➸ Pick-up Lines and Mistletoe by dauntlessblackhawk (ff.net)

Warnings: none 
Characters: Clint, Natasha, Barney Barton
Genres: humour, romance | Smut: no
Word count: 1335 | Status: complete

My comment: Short and sweet Clintasha AU one-shot just in time for Christmas!

When Clint Barton was a kid, he never really celebrated Christmas. Every other house in his neighbourhood would be beautifully decorated with red and green lights, with grand Christmas trees that sat in corners of living rooms, and stockings that hung neatly above warm fireplaces. But his house was always dark and gloomy. Clint lost his mother when he was five and his brother, Barney, six. Their father was the one who had driven her to the edge of insanity, which was what made her end her own life, leaving two sons (who were too young, really) to fend for themselves. Their father drank, a lot. He gambled, often. Every time he lost money from gambling (which happened really frequently), he’d get himself drunk and start hurling heavy objects towards the brothers.
That was an everyday occurrence until the day Barney turned fifteen. Barney had been unwrapping his only birthday present (something Clint got him that’s really not worth mentioning) when they heard two clear raps on their front door. 
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➸ Cupid by AlphaKantSpell

Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, suicidal thoughts 
Characters: Clint, Natasha, Phil Coulson, Barney Barton
Genres: alternate universe (ish), hurt/comfort, romance | Smut: yes 
Word count: 46088 | Status: work in progress

My comment: What if Clint was actually a cupid? A cute (yet at times heartbreaking) Clintasha fic.

“Well Fuck.”
The capital F was important. It stood for “Frankly Ulcers Can Kill,” as in he felt a lethal ulcer forming because of the given circumstances. Those weren’t things a person said upon meeting the love of their life, with a capital F or otherwise. However, Clint had never been a normal person. Not even in the unusual fellow sort of sense – he was literally not a person. To be more precise he was a Cupid. ‘Match Maker, Match Maker make me a match’. That kind. He had wings and everything (though they were tiny – no bigger than a quail’s wings, not even restaurant quality). Clint even had an inexhaustible set of magic love sparking arrows, though that’s getting ahead of things.
More important than all the menial tidbits about Cupids and their duties was the fact that Clint could see the love strings that connected any random person to any other random person. They came in a multitude of colors from platonic friendly yellow to Roxanthin Red for romantic love, invisible and intangible to non Cupids. He once followed a rosebud pink line from a quiet girl on a city bus to a farm hand several miles away. The string connected the two by their ring fingers over the long distance without snagging. Clint pricked the woman with an arrow (just as invisible to her as her own love line) with an urge to stop by the farm one day soon. As far as he knew the couple was still happily married.
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