➸ Colours of My World by thiswilldrivemecrazy

Warnings: none 
Characters: Clint, Natasha 
Genres: romance, alternate universe | Smut: none 
Word count: 2428 | Status: work in progress

My comment: AU where everything is black and white until you meet your soulmate. My favourite AU tbh, pity this story isn’t finished, I really hope the author intends to continue writing it!

Clint lives in a black and white world. It makes things easier, really. Targets are sharper, and he knows how things work. Stuck on a mission in the depths of Russia in winter, he knows everything is pretty much black and white anyway, until he glances down his binoculars at his target. He’s memorized her face, so he knows it’s the right person, but no-one had thought to mention her hair colour, or the brilliant green of her eyes, standing out starkly against the black and white of the terrain. He’s mesmerized by the colours and knows that he cannot take the shot. He won’t be the one to put her down. Instead, he stows his weapon, and starts to move towards her. He knows she’s dangerous, and he just has to hope she’s not going to see him as a target.
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➸ Caught by execution_empress

Warnings: none 
Characters: Clint, Natasha
Genres: romance, alternate universe | Smut: no
Word count: 1989 | Status: complete

My comment:  A cute mermaid!Natasha and circus archer!Clint AU :)

Working in the circus, Clint’s seen a lot of sideshow attractions. He’s seen them come and go, some staying for years while others only last a season. He’s seen those that are real and those that are fake. Usually those that are real weren’t as interesting as the phony ones.The phony ones all mimick fantasy creatures. Unicorns and baby dragons. Satyrs and centaurs. There were even a few that pretended to be merpeople.
It was easy to see why Clint wasn’t impressed with the new attraction.
She only travels by tank, which Clint thinks is ridiculous. He hears her protest over the bathing suit top she needs to wear until a few good points make her put it on (reluctantly, of course). Her tail, though it looks life-like, is something she constantly wears. He wonders when she ever leaves her tank or how she even goes to the bathroom in that thing. There are a few scales on her skin and a fin on her back and he admires the details, as well as make-up work, that went into her design.
He’s not fooled though. He still thinks it’s all an act.
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➸ 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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➸ Bruises by Tahllydarling (ff.net)

Warnings: none 
Characters: Clint, Natasha
Genres: angst, hurt/comfrot, romance | Smut: yes
Word count: 66683 | Status: complete

My comment:  Angst angst and angst! Clint tries to deny his feelings for Natasha without any success. But right now, Natasha needs him, and he’ll go to the end of the world for her. A must read.

For several months he had tried to conceal the desire he felt for her whenever they are in close proximity but he knew he was fighting a losing battle. His desire for her would be his undoing and possibly the end of his career with SHIELD. He had made his peace with that thought some time ago and was content to sacrifice life as he knew it for he chance to be the one man she lit up for when she stepped into a room. Now however, she needed him more than she had ever needed him before and he was determined no matter the cost he would be there for her.
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➸ Worlds Collide by SugarFey 

Warnings: none 
Characters: Clint, Natasha
Genres: angst, hurt/comfrot, romance | Smut: yes
Word count: 13215 | Status: complete

My comment:  A story of the development of Clint and Natasha’s relationship from the first day they met.

She has been in America for a month and progressed from interrogations with suspicious S.H.I.E.L.D agents to men and women in tweed with degrees in front of their names. Somewhere S.H.I.E.L.D has gone from considering her a threat to a salvageable asset.
She is not sure what to make of that.
Barton visits her in a quiet moment between the endless physical examinations and interviews. He tells her about the new bow he is testing, how the strike team he is placed on won’t stop bickering and that he isn’t allowed to smoke on base. After a good ten minutes of blather he asks about her day.
“They did a pelvic exam.”
Barton nods as if considering the information. “Ouch.”
She shrugs. Being poked and prodded by men in lab coats is a known variable.
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➸ After The Bombs by SugarFey 

Warnings: none 
Characters: Clint, Natasha
Genres: angst, romance, alternate universe | Smut: yes
Word count: 3151 | Status: complete

My comment:  Heartbreaking yet beautiful Clintasha au fic, set during wartime. 

Three weeks after Natasha moved in to a draughty attic room in a boarding house in London, a letter arrived in the post, bearing the address of an American convalescent hospital. They were Clint’s words but not in his hand, as if he had dictated to a nurse or some helpful volunteer, and Natasha read the letter standing at the kitchen table, one hand flat against the wood in case she needed to steady herself.
She boarded a train at two o’clock that afternoon and sat in the window seat of an empty compartment, watching burnt husks of buildings give way to trees and fields that reminded her of Bletchley Park.
The military hospital was grey, character-less and sterile. Nurses and doctors in starched uniforms filled the corridors and the smell of cleaning fluid stung her nose. It took a short while for Natasha to find the ward named in the letter, but finally she did.
The doctor in the ward gave her an indulgent smile that did not quite meet his eyes. “He can’t hear very well,” he told her. “And he might have trouble speaking. But he can write.”
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➸ Mr. & Mrs. Barton (Or: Why Natasha Sends Jennifer Aniston an Annual Apologetic Fruit Basket) by shellybelle

Warnings: none 
Characters: Clint, Natasha
Genres: romance, drama, au | Smut: yes
Word count: 13630 | Status: complete

My comment:  A must-read Clintasha Mr and Mrs Smith AU. It is just not possible to not have imagined our favourite pair of assassins playing the two main roles while you watch Mr and Mrs Smith, right?

“Egy nagy tejeskávé, kérem.” 
Something about the woman’s voice caught Clint’s attention, and he glanced up from his newspaper in time to see a slim, pretty redhead flash a dazzling smile at the barista as she handed over some cash in exchange for a large cup of foam. She turned away, tossing a few red curls out off her forehead, and Clint caught her eye.
She stopped for half an instant. Hesitated an instant more.
And then, slowly, cautiously, she smiled.
Clint tilted his head to the side, nudged the other chair away from the table, and raised an eyebrow in invitation.
The woman set her bag on the floor and sat down across from him, her latte in her hands. “So,” she said in American-accented English, and damn but that voice was like honey dripping off the comb. “You’re American.”
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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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➸ I’m Not Ready (For the Weight of Us) by Sproid

Warnings: none 
Characters: Clint, Natasha, Phil Coulson, Maria Hill
Genres: hurt/comfort, angst, romance | Smut: yes 
Word count: 7655 | Status: complete

My comment: Clintasha in the early days of their partnership.

Clint isn’t worried.
Really, he’s not. He knows damn well that Natasha’s capable of handling whatever Fury throws at her and then going back for more. Just because she’s been in his office for three hours now doesn’t mean that things are going badly. Fury probably approved Natasha’s enrollment with SHIELD within two minutes, and they’ve spent the rest of the time exchanging frightening stories from their even more frightening pasts.
No, Clint isn’t worried. He might be a little anxious though, which is why he’s currently sat in his room cleaning his bows while listening to radio chatter. Just in case. If Natasha and Fury had a throwdown he’d probably hear the commotion even from here, but it pays to have an ear to every available source of information.
At the knock on his door, Clint scrambles off the bed so quickly that he almost gets tangled up in the sheets and just barely stops himself going head first into the wall. Gives his elbow a good whack in the process though, which hurts like hell. When he opens the door to Natasha, who definitely heard the thump, she looks amused but doesn’t say anything. Clint’s pride is grateful for that.
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➸ In love and war by Anuna

Warnings: none
Characters: Clint, Natasha 
Genres: hurt/comfort, romance | Smut: yes 
Word count: 2720 | Status: complete

My comment: After Clint makes a different call, Natasha tries to sleep with him as some kind of debt payment. Most of these fics have him declining - but this fic explores the possibility that he does actually sleep with her and emotions.

They say everything is allowed in love and war. Except love is for children and war is for fools.
Natasha isn’t sure she likes the list of rules that SHIELD has, but at the same time, their disciplinary procedures usually don’t involve killing their operatives. She is still not trusted enough to be sent on a mission on her own. She is being trained, observed, briefed, and everything she does, every intel she gives is being checked and double checked. She knew, of course, that this would happen and she agreed to it, but it doesn’t make the process go any faster, and she doesn’t feel any easier. She likes to spend her time sparring, but most other agents don’t enjoy sparring with her.
Then there’s agent Barton. Hawkeye. Clint. That guy who was sent to put an arrow through her, and he could have, but he didn’t. Instead he offered her a cigarette and told her that he really didn’t want to spill her blood. She looked at him and she knew that he could do it, that his decision wasn’t caused by some kind of a weakness but a conscious choice. She thinks about it – the way the rain poured over the street, wide and empty as he waited for her, his cigarette a single spot of light in the long sea of darkness. Clint is like that light, small, just a spot, but it’s there and you can’t miss it. It’s an unnerving thought, too large to fit, and it’s pricking her mind. She owes him. The notion is constantly there, even when it’s silent.
She feels indebted.
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➸ Adagio, allegro by Anuna

Warnings: none 
Characters: Clint, Natasha 
Genres: alternate universe, romance | Smut: none 
Word count: 1230 | Status: complete

My comment: Cellists!Clintasha au! It’s a very beautiful piece of work. You’ll love it even more if you know how to play instruments or at least read music, like me.

Natasha blinks and pries her eyes open to the sounds of rain beating against the window. Allegro her mind supplies, too insistent for early hour. She closes her eyes. The bed is soft and warm, even more than usually, and she stretches and turns toward the man sleeping next to her. Clint’s breathing is steady, calming largo so she buries her face against his chest and he doesn’t even stir. She remains like that, listening to symmetric beat of his heart, the full thump – thump – thump echoing under her palm. She remains like that for couple of minutes, until last remnants of sleep are gone.
She gets up, goes to the bathroom collecting Clint’s shirt from last night on the way hoping it would somehow contain his warmth. It doesn’t, but it still smells of him, which distracts her from the cold floor boards under her bare feet. She finds her thick woolen socks in the bathroom and pulls them on as she sits on the toilet. The wool is rough and it scratches while she brushes her teeth and observes her reflection. Her face in the mirror shows lack of sleep, but she’s not complaining about that. Then she goes to the kitchen, makes herself a cup of black tea (strong) and wanders into the living room.
Two cellos rest in the middle of the living room, hers comfortable against the far end of her green sofa, and Clint’s taking up the space in front of the big armchair. She nears it until she can study it from up close. The strings are all neat and the wood is well cared for, but she can see its age, she can see it’s worn, reminding her of an old soldier wearing his best uniform.
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➸ girl leave your boots by the bed by sweetwatersong

Warnings: none 
Characters: Clint, Natasha 
Genres: romance | Smut: none 
Word count: 462 | Status: complete

My comment: Short and beautiful Clintasha fic with perfect characterisation.

Another day, another mission, another SHIELD safe house with red clay bootprints on the carpeted stairs, bloodstains on the floral hallway pattern. Clint would feel bad about it, really, but any agent who outfitted a bolthole should know better than to imitate Martha Stewart’s tastes in a place meant to be shot up and blown to hell. Maybe they’ve already resigned from SHIELD and taken up interior decorating, the archer thinks almost grimly as he opens the master bedroom door with one hand, supporting Natasha with the other.
Once the spacious shower and wall of mirrors reveal that the worst injuries are deep scrapes and bad grazes only, he thinks a little more kindly of the unknown agent. It doesn’t keep him from tromping through the pristine white bedroom in his unlaced and dripping boots. The beautiful queen-sized quilt he sinks onto, however, does give him a pang of guilt.
Natasha opens one of the sun-ward windows, letting a fresh breeze in to clear out the steam and stale air. She pauses there afterwards, raw hands resting on the windowsill as the spare set of sweats hangs on her shoulders, off her hips and the knee she keeps half-bent. He understands, appreciates too the rare moment of peace; for all that they are nominally running, there is no danger now, no need to watch for shadows in the suburban streets or around the magnolia trees.
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