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 I Can't Pretend [M], tags: Clint
Black Widow
 Posted: Dec 8 2015, 09:14 PM
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player: Dani
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AND I WANNA FIGHT
BUT I CAN'T CONTEND
(Immediately following Avengers' meeting)

16:00

Logic. She had always been driven by logic over emotion. Emotions had been stripped from her long ago as useless traits that only stood in the way of her mission. It had taken years, and mostly thanks to the pushing of others, for Natasha to even allow herself to feel once more. But the Soviets had been right; emotions just got in the way of your mission. They could destroy any bit of logic you held and whittle it away into an insignificant afterthought. The Mission. It had always been about The Mission for her. Whatever that mission was, it changed from one to the other, but no matter what, Natasha had always focused on what it took to complete her operation. Infiltrate S.H.I.E.L.D. It was simple enough. One she had done so many countless times in the past to various other companies. Go undercover, collect information. It was the most basics of espionage. Had it been her, she would have been entering into her assignment with complete confidence and self-assuredness. So why couldn’t she just do the same for Clint?

Right. Because emotions.

Damn that man for making her feel this way… For feeling attached, for feeling need…. It had happened slowly, over the course of many years, so subtly that the spy herself hadn’t even seen it coming until it was too late. And now she was feeling this sharp pain of ache within her because of impending loss. A good spy was detached from all things; objects, locations, people…. What had happened to her? When had she developed all of these… attachments? This had to be done… They needed someone from their team in S.H.I.E.L.D or HYDRA, whatever they were at this point…. They needed eyes and ears on the inside if they could survive this inevitable war that was to come. Because it was coming. Natasha had been with S.H.I.E.L.D long enough to know their control issues far surpassed her own. They would not react well to the Avengers’ separation. Whether it was Fury, or Hill, or whoever in charge over there, they liked to be in control. And to lose their greatest assets, to lose control of their most powerful weapons… Well, S.H.I.E.L.D would not be too happy about that…. How or when they would strike back, Natasha had not yet taken the time to decipher, yet she knew they would. It was only a matter of time. So having someone on the inside, able to feed them information or potentially dig up some information they no longer had access to was a necessity. Yet try as she might, the logic-driven woman could not shake the bad feeling that was sinking heavily to the bottom of her stomach. Something horrible was coming, she just wished she knew what it was.

Clint’s room was exactly as they had left it…. Relatively a mess (Clint’s doing), with sheets strewn about on the bed (partially her doing), yet it felt more like home than she had ever realized… Nat had her own room in the tower, on the same floor in fact, yet she rarely slept there. It was more a storage space than anything. Her nights flickered back and forth between Clint’s room in the Tower to her own safehouse apartment in Brooklyn. Although she had a feeling she would be spending more time there than anywhere soon enough…. Stepping into the room, the Russian reached for a framed photo. Lifting it into her hands, she studied the image. It was one she had seen plenty of times before, yet this was the first time she was truly looking at it. Clint had taken it with the camera on his phone; him with his big dopey grin and her suppressing an amused smile. A ghost of a smile brushed across her lips before putting the picture down again. Idly, the redhead wondered how long it would be before she smiled again.

Picking a stray pillow up off of the floor, Natasha walked it over to the bed, placing it against the headboard. Behind her was a click, causing her to turn to face the man in the doorway. It was the first time she had even looked at him since she tore her eyes away from his in that meeting room for fear of what happened if she didn’t. There was an unfamiliar sting at the back of her eyes at the mere sight of him, yet they remained dry. The Russian swallowed and did her best to put on a smile, though for someone so skilled in the art of acting, it was a pretty pathetic attempt. “Never thought I’d miss this mess.” She said with a shrug that took more effort than she had anticipated, weighed down by some invisible force.

TAG; Clint | WORDS; 797 | NOTES; GET READY FOR FEELS.

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 Posted: Dec 10 2015, 03:53 PM
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It wasn't as though he was stalling. If anything Clint wanted to get back to Natasha as fast as possible. Their time together was so short, and he didn't want to waste a moment of it. But after Steve gave him leave to go, Barton lingered in the hall. In his entire life he had never felt so incredibly lost. None of the nightmares of his past ever compared to this, and it hurt to be rudderless in the suddenly so very cold world. He didn't want to be a villain to them, he didn't want to be on the opposing side and yet there was nothing he could do about it. He was about to consider his family, his enemies. Maybe Tony had the right idea about that alcoholism...

Heavy footfalls of a weary man lead him to the elevator, collapsing against the back wall and bracing his head so his eyes could fall shut. This was Hell. He had never stared down a tour with this much heartache, but he knew this was different. When he went to the Middle East, Clint didn't have anyone he couldn't stand losing. And this wasn't like Natasha was at home safe from the brutality of the warzone his life would become. She would be on the front lines same as him; just staring down the end of his barrel as opposed to by his side where she belonged. How was he supposed to do this? If anything, Clint was pretty sure he wouldn't survive this on the other side. A move like this, a stupid ass decision like this was going to destroy things. Friendships, partnerships, love; something was going to give for this bullshit mission and it would never be fixed.

God help him, he couldn't do this. He knew his orders would put his friends in very real danger against him, but he was certain he couldn't hurt Nat. It wouldn't happen. He had to find a way to avoid it but he couldn't harm a hair on Tasha's head, it just wasn't going to happen. A cold bead of sweat ran down his spine as he realized what that meant he had to do, and Clint winced as the elevator finally reached their floor. Regardless of what she wanted to hope, people had to have noticed how much they meant to one another. And that meant he would be confronted with 'dealing' with the Black Widow. If he couldn't hurt her, which he absolutely refused to do, it meant he had to do something worse. He would need to act as if Natasha Romanoff was nothing to him... He had played the part of the SHIELD playboy before being sent out after the Russian spy all those years ago. He would need to find his way back to that, back to being the carefree rampant slut that everyone assumed of him. Because if Nat was just a long term con that meant nothing more than getting her in bed, then he could keep her safe from him. And he could subsequently despise himself in the process. He would need to 'move on' to the next empty hook up soon enough, thankfully there were a few people on the inside who could play pretend with him that seemed significantly less of an asshole move than leading on some poor unknowing civvie. Actually... maybe he could talk to Sharon?

With a heavy heart Clint wandered off the lift, a feeling of self-loathing coating him like a film that needed significant scrubbing before he would ever come clean again. Moving down the hallway like a ghost, the tired soldier wished for the reprieve from the governor that maybe he wasn't heading from death row to the chair that would never come. He passed the door that she used for storing her things, fingertips reaching out to trace over the doorknob with reverence. He would need to be the only one allowed to set foot in that room for awhile. He didn't like the idea of HYDRA coming into her safe place and making it tainted. As if on cue, J.A.R.V.I.S. quietly chimed in, asking if he would like the floor kept on permanent lock down until further notice save for the pair of them. Clint simply nodded, unable to find his voice past all of the choking emotions that he really didn't need right now. His hands moved, sadly signing Thank you. before continuing down the hall to his closed door.

Seeing the love of his life standing in their room, because whether she admitted it or not it had been theirs since the first night she stayed, Clint had to take a moment to hold back the sudden wash of emotions. She was it. For years of her fighting or pushing back and years of him quietly taking it, Natasha was the woman he loved. Completely. Absolutely. He never said it, always knowing better, he supposed. There was this unspoken rule between them that came up for years; no emotions, no feelings and he could be Icarus flying this close to the sun. He couldn't count how many times he had to choke back the words; smothering the sound in her skin, biting his tongue while pressing a kiss to her head, or whispering it quietly when he was certain she was sound asleep or after she hung up the phone. For so long Clint Barton had been telling the echo of Natasha Romanoff that he loved her, because that wouldn't go away. So many times he wanted to tell her, needed her to know but he was always too selfish to do it. If he shattered the fragile dream of what they had, he would lose her. And Clint would rather swallow his gun than risk that. For a long time he had found a way to hold it back, to keep his heart and all it's messy, complicated feelings away from her because it was what she needed. It was a sacrifice that was necessary because she needed it; but Clint wasn't sure how much longer he could survive it.

All she had to do was ask him not to do this and he wouldn't, but then again neither would she. They were both following orders, ones they hated but ultimately understood. The archer knew how important this was, but that didn't mean he had to like it or be silent about not liking it. Seeing her hover by the bed stole his breath away and as she turned with that look on her face every bit of restraint broke. Clint crossed the distance between them in an instant, cradling her in his arms the way he loved to; she fit so perfectly against him and wordless he pressed a soft kiss to that fiery hair of hers as his eyes squeezed shut. For the first time in his life, Barton was speechless. Grief and sorrow had taken every carefully crafted word from him, the eternal showman stripped of everything and unable to say some kind of irreverent nothing that would make it better. Instead all he could do was hold her close and wish for a miracle to match the one cradled in his arms.

He tried once, twice before he found his voice again, murmuring into her hair as he nuzzled his cheek against the silken strands. ”What about this mess? Going to miss me too?” It was lighthearted and playful with a touch of melancholy along the deep rumbled words. He was trying to help, encourage her to get exasperated at him and smack him because it's what he did. Maybe she would see it, after all he had just done it for Tony; Clint had a habit of making sure he sacrificed all of himself and his pain to be exactly what those he cared about needed him to be. And right now he knew Tasha needed to not be so lost. One arm stayed latched around her waist as his right hand rose to tilt her chin up to look at him. A warm smile on his face as his mismatched eyes shimmered with the overwhelming weight of everything. ”What right do you have being so beautiful when you're sad?”




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scríobhaícheated and put this first because my heart...

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Black Widow
 Posted: Dec 11 2015, 11:59 AM
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AND I WANNA FIGHT
BUT I CAN'T CONTEND
In an instant her partner closed the space between them and took her into his arms, encompassing her body with his. In the safety and comfort of his room, she let her walls melt away, as they only seemed to do with Clint, and relaxed her body into his. Pressing close, Natasha wrapped her arms around his torso, gripping the fabric at the base of his shirt at the small of his back. Natasha buried her face into the curve of his neck, grateful that he was able to hide her face from him. Red brow was tightly knit, not bothering to mask her emotions right now. Looking into those pained, colorful eyes, how could she keep a stoic face? They stood there silently in each other’s arms as the moments passed. In an attempt to savor the moment, Natasha tried to remember every detail, knowing all too well just how short it would truly be. The sound of his breath, the beat of his heart, the strength in his arms, the touch of his lips against her hair... How was it that when you needed to memorize every detail of a moment, it felt as if the minute you pulled away, everything would slip from your mind?

“Oh, I knew I’d miss this mess.” The Russian turned her head slightly so that her words wouldn’t be muffled by his shirt. She would miss him more than she’d likely be able to put into words. He had been the first person who had truly let into her life since James, the first person to chip away at her walls. They had been partners in battle, on missions, in bed and in life, and no matter what dark holes Natasha found herself falling into, she knew that Clint would be there to catch her at the bottom, as she did for him. And now she would just keep falling until she crashed at the bottom, and he would have to face the dark alone… Had she really become so dependent on him in her life? It wasn’t as if this was some simple separation… Nat couldn’t shake the bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. This mission was a dangerous one; S.H.I.E.L.D, Hydra, whatever they were, they knew who Clint Barton was. They knew his involvement with the Avengers. Even if he vowed his defection, they would still be suspicious. They would watch him like a hawk (proof she was spending too much time with him if she was making unintentional puns in her own mind…). One little slip up and the repercussions could be fatal.. Nat gripped tighter at the shirt fabric. No, she would not allow herself to run through the numerous methods of torture and punishment they could inflict.

Rough fingers found her chin, gratefully pulling the Russian form her dangerous thoughts. She looked into those familiar multi-toned eyes again and felt another squeeze on her heart. “What right do you have being so infuriating when you’re selfless?” she wanted to be mad at him, yet the smile from his words was pulling at the corner of her full lips. This would be a hell of a lot easier if she could just me bad at him. To hit him for not telling her his plan, to yell at him for having to be the one to do all of this, to scream at him for not taking her with him. This would all be so much easier if she could just throw all of her anger for the entire situation at him, if she could just blame him. But she couldn’t. Just looking into his eyes dissolved any of that fury within her. Nat couldn’t miss the pain behind his blue and gold eyes, he didn’t want to do any of this either, but she understood the necessity of it all. Although he wished she didn’t.

“You better not die out there.” It wasn’t something they said. They were fighters, born and bred. Dying was almost expected in their line of work. They had to prepare for it each time they went out to fight. They put their lives on the line each time they suited up, it was just who they were. But she couldn’t stop the words from coming out of her mouth… Like some sort of compulsion. As if maybe if she said them aloud, they would be some sort of binding contract to keep him safe. Alas, Natasha knew that statement held no truth to it. Lifting herself slightly to her toes, she brought her lips up to Clint’s letting them softly touch at first before pressing firmer against them. Releasing his shirt, the redhead flattened her palms against his back, pulling his body closer to hers as she continued the kiss. The back of her eyes stung once more, now grateful that they were closed. Departing from his lips, Natasha pulled back only enough to rest her forehead against his mouth, eyes never opening.

“I love you Clint Barton.” The words came out just above a whisper. Immediately fear rose the moment the word she avoided, with anyone, slipped from her lips. It wasn’t as if she feared he didn’t return the sentiment… She knew he loved her. She had been running from that fact for years, convinced that nothing but pain and suffering would be brought to those that got close. And with that fact, Nat wasn’t wrong… He had endured his fair share of both just by being close to her… She wasn’t good at feelings or emotions, or expressing love or public displays of affection… She couldn’t be that kind of girl you took to the movies or bought large stuffed animals for. She couldn’t be a girlfriend. Natasha’s life did not accommodate normality, and he understood that. He had always understood that… and still he stayed. Yet that fear still gripped at her… That fear of exposure; of pealing away all of the layers and even allowing someone to mean that much to you… But it was too late, wasn’t it? Even if she didn’t admit the words out loud, she couldn’t just pretend anymore… She couldn’t pretend he was just a colleague or that their nights together meant nothing, or that they were just friends.. Everyone already knew, the only person she was still lying to was herself… And if he was going to leave tonight, she needed to say the words… Clint knew, but he needed to hear them, before he left, before…. In case…

TAG; Clint | WORDS; 1,019 | NOTES; TOO MANY FEELS

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 Posted: Dec 17 2015, 01:15 AM
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This was where they belonged. Together. This woman fit in his arms in a way no one, not even Bobbi ever did. The way she clung to him so tightly as if he was her anchor against the raging storm they had been cast out into warmed his heart. He could be what she needed easily, the need to protect and comfort her was as simple as breathing. He turned his head to bury his nose in her fiery hair, a bittersweet tight smile just barely touching the corner of his lips in that way hers always did. Why did it have to be tragedy that brought them together every time? Were they so defined by their pain that it was that which sparked such emotional vulnerability and affection? It seemed on the surface such a sad thing, but Clint knew better; anyone could be there for someone when things were easy. It was the people who truly cared about you that were there when the world went to absolute shit. They were alive; nothing else mattered. She was here and warm and safe in his embrace and tomorrow didn't matter as long as she was his. Natasha was his sunlight, and no one could deny how beautiful dusk could be.

Her tease had him grinning, the four walls of his room a little piece of Heaven with her here with him. His hands smoothed up and down along her body steady and soothingly gentle. When she pulled him tighter, Clint felt his heart catch. This deadly assassin needed him; there were days he even forgot how delicate her impenetrable mask could be. She was this larger than life assassin but she was also a deceptively tiny woman when she didn't put up the Black Widow Bravado. He never forgot the woman beneath the hourglass, and maybe that was what made him special to her. Tasha was a lot of things, but no one could deny that she didn't buckle under anything. Yet here she was, His Brave Beautiful Girl, reaching out instead of closing herself off and he felt himself fall impossibly more in love. The smallest tremor of emotion twitched just barely in her muscles, and all he wanted to do was reassure her with heartfelt pledges or grandiose actions that everything was going to be just fine. While he knew he would do everything in his power to come home to her, he also didn't want to break a promise if something went wrong. And the needling dread in the back of his mind wasn't helping...

”Can't help it, Tasha. Besides you wouldn't have me any other way.” he teased, voice ragged around the edges from the barely contained emotion that weighed Atlas heavy on his shoulders. Looking at her this close was a double-edged sword. She was making it impossible to leave her side; they were partners and the fact that they had to separate for this bullshit assignment was breaking both of them down to their core. But the hell he was going to let those fucking HYDRA assholes get ahold of her again. He would die first. Natasha was sacred. The idea of them even just thinking about her set his blood boiling; while he had killed his fair share of enemies in the field, it was a practical necessity. Barton knew without question he would brutally murder anyone who so much as laid a finger on her, let alone violate her mind again. All with a callous smile on his face as he made them feel every ounce of terror and pain she had know at their 'care' threefold. ”Not happening. I am coming home to you. One piece. All me. I just got you back; I am not losing you again!” he growled low, protective with just a slight tinge of masculine possessiveness. He usually tried to be so good about keeping that part of him in check, but the Dom part of him needed to hear the vow spoken aloud. He needed it, and Natasha needed it just as bad if she was bringing it up. Superstitious, but what soldier alive wasn't?

When she leaned up to kiss him, Clint found himself sighing against her soft, full lips. His grip on her tightened almost imperceptibly as he poured everything he couldn't say in their desperate kiss. It was so different than all of the others he could remember, the beauty of it lay in it's melancholy grief. This time he too let himself hold onto her as they tried to weather the storm neither of them was prepared for, let alone wanted to deal with. He could feel the sting of tears at the corner of his eyes and he prayed to that same unfeeling God that gave up on them years ago that he stay strong. For her he needed to be her stalwart smiling pillar in all of this disaster. When she pulled away to rest her brow upon his lips he kissed her third eye with devotion that would rival any saint. She was his deity, one that never cast him aside; his love for her the only tithe his sinner soul could offer. All she needed to do was speak a word and he would be her crusader; Natasha Romanoff despite her own protestations to the contrary was worth the faith he had placed in her and so much more.

I love you Clint Barton.


And that was when he heard his angel sing...

For a moment the archer could do nothing more than softly draw his breath, entire body freezing as his head spun. She loved him...? Thoughts rushed through his mind a mile a minute as he went through every possible scenario. He could have hallucinated it; his lonely mind needing to hear her whisper those five words so sweetly. But he knew her voice, he could never do the way she formed them justice. No... it was real. She was real. She... loved him? How? He was broken... useless and old and nigh used up. He was damaged from so much; his parents, his foster dad, the circus, his brother. Clint was too fucked up to ever be more than the smiling harlequin playing the part of the happy go lucky soldier boy turned Avenger. There wasn't anything he could offer her save his loyalty and his love... and she thought, for who knew what reason, that he was enough. This guarded woman who kept so many at arm's length was willingly handing him the most precious thing in the world. Her heart. Her. She trusted him with her confession just like she had with the Yens. But even more than that was the one thing he never risked dreaming for. She had picked him. She had said those glorious, new favorite words of his and he felt like he could fly. She loved him! His gorgeous, brave, sarcastic, strong girl loved him. The tears that threatened before burned at his eyes as his smile dawned on his face brighter than it had in weeks. ”Oh my Natasha...” In an instant he leaned in, capturing her lips in a searing passionate kiss. Hands letting go of the body he knew better than his own to cradle her face the way he always did. His calloused thumbs tracing over her cheekbones before carding into her hair. He broke away when he finally needed to breathe, voice raspy as he purred. ”I love you too. God, Tasha I love you so much.”

He took only a second before he peppered kisses along her face, murmuring the same three words almost inaudible under his breath. He shifted his attention to her neck as his left hand ghosted down her spine to pull her impossibly closer to him. Palm resting on her hip as the right continued to run through her silky hair. He found that place on her neck that always made her breath hitch and waver and focused all of his attention there, growling low against her skin darkly. ”...don't want to stop touching you...”


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 Posted: Dec 20 2015, 11:56 PM
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AND I WANNA FIGHT
BUT I CAN'T CONTEND
He was right, she wouldn’t have him any other way. Even if it frustrated her, Natasha loved and admired the way Clint so selflessly gave himself to others and never hesitated to sacrifice himself for the greater good. On the one hand, she was envious of this trait… On the other, it scared her. Natasha feared just how much he was willing to sacrifice…. Perhaps that’s what made it all so frustrating. Here she was being so selfish with her thoughts and desires of wanting him safe and alive, while Clint was sacrificing everything he held dear to him; his team, his friends, his morals, her… Everything he was doing was for his team, and for the greater good in the end. At least she hoped… Still, Clint managed to wipe the dark thoughts from her mind and pull an actual smile to her lips. “You better.” She playfully threatened, although there was every bit of truth on her words.

When she felt Clint tense under her touch after her admission, Natasha lifted her head slightly so that his expression could be visible. It wasn’t as if she thought he didn’t want to hear the words, far from it, but for a brief moment there was that fear and self-doubt that perhaps it wasn’t the right thing to say at the moment… That saying them was yet another selfish act of hers, considering in a mere several hours they would have to part ways for an unspecified period of time, fighting on opposing teams, possibly even fighting each other. Of course telling him this would only make everything he had to do harder…

Yet all possibly reservations were forgotten the moment his lips were on hers once more. Subconsciously, her fingers released their grip on each other and soon traced along the nape of Clint’s neck, curling in to bring him closer if at all possible. It was daunting how easily she could get lost in his kiss…. It felt as if Natasha was always on edge; with her walls built to the sky and body trained to be always alert and ready… To completely lose herself and dissolve into an emotion rather than the person she was molded to be, it was a scary thing. To release all control and surrender it to another, to allow yourself to shatter those barriers you took so long to build. Yet when Clint kissed her, she could hear the tiny shards of her walls crumbling like glass around her. She could lose herself in his lips, actually shut out the world around her, and even the chaos within her as well.

Although his words came as no surprise, they still managed to bring a soft grin to the Russian’s lips, accompanied by a light laugh as he repeated the words over and over in the form of kisses. She knew he loved her, even without verbally doing so, Clint had made that clear long ago. Why he loved her, Natasha was sure she would never figure out… She was cold, distant, closed off and damaged beyond repair… She did not love easily nor openly, and her walls were so thick that many got tired slamming away at the impenetrable fortress. Yet somehow Clint had chiseled in the cracks. He had never given up on her… No matter how difficult she had been, no matter how often she rejected him or hurt him… Clint always came back with forgiving arms. But more importantly, he understood her, he respected her. He knew Natasha was not capable of being the type of woman that one looked for when dating… Never did he press her to be anything but what she already was; he was patient and gave Natasha the boundaries she so desperately needed. Perhaps that’s how he got so deep under her skin. No matter what he would say in rebuttal, Natasha knew she would never truly be good enough for this man… He put up with Hell for her, and likely would continue to do so. If saying those three words she knew he desired to hear allowed her to pay him back in some way, it was the least she could do.

Oh, but when he reached her neck, it was so difficult to focus on whatever thought process she had previously been having. Out of habit, her neck pulled to the side, exposing more to his lips as her eyes automatically fluttered shut. Without warning, her breathing stopped and it took Natasha a few moments to remember to breathe again, deep heavy breaths following her initial gasp. Her fingers curled slightly more on the back of his neck, the tips of her nails lightly pressing into the nape.

“You don’t have to.” She breathed and finally opened her eyes, straightening her neck so that her eyes met his once more. Soft hands finally released his neck, traveling forward and down Clint’s collarbone before slipping under the sides of his jacket, pushing it off of his shoulders. Leaning forward, Natasha brought her lips to his once more, soft at first yet control was not her forte this night as her hunger deepened the kiss with each passing one. Her fingers slid down his clothed chest, pulling at the edge of the black sweater and quickly pealing it up over his head, breaking from his lips for only a moment. Finally came his under shirt, removing the final layer and tossing it to the side. Natasha’s hands slid down the familiar bare chest before her, savoring each curve and crevice his torso had to offer. She would do everything in her power to make sure their final hours together would be savored and remembered.

TAG; Clint | WORDS; 953 | NOTES; Why so many layers Clint?

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 Posted: Mar 2 2016, 11:20 PM
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There was a unique beauty to the pair of them that Clint always found oddly beautiful. Here was this closed off woman, stony and impenetrable. Something so many had never bothered to try and see past the walls of. And here he was, a relaxed man who went with the flow; if mountains could be carved away by the gentle persistence of a river, of course he would eventually find his way into the spy's heart. The intimacy of their relationship rested in between heartbeats; when her mask melted away, when he let himself just relax. Theirs was a partnership born of mutual faith and it was that very bond this entire mission would stress and test to the breaking point. But Clint had faith. Absolute faith in fact; they were stronger than anything, they would weather the storm and be together again before he knew it. And if he cheated a little and snuck off to see her, well... Steve didn't expect him to be the complete perfect soldier all the time, right? All worry melted off of him while he held his girl, nothing could touch him. Neither fear or death would know him. He was hers; they could find another man to court.

His mouth worked along her neck, worrying at the tender skin to make her squirm and moan. Normally he behaved himself, making sure to not mark her since that first time in Budapest he remembered through a haze like a watercolor brought to life of soft sighs and dueling heartbeats. But tonight he didn't care. Tonight he would leave an imprint on her skin because he needed to, to remind himself she was his and he was hers and that this thing between them was more than just smoke. And the nails teasing at his skin only spurred him onward even more. The sound of her breathy response flared the fire in him white hot as he growled against her. He pulled away when she did, his eyes darkening to almost black as his pupils dilated in desire. Hooded; his gaze fell to her hands as he watched her strip him down, jacket falling to the floor before her lips crashed into his again. He met her passion with a demanding one of his own, feeling the press of teeth as he helped her peel everything off his chest. His dog tags fell against his sternum, the metal cool against his skin in contrast to the burning heat her palms left in their wake. Immediately he scooped her up into his arms, guiding her legs to wrap around his waist as he moved deeper into the room. Stopping only when he could pin her against the wall, his hands shaking from restraint as it took all he had left not to rip anything essential in his fever to get to her skin. He would be gentle later, it wasn't in his nature not to be. But right now everything was running too high, too intense and any semblance of control burned away when he finally stripped her down to her bra.

The feeling of the bare skin of their torso's pressing together had him moaning into the blistering heat of their kiss. Cool metal of his tags mingled with the delicate fabric of her bra and the dichotomy of it sent his head swimming. She needed him to be the stable certainty. And he never could deny her anything. When she kissed him, Clint felt his heart leap the same way it always did. She made him feel young again, before the world became a darker place than it had any right to be. Kissing her was electric, something felt soul deep that stole his breath away. They pulled each other close; one hand finding hers and linked their fingers together before pressing it against the wall above her head as the other ran back and forth along the curves he loved so much. Holding her was easy, the muscles in his back and chest flexing under a slight sheen of sweat as he broke their kiss to trail down her neck and collarbone. Nuzzling her skin with the slight scrape of his five o'clock shadow before bending to press soft kisses along the curve of her breast where skin and fabric met. He wanted her, needed her, hungered for her in the way only a man in love ever could and he wanted her mewling with need.


When he was sure that she was secure wrapped around his waist and pinned against the wall, Clint's free hand gently cupped her breast, clever archer's fingers finding her nipple through the fabric as his hips rose up to meet hers in a promise of everything he had in store for her. ”I love you. My Tasha, My Girl." His voice cracked for a moment, a hitch in the passion as the feelings he had kept at bay as much as he could manage finally were allowed to be out and real. "I love you, Partner...” He growled against her, pushing the strap of her bra aside so he could nuzzle against more of her exposed skin.

Hand that held hers squeezing lightly as his fingers plucked and teased her, drawing out every moment they had together and burning her memory into his mind. Each breathy sigh, the scent of her shampoo; she was his lighthouse, his north star guiding him home. And while she might not be like every other girl back home waiting for her soldier boy, he didn't care. He loved the guarded assassin with every fiber of his being. She was all he ever wanted and knowing that this wasn't just some beautiful dream was everything he could have ever wished for.

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scríobhaíhappy birthday, partner. ♥

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céilínew obsession... expect me making my own soon.

ina dhiaidh sinmy girl

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Black Widow
 Posted: Jun 5 2017, 10:14 PM
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AND I WANNA FIGHT
BUT I CAN'T CONTEND
As she felt the pressure on the back of her thighs, Natasha tightened her grip around the back of his neck, easing the lift as she willingly wrapped her legs around him. Their lips parted for only a second with the action, her own breath hot on his lips before coming crashing back. Even with the fabric separating her body from his flesh, the Russian rolled her chest into his, pressing up against Clint while her lips worked his own, fingers taking through his short hair. She paid no attention to where he was taking her, all of her focus on Clint's lips, until the wall suddenly came up behind her. Natasha let out a heavy breath on impact, and soon his hands were tugging at her clothes. Finally pulling her lips away for a greater cause, the redhead kept one hand curled around the back of Clint's neck for balance, the other helped facilitate the removal of her clothes as he held her up.

The moment she was free of the confines of her fabrics, Natasha pressed her torso up against his as best she could in her current position, craving the heat of his flesh against her own. The coolness of his dogtags seemed to form a brand over her otherwise heated skin, pressed up against her heart the way they fell. Natasha found herself imagining the raised letters burning his name into her flesh so that his name could remain close to her heart long after this night was over. The intimacy of the thought startled her and she suddenly pushed it from her mind, focusing on the way his fingers slid through hers, raising above her head against the wall.

As Clint's lips strayed, the spy's head fell back against the wall, providing him with an open canvas. Her breath was heavy, quickening with each touch of his lips against her sensitive skin. Natasha's breath carried out a quiet moan as he reached her breasts, reflexively lifting her chest into his kiss in a hungry desire for more. And her wish was granted. With legs wrapped tightly around his waste, her one free hand still aiding in her balance, the Natasha pressed her head back against the wall when his hands went to her breasts. Even with the fabric separating their skin, his touch drove her wild and her own sensitivity at his touch pulled a moan mixed with a shallow gasp from her lips. Nat was suddenly hit by an overwhelming need to have ever piece of clothing removed from the both of them.

"I love you," she returned, the words coming out just above a whisper, still sounding foreign on her lips. They were unfamiliar, perhaps still a little uncomfortable to admit aloud, but still right. But saying them just didn't feel like enough.... Natasha wanted to show him, in one of the few ways she knew how. Slipping her raised hand from his grasp, and pulling her other hand from his neck, Nat fully trusted the ex-carnie to keep her supported against the wall without her help. Reaching down to the hem of her bra, she pulled it up; not bothering to unhook it as she picked the delicate piece of clothing up off of her chest and over her head, tossing it to the side.

Returning her arms to wrap around Clint's neck once more, Natasha pushed her body off of the wall to press her breast against his bare chest before connecting her lips to his once more. After savoring the taste of him for just a bit longer, the redhead pulled back only enough so that she could still feel his heavy breath on her lips. "How about we continue this over there?" she purred softly, a slight raise in her brow as she softly nodded toward the bed.

TAG; Hawkeye | WORDS; 639 | NOTES; Trying to find muse again

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"I find that it’s easier to keep your true self buried under several layers of untrue selves, to protect yourself."
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