harcourt

Hostile climate	Fuck or die	Corporal punishment	Crossover/ Fusion	Exposure
Zombie apocalypse	Wing!fic	Prison AU	Different historical period	Vampires
Fantasy creature	Oral sex	WILD CARD	Trapped	Isolation
Friends with benefits	Torture	Tentacles	A/B/O	Illness
Bondage	Gunshot wound	Organised crime	On the run (2)	D/s

I'm still plugging away at longfic bingo, even though the comm seems dead, but you guys, longfic takes so long. But I like their prompt list, and I like kinkmeme style prompts, so I made myself a bingo card, and if anyone is up for this game:

You prompt/request according to a bingo box, I write a prompt fic style fic. I'll x-post to tumblr, but anon is on here. Wild card is free-for-prompter, go nuts.

Filled:

A/B/O:
Clint/Logan, On the Run

D/s:
Bucky/Clint

Fantasy Creature:
Bucky & Clint

Fuck or Die:
Clint/Tony

Gunshot Wound:
Clint & Steve

On the Run:
Clint/Tony
Clint/Logan, A/B/O

Torture:
Clint/Steve

Vampires:
Clint/Steve

Wing!fic:
Bruce & Clint

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

delfinnium

(i'm sorry i keep spamming you with prompts! Tell me if you want me to leave off tho)

Wing!Fic & trapped or bondage, however you want to categorise it.

In a world where winged!people are literally pets, charA has been hiding his wings.

if CharA is Clint: he had been hiding them since after the circus - they hadn't been horrible to him, there, but after he left, he quickly learnt to hide them. He had been avoiding , well, everything to keep his wings and his status as a free person safe. Then he joins the Avengers and Steve/Tony/SOMEONE finds out...

If CharA is Erik Lensherr: well his life is just round after round of shit - he's a Jew who lived through the Holocaust, barely, and while any paperwork on his - physical attributes have been destroyed, he had to make sure to keep that safe. 'Winged' people aren't quite the same as mutants, let's say that they specifically have a special colouring, of some sort, but living in the intersection ain't great.

then for some reason, he teams up with the Avengers and Hulk figures it out...

From:

harcourt

As long as you're ahving fun, carry on! :D

Oh man, I feel like I should go Erik for variety, but I like this with Clint! (But also I don't think I have like, any feel for Magneto at all.)

From:

delfinnium

Erik is sad you have no feel . :D

Clint is perfectly fine! HE IS MY FAVOURITE and therefore everything should be Clint.

From:

harcourt

"It's nothing," Clint says, crossing his arms over his chest, even though there's no way he's fooling anyone, even with his wings swept back behind him and lowered so they aren't standing up over his shoulders. They're still utterly visible, a pile of grey and brown feathers that are nothing flashy, but still more than enough to condemn him. "You didn't see anything," he adds, glaring at Bruce in threat that they both know he can't follow up on.

"You--" Bruce starts, then stops to fuss with his glasses to buy himself time, stopped in the doorway to the examination room.

"Yeah," Clint snaps. "Me. Close the door."

Bruce does, stepping inside even though Clint's standing around shirtless, stripped down to his mission pants. "How did you keep those hidden this whole time?"

"What?" It's not the follow-up Clint had been expecting, and between that and the quizzical tone, it takes the wind out of his sails enough that his reflexive anger bleeds away into confusion.

"Your uniform is a vest," Bruce points out. "There's no room in there for wings."

"How do you turn into the Hulk?" Clint counters, and lifts a wing, holding it out to consider the span. Bruce is right. It's way too big to fold away under his uniform. "They can fold away." He shrugs. "But away."

Bruce starts to come closer, then doesn't. Curious and wanting to poke, and maybe have Clint do a few turns, but restraining himself.

"There's a device you can be fitted with so you can't," Clint tells him. "Then they're there all the time, but I don't have one." Obviously. "I mean, I did, but--" he shrugs, and gestures, vaguely indicating the room they're in, full of SHIELD equipment.

"Okay," Bruce says.

"You're not supposed to be here."

"Yeah." Bruce scratches his arm. "I was worried when they pulled you off alone."

Right. Of course Bruce and his paranoia had worried. "You know I work here, right?" Clint asks anyway. "You know Fury invites me to barbeques? And I'm Hill's number one choice of catsitter?"

That gets an uncomfortable shrug, because it's not like Bruce isn't aware of those things, and now he's let his distrust of basically everything lead him stumbling right into Clint's personal, classified business.

"They just wanted to see if I'm still flap-flapping," Clint tells him, and gives a couple tiny wingbeats to demonstrate. "I've tried to unfold them through my gear before, and let me tell you, it's not a good idea."

"Then--"

"Falling reflex. The vest keeps me from completely blowing my cover."

"Maybe we can work something out." Bruce steps closer, then pauses and takes another step, and Clint takes pity and bends a wing forward for him to inspect. His fingers are careful as they ruffle through Clint's feathers, feeling out the underlying anatomy. "Between me and Tony, I think--I mean, if you want to tell Tony. Do you want to tell Tony? Or the others? We can forget I ever saw this."

Clint snorts. "You're not going to forget you saw this."

"No," Bruce agrees, his fingers still moving through Clint's feathers. It's a nice feeling, and Clint fluffs up a bit in reaction. "But I can keep a secret if I have to." He's working his way up the wing, poking around up by Clint's shoulder, feeling out the musculature. "Can you fly?"

"I could."

That makes Bruce pause, hands stilling at the join of Clint's wing and back. His hands are warm, and Clint fluffs up a bit more, lifting his wings up a little and causing Bruce's hand to slide onto bare skin. It makes Bruce smile, Clint notices, just a small, barely-there quirk at the corners of his mouth. Too soft a look to really be amusement.

"You have to stay in practice to fly," Clint points out. "I haven't had the--" freedom, space, safety. "Time."

"Oh." Bruce sounds disappointed.

"I had a little stint in a show," Clint explains, "But since then--" he shrugs. "You know how it is, out in the big bad."

He's trying to play it light, but Bruce's face changes anyway, the soft, fond look turning dark. Angry and sad, and then his hands fall away from Clint's wing. "Yeah. I know."

"It's fine," Clint tells him, twitching back the wing that he hadn't realized he'd moved towards Bruce, following his retreat. "Nick got me, then I was here, and now I'm an Avenger. Everything's great."

"What was it? Some sort of--"

From:

harcourt

"Zoo? Nah. More like a trained seal sort of gig. I think Fury might have traded an elephant or something for me."

Bruce doesn't laugh, and Clint reaches up to unruffle some feathers, using the gesture to hide his own expression while he says, "I was in the system as kid. Didn't exactly occur to me to lay low at the time." Not when the wings had been getting him so much attention. He hadn't known what it meant, or what sort of situation he was really in. "We ran away for awhile, but that didn't work out so great either." He offers Bruce a wry smile. "Flying's not actually a great lay-low tactic."

"Neither is turning huge and green."

"We're slow learners, huh?"

"You, maybe," Bruce says, and smiles, fond again.

"I guess. But SHIELD doesn't keep me in a birdcage, so there's that."

If Bruce wants to ask about Clint's legal status, he keeps it to himself, but Clint clarifies anyway. "I have a regular contract. Fury had my records scrubbed." He holds his hands out, palms up. "I'm a regular human. Officially."

"Who can fly."

"Could."

"Tony would be so jealous if he knew you could fly."

Clint pulls his wings back in, tight to his back. "Easy there, Banner. You might be able to keep a secret, but just the effort could kill Tony."

"A fair point."

"I'm not going to live in a terrarium."

Bruce smiles. "Me either. Or an underground prison. Or a floating raft prison. Or an in orbit--"

"Right. Exactly."

"But it could really be a help if you plan to keep jumping off highrises," Bruce goes on, holding a hand out again and meaning Clint's wings. Clint brings one forward again, just brushing Bruce's palm with his pinions in offer.

"I don't exactly plan for that."

"If you tell Tony--"

"You mean let you tell Tony."

"I bet he could work something out. With his lawyers."

"You just want me to be your gear building guinea pig," Clint says, but doesn't pull away. "If SHIELD can't get me real legality, I don't know what it is you think Tony has that they don't."

"Excess funds and a chip on his shoulder. He likes to prove points."'

Clint laughs, fluffed up again and leaning towards Bruce. "I'll tell you want the point is going to be," he says. "It's going to be, I know about Clint, and contract transfer. Even Tony can't change a law. I have papers that work, so as long as I lay low, things are fine"

"Being an Avenger isn't exactly low profile."

"Back at you, Green."

Bruce's hand is back at his wing joint, his fingers pressing in firmly, painful and soothing at the same time. Clint's sore, but he can feel himself relaxing as Bruce works, muscles unlocking all the way down his back and across his shoulders. "Or we could just keep an eye on it. Watch for opportunities."

"To expand the Stark-Potts collection of valuable curiosities?"

"Or just give you a chance to stretch," Bruce says, smoothing Clint's feathers back into place before releasing the wing, and not otherwise dignifying his uncharitable assessment of Tony. "Maybe work on getting you airborne again."

Clint wiggles his wing. Flaps a couple of times, testing the joint. Thinking about it, and too obviously, because after a few moments, Bruce adds, "We have that closed gym, you know."

They do. And it's tall, with high enough ceilings that Tony can use it to sort of test his suit propulsion when he's isn't ready to risk launching himself into the ocean or the stratosphere, depending on which way he happened to be pointing.

They're interrupted before Clint can answer. A sound in the hall announcing the arrival of medical personnel, and causing Bruce to straighten and let Clint's wing go again. "Well," he says, "Don't let me nag you. Just--if the Avengers haven't sold me out, we're not likely to sell you out."

"Yeah," Clint says, and idly tosses a loose feather at Bruce. It flutters between them, catching air before drifting to the floor in a lazy spiral.

"I'll go," Bruce says, when it's completed its descent. "I'm glad you're okay." He offers a smile. "And that SHIELD's not kidnapping you."

"SHIELD's not kidnapping me," Clint agrees. "But thanks for checking."