Me, when someone asks what Clint’s superpower is :
Superheroes that are underrated ranked:
May i request Clint/Phil with 'the way you said "I love you"' prompt 18 ('from very far away')? maybe clint is on a mission and phil is talking to him over comms? I love your writing btw! <3
Sixteen years ago Phil was sent to capture the infamous assassin Hawkeye. Fifteen years ago he had managed it and instead of arresting him he recruited him. Ten years ago they both managed to resolve the sexual tension between them. And eight years ago they married.
Fury demanded that they wouldn’t work together anymore but after half a year he changed his mind. Clint and Phil were too good as a team to not let them work together.
Six years ago Phil died. And Fury brought him back. Phil got a new team and Clint was an Avenger and they saw each other seldom nowadays.
But then Phil and his team fell into a trap. People thought, after Aldrich Killian’s death, that AIM was history, but apparently they weren’t. And they managed to capture Phil, Jemma and Fitz. They wanted to force Jemma and Fitz to work for them and they used Phil as leverage. They said they would torture him when they refused and so they complied to a certain degree.
“Are you okay?” Phil asked as soon as their guards brought the two of them back to their cells.
Jemma shivered and Leo held her hand until they were separated. But she nodded and wrapped her arms around her. They waited till the guards left but then Fitz hurried to the bars.
“We managed to send a SOS,” he whispered. “The Avengers are coming.”
“Thank god,” Phil muttered. His husband and his team mates would find them. And they didn’t have to wait too long. About two hours later they could hear them. Shots, yelling and other noise of a battle. Two guards came in, their guns in their hands but before they could do something two knives landed in their backs and they slumped down. Natasha entered the cell block, took both guns and gave one to Phil and one to Jemma before she unlocked the doors.
“Hey, Phil,” she said in a conversational tone. She reached into her pocket and gave him a comm unit. He put it in his ear immediately and could hear the rest of his team and the Avengers talk.
“I have them,” Natasha just reported.
“Are you okay, Agent Coulson?” That was Steve Rogers voice.
“Yes,” he answered. “We’re not hurt, just pissed off,” he added then.
“That’s good to hear,” another voice, the one he wanted to hear more than anything else, Clint. Phil, Jemma and Leo followed Natasha out of the cell block and they met with Melinda a few seconds later. Just as they left the building Phil felt something whoosh past his ear and someone behind him yelped and gurgled. One of the AIM guys fell down, an arrow in his throat.
“Show off,” he said fondly and shot two of the evil guys in the next moment. Clint chuckled in his ear.
“I love you, too, Phil.”
“Let’s get you out of here first,” Tony threw in, “then you can get a room.”
Phil couldn’t hold back the smile and when the next arrow flew he saw the perch Clint was on and he saluted in his direction and signed, ‘I love you.’
More reading material for me 😁
Can you continue yours dark Brock Rumlow/Clint, where Clint resists, and Rumlow tries to break him and make him surrender? A little winterhawk would be great :3 Thanks!
Brock was all his life a connoisseur of beautiful human bodies. He loved to watch them, to touch them, to appreciate them. And it didn’t matter to him if it was a male or a female body. As long as it was well proportioned, good bemuscled and fit. Yes, that was his poison. And that’s what he found enough of within SHIELD… and with Hydra, too.
One of the people he had always admired for his perfect body was Clint Barton. His arms and legs were a sight for the gods, his chest was broad, his stomach flat and his waist trim, his ass was perfectly rounded and he had more than once seen him in the showers to know that the bulge in his pants was not a pair of socks.
Unfortunately – for him – Barton disliked him a lot. And so Brock never got a chance… until Hydra sent him to capture him. He had had him in his basement for some time and took his time to enjoy his exquisite body.
But now – after the debacle with his leg – Von Strucker took Barton away and he was not allowed to see him. Brock was not an idiot. He knew that Von Strucker was a powerful man and could let him disappear without a trace in an instant.
Unfortunately – for Barton – Von Strucker was away for a few days and his second in command owed him a favor.
Brock stood outside of Barton’s cell and watched the man lying on the hard cot. He slept. They had had him in the chair an hour ago, not to wipe him, they wanted to extract his knowledge but so far Barton still resisted.
Brock let his eyes roam over Barton’s body. It was a shame that they had to amputate the left leg above his knee but Von Strucker said he would get an artificial leg. They were just building it in the labs. But for now Barton was a little… handicapped. And Von Strucker was not here.
He turned away from the one way mirror and went to the door, unlocked it and let it slam against the wall. Barton startled and almost fell off of his cot. He blinked and then he saw him.
“Hey,” Brock grinned and went in. “You look like shit, Barton.”
“Fuck you,” he growled and tried to rise which was almost impossible with only one leg. He held himself upright on the wall but the stubborn bastard managed it and he glared at him.
“No, Barton,” Brock’s grin broadend. “Fuck you.”
“You can’t fucking do that!” Barton spat and tried to hobble away but he lost his balance and fell onto his knee and his hands. Brock was on him in an instant, grabbed him at his neck and pulled him up.
“Von Strucker’s not here,” he hissed in Barton’s ear. “And he won’t come back the next few days. Guess what?” He let his hand trail over Barton’s back and to his ass and squeezed it hard. “Your ass is mine for the next few days and no one – especially not your Bucky – can change that.”
“No way!” Barton spat and lashed out, landed a blow in Brock’s groin area but missed Bullseye, so to speak. But Brock winced nevertheless. It hurt and he backhanded Barton. He fell back onto his hands and groaned. Brock was on him a moment later, reached for his arm and twisted it on his back, forced him to lie on his belly. Barton struggled but the sessions in the chair and the operation, where they removed his destroyed leg had weakened him and it didn’t take long and Brock had him trapped beneath him.
“You’re mine!” he hissed and let his hands slide into the sweatpants they had given Barton. He cupped his dick and his balls and squeezed them and Barton groaned painfully, but didn’t scream out. “Mine! And I do what I want with you!”
Barton struggled even more and he almost got rid of him but then Brock pressed his knee in Barton’s back, held both wrists together with one hand and with the other he pulled down the sweats.
“And now I’m gonna take what’s mine and there’s nothing you can do.”
Barton didn’t scream.