#ch: clint barton

[arnieroth]

thunderbolts #75 | thunderbolts #109

i'm obsessed with whatever these two have going on

[mxrvelouscreations]

comforting (Clint for whoever)

@iamthexweapon

send me    ‘ comforting ‘    for my muse’s reaction to yours gently wiping their tears away after they’ve been caught crying  (for Pietro)

The speedster hadn't been expecting for anyone to find him hiding away in the gym this late. He had been trying his hardest to get himself back to where he had been before the incident but it seemed that his body wasn't bouncing back as quickly as he had liked. It had frustrated him, so much so that he had collapsed into a ball in tears, afraid that he would be letting everyone down. He hadn't heard Clint come in, hadn't heard him sit beside him and so, he initially flinched as he felt him touch him, wipe away his tears. Upon relaxing who it was though, he crumbled.

"I don't know what to do..."

[illbringthechaosmagic]

@thenexusofsouls

Wanda moved to sit herself down on the couch beside Clint, pulling her knees up to her chest as she did so. Things had been rough as of late and she needed a moment to just take a deep breath. That was why she had asked Clint if she could sit with him, since it might be a moment of peace. "Just your company," she replied, looking at him. "I just... it's been a rough day, rough week. I can't stand the silence anymore."

"Hey Clint? Is it ok if I come sit with you for a little bit?"

"Yeah, Wanda, course you can," Clint replied. He knew things were rough for her since coming back after the Blip and being thrust suddenly into a battle... and then right into a funeral for Tony. That was enough to give anyone emotional whiplash. "You need anything?" he asked, more to let her know that he was there for her, and not so much that he thought there might be anything specific she would ask for. But if she did need something, well... he'd get that for her too. It was the least he could do.

[brw]

Hank Pym taught me that there are choices beyond programming! Janet Van Dyne, that there was beauty in the smallest of people. Pietro Maximoff, that if one's father is evil, it does not mean the child must be! Clint Barton, that there is no such thing as a powerless man! And Wanda, my dear Wanda... taught me that even an android can love!

Universe X #X by Alex Ross, written by Jim Krueger and drawn by Dougie Braithwaite

[jasperarsonaurelia]

Clint : what do you mean I’m the most annoying motherfucker on planet earth? How many times have you nearly got me killed?

Kayla : NOT ENOUGH

[the-boy-king-rp-multi]

The devil of Hell's Kitchen had been working in the shadows since his return from the dead.

Since the Hand had been finally taking out all the way- That left territory open for new criminals to move into the area. The Yakuza had caught wind of the Hand's demise and hadn't hesitated to take the opportunity to take over the areas that were now absent of their influence. Unfortunately for them.. the ghost of Hell's Kitchen was coming to haunt their entire foundation.

The devil would not tolerate the Yakuza moving back into Hell's Kitchen.

The fight that proceeded with the member he had been tracking down was intense, to say the least. A scream could be heard when he slapped a hand over their mouth to quiet them, and in the darkness he had dragged them in he found himself dodging cuts from a sword, club blocking the attempted slices before using his strength to knock it out of their hands. Finding himself dodging kicks and punches now, he found an opening where he threw a hard kick to their back, knocking them to the ground out of breath when he grabbed their arm, dragging it backwards with a sickening crack.

In the darkness, it wasn't obvious who was fighting them- The only thing being seen was the vigilante dragging them into an empty, nearby abandoned building, cloaked in darkness.

While they were unconscious, he tied them to a chair. When they awoke, he threw his billy club, wrapping it around their neck and pulling roughly, foot on the chair. "We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.. Where are the rest of your crew?" When he was met with silence, he tugged harder, voice dark when he spoke. "Dare mo anata no sakebigoe o kikimasen..”

(translation: Nobody will hear you scream.)

[mxrvelouscreations]

@iamthexweapon

Pietro was excited. Sure, car journeys weren't all that fun, but he was getting to spend the day with some of his favourite people and that was what mattered. He had jumped at the chance to go out with his sister, Nat and Clint, even if it was just to go shopping and get some coffee. It was a pleasant change from their usual workdays at least.

By the end of the day though, Pietro had used up most of his energy. The coffee had given him a second wind but on the drive back home, he had found himself unable to stay awake. Soon he was fast asleep, head resting on Clint's shoulder. He only stirred when he felt Clint shaking him awake.

"Mmmph but I was comfortable!"

slump (Pietro for Clint; @mxrvelouscreations )

@mxrvelouscreations

Spending all day in the backseat of a car was the last thing that Clint wanted to do that day. However, when Wanda and Natasha drag you out to do something, you can't really say no. Pietro was tagging along because Clint was and again, you don't say no to Wanda. So the two of them were shoved into the back seat while Natasha and Wanda took the front.

It had been a long day and Clint was worn out. Shopping, eating lunch, getting coffee, a random hour long walk at a park, and even more shopping was a lot to do in one day. He reclined back against the seat and Pietro followed, falling asleep on his shoulder. Clint laughed but allowed the action.

When Natasha pulled back into the Stark Mansion garage, Clint took the cue to wake up Pietro, "Kid, wakey wakey, time to go inside. I'm no longer your pillow." He laughed.

[creative-caramel-coffee]

Ch 1 Arachnophobia: Fear of Spiders

Series: Phobia series

Pairings: Wanda x R

Word count: 997 WORDS

Summary: Clint gets a pet spider plays a prank thats not very funny. Wanda comforts you and Nat is there as well.

TW: spiders, panic attacks, getting locked in a room.

A/n new series

He just had to buy one didn’t he. Stupid idiot. I knew something was coming since i first reacted. It had been the morning of a perfectly fine Sunday. I had my regular bowl of cereal and a glass of juice. I was going to go sit where i sit every Sunday morning but when I entered the room and saw Clint holding the mother of all spiders i turned straight back around and went to my room instead. But not before I saw Clint shoot tony a sinister grin. That couldn’t be good.

It was a week later and the tower was quiet. Most people were sleeping in because for once there wasn’t much to do. Nat was training and Steve was out for his morning run. Tony was probably still in his lab and banner was probably with him.

Yawning you stretched out and threw your legs over the edge of the bed. Standing up you walked to the kitchen still in your Pjs. Putting on a pot of coffee you decided to have breakfast in your room so the sound of the living room TV didn’t wake anyone else up. When the coffee was done you poured yourself some and made a bowl of cereal. Picking it all up you made your way back to your room. It was almost nine am now so people would be getting up soon. As you passed the living room your brow furrowed as you spotted Clint and tony watching Tv. Those two never did anything good together. Hightailing it back to your room you shut the door with your foot and set the tray down the desk. Peeling back the sheets to get back into bed you froze. Sat on between the white sheets was a big hairy tarantula. Clints stupid spider. The scream you heard took you a minute to register as your own. Laughing broke out behind your door and you quickly crossed the room and jiggled the handle.

“Jarvis.” You said your breathing startling to speed up. “Jarvis open the door.”

“Im afraid Mr. Stark has initiated a code green lockdown of your quarters Ms L/n”

“Open the door now.” You said again. “Jarvis open the door.”

“Im afraid i cannot do that.” The AI responded. You began banging your fists on the door.

“Stark let me out. Let me out right now over your lab is gone by tomorrow.” You yelled.

“Calm down L/n jerry is great company. Give him a chance.” Clint said through the door. “We’ll give you two some alone time.”

“So help me Barton if you leave me here with that ball of fluff its gonna die.” You yelled.

“I cant hear you over all your bonding.” He called back and the footsteps retreated. You smacked your head against the door and let out a lounge frustrated scream sliding down the door. A moment later you heard hurried footsteps and a feminine voice call out.

“Y/n?! Are you ok?” It was Wanda. You cried in relief.

“Wanda please let me out.” You begged.

“Y/n/n the doors stuck. Hold on stand back I’m going to use my magic to break it down.” She said and you stepped away from the door and the bed at the same time. A moment later the door flew open and you threw yourself into Wanda’s arms. She grunted in response before wrapping her arms around you not expecting to be met with such force.

When she felt the collar of her pyjamas start to get soaked and small sobs wrack your body she carefully pulled you away her hands on your shoulders while she looked into your eyes.

“Y/n/n honey whats wrong?” She said softly. You shook your head and placed your forehead against hers signalling for her to read your mind before your buried your face in her collar again. Wanda wrapped her arms around you again and the two of you sunk to the floor of the hallway. Wandas back against the wall opposite your room.

“Do you want me to look in here?” She asked tapping your head and you nodded not removing yourself from her neck.

“Ok baby hold on to me and take some deep breathes it’ll be ok my sweet.” She said and began shifting through your memories of that morning. When she was done she was furious and held you even tighter. She knew how much you hated spiders and what Clint and tony had done wasn’t funny at all.

It was at this moment that the elevator dinged and you stiffened thinking it was the boys again. Wanda held you tighter and whispered in you ear.

“Its ok honey its just natty.” She said and Nat came over cautiously.

“Everything ok here wands?” She asked tentatively with an edge of concern.

“No. Not really.” Wanda said and you curled into her more. “Clint and tony thought it would be funny to put Clint’s spider in Y/n/n’s bed because she’s afraid of them.”

“Damn it Barton.” She grumbled. “I’ll do you a favour if i see the spider I’ll throw it off the roof for you.” You giggled slightly still buried in Wanda’s arms.

“In the meantime would you settle for me giving them a solid lecture and maybe a smack or two?” Nat asked.

You smiled into Wanda’s neck and nodded and nat smiled.

“I’ll get on that right away agent L/n” she said with a mock salute and Wanda chuckled. After Nat left to go yell at the boys Wanda picked you up with your legs around her waist and face still buried in her chest. She held you and walked you back to her room where she set you down on the bed still in her lap and threw the sheets over the two of you. She picked up the remote and put one your favourite sit come and held you while your breathing evened out until you eventually fell asleep. Emotionally exhausted.

MASTERLIST

[arnieroth]

thunderbolts #38 (2000)

[mxrvelouscreations]

send me   “ you’re here…?”   for your muse to wake up in a hospital bed and find my muse holding their hand. TO ANDREW / FROM CLINT.

@reiignonme

Andrew had rushed to the hospital as soon as he had gotten word of Clint's injuries. Thankfully, his friend had covered for him at the pet store, having seen the state that Andrew was in. He had asked at the desk for Clint's room, making his way there and sitting down at his bedside, his hand slipping into his. He had held it up to his head, eyes closed as he prayed for the other to wake up and be ok. Upon hearing his voice, he peered up at him, eyes welling up when he realised he hadn't been imagining it. "Hey... hey yeah I'm here... how are you feeling?"

[mxrvelouscreations]

@voluntadfuerte

Bucky's brow raised at the other's comment, having not expected to hear that from Clint. Not that he thought Clint wasn't smart, it was more that this kind of lingo was usually coming from Tony or Bruce. "I have no idea really. All I know is... it's far more comfortable than the arm that they originally gave me. It doesn't feel like it's digging into my chest..."

Bucky.

Bucky watched as the other reached out to touch his arm, his brow furrowing for a second before he relaxed. He was used to having others touch the old arm, the handlers always checking to see if there were any defects. They were rough however, so the gentleness that Clint seemed to have wasn’t something he was used to. “It’s not, most people just assume that it will be for some reason. And luckily, it doesn’t freeze,” he muttered, “the last one wasn’t a fan in the end of the cold.”

“The reason is that it’s metal and metal is a great heat conductor. It wouldn’t be the same if it was ceramic,” Clint said, showing more of the fact he wasn’t an imbicile that he usually did. People tended to overlook him and he let them. Being underestimated often worked in his advantage. “But i guess Vibranium is different.” Clint was no vibranium expert. But considering just how versatile he had seen it being used, heat resistance wouldn’t be out of left field. “The real question tho is if magnets get stuck on it.”

[mjolnirswriststrap]

Mjolnir’s Masterlist

🐻=fluff 🔪=angst 💚=smut 18+ ✔️=finished

Bucky Barnes

• Love In The Dark 🔪✔️

• Texture 💚✔️

• Scared 🔪💚✔️

• Silver Bullet 🔪💚

-Pt. One

• You’re The Reason I Smoke 🔪✔️

-Pt. One, Two

• Trying To Derail My One Track Mind 🔪💚✔️

-Pt. One, Two

• Just Another Notch 🐻🔪💚

-Pt. One, Two, Three, Four, Five

• Haunted 🐻🔪

-Pt. One, Two, Three, Four, Five

• Christmas Countdown Request 🐻✔️

• It Was Never Gonna Happen, Doll | X-Men Au 🐻🔪💚 (coming soon)

Natasha Romanoff

• Executioner | Renaissance AU 💚✔️

Yelena Belova

• Pickpocket 🐻✔️

Clint Barton

• Christmas Countdown Request 🐻✔️

Logan Howelett

• It Was Never Gonna Happen, Doll 🐻🔪💚 (coming soon)

Multicharacter

• I Know You Liked It Steve/Loki🔪💚 ✔️

• Not My Type Part 2 Bucky/Steve 🔪✔️

• Video Games Bucky/Steve 🔪💚

• The Neon Martini Wanda/Nat 🐻🔪💚

• Dumb Viking Thor Thor/Steve 🔪

Rafe Cameron

• Home 🔪💚

- Pt. One

Aegon Targaryen II

• Aegon’s Shadow 🐻🔪 (on hold)

-Ch. One, Two, Three, Four

Daemon Targaryen

• Christmas Countdown Request 🔪✔️

• Christmas Countdown Request 🐻 ✔️

Homelander

• Super Hearing ✔️

[makehydrafictionagain]

Public Relations (MCU x Reader)- Ch. 2. Pt. 1

Summary: Tensions run high in Stark Tower as the aftermath of recent events leaves everyone on edge, working tirelessly to regain control. You grapple with your place among the team, leading to a confrontation that forces you to make a difficult decision. As emotions boil over, the line between staying and leaving grows increasingly blurred.

Here is the link for the previous parts.

Sunday, May 3, 2015

The atmosphere in Stark Tower was tense, the weight of the previous night’s attack pressing heavily on everyone. In the common area on the forty-fifth floor, a room primarily used for intense deliberation, the Avengers gather- exhaustion evident in their expressions. They deliberate, intensely, with the limited information they’ve managed to scrape together.

Steve Rogers takes the lead, his voice steady but firm as he outlines the team’s immediate priorities. “We need to know where he’s gone and what he’s planning. Without that, we’re fighting blind.”

Tony Stark sits slouched in his chair, arms crossed, his face a mask of guilt and frustration. “I can’t track him yet. He’s better than I thought, smarter. But I’ll find him.” His words are sharp, defensive, as if daring anyone to question him further.

Bruce Banner, seated beside Tony, speaks up hesitantly. “Helen and I are running diagnostics on the systems he corrupted. It’ll take time, but we’re making progress.”

Across the room, Thor paces like a restless storm, his hammer swinging at his side. “Ultron is using the scepter’s power. We should focus on that- its magic leaves a trace. If we find the trace, we find him.”

Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton listen quietly, their eyes scanning the room. Natasha finally interjects, her tone pragmatic. “Tracing him is one thing. Stopping him is another. We need to prepare for whatever he’s planning, not just react to it.”

The room fell into a pensive silence, no one feeling the need to add anything more to the pile of stressors in the middle of the room. One by one, they went their separate ways, last of which being Steve, who leaned against the windowsill with his arms crossed and fist rested on his chin.

-

Up in the lab, the air is filled with urgency. Tony works furiously at one of his holographic interfaces, pulling up streams of code and data faster than Bruce or Helen can keep up. His usual quips are absent, replaced by curt, focused commands.

“Banner, cross-check this against the last known coordinates we have for the drones,” Tony says without looking up.

Bruce nods, his fingers flying across the keyboard. “I’m on it. But if Ultron’s using adaptive code, it’s going to take longer than we’d like.”

Helen Cho, standing at another station, frowns as she examines a corrupted data sample. “It’s not just the code,” She says, calm but firm. “Ultron is evolving. He’s not leaving the same traces he did before. This isn’t just artificial intelligence- it’s something more.”

Tony glances over toward her without looking at her directly. “Care to elaborate?”

Helen looked at him evenly. “The scepter’s power is still a factor. We’re not just dealing with science anymore. There’s a blend of technology and something… else. If we don’t account for that, we’ll keep falling behind.”

Tony’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he redirects his focus back to the data, his mind racing.

As the hours tick by, the three work nonstop, their determination matched only by their growing frustration. Each of them know time is running out- and Ultron isn’t waiting for them to catch up.

-

You wake with a start, your body aching from the night before. You're still in your dress, the fabric wrinkled and stained with soot, grime, and blood.

Your hair hangs and clings in wild disarray, and your makeup depicts the chaos of the night before. You don't bother with an attempt to fix yourself. Instead, you push yourself upright and manage to throw the curtains to cover the window, wobbling slightly as you navigate the unsteady world around you. The lingering champagne buzz and a splitting migraine courtesy of the attack make each step a challenge. You press your fingers to your temples, as though the pressure might bring some clarity, before rubbing your eyes- a move that only worsens the mess of mascara already smudged beneath them. The mirror in the bathroom offers a harsh reflection you don't acknowledge. After a splash of cool water that does little to revive you, you drag yourself back into the dimly lit room, the weight of exhaustion and the night's events settling heavily on your shoulders.

Sitting at your desk, you flip open your laptop. The screen illuminates your reflection, and you barely recognize the disheveled woman staring back. You don't allow yourself to wallow. You have a job to do. The clock says 1:28 p.m. Or is that a 4?

Your fingers hover over the keyboard as you begin drafting an email to Ms. Potts.

Subject: Update

Ms. Potts,

I wnted to infom youthat I am okay, te team is okay,nd we’re regrouping as we speak.I’ll handle things on the media front and ensure the fallout isaddressed apppriately.

You pause, fingers tightening slightly over the keys. Your chest feels heavy as you think about the night before. The press event had gone so well- better than you hoped. Steve and Bruce had delivered their speeches perfectly, and the media response had been overwhelmingly positive. It was a win- a real win, something the team desperately needed after Sokovia.

And then it was all destroyed.

Your jaw tightens as you think of Tony. He’d been dismissive, reckless, with his little AI project . Ultron had stolen the spotlight from their hard-earned victory and turned it into something unrecognizable. Something terrifying.

You shake your head, trying to focus. You type another line into the email:

I’ll have a preliminary strategyto you y thisfternoon. Letme know if there are any key points you’d like incded.

_____ _____

You review the email briefly, as well as you can through a tight squint, then hit send. As the message disappears from your screen, you feel a wisp of satisfaction. At least one thing is in motion.

You turn your attention to a blank document, ready to draft the PR strategy. You start outlining key points: acknowledging the attack, expressing regret for the harm caused, and emphasizing the Avengers’ commitment to preventing further destruction. None of it made anything better. Not even close.

Your mind keeps drifting back to the night before. The victory party had been the culmination of days and nights of non-stop effort- a chance to truly celebrate the team's accountability and transparency. You had even let yourself relax, something you often never allowed around clients. For one fleeting moment, it felt like the team was finally on stable ground.

All for nothing.

Your frustration simmers as you type, each keystroke a quiet release of your anger. Tony’s arrogance had derailed everything, and now the entire world was left to deal with the fallout. You weren't naïve- you knew what you were walking into when you took this job. But still, you hadn’t expected this. Clearly, no one had.

You leaned into your screen, hoping that your typing skills served you well enough to create legible notes through the aura of your migraine. You couldn't tell. With a deep inhale, and even deeper exhale, you decide that before you can move forward you need to be wearing something that doesn't smell like whiskey, sweat, or electrical smoke. 

Standing up, you use your arms to guide you to the bathroom and strip, leaving your dress on the tile beneath you. The hot water eases the tension in your shoulders some, but does nothing for the 3 giant bruises on your abdomen and thighs that are thrown on you like paint. 

Having only washed your body, neglecting your routine, you step out onto the dress you removed minutes earlier. You make your way to your dresser and pull on a sweater and leggings- completely disregarding your preference for business-casual attire, and step into your slippers. 

Coffee. 

With very cautious steps, you grabbed your notepad and tablet that were precariously placed on the corner of your desk, found the door to the hallway, and used the walls to guide you toward the kitchen. Navigation felt like walking through a fog, but the promise of coffee pushed you forward.

At the counter, you poured yourself a mug of black coffee, your movements slow and deliberate. You didn’t bother with sugar or cream- there wasn’t any point. The bitter aroma alone was comfort enough, its warmth cradling you as you held the mug close to your chest. The kitchen was quiet, the faint hum of Stark Tower’s systems the only sound accompanying you.

Your footsteps were soft as you crossed to the same seat at the table you had previously claimed, a place you’d sat to observe the team of heroes not even a week ago. Back then, you’d felt like an outsider peering into a world you could never fully understand. Now, sitting in the same spot, the distance between you and them felt even greater, like an invisible wall you couldn’t- didn’t- hope to scale.

You settled into the chair, setting your coffee down with a gentle clink before setting your notepad and tablet down. With a sharp exhale, you flipped to a fresh page and began jotting down ideas. Your handwriting was uncharacteristically messy, the jagged letters revealing on paper the strain in your vision and the tension in your thoughts.

The tablet beside your remained dark, untouched. You couldn’t bear to squint at the blurry screen again, its flickering light only adding to your frustration. 

There's no question what’s being said online.

Instead, you focused on the notepad, letting the rhythm of pen on paper guide you as you tried to piece together fragments, slivers, of a strategy. Your brow furrowed, the faint lines between your eyebrows deepening as you fought to concentrate.

But the quiet didn’t last. The sound of approaching footsteps broke through your thoughts, a steady, confident rhythm echoing through the kitchen. You froze, your pen hovering above the page as the noise grew louder.

You looked up, squinting toward the doorway. The figure that emerged was instantly recognizable- not by sight, but by the unjustified confidence and ego, paired with the faint scent of cologne and a whisper of alcohol- or, the other way around. 

Tony Stark.

For a moment, you remained still, gripping your pen tightly as your gaze followed him. There was something almost surreal about seeing him like this, the man responsible for both the Avengers’ triumphs and their current chaos. His presence filled the room like a storm cloud, impossible to ignore. It pissed you off.

Tony’s steps didn’t falter as he made his way to the coffee machine, his movements fluid and purposeful. The sound of the coffee pouring into his mug seemed louder than it should have been, punctuating the silence with every drop. You didn’t say a word, your stomach tightening as you braced yourself for whatever confrontation was about to come next. Whether he initiated it or you did, both of you could feel something brewing.

“Wow,” Tony said, his voice cutting through the quiet. “I thought you’d be gone by now.” He paused by the coffee machine. You couldn’t tell if he was looking at you, or looking at his cup. “Or was last night not enough of a reminder that your expertise is no longer needed here?”

You straightened, your grip tightening on your pen. “You mean the part where you caused a disaster so bad that Ms. Potts hasn’t even had a chance to return my emails yet?” Your tone matched his, sharp and biting. You leaned forward, your eyes narrowing. “No, Mr. Stark, that wasn’t a reminder. It was confirmation.” Tony, abandoning the mug he was preparing on the counter, came around to face you, turning his ear to you as if he had misheard.

“Give me a break. We’re a little beyond PR control at this point, don’t you think? Ultron doesn’t care about soundbites, and neither do I.” Tony took two more steps toward the table where you sat, encroaching on your personal space.

The way he loomed over you- standing while you sat- only made your anger flare. You pushed yourself to your feet, your vision sharpening enough to catch the irritation etched into his face. “Maybe not, but the world does. You’ve spent years building this company’s name- your name- and now you’ve tied it to a killer robot and another ruined city.” Tony’s jaw tightens as he steps even closer, yet you continue. “But sure, let's pretend none of that matters.”

“You’re right- it’s my company.” You can now clearly see the stress lines on his forehead and the bags under his eyes, and your heart rate quickens as he approaches. Despite standing tall, he still towers over you from the angle he's approaching.

Tony leaned closer, one hand gripping the table in front of you, his tone cold and sharp. “And frankly, I don’t see the point of keeping someone around who can’t even shoot a hunk of metal six feet in front of her.”

You freeze, your lips parting as though to respond, but the words don’t come. The room felt smaller, your blurry surroundings closing in as his words echoed in your head. 

Tony doesn’t wait for a reply. He turns sharply on his heel and strides out, the door clicking shut behind him. 

The silence that follows is deafening. You exhale sharply, your hands clenched into fists. Your mind races, replaying his words, your frustration mounting.

Finally, you snap your notepad shut, the sound breaking the stillness of the room. Shoving the dining chair back further, you leave the table, walking carelessly, intently to your room.

Your breath comes quick and shallow as your mind churns, emotions a storm of anger, hurt, and defiance. You don't pause, don't let yourself think. Instead, you pack your belongings quickly, tossing essentials into a small bag and hastily organizing the rest for shipment. After 45 minutes, your blood pressure has not lowered. You knew the rage-packing had something to do with that, but you take it as a sign that the decision you had already made was the right one. You pulled your hair into a bun, giving no care to your appearance, and sat on the edge of the bed with your hands gripping the mattress and your leg shaking angrily for a moment longer. 

Fuck this place.

You stood up and looked at your suitcases, packed up and set to the side.

They can ship it to me. Or not. I dont give a shit.

You slung the bag over your shoulder and headed for the door, your jaw tight, and straight down the hallway toward the elevator. Your chest felt tight, your thoughts spinning in an exhausting loop of frustration and self-doubt. 

I'm not doubting anything. I'm no help here.

Leaving Stark Tower was the only thing that made sense now. You weren't helping, you weren’t needed, and after Tony’s scathing words, staying felt unbearable. Impossible.

You were just a few steps away from the elevator when Natasha Romanoff stepped into your path, tablet in hand. At first, she didn’t even glance up, her focus seemingly on the screen, but she moved with deliberate intent, blocking your path with ease.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Natasha’s voice was calm but carried an edge, like a warning wrapped in silk.

You paused, gripping the strap of your bag, suddenly very aware that the room was now inhabited by multiple Avengers despite the silence before. Your tone came out sharper than intended. “I didn’t realize I needed clearance for the elevator.”

Natasha’s gaze flicked up then, sharp and assessing, pinning you in place. “You do when you’re planning to run. Especially now.”

Your fingers tightened around the strap of your bag. “I’m not running,” You said, your voice defensive. “I’m just… leaving. Tony’s right- this isn’t my fight.”

Natasha tilted her head slightly, her calm demeanor unnerving. She stepped closer, her voice lowering but firm. “You’re not just some bystander, _____. You’ve been in the room. You’ve seen the plans, heard the intel. You think Ultron’s going to forget that?”

The words made you falter, but only for a moment. “So what?” You snapped. “I stay here and keep being a liability? I’m not helping, Natasha. You don’t need me.”

Natasha crossed her arms, expression hardening. “You think this is about what we need? It’s about survival. You walk out of here, you’re making yourself an easy target. And the second Ultron decides to come after you, we’ll have to drop everything to save your ass.”

Heat rose in your cheeks. “I don’t need saving,” You bit out, your voice rising.

Natasha’s eyes narrowed, her tone turning sharp as a blade. “Look, I get it- you’re scared, and you don’t belong here. But leaving right now isn’t just stupid, it’s selfish . Stay. Help us fix this. Or at the very least, stay alive so we don’t have to add your death to our conscience.

Their voices had risen by now, echoing down the hallway, sharp and cutting. In the common room nearby, Steve, Clint, and Thor had fallen silent, their conversation abandoned. The tension of the argument drew their attention like a magnet, and they exchanged uneasy glances. 

Your breath hitched, and you turned away, unable to hold Natasha’s piercing stare any longer. Your grip on your bag strap tightened as the words sank in, heavy and suffocating.

Steve stood, the weight of the moment compelling him to step in. He approached slowly, his expression calm but serious, his presence alone enough to add to the tension in the hallway. Natasha glanced at him briefly before turning back to you, her voice softening just enough to temper the moment.

“You don’t have to like being here,” She said. “But you can’t leave. Not yet.”

Your eyes darted between Natasha and Steve, who now stood silently nearby, his somber presence adding weight to the conversation. Trapped. That’s how you felt. Your frustration and helplessness boiled to the surface, and you let out a sharp, bitter laugh, shaking your head.

“Fine,” You spat out, spinning on your heel and storming back down the hallway toward your room.

Natasha watched you go, her expression unreadable. “She’s not going anywhere,” She said quietly, almost to herself.

“Good,” Steve replied softly, though his gaze lingered in the direction you had gone.

He turned to leave, but Natasha’s voice stopped him, her tone low and knowing. “Go easy on him,” she said.

Steve glanced back, catching the flicker of understanding in her eyes. She knew exactly where he was headed. With a small nod, he turned away, his jaw tightening as he disappeared down the hallway toward Tony’s lab. Natasha let out a slow exhale, attention returning to the tablet in her hands- though her thoughts remained firmly on you and the storm brewing within Stark Tower, and out there somewhere in the world. In the common room, Clint shook his head, muttering something under his breath. 

The silence that followed was heavy, the weight of unspoken questions lingering between them.

-

You stormed into your room, the door clicking shut behind you with more force than you intended, more force than you thought was possible with these fancy hinges. You stood still for a moment, breathing uneven, hands clenched into fists at your sides. Your mind spun, replaying the argument with Natasha, the sharpness of her words, the unspoken truth beneath them.

Stupid. Selfish.

You crossed to your bed and sat down heavily, your gaze falling to your lap. The anger swirling inside you flared briefly, but it wasn’t just anger at Natasha- it was at yourself, at the impossible situation you had found yourself in. You thought you could handle this, thought you could help. But now?

Stupid.

Your eyes drifted to the suitcases thrown to the side of the door.

Selfish.

The others were overthinking this. Ultron had no reason to care about you. You’re a PR person, not a strategist or a fighter. What could you possibly offer? You weren't one of them. Tony had made that clear enough.

Stupid.

Your chest tightened at the memory of his words. They stung, not because they were harsh.

He’s right.

-

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Steve’s voice cut through the lab like a whip, followed by the slamming and swinging of the doors behind him.

Bruce flinched, his head snapping up in surprise, while Helen glanced over briefly before returning to her work. Tony didn’t flinch. He didn’t even look up, his focus seemingly unshaken as he continued swiping at the holograms.

“Saving the world,” Tony said flatly, the edge of snark in his tone. “You should try it sometime.”

Steve stepped closer, his presence towering, his voice hard. “You can’t just kick people out without consulting the team.”

“Oh, good, she finally left.” Tony mumbled, still not looking up from his work. 

“_____ left?” Bruce couldn't hesitate the words coming out, though he wanted to.

“Nat didn't let her leave.” Steve said, still focusing on Tony.

Tony straightened, any bit of a smirk fading as he circled around the workstation, his expression more guarded now. “She should have,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact. “She’s a liability, Rogers. She’s not a soldier, she’s not a scientist, and she sure as hell isn’t a hero. She’s in over her head, and she knows it.”

“She’s more of a liability out there,” Steve countered, his frustration rising. “Ultron will use anything he can against us. You really think he’s just going to let her walk away?”

Bruce shifted uncomfortably but nodded in agreement. “Steve’s got a point,” he said carefully. “Ultron’s not going to leave her alone. She’s already on his radar- we all are.”

Tony turned toward Bruce, his frustration snapping like a live wire. “And how’s that my fault? I didn’t tell her to show up here.”

“No,” Steve shot back, his voice rising, “but you told you to leave . You really think the right thing to do is send her out there- alone?”

Tony’s jaw tightened, and he turned back to Steve, his voice hardening. “And you think she’s safe here? Did last night not make an impression? This place isn’t safe for anyone, least of all someone like her.”

The room fell into a tense silence, the weight of Tony’s words hanging between them. Bruce looked down at his monitor, clearly uncomfortable, while Helen kept her focus on her work, stoic.

Steve took a breath, reining in his anger. “ Here is the safest place for her to be,” he said, his tone quieter but no less firm. “Here she has us .”

Tony’s expression flickered, his eyes narrowing as if he was considering another retort. But when he spoke, his voice was quieter, almost muttering, “I can’t keep everyone safe, Steve.”

“Then I will.” Steve stepped closer, his tone resolute. “She’s staying.”

They locked eyes, the tension crackling like electricity between them. Tony’s jaw worked as though he wanted to argue, but no words came. Instead, he broke the stare, turning back toward his workstation, his silence brimming with frustration and something deeper he wouldn’t admit.

Steve lingered for a moment, letting the weight of his words settle before turning and walking out of the lab.

Tony stood still, staring blankly at his holograms. After a beat, he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he stepped away from his workstation. Without a word, he left the lab, the glass door to the elevator lobby sliding shut behind him.

Bruce and Helen exchanged a look, Bruce’s face marked with unease.

“Well,” Bruce said quietly, rubbing the back of his neck, “that went well.”

Helen shook her head slightly, returning to her tablet.

-

For a moment, you sat still, staring at the empty space in front of you, your thoughts circling. Natasha and Steve thought Ultron would target you, but that didn’t make sense. He had bigger fish to fry: Tony, Bruce, the Avengers themselves. What value could you possibly hold in the grand scheme of things?

You forced yourself to stand, your movements deliberate as you pulled the suitcases from the ground and placed them on the bed. Slowly, you began to fix your messy packing. Clothes were refolded carefully, placed in neat stacks. Your framed photo of your family went into the wooden box along with a few other keepsakes you brought from home.

Each item you packed felt like a small admission of defeat, a quiet acknowledgement that this wasn’t where you were meant to be.

When you finished, the room was bare, stripped of any trace of your presence other than the suitcases and the wooden box that were lined up by the door, ready to go. You weren’t even sure you would see them again after today. 

I honestly, truly, don’t give a shit.

With that thought, you pulled the photos out of the box and placed them in your bag, wrapped in a shirt. Only your laptop remained on the desk, the last thing you’d need before leaving.

You sat down again, your hands numb and resting on your knees, thoughts heavy. The Avengers didn’t need you, and staying here wasn’t going to change that. It was time to go. That was the only thing that made sense anymore.

Your room, once carefully organized to make it feel like home, now felt sterile and impersonal, stripped of the touches you’d added during your brief stay.

You opened your laptop and began typing, movements methodical and precise. It wasn’t until the laptop screen shone on you that you realized how dark it was in “your room.” It’d been hours.

Subject: Thank you

Ms. Potts,

Thankou for the opportunity towork alongsidetark Industries and the Avengers. After carul consideration, I’ve determned thatmy role here is no longer beeficial to the team or themission. I belive it’sin everyone’s best interest if Istep aside during this criticaltime.

I’ve packed my bongings in the suitcasesnd wooden box theywere delivered in. Pleasehae them sent to 128 Briarwod Lane, Whie Plains, NY 10605, at your convenience. I will leave my access badge and keycard at t the front desk for collection. I trust this will nt cause any inconvenience.

I wish you and the tam the best in the days ahead.

_____ _____

You read over the email once, as best you could, ensuring its tone was professional and to the point. Then, with a deep breath, you hit send. The small chime of confirmation was like the closing of a chapter.

You shut your laptop and slid it into your bag, zipping it up with practiced efficiency. You glanced around the room one final time, your gaze lingering on the bare floor and the now neatly stacked cases. Your badge and keycard were held tight in your hand- not realizing how severely the anxiety had been accumulating until this very moment, with the sharp plastic edges of your identification pressing painfully into your palm.

Without hesitation, you hoisted your bag over your shoulder and stepped silently into the hallway. The Tower was quiet and dim at this hour, the hum of distant machinery the only sound accompanying your footsteps. You moved quickly, looking behind you often, keeping to the shadows and heading for the service stairwell. You stopped at the heavy door and readied your keycard, hoping to the heavens that it worked. You hovered it over the scanner and waited for a beep, either affirmative or negative. The light turned green and a chirp echoed through the halls, followed by the sound of the lock mechanism releasing. 

Thank you, Maria.

You were not prepared for a fight, so you hoped that was the case. Worst case scenario, though, would the team care enough to exert unnecessary energy into keeping you here? Part of you felt bad for using the trust Maria had placed in you to escape; she clearly felt that you didn’t require the typical security restrictions that most in your position would. To use that respect and run with it felt wrong, sure, but… 

I don’t know, I don’t care.

The descent, though you knew would be long, felt excruciating, every echo of your footsteps amplifying the tension in your chest. When you finally reached the ground floor, you paused at the door to the side lobby, your hand hovering over the handle.

There was no looking back. You pushed the door open and stepped into the dark room that led straight into the night. The city’s cool air hit you immediately, a sharp contrast to the stifling atmosphere of Stark Tower. The glowing logo loomed behind you, casting a faint light over the street.

You tightened your grip on your bag and walked away, steps steady and determined. You didn’t glance back, your focus entirely on the path ahead. For better or worse, you were on your own now. 

Thank god for Uber.

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Clint Barton/Roy Harper ship manifesto and recs for @dc-marvel-crossovers Pool Noodle Party!

At this point I think more than half the fics in this tag were written either by me or for me, so I might be biased, but god do I love this precious little pool noodle. These two are so perfect together.

Not just the archery, but the self-esteem (or lack thereof) and self-destructiveness and big soft scarred hearts, and the stubbornness to keep fighting no matter what. They both deserve the kind of care and loyalty they’re always trying to give to others. I love them.

Taking ship name suggestions because I cannot keep calling this ArseEye.

Here, have some fics!

Hope It Leaves A Mark ch. 2 by @thepartyresponsible - every line of this ficlet is jam-packed with perfect characterization and gorgeously precise language. Features one of my favorite Clint/Roy parallels: their tendency to be underestimated because they look like hot messes. The juxtaposition of chaotic disaster and breathtaking competence is perfect.

Maybe he really is Arsenal. Because he might seem to carry himself with all the strategic acumen of your average inebriated raccoon, but so far every move he’s made has been absolutely beautiful. Clint’s prepared to admit he’s a little charmed by that.

To Have (and to owe) by @sammialex - peak mopey sad-sack self-destructive boys throwing themselves into a fight because they don’t value their own lives. Gorgeous use of imagery. Very whumpy, but they bring each other a little sunshine and hope too. This sums the pair of them up all too well:

…it’d been so long since Roy had a mission he wanted to complete, instead of a mission he half hoped he’d die for.

Soft target by @bill-longbow - Ronin!Clint and a Roy who’s struggling with sobriety. Angsty but so sweet. Something about Roy seeing himself in Clint but taking better care of him/having more empathy for him than he ever would do/feel for himself — yeah, that hits me right in the feels. Also with podfic and art!

There's something familiar about him Roy can't catch, but it might as well be because Roy recognizes that look from the mirror. Try and hurt me, nothing you can throw at me is worse than what I do to myself.

The Beverage Comrade by @sishal01 - pure fluff and adorable awkward flirting. The cutest pair of dorks. Also with podfic!

Okay earth, he thinks, I’m ready now to be swallowed up, please. Any time would be good.

To Roy’s surprise the crinkles around the guy's eyes only grow deeper, his mouth falling into an easy lopsided smile.

disasterosity by @bittercape - could function as a primer on why these two are fucking perfect together. Spot-on banter and wit and chaotic humor with just enough self-deprecation to ring true to character. Funny as fuck.

“You fished me out of a dumpster like two hours ago, nobody’s into that.”

“Don’t diss the dumpster life,” Clint says reflexively, and Roy laughs, loud and surprised.

[illbringthechaosmagic]

Wanda was trying her best to rationalise it in her head. While she wanted nothing more than to go to the hospital with Tony, it was probably smarter for her not to. She would be far more worried if she was, pacing and pacing until the doctors came out. At least if she went with Clint and Stephen, they could keep her distracted until they got a call. And so, giving a small nod, she pulled back enough to wipe at her face before whispering, "let's go...."

She glanced between the two of them before making her way through the portal, her whole body feeling like she had been through hell already. She needed to rest, she knew that, but her mind was stuck on thoughts of Tony. And she knew that they would be that way until Steve called them with news of what had happened.

It wasn't for a good few hours before there was any news. Steve had decided to call Clint instead of anyone else, wanting for him to break the news gently to Wanda that Tony had made it out of surgery. He knew that the other would have a good way of telling her that wouldn't freak her out too much, if what he had done on the field was anything to go by.

@thenexusofsouls

[thenexusofsouls] (from Tony) “ the cost of victory. “

@thenexusofsouls

Finally, Thanos had been defeated. All those years, he had been lingering in the shadows, ready to attack and claim the Infinity Stones for himself. At first he had succeeded and Wanda had been snapped out of existence along with half of the world. When she had returned, it was 5 years later and they were back on the field, ready to fight against a deadly foe. Of course, Wanda had made sure that Tony was safe first, fighting alongside him. But somewhere along the way, they had split up. She had had no idea what his plan had been until it was too late.

As soon as she saw him fall, she raced over. Catching sight of the stones in his suit, her heart immediately sank, her eyes widening as she pulled him in. "No... no Tony you can't... you can't..." Her voice was cracking, tears already starting to fall. The panic was settling in by now as she took in the sight of the destruction the power of the stones had caused to the suit and to her love's face. "Tony, look at me... you can't go, you can't... you promised..."

By now, the others had started to gather around them. Steve had moved in closest, along with Clint to try and ease Wanda away, but she only slapped their hands away. "Don't touch me!" She cried out, her gaze never once leaving Tony's. "I'm not letting him go..."

[dc-marvel-crossovers]

Day 1: a magnificent slice of stardust by @bittercape. Roy Harper/Tony Stark, 857 words, rated T.

Day 2: An Adamantium Shovel by @notherdeadrobin. Jason Todd/Slade Wilson & Logan, 3496 words, rated T.

Day 3: The Stockings Were Hung by @betrayedbycinnamon. Bucky Barnes/Jason Todd/Clint Barton, 3945 words, explicit.

Day 4: Can’t Start A Fire Without A Spark by @mightymightygnomepriest. Frank Castle/Jason Todd, 1322 words, explicit.

Day 5: Winter Traditions by @carcrash429. Clint Barton/Ronon Dex (Stargate Atlantis), 1152 words, rated G.

Day 6: Barebow by @artaxlivs. Clint Barton/Jason Todd, 3421 words, rated M.

Day 7: Biggest Fan by @claraxbarton. Clint Barton/Roy Harper, art.

Day 8: Make It Up As We Go Along by @there-must-be-a-lock. Roy Harper/Clint Barton, 4922 words, rated T

Day 9: early next mornin’ (‘bout a half past nine) by @capriciouswrites. Karen Page & Jason Todd, 2212 words, rated M.

Day 10: Just Want You For My Own (More Than You Could Ever Know) by @there-must-be-a-lock. Dick Grayson/Jason Todd and Dick Grayson/Clint Barton, 4461 words, explicit

Day 11: Baby It's Hot Outside by @claraxbarton. Clint Barton/Jason Todd and Clint Barton/Diana Prince, art.

Day 12: Sit By The Fire by @darbydoo22. Steve Rogers/Dick Grayson, 746 words, rated G.

Day 13: On Target by @claraxbarton. Clint Barton/Roy Harper, art.

Day 14: Waiting For Something More by @wyxan. Peter Parker/Michelle Jones & Tim Drake, 2342 words, rated G.

Day 15: Nocking Point by @artaxlivs. Jason Todd/Clint Barton. 5042 words, explicit.

Day 16: any frontier, any hemisphere by @bittercape. Jason Todd/Steve Rogers, 719 words, rated T.

Day 17: Christmas Magic by TheologyDiscography. Clint Barton & Harry Potter, 1694 words, rated G.

Day 18: to hold saltwater in your mouth by @paprikadotmp4. Jason Todd/Bucky Barnes, 598 words, rated T.

Day 19: Wake Up by @claraxbarton. Clint Barton/Jason Todd, art.

Day 20: Birds of a Feather by @carcrash429. Clint Barton/Sam Wilson/Dick Grayson, 1291 words, rated G.

Day 21: all things nature’s given by @carcrash429. Clint Barton & Dick Grayson, 1327 words, rated G.

Day 22: I’ll Take The Dangerous One by @wyxan. Yelena Belova/Stephanie Brown, 2698 words, rated T.

Day 23: In Brightest Day by @claraxbarton. Clint Barton/Kyle Rayner, art.

Day 24: can’t start a fire without a spark, ch. 2 by @mightymightygnomepriest. Frank Castle/Jason Todd, 3468 words, explicit.