YOU HAVE COME TO THE RIGHT PERSON MY FRIEND. I read all the clint fics because clint barton is the love of my life but yes clint fics
so I don’t know what your pairing preference is, but if you’re looking for clint fics the first two, gen-ish (with clint/coulson undertones, but not the main focus of the fic) you definitely have to check out (after ‘the hunter of waverly, iowa’, of course) are these:
“All I’m saying,” the voice continued smartly, “is that he has to miss sometimes, he just never admits it.”
Barton’s blue gaze turned grey, not noticing (or ignoring) that many of the agents in the room had stopped talking at this point and were instead watching Steve’s group of three intensely. Of course before Steve had a chance to even think about saying anything Barton had already made his move. Sometimes Steve forgot how quick the man could be, especially considering that during many missions Hawkeye was out of sight. Between one moment and the next Barton ‘twitched’ and there was a startled yelp on the far end of the room. Steve looked across to find the loudmouth agent looking in shock at the wall he was sat beside, the remains of the sandwich he had been taking a bite out of now pinned in place.
When the tomato slipped out from between the bread and landed with a squelch on the floor Barton moved. The unknown agent looked up, took in the number of people the knife must have slipped past on the way to his lunch, the way Barton was steadily getting closer, and visibly swallowed down his nerves. Steve wondered if he should do something. Natasha’s hand gently touching his own in warning kept him in place.
Barton walked behind the agent and plucked his deeply imbedded knife from the drywall, letting the sandwich fall to the ground, before turning to loom behind the agent.
“Something you might want to consider remembering,” Barton announced with a wide smile that, for once, nobody saw any humour in. “I,” he picked up the agents napkin and with an efficient wipe cleaned his blade, “never,” he slipped the blade somewhere on his leg Steve couldn’t see from across the room, “miss.” He leaned over and stared hard at the agent, loosing the smile, and waited until he saw something in the junior’s gaze before stepping back and smacking him good-naturedly on his shoulder. “Got that?”
Tony was shifting from one screen to the next on his multipanel display, trying to explain the essence of the space race.
“The Russians were the first to put a satellite in orbit around the Earth. It was called Sputnik and it wasn’t very powerful, mostly just blinked. People weren’t afraid of the capsule itself; they were scared that the USSR was able to put it into space, that they had rockets with that much thrust capacity.”
Steve froze for a moment before turning to face Tony. “Wait. Would this be an appropriate time to say, ‘that’s what she said’?”
“Yes!” Tony leapt up and hugged him. “Yes! Brilliant! My little Stevie’s growing up! You deserve a Steve treat! What do you like? Cocaine? Courtside seats? Pornography? Patriotism?”
for more shippy fics (but still really, really well-written with amazing plot progression and characterizations), I recommend
This is true: Natasha does not remember her blood family. Sometimes there are snippets: a lullaby, a soft perfume, a piano just slightly out of tune.
This is true: Natasha thinks that once, maybe, she did remember her family—that she had real memories, solid memories, memories she could reach out and touch. But she has been made and unmade and reconstructed so many times that any memories she might have had are gone, far away, there only in the faintest flickers of scent and sound.
This is true: Clint remembers his family too well.
Clint’s always been the type to find family where other people might see a sideshow act
On April 20th, Clint woke up to three immediately frustrating things:
1. There was a ray of sunshine doing its level best to stab him right in the eyes.
2. Phil was not in bed beside him, hadn’t been for the last thirteen days, and probably wouldn’t be for at least the next two weeks.
3. His cell phone was telling him that it was Friiiiday, Friiiiiday, just like it did every Friday at seven in the morning, because Tony Stark could be a vengeful, ruthless human being.
(a.k.a the grounhog day fic! also, not au)
Unlike most things in Ethan’s life, falling in love with William Brandt had been easy and slow. He’d been in over his head before he’d even realized it and hadn’t felt the need to come up for air. Theirs was not a whirlwind romance. It’d been filled with late nights in corner cafes in London, or sitting together in front of the fire watching an old movie in Germany. It’d been easy smiles, even easier kisses, and dancing in the kitchen as the fridge hummed along with the old radio that liked to turn on all on its own. It’d been going for jogs on the boardwalk or joining basketball games in the park.
Ethan might’ve even called it an average sort of love story if not for the missions to Albania, Czech or some Middle Eastern nation and all the firefights, IEDs, episodes of PTSD and deadly weapons hidden under pillows, tables, couches and everything in between. And Ethan had loved every minute of it.
I know more shippy fics that are fun to read and less plotty but yes these are like the most well written ones in my opinion asdlkfjf
have fun reading!
This thing you’re about to do? This running away thing? It’s everything about you that sucks. Merry Christmas, jerk.
domestic au! => When your husband is a secret assassin cum avenger and you’re his handler cum liaison between a group of superheroes and SHIELD, domestic responsibilities take on a different dimension altogether.
Hawkeye&Hawkeye print, all ready to be printed out for Heroes Con.
Come by and say hi! I’ll be at table AA-1718. See ya there!