Heroic Hearts: Avengers (Plus Bucky and Loki) Imagines!

"Clint it's me..." ~ Clint

Requested by Shaydon0720~

You walked carefully through the now silent streets of the city that never sleeps, clutching your small hand gun tightly. You'd gotten a call from Nick Fury telling you that there had been a commotion involving everyone's favorite evil Norse god.

Of course, the Avengers were also called and soon going to come and help you, but being that you are one of SHIELD's best agents, Fury felt it best that you investigate before any drastic measures were taken.

"Hello?," you whispered as you traveled to the back of a large and elegant building in which a grand ball was currently taking place. A slight rustling sound, indicating movement, came quickly in response. You held your gun at attention, obviously preparing it for a shoot out.

That all changed when your eyes met with the eyes of Clint Barton, you're one and only best friend.

"Clint?," you murmured, disbelief and confusion spiraling throughout your soul.

He simply stared at you. His eyes were a vibrant blue, and they seemed so incredibly full of life. However, his blank expression proved otherwise.

You cautiously took a step closer to him, slightly lowering your gun.

"Clint...it's me..."

He did not move a muscle. He stood like a statue, emotionless, lifeless, and cold.

That is, until you'd completely dropped your weapon. It had happened subconsciously, because Clint was your best friend. Pointing a gun at him simply felt unnatural. I mean, why would you ever have to do that?

He successfully answered your mental question when he whipped out his bow and shot an arrow directly at your head in one swift movement. Luckily, and thanks to your training with SHIELD, you dodged it.

"Clint! What's the matter with you?!," you cried.

No answer, just more arrows.

You expertly swung your body in many directions, allowing each fast-moving arrow to glide past you and plunge into the wall. Although your mind was a frantic mess and your stomach was in knots, you were able to maintain some of your basic fighting techniques.

"Clint! Please! I don't want to have to hurt you!"

He ignored you and kept shooting until he got a hit. The sharp point of his poised arrow pierced the sensitive skin of your right shoulder, causing you to stumble into the hard brick wall then slide down to the floor. The wound quickly started to bleed, and you placed your hand over it in desperation.

Clint now walked over to you, another arrow slipped between the bow and his fingers, aimed at your head.

"Clint...please..."

His face was still without emotion...or at the least, lack of understanding towards your weak plea.

"Clint...it's me...(Y/n)...I'm your best friend," a few cold tears slipped down your cheeks, "I love you so much, please don't do this."

His left eye twitched at the word 'love'.

"Yes...Clint I love you," you let out a tiny sob, "I guess now is...well...is the best time for me to admit it. I've been in love with you since the day we met. I hid my emotions because I thought you'd never feel the same way. I don't know if you do...but please...break free of whatever trance Loki has you under so I can find out."

His eyes seemed to lose a bit of their electric blue power, and his arrow slightly lowered.

"That's it. Come on. You can do it, for me...please...for me..."

The blood loss from your shoulder slowly caused black spots to float across your vision.

"Please...Clint...," your eyes began to flutter as your face grew pale. Clint watched you, a contorted expression of confusion and desperation to understand spread across his features.

Then, as you began to fall into a not-so-blissful sleep, something clicked.

"(Y-Y/n)?," Clint muttered. More of his mind returned to him and he began to recognize the sleeping girl on the ground as his best friend. "(Y/n)!"

He knelt by your limp body, frantically checking for your pulse and signs of breathing.

"Oh god, (Y/n) I'm so sorry! I don't know what-! I-I couldn't-! I-!," he stammered through panic, "Don't worry, you're going to be ok!" He quickly and carefully scooped up your unconscious body, and began swiftly making his way away from the elegant building.

It was not very long until he emerged from the shadows provided by the tall structure and was met face to face with dozens of police cars along with several flying SHEILD helicopters.

"Please! Help me! Help her!," he looked down at your restlessly sleeping face, which contorted every few seconds in pain, "Please! She's hurt!"

One helicopter landed, the one being flown by Natasha Romanoff. She jumped out of the aircraft and ran to Clint's side, observing your wound carefully.

Without much worry, her words more frantically rushed, she said, "Get her on the helicopter. We'll take it from here."