If you’re new here and looking for a good place to start, a few of my favorites (and my most popular fics) are down in the “greatest hits” section under the cut! If you’re looking for something in particular, everything else is organized by category below.
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You can also find me on AO3.
Aka the mid-2000s punk band AU! Now with art by @misterknife right over here and by @vexedbeverage on Ao3 here!
Explicit, ~99k total.
Clint Barton fic prompt, GO
I was thinking about my @winterhawkbingo card, and I scrolled past this, and then... fic! So here’s Clint as a fairy, to fill my “myth rewrite” square. Featuring Steve and Bucky as soggy park rangers and Kate as the Lady of the Lake.
It’s exactly as ridiculous as it sounds.
Sometimes Bucky genuinely wishes he could stab his big dumb golden retriever of a best friend. Like… just a little bit of stabbing, would that be too much to ask?
“Right in the fuckin’ pec, deflate that shit like a balloon,” he mutters.
“What was that, Buck?”
Aka the mid-2000s punk band AU!
Explicit, ~90k total.
One / Two / Three / Four / Five / Six / Seven / Eight / Nine / Ten / Eleven / Twelve / Thirteen / Fourteen / Fifteen
Sweet Home Was Home ficlet! In which Bucky befriends a crow.
PG, 1600ish words. For my “morning rituals” square in @winterhawkbingo 💜
It’s a crow, of all the goddamn things — a heap of bedraggled black feathers, one wing flopping uselessly on the ground as it examines Bucky with a skeptical tilt of its beak. It looks utterly fed up with life, the universe, and everything.
Bucky pauses to scan the surrounding trees for possible family members. He looks down at the crow again, giving it a helpless shrug.
The crow lets out the most scornful caw he’s ever heard, as if to say, “Yeah, asshole, tell me about it.”
Bucky stares. The crow stares back.
“Fine,” Bucky huffs. “Sure. Why not?”
Winterhawk / 6k / explicit.
aka more tattooed soft dom Clint! now with feelings and hair washing. find the first three parts of the series here or check out a snippet below.
Bucky x Clint / explicit / 7566 words
For my “press conference” square in @winterhawkbingo! Read a snippet below or just go right to Ao3.
Clint kicks off his boots and heads for his bedroom. Then he stops short and just about swallows his tongue.
“Took you long enough,” Bucky says, husky and smug.
This fills my “aggressive flirting” square for @winterhawkbingo!
3371 words, PG-13.
“You must be Bucky,” he hears.
Before his brain can consciously process the words, his body is reacting, grabbing the switchblade from his hoodie pocket and launching himself at the stranger, shoving him up against the wall and holding the blade to his neck.
There’s just the faintest flicker of surprise on the guy’s face — the guy who he realizes very quickly must be Hawkeye.
Hawkeye barely blinks. His eyebrow ticks up a fraction. His eyes flick down, glancing at the knife, and his throat bobs as he swallows. Other than that, though — the Winter Soldier is holding a finely-honed weapon to his throat, and he’s not afraid. He’s not even ruffled.
Bucky should probably let him go now.
Hawkeye gives him a cheeky little grin, showing off white teeth and goddamn dimples, and he says, “You tryna flirt with me right now, Barnes?”
Bucky is so flustered he almost trips in his haste to back away.
In which Clint and Bucky try to let go of the past and start thinking about the future. They also celebrate the holidays, juggle knives, assemble furniture, see a musical, adopt a few strays, and rescue each other repeatedly.
~109,800 words, explicit.
Watching Me Watch Them (Bucky x Clint)
Something Sweet (Bucky x Yelena)
Cherry (Sam x Spencer)
Reveille (Natasha x Steve)
Knife’s Edge (Yelena x Kate)
Great At Boats (Clint x Darcy)
Apologies (Bucky x Sam)
Previous editions are here!
The first of several interconnected ficlets in which the Avengers go to a lake house. Kicking things off with some lazy Romanogers morning sex!
436 words, explicit.
Natasha stretches, catlike, in the morning sunshine. Vacation is a hell of a drug.
I got an anonymous request last time for this pairing! 796 words, mature.
Bucky knows he should put the brakes on this whole… whatever they’ve been doing. Flirting? Flirting is probably the best name for it. They haven’t crossed any lines they can’t un-cross, at least.
It makes him feel like a dirty old creep, but he can’t stop thinking about her.
In which Spencer eats a popsicle.
More suggestive and sweet than smutty. 240 words.
Sam’s really glad they’re almost back to their rental house. If they weren’t on a semi-public beach…
This was intended to be a drabble but is in fact a whole-ass fic. I’m posting it as part of Hump Day anyway! We’re starting early this week. You’re welcome.
The first of (at least) two follow-ups to Paper Thin Walls. No need to read that in order to get what’s happening here; all you need to know is that Clint’s got a bossy streak and nipple piercings. Title and inspiration for this whole series from “Paper Thin Walls” by Modest Mouse.
This fills my “the internet” square for @winterhawkbingo!
1230 words, explicit.
You can also read this on AO3 if you’d prefer!
“What, are you saying —”
Clint smirks, and there’s a hot dark jolt through Bucky’s gut. “Yeah, darlin’, I’m saying exactly what you think I’m saying. I was pretty young, but… the internet is forever, right?”
He’s so fucking casual about it, so unashamed, and Bucky loves that.
“What — how — why —” Oh, for fuck’s sake. “I just… gah?”
Clint laughs. “You wanna see,” he says, and it’s not a question. Bucky nods like a goddamn bobblehead doll.
Word Count: ~2100
Warnings: Implications of comics-canon-typical child abuse, but nothing on-screen. One innocent kiss when they’re thirteen. Less-innocent kisses when they’re twenty-three, but it’s all pretty PG-13.
A/N: For my “childhood friends” square in Winterhawk Bingo. This was supposed to be a ~500 word Hump Day ficlet, but… here we are! Do me a favor and pretend to be shocked by this turn of events?
Title/inspiration from “Grapefruit Moon” by Tom Waits. Header image features Rudy Pankow, who I have casted to play The Clint Who Lives In My Head, because of reasons.
It’s been a decade since Bucky last saw Clint, but there are some faces you just don’t forget.
When Clint moved in next door, he was a scrawny, scrappy twelve-year-old in jeans that were a couple sizes too big, with curious eyes and perpetually scraped knees. They spent most of their time together that summer, skipping stones in the neighbor’s muddy pond and stealing peaches from their tree, or making up names for new constellations.
Bucky taught him how to ride a bike. He told Clint to be careful about pedaling too fast down the big hill; Bucky made that mistake exactly once, years ago. He warned Clint about the risk, but Clint did it anyway, laughing the whole way, smiling so wide that for one thrilling second Bucky almost believed that he’d beaten gravity and wouldn’t ever crash.
Clint did crash, of course. He crashed spectacularly, but he never screamed like Bucky did; he was silent, smiling through the tears, as Bucky bandaged his skinned knees and bleeding palms with hands that shook from the secondhand adrenaline.
“Worth it,” Clint said, with a fierce grin, and as soon as his skin scabbed over, he tried it again.
When Bucky remembered him later, he tried to think about the night they went out after midnight to watch the Perseids. Clint’s foster parents had stopped letting him have sleepovers, but he snuck out the window anyway. They spent the night in Bucky’s backyard, lying in the grass, close enough that their arms sometimes brushed.
What happens when I listen to the Hold Steady on Easter while afflicted with major Bucky brainrot.
This is pretty dark and pretty weird and I wrote it in about an hour. Not sure what else to say. Warnings for mentions of drug use, death, Jesus, and violence. 680 words.
When the drugs wear off and the shaking starts, the Soldier is sprawled out on stone with his limbs all bent like a rag doll, and Jesus is looking down at him from the cross, bleeding from his crown of thorns and his punctured palms.
Rising from the dead don’t make you special, pal.
How many times has it been, now?
This is a ridiculous bit of nonsense involving a vibrating butt plug and some ninjas. The title is a Nicki Minaj lyric and the author is not sorry.
Fills my @winterhawkbingo “mistaken identity” square. ~1030 words. Rated mature for one (1) kiss, shirtless Matt Murdock, and the aforementioned plug.
Clint was having a fantastic night until the ninjas showed up.
