Clint and Natasha find Real Person Fic of themselves.

:cackles with glee at their expense:

While Natasha applauds Clint's taste in ex's, she does wonder why they keep coming to tell her she should totally go for it.

Oooohhhh... Just one question -- is she applauding his taste, or the fact that they are Exes?

Clint is taken aback (read: horrified) when he discovers Natasha's befriended almost anyone in their life he's been in a relationship with. He's sure she's plotting or scheming something nefarious, while the truth is Natasha just thinks he has good taste.

I love this prompt! And I've had lots of Bobbi feels lately, so... :D

Merfolk/aquatic supernatural being AU.

I wouldn't be able to write this, but I want it so badly!

Clint loses his hearing aids but doesn't want to tell anyone so he just goes about his day like he normally would. But Natasha notices that something is off with him and is determined to figure out what it is.

Natasha has never felt more conflicted than the time a little girl in Black Widow cosplay came up to her and said "I want to be just like you."

Ouch. The feels. I can so see the conflicted there.

Dollhouse or Dollhouse type AU. When you want the right person for the job sometimes the easiest thing to do is to create the right person. Or team of people. Luckily SHIELD/the World Security Council has enough money to make that happen (by purchasing from a Dollhouse or researching and designing this tech themselves).

In which the Avengers (formed by SHIELD)/SHIELD (formed by the World Security Council) are a team of people brought together to deal with threats...but they aren't necessarily who they think they are. Natasha has had experience of this kind of thing before, Clint has been affected by the Tesseract/cognitive recalibration/falling off another damn building, and the pair of them start decontructing the roles they find themselves in and their identities.

They have a great deal of security on the entrances to where they live. Sometimes, especially when drunk, this can be problematic.

("You came in through the window last night."
"It was easier," mumbles hungover person.
"It was still alarmed."
"Easier."
"Challenge accepted.")

Crispy critters!! :-)

AU Clint and Natasha meet at circus school.

Along the lines of something like https://www.nationalcircus.org.uk/

Early SHIELD days or at least pre-Avengers days, when both Natasha and Clint are living on base or at a SHIELD facility, they have insomnia. Cue late night wanderings, food, tv shows, talking, companiable silence... Sometimes other people who're awake as well maybe.

(or on AO3)

They haven't been partners long, and there's still something new and tentative about the way Clint and Natasha interact. Cautious. They don't want to accidentally break the fragile bond they are forming.

They get back from their tenth mission together, and they are still on South African time. Natasha goes to bed and pretends to get some rest for the first two hours before she finally capitulates and throws on a generic SHIELD t-shirt with the intention of heading to the gym. She never gets there though. She's distracted by a soft yellow light glowing from the dorm floor kitchenette that she always forgets exists because this is a SHIELD base not a school campus.

And there's her partner, quietly flipping a pancake on the stove. An open carton of blueberries sits on the counter near his hand.

"Barton," she greets as she comes in.

He nods back.

She leans against the counter and starts to cross her arms against the slight chill, then gives herself an excuse for being in here and opens a cupboard to rummage for tea. She frowns and pushes up on tiptoes to scrabble behind the first row of boxes. So much for SHIELD kitchens being well-stocked.

Natasha sighs and drops the cupboard door closed, softening the thud only a second before it slams. Clint is watching her intently in that focused way of his, idly flipping out his pancake onto a plate without looking. Show-off, she decides.

"May I have a few blueberries, please?" she asks politely, feeling almost embarrassed at being reduced to asking. She is used to taking what she wants and having it given to her because she was dangerous at the Red Room and the KGB and as a freelancer, and others gave way for the Black Widow. This man nearly put an arrow through her heart, and she can't quite bring herself to place him on a lesser footing.

He hands her the carton wordlessly after helping himself to a small portion.

It's nice, it's quiet, and something tense unknots inside of Natasha. They sit beside each other, eating and enjoying the silence.

they'll name a city after us
and later say it's all our fault
then they'll give us a talking to
then they'll give us a talking to
because they've got years of experience
--Us, Regina Spektor

Oooh Regina! Love love.

At the restaurant she leaned and kissed me hard
We skipped the movie and drove straight to her house
Why did this feel so wrong
My alarm went off, I woke up and she was gone
--Goodbye To Each New Day, This Is Me Smiling

She lived like a murder
but she died
Just like suicide
-- Like Suicide, Soundgarden

AU where Natasha is royalty and Clint is the commoner who gets involved with her.

Hmm... if we can loosely define royalty as highborn/high-powered/wealthy (in a vaguely Medieval-esque setting) instead of technical royalty? Then I got ya covered. ;)

Natasha is undercover as a teacher (preschool or elementary) and none of the kids recognize her, except for one little girl

An assignment goes bad and Clint and Natasha have to go on the run (maybe separated). Not long after that Natasha finds out she's pregnant.

I want!!

Clint/Natasha office AU

It's six weeks after the Triskelion fell, and Clint still hasn't returned from his mission. There are only two possibilities, as far as Natasha is concerned. Either his mission was compromised by HYDRA -- or he was.

She's not sure which she fears more.



Edited 2014-08-06 12:52 am (UTC)

5 times Clint tells her I told you so and 1 time Natasha does

Natasha works the graveyard shift in a diner. Clint is a truck driver.

(or the reverse)

She's just saving up enough money to make it through evening school, serving platters of pancakes and endless cups of coffee in the brightly lit diner that's trying too hard to mimic that Edward Hopper painting. Her arms are too slender, her waist too small, the apron cinched tight around her hips as the drivers talk to and about the girl behind the counter. She scrubs her knuckles raw somewhere past 3 AM, waiting for the sunrise to come up through the windows.

He was born for the corn fields that roll by his truck door, mile after mile of waving green and gold that kids laugh and run and hide in. There's not that much he needs to hide from now, with his family history past and buried and noted in small type in the local newspaper, but he keeps moving across the long expanse of the U.S. of A because it's in his bones by now, it's a habit that's too hard to break.

The cab pulls into the nearly-empty parking lot, one of many anonymous trucks until the paint flashes gold and purple under fluorescent lights. She spots its distinctive flair and has a cup of coffee waiting for him when he arrives. He sits down at the counter, folding his arms on the polished wood with familiar creases under his eyes.

"What's the pie today?" He asks although the answer's on display in glass cases beside his elbows.

"Coconut and peach," she replies, the threadbare rag she's been using piled in on itself beside her hands.

"A slice of peach, and maybe some whipped cream?"

"Coming right up."

They speak in smiles and subtext, find pleasure in seeing each other again and comfort in a familiar face. She dishes up the pie as requested, her red hair gleaming in its waves; he sips his coffee and continues the small talk, making light of everything and nothing. She wonders what it would be like to hop in his cab and let him take her away from here; he wonders if he could ever build a house with his own hands for her, safe and warm and somewhere to settle into.

One can't leave, one can't stay - but for a little while, the stars dancing beyond the streetlights, they can share this place where their paths meet.

Clint thinks it's a good idea to try to drink Natasha under the table. She's surprised and amused that he hadn't learned his lesson the first (few) time(s).

Heeh, but he so would...

"Really, Barton, you wanna try that again?"

"Sure. I have good feeling about tonight."

"You do know what they say about the definition of insanity, right?"

Natasha is 8 months pregnant and wants to gift Clint with a maternity drawing of her naked-sketched by Steve.

Trusting Clint was easy. Trusting herself around him? Not so much.

Ohhhh *hugs prompt*

High Fantasy AU

These streets are yours, you can keep them
In my mind it's like you haunt them
And passing through I think I see you
In the shapes of other women
Oh, we have stained these walls
With our mistakes and flaws

"These Streets" by Bastille