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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 4 years

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Sick Little Games: Twenty- One

Clint ultimately had had a rather enjoyable morning. It had started with sweet kisses and slow snuggly lovemaking and culminated in creating a minor PR disaster for SHIELD.

But he’d enjoyed his little counter-protest. Aided and abetted by Thor, Bruce, Sam, Tony, Nat, and several other SHIELD agents that were tired of out of tune hymns and their Witchling not going outside. It had created enough negative attention for the church that Stirling Cole, your stepfather had called for a parlay of sorts.

Clint looked from the bed where you lay, sound asleep, and back in the mirror. At the black eye, he’d gotten when he’d tried to grab you before you could pull Stirling’s throat out in front of the TV cameras. “Worth it,” he said, satisfied.

“Really worth it,” he amended, looking down at your feet. Cut and still bleeding, though they were healing. Not, perhaps, as rapidly as Bucky or Steve, but even faster than Clint would recover after walking barefoot across hellfire.

Which, contrary to what Clint had thought, hadn’t burnt you but had left the present gnarly cuts.

It was all a bit of a blur, really. They’d started by drowning out the protestors by very, very loudly playing the national anthem. That had pissed the protestors off quite a bit. The cacophony had brought you outside, which had riled the protestors up. Rocks started flying. They threw fucking stones at you.

Clint had been furious but nothing. Nothing. Compared to when you slowly turned, blood running down the side of your face and started walking forward. Traffic in front of the tower had ground to a halt due to all the spectators. It had happened in slow motion. Rocks flew, but none of them seemed to land, and you smiled. Or at least. You showed your teeth. And Clint knew, damn well that the face you were making was one countless HYDRA goons had seen before they died. “Oh shit,” he muttered, starting to follow you.

But out of nowhere, fire. The fucking green light created a separation between you and the protestors. Clint looked up to see Strange standing on a balcony out of sight trying to summon something to stop your inevitable progress forward. “Bless him,” Natasha said, “He thinks that’s going to stop her.”

Kill mode was unstoppable. At least. Mostly. You wouldn’t care about Damage to yourself. And that much was clear as you clawed your way through the green flames, unphased by the cuts they left.

“She’s gonna kill him,” Clint said, “Fuck- Thor-”

But the demigod needed no more prompting. He might agree with you that the man SHOULD be killed, but he knew you couldn’t be SEEN to do it. He rushed forward and wrapped his arms around you quickly, thankful for his sturdy boots. And grateful that “kill mode” as Stark had dubbed it, was only dangerous to your immediate target. He’d once thought it berserker like rage but, Bruce was quick to dissuade him of that. Bruce pegged it as a response to trauma. And Thor agreed. Mostly.

“Witchling,” he rumbled, grunting as you attempted to squirm out of his arms, “Be still.” You radiate pain. Pain and Fear, and Anger. A thousand different memories rush through you, and you just... can’t. You can’t manage it all. Stories about what should happen to anyone who doesn’t obey their god. The sting of a belt against your ass and thighs for whatever infraction. Your elation at the warm sand in California turning to panic as the sunset, and it started to get cold. Foster care. Going hungry. Stealing packs of ramen to eat while you were running. Peggy Carter. A job offer. And then a van. And searing fucking pain. Endless fucking pain as these “SHIELD” ass holes played around with your genetic code. But you didn’t care because you were fed. And warm. And someone finally showed you how to control your powers. You were never enough. Never. It didn’t matter what you did. How obedient you were or how many people you saved. You were nothing. Evil. Dirty. As if you had asked for any of this.

Clint could hear you screaming. There weren’t even words. Just screams. And he blinked back tears. It sounded like Thor was killing you, but. Anyone that had seen you wake up in medical knew that wasn’t this sound. He rushed forward and reached up carefully, trying to remind you that you were okay. And help Thor keep a hold of you. You’d worked an arm free, and the Asgardian was struggling. Even if you weren’t trying to hurt him, you could still be dangerous.

When your elbow caught his eye, Clint took the opportunity to grab your hand. “Y/N,” he said softly, “Baby. Please. Let us help. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was trying to make it stop.”

You reached for him, and he held his arms out tenderly, “It’s okay,” he murmured, ignoring the pain in his head. He held you against him. His heartbreaking with every stuttering breath. Your fingers curled in the soft fabric of his jacket. “It hurts,” you pant.

“I know, sweetheart,” he said softly, picking you up when he noticed you standing in a pool of blood from the cuts on your feet. “I’m sorry.”

He knew you didn’t want him to apologize but, he didn’t know what else to say. “Thor,” Clint muttered, “Help me get her inside. No one can see what’s happening now, but she can’t walk back over all this.” Thor grunted and nodded, bashing Mjolnir against the flames to get them out of the way so the archer could carry you.

Clint shifts your weight gently and follows after, pressing soft kisses against your hair when you whimper. “I know,” he soothes, “Shhh. We’ll get you inside, okay?”

“Your eye,” you murmur.

“I’m okay,” he reassures gently, “I know you didn’t mean to. You’d never hurt me on purpose.”

“I love you,” you murmur, swallowing hard.

“I know,” he says gently, “You love me so much. You didn’t want to hurt anyone... Except for Stirling. And he deserves it. But we can’t let you tear his throat out on live TV baby. We can’t.”

Thor growled next to him, and Clint half smiled, “See, Thor can get away with it. Because he’s big. And not human. But it’s a bad look if we let the sweetest Avenger go around killing preachers on TV.”

“I’m a monster,” you whisper. Clint stops walking, and Thor stops mid-swing, stopping to look at you.

“My lady,” he said quietly, aware that his voice could carry, “I have fought monsters. You are not a monster, Witchling. You’re not what they all did to you to try and tear you asunder. You are kind. And Just. Powerful and sometimes rightfully very scary, but you are not a monster, my darling.”

“All I took away from that is that Thor is scared of you,” Clint teased, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when you huffed a laugh.

Thor smirked a little and brushed his fingers against your hair affectionately. “Maybe a little,” he teased, “Her knowledge of song lyrics is prodigious and not of this Earth.”

_______

Clint leaned on the door frame, thankful that Lucky was curled between your knees and your belly, and Jinx had taken up her spot behind your knees. You were warm and stuck. Unable to move without disturbing your snoozing fur babies.

Satisfied you’d be okay for a few minutes, he slipped downstairs. You needed water. And food. And he was hungry.

He was halfway through putting together some food. Lots of spicy, salty snacks for you and some sweet stuff for him. A couple sodas. Sandwiches. And some frozen fruit. Anything he thought you might want when Natasha leaned over and inspected his eye.

“How you feel?” she asked. The implication, Clint knew, was her asking if you’d meant to do that.

“Fine,” Clint said placatingly, “I caught an elbow trying to help Thor keep hold of her.”

“Kill mode?”

“Yeah,” he sighed.

Natasha winced, “I heard her screaming. It made the hair stand up on the back of my neck. I hate it.”

“I know,” Clint said, rubbing his neck, “But... she’s- she’s okay. Mostly. Freaking out because she hurt us. But she’s healing.”

The spy quirks an eyebrow, “Us?”

“She bit Thor trying to get loose. Didn’t break the skin, but there was a real pretty bruise.”

“Damn.”

Clint smirked, “You should have seen my shoulder when she got done with me last week.”

Natasha rolled her eyes but smiled a little. “Only you, Barton,” she huffed.

“You love me,” he says.

“I do,” she admitted, “I’m just glad everything’s okay because... they wanna see her.”

“Who does?” Clint asked cautiously.

“Her mom. And stepdad... Tony threatened charges for property damage. And assault since they hit her with a rock,” she explained.

“And they want her to stop it?”

The spy nodded, and Clint shrugged, “Tough shit,” he said, “She’s asleep. And she’s had enough. She’s gonna stay that way until she’s ready to be up and about.”

Natasha nodded, “I’ll go tell Tony that their Parlay will have to wait.” She wasn’t going to argue. Clint had a point. Putting you back in front of them when you felt raw like this was only gonna make a bigger mess.

_________

Peggy slid a cup of tea across the table to Steve and he smiled his thanks, “Peg, I don’t know what I’m gonna do,” he said, “Bucky just will not let this go.”

She gave him a sympathetic smile and sighed, “Since when does he let anything go?”

“This is different though. It’s vindictive. And all Y/N did was quietly harbor a crush none of us even knew about.”

“That is an accomplishment, given how many spies are in that building,” she said, impressed.

“Y/N is a good girl,” Steve said, “But Peg, if he keeps pushing on her and she snaps, there’s no one in that building that could save him- Maybe Barton but. Let’s be honest, he’d not stop her.”

She smirked, “No. I don’t think he would. Not if he’s the Clint I remember.”

“He’s worse where she’s concerned,” Steve said rolling his eyes, “No common sense.”

“Well,” she said shrugging, “When someone feels like home, you don’t really want to let them go.”

“That’s true,” he sighed, “But still.”

“But nothing,” she laughed, “What’s the betting pool up to on the proposal?”

Steve smirked, “Sam and I stand to split a pretty chunk of change if he does it on Christmas... Natasha is gonna take it if he does it for Halloween. Bruce swears he’s gonna do it next time they’re on a mission together before he even has a ring.”

Peggy grinned, “I’d say Bruce has the right idea. If he plans anything he won’t go through with it.”

Steve shook his head and gave her an apologetic smile picking up his ringing phone, “Roger- They did what?” he barked.

Peggy sat up a little straighter, eager for some gossip.

“Was anyone hurt?” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No. No. Just- yeah. Alright.”

He hung up the phone and groaned, “Clint lobbed a counter-protest,” he explained, “Kill mode happened and now Y/N feet are cut up and CLint has a black eye from trying to help Thor grab hold of her.”

“Fucking hell,” she groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.

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#clint barton #Clint x reader #Bucky Barnes #Bucky x reader #Steve rogers #Tony Stark #Thor #natasha romanoff #Peggy carter #angst #fluff

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