Clint Barton Novels & Stories

he vindicated his side. “Pa, stop it already. Look, He’s a good guy. He could never do something like that. You also did this to Ethan years ago, remember?” I said while my brows were in-furrow. “Sir, your daughter is a good person. I promise I’ll protect her and I won’t do anything stupid. If that happens, my mom would be the first t kill me,” Clint answered. “Okay, it’s good that we’re clear. Now, mind telling me how this works?” And now he wants to watch on Netflix. Clint smiled both to him and me.

he muttered, hand closing on the handle. The door burst open before greetings could be exchanged. Daniel Barton—their lawyer—stormed inside. His gray blazer was askew, navy tie crooked to the side, a tablet clutched in his right hand, a folder in his left spilling newspaper clippings and printed screenshots. His face was flushed, his eyes sparking with lightning. “What is this?!” He slammed the tablet onto the coffee table, the dull thud reverberating across the room. “Tell me what this is!”

He screamed and I jerked back He stood up and walked out with his eyes red. Was he going to take a gun or a knife? I was so scared He came back moments later with a cigarette in his mouth. He was wearing a short sleeved shirt but all his buttons were unhooked His chest and deadly tattoo were still showing Clint: I'm going out for fresh air. Eat up He left and I looked at the food. I suddenly got my appetite back and took it up I finished it up and drank my coffee. I got down from the bed with enough energy

They had been together ever since—even after Bonnie showed up at his door one day. "You going to get out of that truck, or just sit there using your mental powers to get the work done?" Benjamin Tucker stood at the side of the house, hands on his hips as he stared at Clint sitting in his truck. Clint turned the engine off as he opened the driver's door. "Sorry," he called out, grabbing a clipboard that sat on the front seat, as he slid out of the vehicle. "Lost in the past for a second." He chuckled, thinking that the past he referred to was actually his present, and he loved every minute of it. "I was thinking back a few weeks when I was here with Aimee and she shot some photographs. She ta

Only the hum of the air conditioner broke the silence, steady and monotonous. A sharp voice cut through the quiet, and Jensen’s breath hitched. “Jensen.” Clinton stood in the doorway, his broad frame silhouetted against the hallway light. His crisp white shirt was rolled at the sleeves, revealing the strong muscles of his forearms. His dark eyes locked onto Jensen’s, unblinking and commanding. “You’re falling behind again,” Clinton said coolly, stepping inside, the subtle scent of his cologne wrapping around Jensen like a silk sheet. “I expected this report on my desk hours ago. This isn’t acceptable.”

He was glad he had been able to restore the broken relationship he had with his sister. "Surprise, surprise," one of the bartenders said as Aly entered the bar. She hadn't seen him much since he left on his journey. Aly rolled her eyes and sat down in her favorite position. "I don't always grace this place just because of—" Right on cue, her phone rang, and it was Bazyli on the other end. "What a coincidence," she remarked as she answered his call. "Do you know what? I'm in the bar, and Clinton is claiming that I only show up when you're there." She gave the smirking Clinton a mocking stare.

she answered happily. “Okay, Miss Dickson.” “I have been wondering what kind of school would not check for their missing students,” she thought and began to adjust her dressing. Afterward, she posed as the Executive Secretary of a leading armory company. Shortly, the door opened. Cpl. Barton led a tall man who was dressed in black and white into her office. She looked at the man's stoic face and wondered whether he came for good or not. “Good afternoon, Miss Dickson. I'm Barr. Justin Gibson. An attorney of Mr. Tim Williams,” the barrister looked into her eyes and informed her.

He yells out, drawing everyones attention to us. "The chick is Claire," Claire answers him, matter-of-factly, and he snorts like a pig. "And what's your name?" "They call me Dr Clint," Clint answers her, giving a bogus nickname that none of us has ever given him. "I specialise in virginity removal." There's a roar of laughter behind him as some of the boys pat him on the back for his crude comment. "That's really gross," Claire says back to him, pulling a face of disgust and making me chuckle.

Long-distance was so hard. The call came in, and she accepted it swiftly. “Hey, baby. I’ve missed you so much. There is so much to unpack.” She rubbed her palms together, eagerly as Clinton showed himself. He was shirtless. “Yeah, what’s good?” Clinton asked, picking up a blunt and smoking some. Zoey’s brows creased in confusion. Firstly, he was shirtless, and then he was smoking. Clinton was a christian and he didn’t do stuff like that. They didn’t do stuff like that.

He was dressed well, in a white shirt and black jacket. "Are you going out on some date?" the Mayor asked, with one eyebrow raised. Clint looked at what he was wearing then replied, "No, sir. Just trying to look my best today." "Anything special happening today?" Jack asked. "It's my birthday, sir." He looked at his handyman for some seconds then burst into laughter. Clint didn't even blink. His face remained stoic as ever. "Your birthday? And you're dressed like this to work because it is your birthday?" Mayor Jack Sparrow shook his head from side to side as if he could not believe the horseshit he was hearing.