A community for fans of Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff aka Hawkeye and Black Widow, as individuals and together, and the wider marvel universe.
We track #be_compromised and #clintasha
Comminity also on discord and dreamwidth.
AO3 tag: community: be_compromised
We're a community for fans of Clint Barton AKA Hawkeye and Natasha Romanov AKA Black Widow both as individuals and together, as well as the broader Marvel Universe (MCU, comics, TV, and games), which started on LiveJournal in 2012 and migrated over to Dreamwidth in May 2017. All types of fanwork are welcome
Our Discord server (link on how to join) which is where the majority of fannish interaction happens now. Dreamwidth serves primarily as the hub for community events and exchanges, as well as a record of important announcements. We also use the Community: be_compromised tag on AO3 as a way to collate fics written for and by the community and we have a masterlist tag for comm events.
If you would like to join us here at be_compromised, welcome! We're excited to meet you. We just ask that you adhere to the rules below, which are the result of policy discussions between mods and community members over the years. They apply to both community members and anyone who takes part in any of our community events.
Also, if you do decide to join our community or even just take part in community exchanges, please add your name to the Community Username Database. It will help the mods immensely, and ensures you are correctly credited when crossposting masterlists across platforms.
The Rules
1. Be kind. This is a positive fandom space. If you cannot be kind to your fellow community members, then this is not the space for you.
2. Bigotry will not be tolerated. We aim to be a friendly and inclusive fandom space, accepting people regardless of race, gender, sexual orientation, religion, political views, or any other characteristic. If you have any issues with another person in the comm, or if you have been made to feel unsafe or unwelcome by a member, please reach out to the mods. We will do what we can to help.
3. Plagiarism will not be tolerated. We are interested in what YOU create, in what YOU put your time and effort into, not your ability to copy and paste what someone else has put time and effort into. If someone should post a story or other fanwork which has been plagiarised (meaning, the use of another person’s work in any way without their permission and credit), then that person will be banned from this community. We do not issue warnings for this.
4. Character bashing and ship wars are an assassinable offence. As long as focus remains on Clint Barton and/or Natasha Romanov, any pairings or characters are welcome. Just because a character or pairing isn't your favourite, doesn't mean they're not someone else’s. Don't harsh on others' squee.
5. This is not the space for Real Person Fanfic (RPF) or speculation on the personal lives of MCU actors or their families.
6. Place anything Not Safe For Work (NSFW) behind a cut or a link, or warn for it in advance some way. Some members are under 18, some members have small inquisitive children, some people might check the comm on their work break. It doesn't matter the reason, please warn for anything you'd class as Mature or Explicit on AO3.
7. Either tag your fanwork warnings appropriately, or Choose Not To Warn (CNTW). The minimum required for a fanwork posted to this community is a rating (film rating definitions are very helpful, or you can use AO3's system) and warnings. If you're worried about spoilering your work through your warnings, you can Choose Not To Warn or hide your warnings (see useful links below for ways to do this). But you must do one or the other. General warnings to consider are Character Death, Graphic Violence, Rape/non-con, Dub con, Underage, and Graphic injury/illness/trauma, but any warnings you feel necessary should be tagged for. If, as a reader, you would like clarification regarding a tag or the content of a fanwork, most creators are happy to provide additional information regarding their works. Mods can be contacted if you feel a work has been tagged incorrectly, but do be aware that we only have the ability to moderate content here and on our Discord. If the work is hosted on AO3, we are unable to do anything about the author's choice of tags.
Community AI Policy: We at be_compromised consider AI generated content to be a form of plagiarism and do not want it as part of our community experience. However, as AO3 has yet to come out with a definitive policy regarding the use of AI, the most we can ask of users crossposting AI generated works from AO3 to here or our Discord using the Community: be_compromised tag, is that you please tag your work as AI generated so people are aware of this. We also acknowledge that AI images are not always easy to spot, so while we will definitely appreciate your best efforts to tag for such things when making recs lists or crossposting from tumblr, we understand that catching everything is not possible. We do not want to deter people from sharing recs.
Handy Links
The ratings guide used by the Motion Picture Association of America (how most things are rated and generally why)
AO3 Content Rating System: a guide to AO3 ratings and warnings
About AO3 tags and tagging, AKA how do I tag for Avengers This was last updated in 2014 but is still a really good explanation on the AO3 tagging system and how it works.
Three different AO3 collections for HTML, coding and Custom Site Skins (CSS): (1) A Guide to Coding and Fanworks (2) Fanfiction Reference Works (3) HTML & CSS stuffs
A HTML guide for Dreamwidth
How to create a Read More cut on Dreamwidth
How to create a cut tag/expand option on Dreamwidth (this also works on AO3)
How to make DW text the same colour as the background behind it so people have to highlight the text to be able to read it
If you have any queries, if you're unsure about anything, or if you have any problems please message us here or a mod. Your mods are: inkvoices and gsparkle (AKA quidnunc-life), with franztastisch (AKA CloudAtlas) helping out. We're all available across all platforms be_compromised operates on, but the fastest way to get a reply is to message us on Discord.
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Clint: You used to say “I’m going to kill myself.” But now you’re only going to FAKE your death! This is truly an improvement. Maybe soon enough we’ll get to the point of “this sucks but I’m going to keep living my regular life.”
Natasha: Shut your mouth and help me fake my death
Leipzig-Halle Airport. The air held its breath as they stood listening to Steve explain the plan; the quinjet, the flight to Siberia, the likelihood of Tony intercepting their route. It was almost halcyon how simplistic Rogers made it.
Fighting your friends.
Sam knew the Sokovia Accords tore a seam through them but to see it unravel to this extent...to simply hurting someone you'd laughed over dinners with...his throat dried out of excuses for how he felt.
He was sad.
He knew which side he'd picked and he stood by his convictions, but above the treeline of adverse opinion and rampant arguing--he was sad to be fighting his friends.
Still, his courage clung to his resolve and he faced ahead, laying dirt over his emotions.
"Hey." Clint said lowly, his gaze hidden under visors. He seemed the least bothered of anyone on either side, like he'd already gone past the treeline and seen how things end.
Whatever resolution he saw, he hadn't shared it with anyone. He hadn't even argued half as much.
His arm veered toward Sam who looked down to see an open, waiting palm then back up to see a severed expression.
Maybe Clint saw nothing at all.
Sam took his hand and felt a tight squeeze.
"Find me. When all this is over," Clint continued under his breath.
Sam didn't say anything. He didn't even know what Clint meant but--
"I'll be looking, too." Clint finished.
--but his emotion unearthed and for a moment, just a moment, he saw it. A glimpse beyond the treeline.
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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Clint Barton/Phil Coulson
Characters: Phil Coulson, Clint Barton
Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Marriage Proposal, PowerPoint, Budget Defense, minor off screen character death, I promise somehow all these tags make sense together
Summary:
Once a year, SHIELD shifts its focus from the mission and to budget defense.
In which Phil Coulson makes PowerPoint slides, deals with an operation gone to hell, and gets an unexpected surprise from Clint Barton.
I’m late to the Winterhawk party, but I humbly offer this in recompense. I’ve been voraciously consuming winterhawk content for awhile and I just really needed to draw something. Expect more in the future.
I know everyone calls the ship winterhawk but…why are we all sleeping on Clucky? It’s perfection. :P I must keep up my tradition of supporting ships with ridiculous portmanteaus.
Please do not repost. Re-blogging is very much welcomed!
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(3.1k / warnings for injuries and hospital scenes / a/n - last day until I put together the bonus fic which will come at some point, to everyone going through it atm, I see you, we can do hard things.)
Smoke and Shadow dance as one (under the moon or under the sun)
Clint thinks he should have known,
Perhaps it’s easier in hindsight, it’s the only way to truly know a thing, as it’s already happened.
Stress gives voice to things you wouldn’t normally say, and sometimes, that’s the difference between a good outcome and shit one.
She was so damn impulsive, especially when it came to kids.
He knows this.
She’d convinced the whole team to join them on the god forsaken mission.
He’d gone along with it on less intel than they both usually had and the whole damn thing was just haphazard and wrong.
He sighs heavily.
Hindsight.
Clint stands, shaking his hands and throwing the coffee in the bin, the taste of it too bitter.
Tony sees him and gives half a wave, his face grim as he walks to meet him.
“You look serious,” he tells him.
Clint tries to wave it off.
“I just keep thinking…”
“How it turned into such a shit show?” Tony finishes.
Clint nods.
“We all agreed to help.”
Clint waves him off.
“I know, I know.”
Tony’s face becomes more serious.
“You don’t blame her do you?”
Clint is silent.
“No?”
The question in the answer is telling and Tony leads him to sit down.
“It’s not her fault.”
“Do you see her here? It’s because she feels guilty! She should be here checking that he’s okay!”
Tony frowns.
“Do you really think that’s true?”
Clint shrugs.
“You know her better than anyone. Do you really think she meant for this to happen?”
Clint hates that it’s Tony that is the voice of reason, the one that dampens his anger and makes him feel sorry for Natasha.
He’s right.
Of course he is, Natasha would never intentionally put anyone in harms way.
It begs the question of where she is.
She’d gone to the bathroom.
He’d assumed to lick her wounds after the argument they’d had where’d he’d blamed her for the fuck up.
That had been half an hour ago.
“He’s still in surgery isn’t he?”
Tony nods.
“He’ll be out soon, his healing factors generally make themselves known pretty quickly. A day at most and he’ll be back to his cheerful self.”
Clint sighs and rubs his face.
Sticking his hands in his pocket, he sits and Tony plonks himself down in the seat next to him.
Their conversation replays and Clint feels the pang of guilt at his words.
“I didn’t mean to,” she’d started.
“Intent doesn’t matter, only consequences,” he’d replied.
The look of hurt that had flashed across her face and the immediate withdrawal down the hall had flared anger in him.
He perhaps should have gone after her.
“Go find her,” Tony tells him, rolling his eyes.
“She won’t listen to me.”
“She rarely listens to any of us, but on the rare occasion she does, it’s you who she’ll listen to.”
Clint closes his eyes and stands, nodding, the guilt now swirling in his veins, becoming insistent and overwhelming.
“It’s not her fault,” Tony reminds him, grabbing his wrist, and staring at him intently.
“Shit happens.”
.
He finds her on the stairs.
Head in hands and curled into herself.
“Nat?”
She doesn’t move, and he tries not to take offense.
He can see her chest move up and down and her head bobs.
Concern moves him forward.
“Nat?”
“Leave me alone,” she whispers.
He stays where he is, and frowns.
“Steve’s going to be okay,” he starts.
“He’s in surgery and the healing factors, well they’re doing a lot of the work for the doctors. Tony says he’ll probably be okay…”
There’s blood on the floor.
A small pool underneath her.
“Nat, turn around…”
She doesn’t move.
He moves with purpose now, two steps and he’s by her side.
“Shit.”
She’d been covered in Steve’s blood.
“Tell me this is just Steve’s,” he asks, her sweating face pale as he lifts her chin to look at him.
Anger passes and then pain as her eyes glaze.
Her hand holds steadily to her side, the towel she’d swiped from the nurses station now soaked pink.
Forty five minutes she’d been bleeding, and probably another twenty to the hospital.
“Let me see,” he asks as gently as he can, trying to eliminate the worry and overall shittiness from his voice.
She doesn’t move but he doesn’t know if it’s because she won’t or can’t.
Slowly he lifts her top.
The bullet hole is visible.
It must have hit her vest then lodged in her skin. He can see the line and the burn marks around it.
“I didn’t realise,” she whispers, “and then, I thought…”
There’s a sharp intake of breath as Clint pushes the cloth back and motions for her to stand.
She’s lost so much blood, she can’t make it upright without his help.
“Fuck, Nat. What the fuck.”
He’s sure she was going to say that she thought she deserved it.
And he’d made her felt like she had.
“You’re okay,” he whispers as she leans heavily on him.
And all of a sudden she’s not.
She’s a dead weight in his arms.
.
Tony hears Clint’s shout before he sees him.
He’s standing and moving before his mind catches up to what he’s seeing.
“Get a doctor,” Clint shouts at him.
She’s in his arms.
Tony moves fast, trying to find someone around.
The nurse that appears takes one look and calls a code.
A gurney appears and all of a sudden they’re cutting Natasha’s clothes off her.
Clint looks on, trying to tell them what he knows but he’s at a loss when they find another bullet in her leg.
She has a pulse, but still they intubate her and ask Clint and Tony to step back.
They take her quickly from there and all of a sudden it’s quiet again.
Clint is covered in her blood.
“I said it was her fault,” he whispers as Tony turns to face him.
“I said that she was the reason Steve got shot, when really she was keeping him alive.”
Tony lays a hand on his shoulder, wordless for once, knowing they’d all fucked up.
Natasha had rushed the mission.
Steve had got shot in the bravado of always being first in.
Clint had raged and said things he didn’t mean.
And Tony? He’s sure there’s some blame in there somewhere, not being able to keep his friends safe.
Clint shudders, and Tony thinks he’s crying. Now would be the time and Tony thinks he’d join in if he didn’t feel so numb.
He feels the man beside him take a heaving breath in, trying to get himself under control, and then rub his face down.
“It’ll be okay,” Tony placates.
“Yeah,” Clint mutters.
“I know.”
.
The nurse finds both Clint and Tony pacing in front of the doors, and she glances at the time.
They haven’t left, even when she had encouraged them to.
Clint was still covered in blood but at least his hands were washed.
They stare at her and she realises that she’s been staring and not talking.
“Sorry,” she apologises, “they’re both okay, you can come in now. You can stay until around 8 but then you’ll have to leave.”
They both start forward, and she leads them through the corridors, a left turn and then a right, past other families praying or grieving and visiting loved ones.
She likes the ICU.
It’s the border of life really, so quickly things change here and often it’s the line between life and death.
She stops in front of Captain America’s room, he’s already smiling and eating the meal that was presented. She thinks that if he wasn’t who he was, he’d be dead, the bullet penetrating his stomach and then his shoulder and the last piercing his gallbladder.
The doctor had been fascinated.
They’re just making sure his healing factors continue to work, it’s like nothing she’s ever seen.
Tony stops and waves Clint on.
“I’ll come find you,” he nods, so serious despite his smiling friend.
She smiles back as she hears him call Steve ‘spry for a corpse’, and tucks away the knowledge that Iron Man has watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
“She’s going to be okay, just remember that the tubes and wires are helping her for now, okay?”
She chanced a glance back but Clint’s face is neutral.
“She didn’t say…”
They enter what seems to be where more dependent patients are and he falls silent.
“Oh,” he sighs.
“It looks worse than what it is,” she starts.
“Natasha, Clint is here to visit, can you open your eyes for me?”
Natasha’s eyes seem to flutter open, and then close and the Nurse smiles.
“Good Natasha, that’s good.”
She gestures to the chair and sanitises her hands before she starts to check Natasha’s vitals and ventilator.
“Steve will be probably either be in the step down ward tomorrow, or maybe discharged. We’ll see when the doctors come. They’ll want to check him over.”
Clint isn’t sure if the nurse is talking to him or Natasha but she continues on, making small notes.
“Natasha, you might be in here a little longer.”
Clint looks for a response but apart from the flutter of her eyes when they first came in, there’s not much.
“She’s on some heavier sedation drugs, but we’ll probably wean her off them tonight or tomorrow morning.”
To Natasha, she checks her face, and the oxygen tubing on her face.
“You gave us all a scare, hey?”
Clint stares and takes the hand that doesn’t have any cannulas in it.
“Talk to her, she might not remember but she’ll hear you.”
“Sing out if you need anything,” she tells him, and leaves the area, even though they’re in full view of the nurses station.
He’s lost for words.
He takes her in and knows that she’d hate this.
So many invasions of privacy.
“It’s your own fault,” he whispers.
He lets some tears fall, before wiping them away, knowing that it’s not.
“Why didn’t you say anything? You must have known, you must have…”
His voice hitches and he can see her heart rate rising.
“It’s not your fault,” he finishes.
“It’s not.
He thinks it’s more to himself than it is to her.
.
She feels the drag of the breathing tube pull up from her throat and she gags not wholly aware of anything as she fights consciousness.
Someone is talking.
Someone is saying her name.
A hand pushes on her chest and she thinks she’s crying.
She feels ice in her veins and someone is yelling.
Not yelling.
Talking.
Her body heaves.
Tight.
She pulls on the edge of consciousness and attempts to wake.
Eyes open, and pain hits her like a truck.
She winces, closing them again.
Counting, she tries to think through the pain, just like they taught her.
Ice through her veins and she’s numb.
Conscious but she feels the cotton wool of drugs.
“Natasha?”
She turns to her name.
Opens her eyes again.
A woman.
“Hi,” she starts, “you’re in the hospital. You were shot remember? We need to move you, you’re doing great.”
She does remember.
Remembers Steve’s words about being the first one in, but she hadn’t done her due diligence and cleared the building. She hadn’t… Clint said it was her fault. Clint said, Steve had been shot because of her…
She turns to her right and he’s not there. He’s always with her in the hospital and he’s not there.
Fatigue pulls her and she feels the slow drown of sleep.
She’d failed her team, her family, her friends.
Tears leak out of her eyes, she feels them on her temples, rolling to her ears.
“Sleep,” comes a familiar voice.
“You’re okay.”
.
The quiet morning of the hospital seems to suit Clint. He’s never been one for mornings but this one he feels better about.
He’d been kicked out at 8 and told to come back in the morning.
They didn’t say what time though, so here he was at 7am.
He walks in with the morning nursing staff and makes his way back to Natasha.
Steve was already being prepared for discharge, having proven his ability to do everything that was asked for him including touching his toes.
“There won’t even be a scar by tomorrow,” he’d boasted to Clint and Tony as they’d left him.
Clint couldn’t think.
He’d just kept seeing Natasha hooked up to all the tubes and wires.
He’s let in and guided by nurse they’d met yesterday who’d explained everything to Clint, and was apparently still on shift, looking tired but still mulling around.
She nods to him and points him in the right direction.
“She’s made good progress, we have even taken out the breathing tube.”
He nods, hating that she’s in hospital.
He wonders if she’s awake.
Clint sighs heavily, the night of no sleep catching up to him, but the separation from what had happened and the consequences had given him space to really think about the mission.
Fury, had of course wanted a mission debrief, and Clint had started writing everything down that he knew had happened.
How quickly it had all gone to shit.
Natasha’s lack of intel but the insistence of moving forward, had stuck in his mind, but really, now in hindsight he realises it’s wasn’t on her.
His ire now directs to Steve.
The captain who should have known better.
He finds her asleep, and sits down in the chair placed nearby, taking her hand and kissing it.
She’d hate him showing outright affection.
The nurse was right, she did look better.
Tired eyes look over. They blink open, and closed.
He sits forward.
“Hey,” he says quietly.
“Hey.”
It’s breathed out. It’s raspy and doesn’t sound like her.
“Scared me,” he starts.
“Don’t do that again?”
Her eyes roll, and she shakes her head.
“No. Promises.” She states, the words punctuated.
“Sorry,” she adds, eyes closing again.
He squeezes her hand, and kisses it again.
He watches her vitals even out, the nurse checking her again.
“The meds have kicked in, she’ll probably be asleep for a little bit now. Tomorrow we’ll send her downstairs into the general medical ward, she doesn’t need 1:1 like she gets here.”
It’s supposed to be reassuring, but Clint senses the dread. She won’t stay in a ward. She won’t stay in hospital; he knows. They’ve kept her here because she hasn’t been strong enough to leave.
But he knows her.
Clint takes a deep breath, looks her over and leaves to find Tony.
.
Steve stands at the door, his arms crossed and looming shadow. Natasha knows what Clint means when he says that Steve looks like a puppy whose been kicked when he’s sad.
It’s how he looks now.
They’d moved her to the tower. Even before she knew what was happening.
A week since the mission, and only now he was visiting.
“It’s my fault,” he opens.
She stares for a minute, legs swinging over the side of the bed, winces and stands.
“Show me where it hit you?” she asks, curious if there’s any scarring.
He lifts his shirt, and it’s just abs.
“Nothing to see.”
She nods and lifts her own.
The angry scar rips across the side of her stomach.
“I think it was my fault,” she counters.
He shakes his head.
“I didn’t do the research, and you went in first,” she retorts.
“The mission was on all of us, just because it didn’t work out in our favour doesn’t make it your fault.”
Natasha sighs, it feels heavy, the weight of failure.
“If I had planned it better…”
Steve takes a step forward, “and I had not insisted on going in guns blazing, and if Clint hadn’t antagonized Tony or if we’d talked more about contingencies. Nat, we fucked it, and now we have to do better. The mission stays the same, and when you’re able to move, we’ll try again.”
She swallows at that, wondering what the repercussions were for the traffic girls. If they were sold off already or they were still being held.
“Yeah, that’s what I had to ask you about.”
She makes room for him to sit and winces at the pain as the bed depresses.
“Will you check the warehouse? I don’t think anyone will be there anymore, it’s been almost two weeks and I don’t think they would have kept them, but on the off chance…”
Steve breathes through his nose and nods slowly.
“Tony’s set up surveillance.”
Natasha eyes him sharply.
“We’ll head in tomorrow night, if there’s any shipment of girls there, we’ll find them.”
She lays back, willing the tears to rescind from where they came.
“Thanks,” she whispers, “tell Tony thanks too.”
Steve nods.
“Sorry I didn’t come earlier. I thought you’d be mad.”
She laughs at that, “Clint still angry?”
He nods, “yeah.”
She rolls her eyes.
“Yeah at me too. But mostly it’s just a front for being angry at himself. Talk to him, it’s nothing but guilt.”
Her eyes meet his as he tries to smile a tight smile.
“I know. I feel it too.”
Moving to leave, Steve pauses.
“I’ll be back later, do you need anything?”
Natasha gestures at the space around her, everything in arms reach and a small Dum-e robot on her left.
“I think Tony has everything covered.”
“He always does.”
.
The warehouse is dark, Tony’s infrared cameras light up the people inside, and he smirks.
The girls seems to be hidden in the crates below, at least that’s what he thinks.
They’d hidden in the same warehouse district, an idiotic move if ever he saw one, but perhaps they thought that no one would try to raid them twice when the first one was a bust.
Clint is first in. Tentatively he holds Steve back, but Tony runs in anyway.
Clint growls in anger.
“We didn’t learn fucking anything,” he grouses.
“I’m made of metal, what are they gonna do? Shoot…”
Shots ring and ping off Tony.
He laughs; firing back, eliminating them easily.
Clint runs, tackling another and punching him square in the face.
He attacks ruthlessly. One and then another, Steve moving forward with him.
“Hello boys,” Natasha’s voice crackles through the comms, a drone following all of them.
“It works?” Tony asks.
“It works,” Natasha replies.
She buzzes around his head, and moves forward with her team, the drone moving with purpose.
“So are you in Tony’s workshop?”
Clint can almost hear the grin in Natasha voice as she answers.
“Of course, I’m eating his gummy bears.”
“You better not.”
“What are you going to do?”
Tony shoots two shots and snorts in derision.
“We’re here,” Steve says out loud, clearing the area once more, as Clint moves forward to open the crates.
He moves slowly, motioning for Tony to stand back.
“Hi,” he says softly, the first woman looking back at him.
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