be_compromised | VALENTINE'S MINI-PROMPTATHON 2015

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VALENTINE'S MINI-PROMPTATHON 2015

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Timeline
Now (Saturday, January 31st) - February 6th 12 midnight eastern: Prompt! Prompt ALL THE THINGS!
February 7th - February 15th (midnight eastern): Fill those prompts like you've never filled prompts before!

Theme
Prompts: All things Valentine's Day or love (romantic or otherwise!) related. Friendship? UST? Developing romantic feelings? Badass mission that just so happens to involve obnoxious heart-shaped candies? All are welcome here!

Prompting
Prompts go in the comments to this post. List each prompt as its own separate comment.

Fills
Fills: Post your fill, or a link to your fill - be it fic, art, a video of you preforming an interpretive dance, etc - as a reply to the prompt comment. Please don't post your fanwork separately to the comm, otherwise b_c might explode from the squee. We'll also create a masterlist post updated as fills come in, so rest assured that everyone will see your work!

Please include title, rating, and appropriate warnings in the subject line of your fill.

Prompts may have multiple fills, please give love to your fellow creators!

Okay, best bar! Go wild!

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bookshop au. One is bookseller/bookshop owner, the other a customer. Instead of talking one of them tries expressing feelings through the books they buy.

Hugs

Natasha is in college so is Clint he's a baseball player fir the university They meet one dayafter the game and they click together well. What will happen whenNatasha bring him home to met the family on Valentine day?

Prompts are now closed!

"All right, class." Darcy tapped the chart on the board with her pointer. "Who here knows how soulmarks work?"

Every right hand of the science fraternity/sorority of the Avengers Tower hit the air. Darcy was almost proud of Jane. Jane's interest in astrophysics so outweighed personal relations, that it had taken her until after the wreckage of both New York and London to get around to asking Thor how that worked on Asgard. While Tony and Bruce could be counted on to keep up with soulmark theory, Darcy's personal science girl could not.

Resident spysassin #1, aka Natasha Romanoff, aka the Black Widow, flicked an eyebrow in deliberate insult for the chosen topic. Resident spysassin #2, aka Clint Barton, crossed his arms and slouched in his seat in the unmistakable body language of those present under protest everywhere. Steve Rogers politely consulted the provided paperwork.

Catch more flies with honey… Darcy refrained from grinding her teeth and shot a sweet smile Natasha's way while calling on Tony to give them the lowdown on soulmark location.

"Well, that all depends, Darce, my love."

She liked calling on Tony. He was actually kind of fun to listen to.

Tony checked off soulmark locations on his fingers. "See, if it's over the heart, you're probably an amazing fit from a romantic perspective. Matching marks on your dominant arms turn into excellent partnerships. Matching marks on non-dominant arms are best friends for life. Matching marks on your feet mean way too similar to get along on a regular basis, but you are your own support group. For example—"

Darcy made a cutting motion. "Let's not give examples just yet."

Tony shrugged. "And of course, if the marks match on different parts of the body, science hasn't the foggiest idea what to do with that and anecdotal evidence is inconclusive."

So far, so safe.

"So the summation of the matter," Darcy began, "is that soulmarks offer an 80 or more percent chance of finding your perfect match."

"Eighty-eight percent… actually." Bruce caught himself and hesitated on the last word but left it out there with a shrug.

"And the rest accounts for people that never meet," Jane chimed in, "or are born decades apart, or—"

"—are absolute, godforsaken jerks," Darcy interjected, "who don't deserve to live."

Clint's eyebrows came up, and his whole face went from 'Get me out of here' to 'Color me curious' in the space of a half-second. Natasha's expression, of course, showed no sign at all of changing.

Darcy 'ahem'ed and moved right along. "And we've all established that we are not any of us godforsaken jerks who don't deserve to live," she pointed out quickly, "so that's why I called this team intervention because we're all good people here or trying to be or at least doing good things and/or saving good people—"

Tony mimed a breathing motion.

She flipped him off. "So. Resident spysassins."

For two people who just tensed up like a gun was pointed at them, they sure didn't look it unless you'd known them and lived with them for the last ten months.

"The UST, and you better both know what that is because I'm not about to explain it," Darcy growled, "is becoming unbearable. Please accept that you are born and made for each other or stop subjecting us to the mutual pining."

Clint looked taken aback. Natasha's poker face was impenetrable.

"And we all agreed, including Steve, that no one here was brave enough to say anything,"—she paused to glare at Thor, who cheerfully agreed, which was of course, no help at all—"so I volunteered."

She pulled down her chart and handed it to Natasha, who accepted it coolly.

Darcy backed up while the backing up was good and smiled as if she weren't hoping she'd just ruined her fledgling friendship with said spysassins. "All right. We're done here. Everybody dismissed."

Clint and Natasha cleared out last. That might have been due to the rapid flight of not brave teammates, shown up by an intern with a taser.

Clint had leveled his gaze at Natasha, who was studiously not looking at him. She was looking at the chart as if it held even the remotest level of interest.

"You have a mark over your heart," he opened with.

Natasha sighed and tugged on her own hair in frustration. "Barton. Did you never look at my back when we were changing?"

"It's called privacy," he growled out.

"It's called something," she snapped back. "I asked you about that mark the first week."

"You asked if I wanted to sleep with you!" he protested.

"And you said you didn't. I assumed—"

"You assumed wrong."

They stared at each other.

Natasha stood up slowly and passed him the chart. "I have a mark over my heart on my back. It looks remarkably like yours. Would you like to inspect it?"

After a moment, Clint stood up with her, hand sliding up over her shirt. "Yeah."

"And those are?" Natasha sniffed the pink batter dubiously.

Clint whisked the tray away with an offended glance. "They're cookies. For Valentine's Day."

She blinked at him. Her brow furrowed. "They're pink."

He huffed in exasperation. "It's food coloring, Nat. It's Valentine's Day."

Natasha didn't look particularly convinced, but she stopped harrassing him, so he counted it as a win.

That is, until he caught her an hour later feeding a cookie to the dog, which suited Lucky just fine. She studied Lucky suspiciously.

"I can bake," Clint told her, crossing his arms.

Lucky whoofed agreement and begged for more.

"I suppose." Natasha ignored Lucky as she stood and picked up another cookie. She tasted it with the tip of her tongue and frowned thoughtfully. She nibbled the edge.

"Just eat the cookie already!"

"It's different." She popped it in her mouth and grabbed another.

Now that was a win.

"You're kidding me, right?" Clint eyed the pink, furry handcuffs as though they had teeth and a malicious, sentient will.

Natasha just smirked. "This is revenge for the purple teddy."

"I said something purple, not a teddy," he reminded her for the nth time.

She snorted, uninterested. "You said something purple from that particular store."

Clint griped but let her snap one handcuff around his wrist and the other to the bed. She had clearly modified them a bit so he couldn't slip them.

"Nice."

She ignored the complaint and straddled him. "I told you Steve already had a girlfriend."

*sporfle* Darcy for the win!! I can totally see her being brave (or foolish) enough to attempt this. XD

LOL. Hopefully those cookies didn't have chocolate in them. Poor Lucky would be in a world of trouble. ^^

Bwahahahahahaha, of course she did. Can't make it too easy for him. XD

A prompt fill! I has a prompt fill! And such a great one, too!! :-)

Really like it. "Let's not give examples just yet." Tony!!!

Clint is beginning to suspect that when Hill suggested he get Natasha a box of bath bombs for Valentine's, she must have had something else in mind because no way would she have meant this frou frou stuff he's staring at now.

He glares at the next helpful sales lady to give him a pitying smile and takes another look down the aisle. Nope. Nothing else here by the name of bath bomb that smells like something remotely Natasha when she's not on a job (she smells like cotton and guns and tastes like strawberry lip gloss), and nothing that does even the slightest justice to the name of bomb.

He turns on his heel and heads back the way he came.

"You want what?" Mack looks at him like he's gone crazy.

"Bombs. For when the target's in the bathtub," Clint repeats patiently. "I think she has something like this already. It'd have to be small impact, underwater detonation okay, the works. You got that?"

The only place he can figure Maria would be referring to for this sort of weaponry would be the SHIELD R&D department. It's not like this is standard Department of Defense stuff he's asking after.

Mack opens his mouth and looks around befuddled before snapping his mouth shut and smiling. "Sure. I'll have it to you by Sunday."

"Friday if you can." Clint shoves his clearance forward for the expedite. "Saturday's Valentine's Day."

"He wants a box of these?" Mack's partner demands. She glares at Mack for not telling Hawkeye to go find his own toys if he wants them done in a week.

Natasha's known for about a week that something's off with Barton. He looks entirely too pleased with himself and always answers, "Nothing," when she demands what's going on. After deciding he was useless as an interrogation subject (without getting more creative than Phil would be okay with right now), she researches all possible causes of brave stupidity in a partner and quickly determines he's likely planning something for Valentine's Day.

Heaven preserve her from sentimental assassins.

She changes her mind when he gleefully dumps the black box in her lap like a kid at Christmas and grins until she gets the idea she's supposed to open it.

"It's a box," she says, suspiciously. Black boxes not the size and shape for earrings or necklaces deserve suspicion.

Clint just rolls his eyes and motions for her to get on with opening it.

"What is it?" she demands. It's not even wrapped. How is she supposed to trust this?

"Come on, Nat. It's me. Just open the box."

She opens it. The contents are unfamiliar. She pulls out one of the dozen small, clear balls nestled inside and examines it thoughtfully. It's a bomb, she thinks. It can't be. She goes to work on the first one, pulling it apart.

"Hey!" Clint protests. "I spent a lot of favors getting those made."

Natasha doesn't dignify that with a response. She finishes dismantling it, evaluating the mechanism, then reassembling it. She smiles. "I love it."

Maria Hill does not love it.

"You built her a bomb?" Maria demands after the messiest after-report she's read from the two of them in thirteen months. She should have known the relative peace wouldn't last so long without the next disaster being spectacular. "A bath bomb?"

Clint just stares at her blankly. "It was your idea."

Maria groans. Never, ever will she ever give Clint gift-giving advice ever again.

Edited 2015-02-11 16:05 (UTC)

lovelovelovelovelove

Bwahahaha, I can't stop laughing :D This is awesome!

Bwahahahahaha, FAIL, Clint. That "frou frou stuff" is AMAZING.

That being said, at least Natasha appreciates his interpretation fail. XD

:grins: Wow. The bomb was inspirational.

Thank you! So glad you liked! I admit to chuckling a tiny bit while writing it.

He may be clueless about her personal preferences, but thankfully, he's not about her professional ones.

I'm a big fan of "frou frou stuff" myself!

I think they delight in making it hard on each other. :)

I headcanon that Clint only cooks with dog-safe ingredients because it has never crossed his mind to buy Lucky dog food instead of feeding him whatever's on.

Bad Clint, but there's no way I can headcanon him not feeding Lucky human food.

Inspired by the premise of the book S by JJ Abrams and Doug Dorst – not actually at all what you asked for. Which is why I filled this twice. :P

----

Considering it’s a pretty specialist book, the amazing thing here is that two people are using it at the same time, not that Natasha is having a strange flirtation with someone in the margins of said book. But Maria and Sharon have very strange priorities.

The first thing she sees is – on page 48 – a sticky note pointing to a horrible grammatical error, because she had mentioned some time ago – on page 11, in fact – that she couldn’t stand those. Especially in books published by major publishers and therefore who should know better. On page 87 she has a reply to her musings on state funded terrorist organisations; it looks intelligent and insightful for something written in a library book margin, and she’s interested to read it.

Just, in a moment; page 113 was what she’s looking out for right now.

She can’t tell the gender of her mystery correspondent from the handwriting – it was too generically messy for easy identification – and she hasn’t asked for a name, nor provided her own. But there’s something about the way they communicate that definitely tips their (non)relationship into ‘heavily flirting’ territory.

On page 113 she’d accidentally name dropped her International Criminal Law professor. It hadn’t been intentional but she’s suddenly desperate to know if the name means anything to her mystery correspondent.

Oh so you take her class too? Look close and you’ll see me there too. :P

It’s written in scratchy blue ballpoint next to a LSE professor talking about The Hague, and Natasha’s heart thumps. She’d mentioned previously that she was studying for her masters, and her mystery correspondent had replied saying they were doing the same. There were no other masters going that required an International Criminal Law component, so only one class ran. There were eighteen people in that class.

Natasha has to already know this person.

She takes out her pen; it’s a dumb sparkly thing with a spider on a spring waving about on top, because Sam thinks he’s hilarious. She writes Oh yeah? and then stops.

If she outright asks, then there’s a possibility that she’ll get a proper answer. But after almost a year of defacing college property, she sort of wants this to continue exactly as it is.

Natasha frowns at the utter ridiculousness of that thought. That would be like turning down someone for a date because them sitting next to you means that you can’t stare at them surreptitiously anymore.

Redhead. Spider pen. I expect intelligent conversations on human rights law pertaining to criminals in foreign prisons. :P

She stares at the sentence for a moment before deliberately turning to page 113 and sitting down at her usual desk. She replies to the comments there and writes her own comment on the laws governing state versus non-state warfare in chapter five, before getting down to the proper business of actually studying.

Maria and Sharon pop in while she’s studying, and Sam drags her off to lunch in the basement café. She sees Jennifer from her course in the afternoon and wonders if she could be her mystery correspondent, before being distracted by her newly dyed green hair.

Then, when she leaves around seven she bumps into Clint, another person from her course, at the door. And as usual, he’s flirty and witty and sort of ridiculously attractive for a man who seems to get into a never ending cycle of bar fights, if his many band aids are any indication. He smiles, and she smiles back while thinking of scratchy blue ballpoint pens, which makes her feel like she’s betraying her mystery correspondent. Which is so dumb.

She doesn’t get a chance to check the book in the next two days, so she ends up going to her next International Criminal Law seminar without checking to see if her mystery correspondent has replied.

Which turns out not to be a problem, because Clint sits down next to her once she’s settled, spider pen in full view, and says; “I am so glad I wasn’t actually flirting with two different people because that would have been awkward. Wanna get coffee and talk about human rights?”

She tased a Norse god. Seriously. Girl's got spine.

:grins:

So glad you liked! I wasn't sure how you'd take to the twist, but it just popped in my head that way, so I ran with it.

Natasha has been on the till for nearly six hours in total when she sees her. Well, to be honest, she first sees him, but then she sees her.

She’s dark haired and has that sort of expression that says I swear to God you are too stupid to live. She’s got his wrist clamped tightly in her hand though and Natasha feels a momentary pang in her chest, because he’s blond and a little bumbling and a lot earnest and she shouldn’t find it as attractive as she does. He’s come in every two to three days, loitering for a while and then coming up to her and asking for recommendations. Natasha had managed to get him to buy almost all of her favourite contemporary fiction, including some really fucked up crime and horror.

The dark haired girl drags the guy straight up to where Natasha is standing behind the counter. She doesn’t let go of his wrist.

“Hi,” says the girl.

“Hi, how can I help?” Natasha is well versed in customer service.

“I was wondering if you could look up a book for me?” asks the girl. A quick glance to the guy reveals him to be looks both alarmed and confused.

“Yeah, sure.” Natasha pulls up the database.

“Yeah, it’s called I Can’t Talk To The Hot Girl In The Bookshop So My Friend Has To Intervene On My Behalf by Clint Barton.”

Natasha’s halfway through typing it into the search field when the words actually filter into her brain.

Her fingers still and her head snaps up, eyes bypassing the now smirking girl and landing on the guy – Clint Barton, she presumes – who is slowly turning red.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’,” says the girl. “He’s the worst at flirting.”

She lets go of his wrist and pushes him towards the counter where Natasha is, her hands still hovering above the keys of her keyboard.

“Don’t say I never do anything for you,” she says to Clint Barton, patting him on the shoulder and turning to leave. He gives the girl a panicked look and she gives him a cheesy double thumbs-up in return, before walking out the door.

Natasha has never seen someone look as uncomfortable in a bookshop as Clint Barton looks now.

“Um, hi,” he says eventually, his eyes meeting hers and then darting away again. “I, um. I really liked The Shining Girls.”

Natasha can feel her face splitting into a grin so large her cheeks hurt.

“Yeah?” she asks.

Clint Barton smiles a little, his hand coming up to scrub at the back of his neck.

“Yeah.”

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Page 9 of 14

VALENTINE'S MINI-PROMPTATHON 2015

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FIC: Made and Meant, Rated: G, No Warnings [1/2]

Re: FIC: Made and Meant, Rated: G, No Warnings [1/2]

FIC: A Valentine's Day Win, Rated: G, No Warnings

FIC: Lost Bet, Rated: T, No Warnings (drabble)

Re: FIC: Made and Meant, Rated: G, No Warnings [1/2]

Re: FIC: A Valentine's Day Win, Rated: G, No Warnings

Re: FIC: Lost Bet, Rated: T, No Warnings (drabble)

Re: FIC: Made and Meant, Rated: G, No Warnings [1/2]

FIC: A Box of Valentine's Cheer, Rated: T, No Warnings

Re: FIC: A Box of Valentine's Cheer, Rated: T, No Warnings

Re: FIC: A Box of Valentine's Cheer, Rated: T, No Warnings

Re: FIC: A Box of Valentine's Cheer, Rated: T, No Warnings

Re: FIC: A Box of Valentine's Cheer, Rated: T, No Warnings

Re: FIC: A Box of Valentine's Cheer, Rated: T, No Warnings

Re: FIC: A Box of Valentine's Cheer, Rated: T, No Warnings

Re: FIC: Lost Bet, Rated: T, No Warnings (drabble)

Re: FIC: A Valentine's Day Win, Rated: G, No Warnings

FIC: This Book Belongs To: [G, no warnings]

Re: FIC: Made and Meant, Rated: G, No Warnings [1/2]

Re: FIC: Made and Meant, Rated: G, No Warnings [1/2]

FIC: How To Win Friends and Influence People [G, no warnings]