#Ash Barton

[joezy27]

HAWKEYE - Wastelanders (Podcast)

Marvel’s Wastelanders: Hawkeye International Edition on Audible in French, German, Hindi, Italian and Japanese Sept 29, 2023

[golden-rolling-hills]

brody and barton being pokémon nerds on main is healing my soul 😭😭😭

[wanderingmind867]

Who knew some of my favorite characters would be archers and/or sons of mars? Frank Zhang, Hawkeye, Martian Manhunter, possibly Green Arrow, etc. I know a lot of these characters are very different, but it's weird how the bow characters and/or characters tied to mars seem to appeal to me. Some odd coincidences, I guess. But I really do like all of the characters i've mentioned (but i put the maybe around green arrow because i haven't read many comics with him yet). And technically, I've liked archers in other things too. I remember really liking ashe in fire emblem: three houses (which was one of my last interests before the current long comics hyperfixation).

[adobongsiopao]

I finally found this copy of "North and South" by Elizabeth Gaskell. I've been looking for it ever since I watched the 2004 BBC mini series version starring Daniela Denby-Ashe and Richard Armitage. For some reason, this novel is not usually available in bookstores near our area so I had to resort to buy it online. It's quite expensive and has some dent but it's still in good condition. I'll read this later.

[themxtleycrew]

Am excited for all the different spiders who will he appearing in Across the Spiderverse but...

When are we gonna get her?

[just-here-with-my-thoughts]

Welcome to the Outpost: Part 1.2 - Rise From The Ashes

@badthingshappenbingo prompt: Self Surgery

Fandom: The Bad Batch Characters: Clone Commander Mayday, Clone Trooper Hexx, Clone Trooper Veetch, Additional Clone Troopers Word Count: ~1730 Warnings: Injury Description Read Here on AO3

Synopsis: The raiders have made it through the perimeter and Commander Mayday has been injured. With no response to their request for medical aid to be sent, he tends to his own wounds and rallies his men to continue protecting the base.

Read Part 1.1 - Frozen

“Come in command. This is Barton IV Depot, requesting urgent assistance.”

“Give it up, Veetch.” Mayday grinned around the hitch of pain in his words. “They’re not answering.”

The young clone trooper looked up from the console with a worried frown. “We have to keep trying, sir.”

Mayday eased himself forwards from his reclined position, grunting in pain as his abdomen creased around blood-stained bandages. “Get me the medkit.”

“There’s nothing in there that will help,” said Veetch, even as he obeyed. He watched incredulously as his commander rooted around in the small kit for anything he could use to treat the injury that kept seeping through repeated layers of bandaging.

“Bring the heater closer. I don’t want to freeze to death whilst I’m trying to patch myself up.”

“You can’t be serious,” said Veetch, grabbing Mayday’s hands to stop him as he went to unfasten the bandages. “You’ll bleed out.”

Mayday levelled a calm look at the young trooper, letting him hold his wrists but wearing him down with the strength of his gaze. “I’m bleeding out anyway. I need to stitch this wound.”

“But the Empire will send a medical droid if we can just contact them-”

“Not in time to do anything other than verify cause of death,” said Mayday bluntly. “Veetch. Heater.”

Veetch ran to do as he was bid, wide-eyed with concern. Mayday extracted what he needed from the kit – needle and thread, archaic, stored there only for dire emergencies when other supplies had run out. Which, after six months stationed on the icy planet, they had.

Not that their med-kit had been exhaustively stocked to begin with. It had been provisioned for a storage facility – essentially what the outpost was – not for a squad engaged in frequent skirmishes with the locals. Requests for replenishment had gone unanswered.

Mayday dragged himself to his feet, wincing, and staggered to the com console. He switched from long-range to local, leaning heavily against the equipment as he opened the channel.

“Hexx, how’s it going out there?”

“Good to hear your voice, Commander.”

“Report.”

The heater scraped against the floor as Veetch hauled it over, hovering anxiously beside his commander. Mayday sank onto a chair and leaned back, peeling away the soaked bandages round his middle as he listened to Hexx’s run-down.

“Raiders are attacking in waves. We can’t pursue them too far past the perimeter, or they strike from another angle. Defences are holding though.”

“Casualties?” Mayday’s voice was a hiss through gritted teeth as the final layer dropped away to reveal the deep laceration to his abdomen.

Hexx’s dry chuckle echoed through the com. “Just you, sir.”

Mayday gave a humourless grin. “Let’s try and keep it that way.”

He glanced at Veetch, who already had a fresh bandage in his hands. “Alright, trooper, you sure you can handle this?”

Veetch’s gaze was riveted on the gash to Mayday’s stomach, edges of the skin pulling back to reveal the flesh behind, slick with lazily pulsing blood. With effort he wrenched his attention away and looked into Mayday’s level brown gaze.

“Dene was our medic, sir. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“I’ve been patched up after battle enough times in my life,” said Mayday grimly, taking up the needle and positioning it beside the slowly pulsing gash across his stomach. “I think I can have a go at doing it myself.”

Veetch watched in pale determination as the steel instrument pierced the ragged flesh at the edge of the wound, thread drawing through and quickly soaking red with the commander’s blood. Sweat beaded on Mayday’s forehead as he worked, drawing the edges of the wound together until the flow of blood slowed to a beading trickle.

When Mayday’s head fell back, gasping in pain and exhaustion, Veetch crouched at his side to tie off the stitches and wipe blood from his skin before tightly wrapping the wound in a fresh bandage. The discarded, bloodstained rags on the ground beside him were pushed out the way as he pulled the heater as close as he could to his commander.

“Good lad,” breathed Mayday shallowly, watching Veetch through slitted eyes.

Veetch returned to the com console, opening the channel again.

“Report, Hexx,” he said in a voice that only shook a little.

“They’re inside the perimeter. We could use your help if the Commander can spare you.”

Mayday nodded. “Go help them.”

Veetch cast him a worried look, but his nod was firm and then he was gone, pulling his bucket on as he let himself out into the night.

With a tired groan Mayday pushed to his feet, steadying himself against the console before bending very carefully to retrieve his discarded top armour. The movement pulled at the stitches uncomfortably and he clamped a hand against the bandages, fingers clawed against his skin as he grimaced in pain.

Taking a deep breath he straightened, lifting his cuirass and heaving it onto the chair he had vacated. He gingerly pulled his top blacks down from around his shoulders to cover his torso, then began to clip his armour back into place.

The mountain cold found every gap between his armour as he crossed to the watch-tower. In other circumstances it might have been soothing on his injuries, but now all it did was highlight the contrast with the heat of his wound and remind him how ill-equipped they were to fight in these conditions.

A rifle muzzle greeted him as he ascended the tower, until Atlas realised who it was and hauled his Commander the rest of the way to the platform.

“Sure you should be out here, sir?” he asked, training his rifle back on the battle. A well-placed shot startled a pair of raiders from cover, where they ran into the path of Recon’s waiting blaster-fire.

“Wouldn’t be anywhere else,” quipped Mayday drily, trying not to let pain leach into his voice. He scanned the depot with a pair of binoculars. “Over there. Three of them in the shadow of the storage unit. Looks like they have explosive charges.”

“On it.” Atlas swung his rifle to the location Mayday had marked, ready to eliminate the threat.

For over an hour the fight ranged back and forth, raiders striking and then melding back into shadow and snow, the clone troopers pressed from all sides to defend the base. The perimeter sensors worked intermittently to warn them of enemies nearing. Mayday ordered Atlas down to back up the others on the ground, taking control of the rifle in the tower.

It wasn’t clear at what point they routed the attackers. The skirmishes dwindled in frequency, then ceased. The clone troopers were still crouched in cover, shivering against the bitter cold, watchful and alert for the next attack the come in.

When enough time had passed to feel confident the assault was over, Mayday came down from the tower.

Axis and Helix were closest to him, and quick to rush to support him. He brushed off their concern, pulling himself to his full height as his ragged squad of troopers gathered around him, watchful and waiting for his orders.

“You did well, boys,” he praised, looking at each of them in turn. Snow-dashed helmets watched back, visors dark, but despite the snow and low light he knew each and every one of them individually. “You held the depot whilst I was incapacitated. I couldn’t be prouder of you.”

“Veetch says the Empire aren’t answering comms,” said Ferox bluntly.

Mayday took a deep breath. “I know what you’re all thinking. We’re assigned to the shebs-end of nowhere, and relief ships are… infrequent.” He paused, letting his gaze rake over them again. “What we’re doing here is important. The Empire needs us to keep this depot secure until these supplies are needed. It may be a long assignment. But I know that each and every one of you is a good soldier, and we can handle it.”

The line of troopers shuffled, glancing at each other. Mayday grimaced inside his helmet, glad his expression was hidden. After six months his troopers were losing morale, worn down by the deaths of Geo and Dene and the repeated equipment failures that hadn’t been addressed.

“We may be undersupplied. We’ve already lost brothers. But we won’t let this planet beat us; not the weather, not the raiders. Hear me?”

A gruff chorus of affirmatives.

“You are proud soldiers of the Empire. Yes, we were struck a blow today.” He let his hand go to his side for emphasis. “But no matter how they knock us down, we will rise again. We need to show the Empire we are resilient… prove that we can be trusted with even the most difficult assignments.”

The clustered troopers gave another series of more-or-less positive noises. Less, Mayday thought, but he wasn’t going to dwell on that now.

“Clear up out here, and check that all the buildings are still secure. Veetch, Telmer, bring any of the raider’s bodies into cover for now. We’ll strip them of anything we can use… cold-weather gear in particular.”

“We could strip them where they lay and leave them for the vultures,” said Telmer pessimistically.

Mayday shook his head. “I don’t like the idea of attracting more of those scavengers if I can help it.” He thought of the fierce creatures he watched circling the depot on a daily basis and shuddered. “Alright, everyone. Get to it.”

Hexx fell into step beside Mayday as they headed back to the main building. He didn’t try and offer his support. Mayday wouldn’t take it until he was out of sight of his men.

“All that stuff about the Empire being proud of us,” he said quietly, on their private com channel. “You didn’t believe a word of it.”

Mayday snorted. “Not at all. But they needed to hear it.”

“Raiders are getting bolder.”

“Don’t I know it,” grunted Mayday, fingering his bandaged stomach.

Hexx huffed a grim laugh. “Barton IV is the worst karking assignment in the galaxy.”

“Yeah,” agreed Mayday quietly. “But we’re going to make the best of it. Rise above it, and prove we’re good soldiers. Show the Empire that us clones aren’t going anywhere.” He took a deep breath, and now he looped an arm round Hexx’s shoulder for support. “Don’t worry, Hexx. It’ll come right in the end.”

Read Part 1.3 - Lost Battle

Welcome to Angstpril!

This writing project is a collaboration between myself, @the-little-moment and @kybercrystals94 to bring you a fabulous series of angst-based Bad Batch fanfiction. We've shared the prompts between us so don't forget to check all of our blogs to catch the whole month's worth of stories!

My series of 10 stories will focus on Clone Commander Mayday and the Barton IV Outpost. Stay tuned to follow Mayday's journey to the bitter end...

Don't forget to check out @the-little-moment's stories:- Day 1 - Homesick Day 4 - Longing

And @kybercrystals94's story:- Day 3 - Broken Hearted

[rileychester]

You know what makes me furious about Emmerdale.

They waste their time with pointless characters like Chole instead of spending their time on better characters like Matty.

Matty has been on the show a lot longer than Chole and that’s not even including when he was on before when he was a kid with the whole Barton family.

Lets start first with the fact that he’s trans, there is so little repsentation of trans character on tv and there should be more. Also most of the trans characters I know are from the US, I don’t think I know any who are based in the UK.

Added on the fact that Amy and him are a couple. And yet we haven’t seen them be a couple, they’re engaged to be married if the show can be bothered to remember.

Why haven’t we seen them have small moments like having domestic moments of sharing a meal or sorting out who used the last of the milk. Or big moments where they have a date night together or talk about if they want more kids.

We haven’t even gotten into the soap gold mine of the fact that Amy is the mother of Kyle, that she shares with Cain. Who is Matty’s freaking stepfather and Amy and Cain have a touchy truce over custody of Kyle. Not even going into everything that happened with the accidental death of Al.

Circling back round to Amy and Matty getting married. Yet no mention, no discussion of what kind of wedding they want or going to have. I mean you think the show would be all over that. Think of the publicity that would bring them, in all the magazines and yet nothing. I mean no talk of the food, the music, the venue, nothing. Not even a mention of Kyle giving Amy away at the wedding.

Speaking of Kyle, why don’t they have more scenes with Kyle and Matty. Not only as stepbrothers, but the fact that Amy and Matty are dating and Matty is suppose to become Kyle’s stepdad. Yet, Kyle spends more time with Issac and if he is with Matty, it’s because Matty is ushering him off so the grownups can talk.

Matty should be on the show more, given better storylines and more screen time.

Emmerdale needs to step it up.

[lil-doodles]

Well, for those who are curious, here is the project I was working on for my wife. She has a collection of perfume bottles that she wants to display and she wanted art to accompany them. I took her pop culture interests and made them into faux scent products. Boa Noite is from Love Actually, Grantham is from Downton Abbey, Monks Barton is from Midsomer Murders, Black Ash is the type of tobacco that Sherlock Holmes smoked, and Pemberley is from Pride and Prejudice.

[kaceyrps]

ASH PALMISCIANO in EMMERDALE

[symbioteburnout]

“Do I wanna know where all that blood came from?”

“If it’s any consolation, it ain’t my blood.”

[joezy27]

HAWKEYE - Old Clint Barton & Natasha "Ash" Morse

Wastelanders - Hawkeye (2022) #1 Variant cover by Francesco Mobili & Andres Mossa

[pandagirl45]

Kraven: *pins clint in* i like them a little fiesty

Clint: *holding his bruised arm glaring*

[boomgers]

¡Que el mundo vea lo que es el amor!… “Heartstopper · Temporada 2”

Nick y Charlie se adaptan a su nueva relación. Tara y Darcy enfrentan desafíos imprevistos. Tao y Elle intentan descifrar si pueden ser más que amigos. Los exámenes se acercan, y hay un viaje de estudios a París y un baile de que planear. ¿Cómo se las ingeniará el grupo para equilibrarlo todo y surfear la ola del amor y la amistad en esta nueva etapa?.

Estreno: 3 de agosto de 2023 en Netflix.

La segunda temporada cuenta con las actuaciones de Kit Connor, Joe Locke, William Gao, Yasmin Finney, Tobie Donovan, Kizzy Edgell, Corinna Brown, Sebastian Croft, Rhea Norwood, Jenny Walser, Jack Barton, Ash Self, Bel Priestley, Leila Khan, Bradley Riches, entre otros.

Detrás De Cámaras · París

[jasperarsonaurelia]

Kayla : who the fuck added me to a fucking group chat?

Clint : language!

Ashley : yeah watch your fucking language

Kate : OKAY WHO TAUGHT ASH THE FUCK WORD?

Kayla : the fuck word

Léa : are you serious? You guys use the f word all the time

Kayla : oh my god she censored it

Ashley : say fuck, Léa

Kayla : do it, Léa. say fuck

[trekkingaroundasgard]

Okay first, the hand around her throat 👀👀👀👀 do I need to say more about that or are we both on the same page here?

Second I really loved this fight because of the fact she couldn’t use her powers, like it would have been so easy to take the guy out but the fact they know already that there’s two Robin’s and that one wrong move would clue them into exactly who they were, I love that added jeopardy

But love how well she holds up just fighting as it is, I half imagine Clint fighting off his own guys and taking a moment to admire her fighting from afar only to get punched in the gut or something, but I also love the alternative of him seeing her scrapping and thinking fuck, utterly consumed by fear for her too (or both; both is good)

Then the END ah ok it was soft as hell and please tell me they’re either gonna talk or fuck in the next chapter please 😂😂

to ashes, conflicted

Clint Barton x F!Reader

To Ashes, Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Summary: your patience runs thin with clint and your latest mission comes with complications.

Warnings: angst, canon-typical violence

Word Count: 2,010

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CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Days Since the Decimation: Three Years, Sixty-Three Days

“Hungry?” you asked without looking up from the fridge. You pulled a plastic bag of leftover takeout off the shelf, fishing out a plastic container of curry. When Clint didn’t reply, or even acknowledge you at all, you dropped it onto the kitchen counter with more force than was strictly necessary. The lid wasn’t completely in place, and sauce splattered the countertop. You cursed to yourself, irritated further. You spoke under your breath, reaching for a towel. “Or I could just go fuck myself, I guess.”

It was catty, you supposed, but Clint had been oscillating between his usual self and frustratingly cold and dismissive over the last two months, and it was driving you insane. One day he’d be fine – for Clint, anyway – and the next, you’d be on the business end of the silent treatment. The normal days had gotten fewer and far between since the anniversary, and what triggered the silence, you still had no idea, but it was very quickly beginning to grind on the very last of your nerves.

Tossing the container into the microwave, you hit a couple of buttons and leaned against the countertop as the turntable began to rotate. You let yourself stew as it warmed, arm folding across your chest as you watched the archer head for the shower. He continued to avoid eye contact as though you weren’t there at all, even as the microwave beeped to announce its completion.

You sighed irritably and leaned your elbows on the counter as you picked petulantly at the curry. When Clint finally reemerged, he was dressed in most of his mission gear, and you tossed your fork in the sink. He didn’t even glance up as it clattered against the metal.

“You ready?” he asked gruffly from the couch, tugging on one of his boots.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Are you talking to me?” It slipped out before you could stop it, annoyance dripping from every word.

Clint looked up; an eyebrow raised. “What’s the matter with you?”

You probably should have just shut up, should have just gotten changed and followed him out the door. But instead, you wiped your hands on a tea towel and tossed it on the counter in front of you. The words kept spewing out bitterly. “I just didn’t realize today was one of the days you actually speak to me like I’m a human being.”

“…What are you talking about?”

Shut up, Y/N.

“What am I—” you scoffed, shaking your head as you rounded the counter towards him. “Clint, this is the first time you’ve spoken to me in three days, and its to ask if I’m ready to go on a mission we haven’t even talked about.”

“We—”

“No, we haven’t!” you snapped, brandishing a finger at him as you closed the distance between you. “Honestly, most days you treat me like I’m furniture around here and I am fucking sick of it! You disappear for months; you come back and tell me you ‘need me’ and, fine, I roll with that, but then you act like I’m not even here—”

Clint’s tone turned a shade of defensive, his jaw tightening and releasing. “I’m not—”

You stabbed him in the chest with your finger. “You act like I’m not even here, and you know what, that would be fine too, except when you finally do talk to me, I actually believe for a moment that things could be going back to normal between the two of us.”

“Everything is—”

“No, it’s not!” you shouted, your face inches from his. “Clint, I get emotional whiplash every time you decide to talk to me!”

“Would you just let me—”

“And I sit here and I pretend everything is fine, and meanwhile you’re pretending I don’t exist and you’ve got me yelling like some kind of sitcom reject and if you could just man up and stop being such a—”

Your words caught in your throat as Clint’s hand suddenly closed around it. He pushed you back against the wall, his thumb pressed hard against the corner of your jaw. In your anger you hadn’t realized just how close you’d been to him, and now even that limited space was gone, Clint’s body so close that you could feel his chest brush against yours with each of his breaths.

His fingers were tight, unforgiving, against your throat. And still you felt a thrill shoot through you, and your lips parted without breath. Clint’s eyes were dark. Anger and something else that sent a shiver straight to the small of your back burned in his gaze.

Your fists clenched and unclenched by your sides; a shield could force him away from you, release you, and maybe you should have been scared of this side of Clint, but his eyes fell for a moment to your parted lips and you couldn’t move.

Do it.

Clint released you, stepping away as though he’d suddenly woken up. He cleared his throat and you inhaled, still leaning back against the wall. Your breath shook as you caught it, your palms pressed against the wall by your thighs. Clint ran a hand through his hair, turning his back to you, and you exhaled as that tightness that had bloomed in the pit of your belly began to ease.

“Get changed,” he said finally, and you swore his voice was unsteady. “We’ve… we’ve got a window closing. We’ll talk about this later.”

***

The ‘window’ had turned out to be a weapons deal in the middle of Holland Park – even three years after the Snap and with society beginning to rebuild its law enforcement within the populated areas, criminals seemed to have no problem with committing grand scale felonies in what were still considered major landmarks. Still, the park was very much deserted at this hour, and you found yourself using the silence around you to continue stewing over your… conversation with Clint as you made your way towards the Kyoto Gardens fountain.

You should have just ignored your feelings and followed after him obediently as usual. The helpful little sidekick just doing what she’s told. But no, you had to go postal on him, and now…

You sighed as you clambered up to the top of the fountain’s rock formation, carefully avoiding the water running between the stones. The foliage would mostly block you from view, and the darkness would do the rest. Clint would be nearby, waiting for his opportunity to strike.

Clint…

God, he was going to withdraw even more, wasn’t he? He was going to pretend everything was fine for a few days and then get even more monosyllabic. He might even disappear again.

You’d made a big show of telling him you didn’t care about him sleeping with you and taking off – you didn’t – and then you’d gone and acted like a frickin’ insane girlfriend.

Settling in a crouch on the outcrop, you continued to mull petulantly as you waited for the targets to show. It was almost an hour before anyone turned up, and an ache was starting to settle into both your head and your thighs. A furrow appeared between your brows as the man approaching the fountain arrived empty handed. You recognized his face – he was supposed to be doing the dealing here.

You reached up activate the comms device in your ear. “Hey, something’s off here, I—”

Your head jerked automatically as you heard a pebble skitter down the stones behind you. Hand flying automatically to your belt and you barely managed to roll out of the way as a baseball bat suddenly swung down toward you. Without your skull to stop it, it cracked against the stone you’d just been kneeling on.

Landing on your back on the uneven stones left you in just as bad a position and with a sharp pain in your shoulder, but going any further would have had you rolling right off the edge of the outcrop. The limited light now worked against you, and you stopped fumbling for your gun as the bat came arching down out of the darkness again.

You rocked back onto your shoulders and kicked upward with both feet. The grunt of your assailant told you you’d caught him in the stomach, and you scrambled back into a crouch long enough to pull the blade from the holster on your boot. The sound of voices below and the agonized cry of someone meeting Clint’s blade suggested the man on the ground’s back up had arrived at the same time as your attackers.

Straightening, you held the blade tightly in your fist. The metal shone as it briefly caught the light of the nearest lamppost.

“I told you the boss was on to something.” a gruff, eastern European voice said in the dark, and you raised the blade warningly. “There’s more than one Ronin.”

Oh, shit.

“Yeah, yeah.” came the cockney reply, the man still winded from his meeting with your boots. “Ronin’s got himself a girlfriend. Just get on with it.”

Oh, SHIT.

You swung wide with the knife as the first man approached, ducking under a swing from another baseball bat. The European caught you in the shoulder and you grunted, the blow hard enough that you dropped the knife. You heard it clatter against the rocks below. The cockney guy shoved past him and swung, and you dodged to the left, the move sloppy on uneven ground.

The urge to force them away with a shield was growing along with your nerves as they forced you back closer to the edge of the outcropping, and you swallowed it back. They were already far too informed, and you couldn’t risk them actually unpuzzling your identities. The cockney man rushed you, sensing your hesitation, and you dropped just as quickly. You used his momentum to throw him over your shoulder and send him crashing into the water below.

“Hülye kurva!” the European spat, and you stood quickly, slugging him in the jaw. He grunted, spat, and swung the bat again. You cursed as you moved too slow and the bat glanced off your side. Your fingers twitched in an automatic gesture; forcing the bat out of his hands would be so easy, but—

You jumped, grabbing hold of a tree branch above you. You swung forward, both feet meeting his chest. He fell and you landed in front of him, kicking the bat out of his hand. Removing your gun from its holster, you leveled it with his stomach, finger curling around the trigger.

And then your body suddenly seized as an excruciating pain exploded between your shoulders and set your whole body on fire. Fifty thousand volts coursed through you from the taser bolt in your back and you felt your limbs tense uncontrollably. Your eyes rolled back and you collapsed backward, off of the ledge. A sick, rushing sensation overcame you before you felt your back hit the water and the back of your head cracked against stone.

Then everything went black.

***

“Come on, Y/N. Come on, baby, breathe…”

An almost painful pressure on your chest forced you back into consciousness, the same feeling repeating four more times before you finally coughed the water from your lungs. You rolled onto your side and threw the rest of it up, your chest heaving and your hair dripping in your eyes as you tried to force them open again.

You’d been dragged from the water, a pool of it spreading from your clothes onto the stone beneath you. Your throat burned as you tried to gulp down air, and you coughed again. “Wh—?”

You felt yourself pulled upward, arms banding around your shoulders. Clint’s hand curled in your damp, tangled hair, your face tucked against the curve of his neck. “You gotta stop scaring me like this, Y/N.”

You coughed a laugh, wrapping an arm around his neck as tears burned your eyes. “I’m working on it.”

.

.

.

tags:@trekkingaroundasgard@lovely-dreamer19@wittyforachange@wefracturedmotivation@january-echoes@glossyloner@capitalnineteen@youclickedthislink@s0ftness@castieltrash1@drakelover78@queenoftheunderdark@lol-you-thought@akumune@xxboesefrauxx@enna-core@hearmyharmony@katsies@youralphawolf72@maenji@rhymesmenagerie@gwianasky@melaclintbartoncorner@loki-is-loved@whovianayesha@bradfordbantams@alice-the-nerd@fanofallthefics@ace-fandom-dumbass@kaelyn-lobrutto24@twsssmlmaa@earth-pig-fish@meeksmusic83@hallothankmas@justanothermagicalsara@janineb86@darsynia@rhymesmenagerie @thatwelshbi @lauraashley93

AN: this chapter was short and took far too long to write, but I promise the next one will come much quicker!

AN2: The language we're seeing here is Hungarian - and that's because I'm going to be using a particular fictional Marvel country in a few chapters and it's canonically right next to Hungary, so I figured there would/could be an overlap in the language. No spoilers though!