➸ Salt Water by eiluned

Warnings: none 
Characters: Clint, Natasha
Genres: smut, angst | Smut: yes
Word count: 4348 | Status: complete

My comment:  Basically porn without plot.

His skin tastes like salt water.
She starts at his hipbone and traces the trails of ocean that slipped down his tanned flesh, lapping up the salt. She explores every ridge of muscle in his flat stomach, loves the strength of use and hard work she can feel there. He is strong because he fights, not because he vainly lifts weights. He is strong and flexible, and she wants to twist him into knots of pleasure.
It was a close quarters mission. They were holed up together in a goddamn shack on a beach in Nicaragua, tracking a drug cartel, and close quarters with her when it had been a good goddamn long while since Clint had gotten laid meant that he was about to claw down the fucking walls.
And Natasha, in her typically uncanny way, could read it in him.
He plunged into the Caribbean, but the water was too warm to cool him off, to quench the hot lust that kindled in his body at the sight of her. He thought she had gone into the jungle to check their cameras, but when he burst into the shack clad in just his wet boxer-briefs, she looked up at him from the book she was reading.
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➸ Playing House by chez_amanda

Warnings: none 
Characters: Clint, Natasha
Genres: angst | Smut: yes
Word count: 8825 | Status: complete

My comment:  An undercover mission as a couple makes our two favourite assassins confront their own feelings

Of all the things that Natasha Romanoff had been asked to do for a mission, being a housewife had to be the weirdest. There wasn’t any doubt in her mind that she couldn’t, but her domestic skills had never really come into play in her work with S.H.I.E.L.D. In order to fit into her cover and the conservative gated community where she and Clint were headed, Natasha had to buy a new wardrobe. She wasn’t one for sweater sets, but from the intel in her mission folder, the women in this community did not do worn jeans and fitted t-shirts. There was now a considerable amount of beige and pastel in her closet.
Natasha hated beige.
Clint didn’t seemed thrilled about the polo shirt and chinos he was wearing either. Every couple of seconds, he fidgeted with the collar or shifted in his seat and Natasha tried not to laugh. Tactical gear was perfectly fine, but a pair of khaki pants and a collared shirt made him uncomfortable. She looked out the window at the desert thousands of miles below as she ran through her cover’s facts once again.
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➸ Criminals by eiluned

Warnings: none 
Characters: Clint, Natasha
Genres: angst (?), alternate universe | Smut: yes
Word count: 1469 | Status: complete

My comment:  A Clintasha partners-in-crime AU 

Mexico was nice. Clint leaned back in his beach chair and rubbed at the scar on his leg; it ached despite the hot sun. But he liked Mexico, and he liked the sight of Natasha in a white bikini swaying across the sand, margarita in hand and red hair blowing in the breeze.
They started out as rivals, two assassins working for the same boss, and there was only room for one hitman at the top. Much to their mutual annoyance, they ended up on the same job, both given the assignment probably in the hope that one would kill the other. They killed the mark together, because it was that or die trying to finish the job separately.
Clint found Natasha in his bed that night, naked and seductive, and he knew she was there to kill him. He fucked her anyway, pinned her to the bed and fucked her until she screamed, and then she took her turn, tying his hands to the headboard and blowing his mind.
After that night, they decided they worked well together, in bed and out of it. He was the guns and she was the brains. She was a beautiful distraction and he never missed a shot. They stole from the best, traded in secrets, killed for the highest bidder.
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➸ Underneath and Unexplored by eiluned

Warnings: none 
Characters: Clint, Natasha
Genres: hurt/comfort | Smut: yes, explicit 
Word count: 5211 | Status: complete

My comment: A class on seduction with our favourite pair of assassins. A progression of emotion in five parts. Natasha-centric.

1. Natasha first tried to seduce Clint a few weeks after he helped her defect from Russia. Well, she gave it a half-hearted try back when he was just trying to kill her, but she didn’t think that counted.
The first time she tried it, she thought it was a way to repay her debt to him.
She was grateful, you see, that he had looked into her and saw something more than a coldly efficient spy and a killer. She was a coldly efficient spy and killer, but she had always felt something lurking beneath the surface. There was more to her than what she had been trained to do, but she had never really had the opportunity to dredge whatever that was from the bottom of her soul.
He looked at her and saw something. Maybe it was something familiar, something he recognized from himself, from his own past, but whatever it was, it made him stop, think twice about just putting her down. It made him defy his orders, made him help her rather than kill her.
And she thought sex would make up for that.
She was young back then, and her head was still firmly in a bad place.

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➸ Better Than Silence (series) by samalander

Warnings: none 
Characters: Clint, Natasha
Genres: smut, angst, hurt/comfort | Smut: yes 
Word count: 13585 | Status: work in progress

My comment: Clint and Natasha’s journey + loads of smut

When she got to SHIELD, fresh out of the Red Room program, Natasha had never made her own decisions, never been in charge of her own time. And suddenly there she was, an agent who was facing the most dangerous foe she’d ever seen–the revolutionary idea of weekends, of time to be herself. For the first time in her life, Natasha balked, and she wasn’t sure, later, if it was because she didn’t know how to take a day off, or because she didn’t know what self to be when the choice was left to her.
How she managed to go six months with barely any days off, taking mission after mission after mission, wearing out partners and handlers and support staff, Clint wasn’t sure. She probably had to make some promises, tell some lies. But she did it.
And when Hill found out, she was furious that Natasha had managed to skirt the rules about mandatory rest and recovery after missions. But Hill’s fury was never hot; never the safe kind that burned itself out on revenge. Hill was methodical and evil. She assigned Natasha to Strike Team Delta, because, she said, if Clint was going to recruit pain-in-the-ass agents, then Clint could deal with them himself.
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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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➸ Come and pin me down by chez_amanda

Warnings: none 
Characters: Clint, Natasha
Genres: humour (?) | Smut: yes
Word count: 3959 | Status: complete

My comment:  Clintasha smut. Need I say more?

The first time that Clint had pinned Natasha had been nothing more than an accident brought on by some turbulence. They were in the back of a quinjet after evac when the craft hit an air pocket. Clint had been going through a bag of gear across from where Natasha stood, and then he was suddenly on top of her, pressing her against the metal hull. Surprised, Natasha had stared at him and found he looked just as shocked as she felt. The discomfort of the hard wall behind her was muted by the residual pain the rest of her body was in from the fight on the ground, but she discovered that Clint’s solid body quickly made her forget all about it.
Apologizing, Clint made sure she wasn’t injured before he moved away to finish what he had been doing. She stood there a moment, wondering what that odd feeling had been, and then secured herself into one of the seats. The thoughts remained with her for the rest of the flight home.
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➸ Exposed by chez_amanda

Warnings: none 
Characters: Clint, Natasha
Genres: humour (?) | Smut: yes
Word count: 1020 | Status: complete

My comment:  Short and cute clintasha smut

Natasha strolled through the large ballroom, peering around each makeshift room she entered. Deep red drapery formed the walls and entryways. She had lost sight of their mark, Gaertner, after he disappeared into a back room with the two strippers that had been dancing on the stage downstairs. Her eyes scanned each room for any sign of the German, but she kept her demeanor relaxed and nonchalant. The heavy perfume of incense and sex hung in the air, making it thick. A slow, steady beat from hidden speakers around the room mixed with sighs and grunts and the occasional crack of a paddle or whip against flesh.
Someone walked up behind her, trailing their hand down her exposed back. She fought the urge to twist the arm behind her back and spun around to face the person who was touching her so intimately.
“Clint, don’t do that,” she said and leaned into his ear. “You know I can hurt you.”
“Is that a promise?” he asked, grinning at her.
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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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➸ Couldn’t Get That Boy To Kill Me by redbrunja

Warnings: none 
Characters: Clint, Natasha 
Genres: angst, hurt/comfort | Smut: yes
Word count: 3158 | Status: complete

My comment: Clintasha and angst and just Clintasha :)

Her right knee is dislocated, three ribs broken, wrist sprained. There’s blood dripping into her eyes, sweat stinging at her cuts, and she’s out of bullets. He’s panting, faced bruised to hell and back, the left leg of his fatigues glistening with blood, black on black, and he has an arrow pointed at her forehead.
Kill me, she thinks, empty gun trained right between his eyes.
She is so tired.
He lowers his weapon.
Natasha hates him for that for  years.
During her intake, with SHIELD combing through her mind and testing her body, she thinks she should have forced the issue, fought Barton until he put her down. She would have deserved it. Death clears all debts. But Natasha has never been one to take the easy way out. Dying wouldn’t wipe out the red in her ledger.

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➸ Find Your Way Home to Me by watts

Warnings: none 
Characters: Clint, Natasha 
Genres: angst, hurt/comfort | Smut: yes
Word count: 7926 | Status: complete

My comment: A quite accurately characterised Clintasha fic set before and during the catws events.

She’d been expecting him for a while by the time she heard someone approaching the door, pulling her handgun from beneath her pillow all the same. The footsteps paused and she knew he was pressing his hand into the recognition system, waiting for his name to pop up on the screen and grant him entrance. Natasha lowered her aim when the sliding door revealed Clint’s familiar frame, and he shot her a smile as he headed over to join her on her bed.
“The Winter Soldier, huh? Wasn’t expecting that one.”
“No,” she agreed, replacing the gun and leaning into Clint’s warmth as he sat down next to her and twined his arm around her shoulders, “me neither.”
“I thought nothing took you by surprise, Agent Romanoff.” She gave him a weary smile, letting her eyes shut as his hand slipped down her side and under the loose hem of her t-shirt, caressing her hip gently.
“Don’t be a smart-ass, Clint,” she chastised him mildly, all too willing to let his teasing slide as long as his ministrations continued. She’d learned early in their partnership that in such an exchange she always came away with the better deal. He chuckled and twisted his body, dropping his mouth to the shell of her ear and nipping at the sensitive skin in a way he knew all too well would elicit a moan from her. She kept herself passive, content with the progression, or lack thereof, really, of their conversation, practically purring with pleasure when his hand moved down to the juncture of her thighs, palming her through her panties.

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