edge of the hotel tub to let her assess his injuries.
Nothing feels broken or otherwise seriously damaged, he thinks, though the asphalt he’s rolled onto has scraped most of the skin from his upper arm. In all, it’s hardly the worst shape he’s come through a mission in, only this time it’s entirely due to his own stupidity.
“I’m fine,” says Clint, completely aware that excuses are only making things worse. “I knew what I was doing.”
“Jumping off a building?” Natasha growls as she pours concentrated disinfectant down the contusion on his arm, looking vaguely satisfied when he hisses at the burn. “I swear to god, Barton, if you want to be dead, I’d be delighted to kill you myself.”
Word length: ~1,500
Warnings: mentions of injuries, off camera violence and human trafficking, nothing in detail.
Author’s Note: New installment to my series that is now called ‘Living Spaces.’ Takes place after ‘Wayside Stations,’ but can be read as a standalone. Many thanks to Workerbee73 and Enigma731 for thinky-thoughts and beta reading!
“How are you feeling?”
“Like I got thrown off a shipping container.”
Clint wants to make sure Natasha is all right. Natasha isn’t so forthcoming.
Title: Moving Forward, Falling Back
A/N: Natasha contemplates her actions; past, present and future, then she and Clint finally talk.“It’s okay to need people, Nat. It’s okay to trust people. It’s even okay to care about them. It doesn’t make you weak; love doesn’t make you weak. In fact, it can be our greatest strength.”
The words echoed in her head, loud and insistent, refusing to be ignored. Of all people he was supposed to understand. He knew what she had been through as a child, he had seen it, participated in it. He knew how hard it was to keep any shred of humanity in such an environment, to hold any hope.
She wanted to blame Bucky, she wanted to deny his words, but he couldn’t know what had finally broken her; he had had a part in that as well.
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