***BLOG ON HIATUS*** AVENGERS. Clintasha.
Also Steve/Tony, Science Bros, pretty much anything you can think of, I've probably shipped it at some point and can write a decent enough little fic just for you.
Just send me prompts, ideas, things you secretly want to read but can't or won't write yourself. -- FOR THE MASTER LIST OF EVERYTHING AWESOME CLICK THE STORY LIST BUTTON!
Clintasha (Blackhawk) fic
Natasha wandered into the bedroom late in the evening, looking weary but happy. Clint smiled, and patted the bed next to him. She climbed in and snuggled into him. He couldn’t help the happy grin that tugged at his lips when the curve of her firm belly pressed against him.
“I went to see Bruce today,” she said quietly. He turned to her, surprised.
“Without me?” he asked, frowning.
“I wanted to surprise you,” she grinned. “I found out what we’re having.”
“I assumed it was a baby,” he chuckled. She punched him lightly on the arm.
“If you don’t want to know, I won’t tell you.”
“No!” he exclaimed. “I want to know. Please.”
She smiled again. “Are you sure?”
“Tasha,” he growled, glaring.
“You’re going to have a son,” she told him, biting her lip. Clint was silent for several long seconds.
“It’s a boy?” he said softly, gazing at her.
“Yeah,” she grinned. He gave a strangled choking sound and wrapped his arms tightly around her, rocking them slightly.
“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice muffled by his shoulder.
“Yeah,” he answered roughly, unable to hide the massive smile plastered across his face. “It’s just… oh my God, I’m going to have a son!” He laughed aloud, and buried his face in her hair, grinning inanely. She laughed, and pushed him back a little, cupping his face in her hands.
“I love you,” she chuckled, nudging his nose with hers. There were tears pooling in the corners of his eyes and she wiped them away, smiling lovingly at him.
“I love you too,” he managed to choke out, and his hand found its way to rest on her round stomach.
They both felt the movement at the same time. His eyes widened, and she bit her lip, holding his gaze. Clint just stared between her eyes and her stomach.
“He kicked,” he said softly.
“He’s saying hi to his dad,” she smiled. He gave a choked sob and pressed his face into her neck. She stroked her fingers through his hair and laughed softly. “Stop being a baby.”
“Shut up,” he mumbled, holding her tightly.
“Never,” she whispered. They fell asleep like that, pressed impossibly close together.