Today was another boring day at S.H.I.E.L.D. You were watching Clint Barton honing (more like showing off) his skills at the archery range. You looked in awe as he slowly drew back the bowstring and locked eyes with his target. There was that spark in his eye as he released the arrow and watched it fly through the air and hit the bull-eye’s dead on.
“Nice shot, Katniss!” you cheered as you gave a quick fist pump. The archer turned towards your direction with an irksome look on his face.
“Don’t call me that, please.” His icy glare seemed to pierce your (e/c) orbs. If looks could kill, you’d be dead on the spot. You brushed it off and continued with your playful banter.
“Come on, you’re doing a good job . . . Legolas.” you snickered as a blush started to dust his checks.
“(y/n), stop. I get enough of that from Tony as it is.” You love teasing him like this. He was usually stoic and unmoved
You stand on the roof top, looking down at your two targets. The woman is bundled up tightly against the harsh winter cold. She has on a coat, scarf, gloves and a knitted hat. Her cheeks are flushed and puffs of air can be seen leaving her lips as her warm breath crystallizes in the air in front of her. The man is walking straight toward her, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his own coat. The two have yet to see each other, but you know the moment will soon occur.
You pull a red tipped arrow from your quiver and notch it into your bow. Raising your arms, you take your sights and pull the string back. Your practiced muscles help to hold the bow and arrow steady as you wait for the right moment to strike.
The two approach one another and as soon as they notice the presence in front of them, they simultaneous begin to look up. You release the arrow; with the intention of getting it to reach them the moment eye contact is ma