Marvel Imagines

Clint- Arrow

"Come on, (Y/n)!" Clint, your best friend, cheers as you and Steve circle each other in the boxing ring.

When Steve steps forward to grab you, you take his arm and flip him over your body. Pressing a knee to his throat, you smile in victory.

"I wasn't ready," Steve chokes out, making you laugh.

You remove your knee and stand, extending a hand for him to take. He slaps his hand in yours and huffs to his feet. You're quick to slip out of the ring and skip to Clint, high fiving him.

"Did you see his face when you flipped him?" Clint chuckled, pushing your shoulder as you grab the water bottle in his hand and take a sip.

You shrug and nod towards the door. "I'm going to shower than head out for some lunch, wanna join?"

He nods. "Course, let me know when you're ready?"

By the time you've finished showering and got dressed, Clint was shooting at moving targets in the training room.

"Barton!" You call out, entering the room. You watch as Clint releases an arrow, it hitting the target on the bullseye. "Impressive,"

He turns and smile at you, shrugging out of the quiver (the small backpack looking thing that holds the arrows) and setting it down. "Want to give it a go?" He asks, holding out the bow for you to take.

The corner of your mouth curves up. "Okay," you snag the bow and stand next to Clint. You place an arrow on the bow and aiming it at the target.

You hear Clint choke out a laugh. Frowning, you turn to look at him. "What's so funny?"

He motions to your form. "Stand like that, and you'll pull something."

You roll your eyes. "Oh mighty Clint, would you be so kind to help to teach me how to shoot an arrow,"

He smiles. "Thought you'd never ask. Get in position,"

You follow his instructions and hold up the bow close to your face, "Now what?"

You feel his feet nudge yours. "Waist width apart," he tells you, his voice close to your ear. Letting out a breath, you move your feet.

When his hands rest on your waist, electrically shoots through your body. "Keep your hips aligned with your shoulders," you whispers in your ear.

You nervously roll your shoulders and narrow your eyes on the target. Right when you're about to release the arrow, Clint presses his finger tips into your waist. The arrow soars through the air, missing the target entirely.

You break away from him and smack his shoulder. "You did that on purpose,"

He smiles innocently. "I don't know what you're talking about, (Y/n)."

Your eyes slowly narrow at him. "Whatever," you mutter, shoving the bow in his hands. You're about to leave, but Clint grabs your wrist and pulls you closer, his bow falling to the ground. "Clint, what are you-?"

You never got to finish your sentence, seeing as Clint silenced you by sealing his lips onto yours.