Marvel Imagines, Preferences, One Shots, etc.

Clint Barton- The Incident (c)

Your back was pressed against the floor as pain shot through you. Your hands pressed to the wound wrapping around the foreign object to relieve the bleeding from it. You weren't completely stopping it but you couldn't get anything to use to stop the bleeding in your current situation.

The archer knelt down next to you. He pushed his shirt from his shoulders bundling the fabric in his hands and pressing it firmly onto your shoulder wrapping it around the wooden stem poking from your flesh.

With the pressure it hurt substantially more but it was for the best, you'd get your revenge later.

"No! No, you can't die now! You just can't!" Clint exclaimed holding his hands on top of your wound.

From what you could see there wasn't overly too much blood in the first place, if anything he could be making the blood seep out more from the exit wound you presumed you had in your back.

"Well. Maybe you should have decided that before you shot me!" You growled, gritting your teeth to stop the pain from being revealed in your strangled voice.

"I'm so sorry. I...I didn't know it was you. You weren't wearing your coat and I was on edge. I didn't mean to shoot you. Luckily I missed my target I guess," he said in an awkward laugh, "I was aiming for your heart."

"I hate you Barton," you spat.

You and Clint had been dating for the longest time and after a painful mission and knowing that there were people out to hurt him and yourself he had been on edge. He had been prepared for every noise in your home with an arrow and shooting it at whatever it was. You happened to have forgotten to tell him you were coming home early and it was certainly a mistake you never planned to make again.

"Please don't die Y/N," he stated still holding down on the wound.

"I thought you'd done this before Barton? You haven't hit anything vital. I'll be alive to fight another day. You on the other hand, when this gets sorted out, you may never take another breath if I have my way," you hissed at him.

"I said I was sorry," he said softly.

"Don't make me punch you Clint. Because I will. Now help me up you arse hat," you frowned.

He held the apologetic look on his face as he kept one hand on the bloody cloth, and looped the other under your back, to support you and help raise you from the floor.

With loud cries and a few choice words he helped you sit up. He stood up and picked up cradling you in his arms.

"Are you okay? I'm not hurting you am I? I don't want to hurt you anymore," he rambled.

"You should have thought that through before you shoot me with an arrow you basket. Now get me to the hospital or to the tower if you are too embarrassed to explain the receptionist at the A&E that you shot your girlfriend because you were jumpy," you said bitterly.

He continued to apologise as he carried you out of the house and to the car.

~*~

Written by Charlotte.