Marvel one-shot

🌟Dirty Chief Barton - Clint

Dad was a mean drunk, but for all his talking and threats he didn't scare you half as much as Chief Barton, and he'd never even laid a hand on you, 'til now. He looked like a stereotypical mean cop from those video games Peter liked playing huge hulking shoulders, light stubble, a light scar on his cheek, like someone took a swipe at him, and a cold hard stare that made everyone think that they were worth less than dirt. Didn't take much guessing to know how he saw you. A trailer trash, the constant thorn in his side, rousing problems in his cute little town. That was fine and all if folks here didn't worship him like he was the second coming of Jesus.

Apparently, he'd been a big shot in the navy, but had to retire early due to an injury. You shouldn't know any of this, his past was none of your business, his accomplishments had nothing to do with you. In fact Chief Barton had nothing to do with you, which is why it annoyed you when he stood over your head like a disappointed parent, wagging his finger at you. Quickly dropping your smoke and clearing the air you watched him approach.

How the hell did he fine me?

"I was hungry" you said holding onto your bought goods – a bag of apples, a can of RedBull and Miss Vickies. The only thing you stole was the RedBull... and the bag of chips.

Ocean blue eyes looked down at the groceries in your lap before returning back to your face.

"Thought you had a job?" is all he said, standing there with his hands on his hips and booted feet apart.

"I got fired" you muttered, avoiding his gaze.

"Ain't that a surprise" he scoffed.

The unfairness of that statement hit you hard. It hadn't been your fault, but you knew from experience explaining your side never meant a thing to anybody, especially HIM.

"Fuck you".

"We had a talk about using crude language, miss Y/l".

"Fuck. You. Pig" you said again, enunciating each word and you could see that you were getting to him.

His lips curled, his hands on his hips flexing, then you smirked, and his eyes dipped to your lips.

Suddenly you were hauled up by your arm, dropping your bag of apples in the process. He led you to his cruiser, opening the door and telling you to get in. You shook your head; you knew he was police and all but getting into a stranger's car while he was mad didn't seem smart. Not like you had a choice though, he practically pushed you inside, then came around the other side, burning rubber out of the abandoned gas station.

"Where are we going?" you asked.

"Am I being arrested?" He didn't answer, and every time you stole a glance at his harsh profile you wished you'd just kept your mouth shut.

Y/n so if what that he hates you?

The whole town did anyway, why should Chief Barton's opinion even matter? Deep down you knew why his opinion mattered, but you weren't gonna admit it now. Maybe ever. Clint stopped next to the woods, on an abandoned little road. Passenger door was flung open, and you shrunk back in your seat at the look in his eyes.

"Are you gonna hurt me?" he pulled you out of the seat, leading you deep into the woods.

It felt like a walk to your own execution, your heart started pumping like crazy, blood rushing to your ears. You held onto the can of RedBull and chips with a death-grip. Then he turned you around and pushed you up against a tree, Clint came over to you, breathing hard. You started crying and you open your mouth to beg, say sorry, anything to get you out of this when he lowered his head and kissed you. Even his kisses felt like punishment. Hard lips grounding against yours, teeth leaving bite marks down your throat, you pushed at him, but he was like mountain, a wall of muscle immovable.