Clint Barton x Daughter!Reader That's My Girl

That’s My Girl

Request for tinker bell
A/N: Daddy/daughter fic. No romance.
I tried to make it different than the other Daddy!Clint x bullied!reader story.
This one doesn’t focus so much on the Daddy!Clint part. He’s only in the end really. Sorry.
Also I apologize for the lack of updates. They should be more often now. I was super busy between work and school but work is almost over so I should have more time.

Pathetic. Idiot. Loser. Useless. Worthless. Trash.
You’d heard it all before. The past three years of high school as well as three years of middle school had gotten you used to the harsh words from others. Spiteful comments from hateful girls didn’t even faze you anymore. Your emotions had gone numb after so many years of pain. You learned how to close your heart to unfriendly people.
In sixth grade, when the judgments began, you confided in your father. He simply told you that those girls were stupid and jealous, and that you shouldn’t listen to them. Not expecting a better answer from anyone else, you kept the rest of your bullying experiences to yourself.
A couple of times, your predator’s had been caught by a staff member. You’d both be called into the office where the principal would hear both of your sides. If you were called in together, you’d keep quiet and agree with whatever the bully said. They’d only come after you worse if you didn’t. If you were called in separately, you’d admit that the other did something wrong, and of course, when they got punished, they’d come after you again.
There was no winning for you.

One of your personality quirks that opened a world of bullying was that you were a bookworm. You always carried at least three books in your messenger bag for when you finished your classwork early or in case you had to wait somewhere for a ride or appointment. You preferred hardbacks as they were easier to fit in your bag without worrying that you were bending the cover. Paperbacks were so fragile that you left all of yours at home.
You could always be found reading about fairies or mermaids, vampires or demigods, mystery or fantasy. You loved losing yourself in the fanatical tales of romance and valor, danger and magic.
You’d always ask Thor or Loki to tell you stories of growing up in Asgard. Loki would embellish tales of learning magic and outwitting Thor, and the blond would excitedly recall a fight against another realm or a sparring match in the garden. Loki had even given you a few books of his own to keep you entertained while you were away from the Tower.
Alona, your biggest offender, loved to tease you for your love of other worlds. Whenever she found you with your nose in a book, she’d take action. Her favorite was to reach out her hands and close the book in your face, occasionally catching the tip of your nose but most of the time just startling you. She would also press on the back of the book to slam it into your face, or call you a nerd and snatch the book from your hands.
Her lackeys, Sandra and Lexi, would laugh like schoolgirls while Alona tormented you. So far, it hadn’t led to violence. Alona and her girls would start with the book jokes, and when you were feeling particularly confident and ignored them, they brought out the big guns and told you how worthless and ugly you were.

You grew tired of their jests and jokes. Teachers interfering didn’t deter them one bit. They just hid their attacks from prying eyes, often passing you notes or waiting until you were alone during a break.
You weren’t an aggressive or confrontational person by nature. You were calm and happy, never minding homework and always wanting to read. Living with the Avengers- which no one knew about because who would believe you anyway?- hadn’t changed your placid demeanor. You were always surrounded by chaos and tension, so you would sit in your room and lose yourself in your books.
One morning as you prepared for the day ahead, you realized that you’d finished all of your homework for the next week. Being a straight A student, you always finished your classwork early as well, so you often used the extra time in class to begin homework in case something happened at the Tower to make you lose time.
Proud of your efforts, you stuffed a couple extra hardback books into your messenger bag. It weighed it down a little, putting some extra pressure on your shoulder, but it would be worth it. Your arms were accustomed to carrying bits of your excessive collection.
You knew your extra fantasies would cause extra teasing. The lackeys always loved to pick on the nerds. You mused that it was because they were jealous. The jocks and preps often had to stay in for lunch or break because they’d spend too much class time chatting and bullying and never finish their work. They always targeted the good kids like you, the ones who finished early and either began homework or took the extra time for themselves.
You shrugged as you made your way to school. It wasn’t your fault everyone else was so stupid and couldn’t focus. You were a smart girl, and you liked to take advantage of that.

You really were tired. Three years of high school along with three solid years of middle school spent listening to their relentless torments and taunts. You’d gotten used to it enough that you could block them out, so long as they didn’t snag the book you were reading. Of course, that was why you carried extras, but you certainly didn’t like the idea of your precious book falling into their filthy hands. Who knew if you’d ever get it back? Books could be expensive, and you were very protective of your collection.
You finally snapped.
Alona and her team followed you to the outside picnic area where students were allowed to go during lunch or break. You had been trying all day to find some alone time to calm down, but they wouldn’t let up. All of the pent up anger inside you that you’d pushed down because you were a good girl was bubbling to the surface. And it was all forming an arrow that pointed at Alona.
“Hey, nerd!” she sneered. “What are you reading today? A romance novel? You know you’ll never get a boyfriend. Who would date a nerd like you?”
You didn’t care much for romance or boys in real life. You were perfectly content reading about cutesy love stories and perfect first boyfriends. But you were so tired of her comments. She always had to have something to say about everything.
“Hey, Alona,” you called, standing from the spot you’d claimed on the bench.
That surprised her enough. You rarely responded to her comments, much less addressed her directly.
“You think you can just talk to me, you little-”
You’d slipped the strap of your bag over your shoulder and gripped it in both hands while she’d been talking. She was cut off as you raised it up and swung hard, turning your body as the bag collided with the side of her face. The sound of books against bone could be heard as she fell to the ground, clutching her cheek.
“You bitch!” she cried. “Who do you think you are?”
“Just shut up,” you groaned, willingly following the principal to her office when you saw her disapproving glare.

They called your father down to the school, and everyone was in awe when one of Tony Stark’s sleek black sports cars pulled up along the curb. Clint got out of the passenger’s side– because Tony would never let someone else drive his baby– and came into the school.
“What happened?” he asked the principal, checking you over for injuries.
“I’m fine, Dad,” you said quietly, hearing the gasps from the students eavesdropping from outside.
“Your daughter is unharmed,” the principal stated. “However, she’s in a lot of trouble.”
“What happened?” Clint repeated.
“(y/n), would you care to explain?” the principal asked.
“It was Alona again,” you shrugged. “I finally did something about it.”
“What did you do?” Clint inquired, intrigued.
“She hit the girl upside the head with her book bag,” the principal replied, clearly upset.
Clint tried to hide his smirk as he turned to you. “Didn’t you take extra books to school today because of all your free time?”
“Yep,” you nodded.
Clint’s mind created the image of your bag full of hardback books hitting Alona in the face and he lost his resolve. He doubled over in his seat, hand on his stomach, howling with laughter.
“Mr. Barton, this is no laughing matter,” the principal cried. “Your daughter injured another student. She needs to be punished!”
“Punish her however you like,” Clint replied, trying to settle down. “Suspend her, give her extra work, hell you can even expel her if you want.” He stood up, offering you a hand and pulling you up with him. “We’re going to get ice cream.”
With that, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and led you out to Tony’s car, while the principal fumed at her desk for losing the discussion.