Marvel Imagines and One-shots (Requests Closed)

My Rockstar - Clint Barton

A/N: Rockstar AU. Prompts in bold. Requests from skycrystal_123 and harrypottah_malfoy7

***

You'd been waiting months for this moment. All access backstage at a concert for your favorite band. That was a lie. You were here for the lead singer. You couldn't care less about the rest of them.

Clint Barton, affectionately called Hawkeye by his bandmates, had been your favorite singer from the moment you first heard his voice in some seedy dive bar one weekend at college. You'd followed him and his career ever since. Not that you were some groupie. You weren't that lucky. No, you were stuck being just a normal, avid fan.

The band had been running late so you hadn't gotten to meet them before the show, but you'd been assured you could stick around after. God, you hoped you at least got to meet him. Even if it was just long enough for you to tell him how much you admired him. How you'd seen him at that first show and knew he'd be here someday. You'd paid the equivalent of a month's rent for the opportunity to do so, after all.

As the opening chords of your favorite song filled the air, you closed your eyes and let yourself get lost in the rhythm. You danced and sang along until Clint's voice was replaced by a guitar solo. You opened your eyes as you continued to dance and your breath caught as you locked eyes with none other than Hawkeye himself.

A slow smirk curled his lips as heat smoldered in his eyes. He moved toward you and it took a moment for you to realize that he was exchanging his guitar for another one. His gaze stayed glued to you as he settled the new instrument into place. "You keep dancing like that and I'm going to cum in my pants."

Heat flooded your face as your mouth dropped slightly. Did he really just say that? To you? Holy shit.

He smirked and glanced back at the stage. He was running out of time. "What's your name?"

You managed to stutter it out making his smirk widen.

"I like it. It suits you." He started to walk backward to his spot. "I'll see you after the show, sweetheart."

A second later, he was singing again like the whole exchange had never happened. Though he did continue to shoot glances in your direction.

You guessed you'd get the chance to talk to him after all.

***

Somehow, that moment led to you following the band to their next three shows. Clint had asked and you'd been unable to say no. You were between jobs anyway and had enough savings to pay your portion of the rent for a few months. Though Clint had offered. Had said he'd pay anything he needed to cover your ass while you played groupie for a while.

It was amazing. Backstage at every show. Clint shooting you glances while he sang. Throwing an arm around your shoulders as he came off stage before he dragged you off to whatever party was going on that night where he made certain to keep you right by his side.

You and the singer spent hours just talking, getting to know one another. And while you loved the heavy flirting and the gentle touches, he hadn't so much as attempted to kiss you. Frankly, you were frustrated.

It wasn't like he was leaving you to fuck someone else but he wasn't fucking you either. Was he even interested? Every time you thought he was and decided to make a move, he'd play with someone else's hair. Get close to whisper in their ear.

You groaned at your train of thought. He was a rockstar. Why would he want a girlfriend when he could sleep with whoever he wanted? Did you really think he'd fall in love with you and be faithful and all that? Get a grip. He was Clint fucking Barton.