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just-aake · 1 year ago

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Boundless Devotion - Part VIII

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: MedievalAU. Natasha is the eldest princess of the Romanov Kingdom. As the time of her coronation approaches, she is suddenly forced to make a decision – either find herself a partner or her parents will choose one for her.

Warnings: slight angst, violence

Words: 6826

There’s a palpable tension hanging in the air as you find yourself standing in the middle of the two princesses. Your gaze shifts curiously between the women, watching their eyes lock in a silent standoff.

Natasha stands with a neutral expression and her arms crossed in front of her while Princess Carol maintains her casual smirk, her hand still gently holding yours from earlier.

Princess Carol is the heir of the neighboring kingdom of Mar-vell, a long-time ally of the Romanov Kingdom. The close relationship shared between the two kingdoms meant frequent visits by Carol and her father for many years. Being close in age, this often led her to spend time with Natasha, and by extension, with you.

However, it has been a couple of years since you saw Carol. The last time was when she revealed her decision to travel and explore distant kingdoms.

Ever since they were children, Natasha and Carol have had a sort of rivalry-fueled kind of friendship, always competing with each other in everything. You had hoped they had outgrown this competitive behavior by now, but the current standoff suggests otherwise.

In an attempt to ease the tension, you decide to engage the blonde-haired princess in conversation as a distraction.

“So, Carol, when did you arrive in the kingdom?”

At your question, she breaks her gaze away from Natasha to offer you a warm smile.

“Not too long ago. I was exploring an area nearby so I was able to get here earlier than I expected.”

“That’s right, how were your travels?” you ask, genuinely curious about her adventures.

Carol tilts her head, humming in thought.

“It was fun seeing all the different places. I saw a lot of pretty sights,” she pauses and then gives you a teasing smirk, ”but none of them are as beautiful as seeing you.”

Your cheeks redden slightly at the compliment, rolling your eyes fondly.

“Well, I’m glad to see you’re still as charming with your words as ever.”

Carol’s grin widens as she lightly swings your clasped hands happily.

Meanwhile, Natasha's brows furrow further the longer she watches the interaction between the two of you.

The simmering frustration she feels in her chest intensifies when she notices the slight redness on your cheeks.

Normally, she enjoys seeing you blush, the sight being one of her favorite expressions of yours, but for some reason, Carol being the cause of it this time makes her feel uneasy.

It's a strange feeling for Natasha. She's not sure why she's suddenly upset at seeing you and Carol talking together.

After all, you’ve all known each other for years.

Her patience disappears when Carol's next words make you laugh.

Natasha instinctively takes your hand and gently pulls you closer to her side, forcing a tight smile at Carol.

“Well, you must be tired from your journey. I can have someone escort you to the castle so that you can rest for a bit,” Natasha offers through her clenched teeth when she realizes Carol still has a hold on your other hand.

Undeterred, Carol gives Natasha a knowing look and tugs you gently back toward her, effectively pulling your hand out of Natasha’s grip.

“I appreciate the consideration, Natasha, but I’m fine. Besides, I’d rather spend my time catching up with Y/n.”

She grins charmingly at you, “Is it okay if I join you two around the festival?”

Throughout the conversation, you were focused on observing Natasha, puzzled about the cause of the sudden irritation on her face.

At Carol’s question, you return your attention to the other princess and nod in response, thinking it will be fun for the three of you to spend time together again.

Natasha is now seething with anger while Carol maintains her carefree smile at you, unbothered by the other princess' glare.

As Natasha prepares to object, a royal knight approaches the three of you, bowing in greeting.

“Your Highness?”

Natasha's glare shifts to the guard.

"What is it?"

The knight stammers nervously under her gaze, unprepared for the intimidating pressure.

“Uh-um..the queen has requested your presence. Some members from the other kingdoms have arrived."

Carol raises her eyebrows knowingly and sighs in mock disappointment.

"Looks like it's just going to be me and Y/n then."

That comment further annoys Natasha, and she clenches her fist in anger.

She doesn’t want to break the commitment she made to her mother, but she dislikes the idea of leaving Carol alone with you even more.

Noticing Natasha’s conflicted expression, you go over to her and place your hand gently over her clenched fist, offering a reassuring look.

"It's alright, Natasha. You should go. I'll just meet up with you again before the jousting tournament."

Her anger dissipates at your touch, and she unclenches her fists, her lips turning down in disappointment.

When you tilt your head at her, waiting for her response, Natasha reluctantly agrees with a sigh, knowing her mother is expecting her.

"I'll see you later then," Natasha tells you and then turns to Carol with a curt nod in farewell.

As Natasha walks away, the unfamiliar ache in her chest returns when she glances back and sees your friendly smile directed at Carol, the two of you standing close together again.

Frowning, she calls out to the knight trailing beside her.

"I need you to find Yelena for me."

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Carol walks alongside you as you both stroll through the festival, her hands moving excitedly as she shares stories of her travels and the different places she's visited.

“Then there is this other kingdom," Carol continues, her eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. “Almost all of their citizens are sorcerers. You can see signs of magic everywhere you go.”

“Really?” you ask with genuine interest, making a mental note to share this information with Wanda later.

With a playful nudge to your shoulder, Carol adds, “I even managed to obtain some books on their history and magic for you. I remember how you were interested in that subject when we were younger.”

You pause in your step and turn to her in surprise, touched by her thoughtful gesture.

“Thank you, Carol, that’s very sweet of you,” you say.

Carol accepts your thanks with a bashful smile, ducking her head slightly.

The conversation falls into a comfortable silence as she fidgets with her hands. After a deep breath, she breaks the silence with a question.

"So,” she starts with a casual tone, “I heard that you and Natasha got together as a couple. Is that true?"

The abrupt change in topic startles you, and you are even more confused when Carol avoids your gaze, appearing nonchalant as she waits for your response.

You tilt your head in thought, calculating the time since you and Natasha began your ‘relationship.’

"Yes, we did," you confirm. "It’s been almost a month now."

Carol nods with a hint of disappointment at your response. With a resigned smile, she continues with her questioning, asking curiously.

“So, who confessed first?”

You pause, reminiscing about the moment in the garden when you and Natasha came up with the story of how you got together.

"Natasha did," you reply, your smile softening as you recall the memory.

Carol watches your face light up at the mention of Natasha, and a knowing expression crosses her features as she lets out a regretful sigh.

"I'm not surprised," she says. "Though I have to admit, out of all the defeats I've had by Natasha, this one hurts a bit."

Confused, you give her a puzzled look.

"What do you mean?"

Carol lets out a soft, shy chuckle as she nervously rubs her neck.

"Well, I've had a small crush on you ever since we were little,” she confesses.

“Oh,” you exclaim softly in surprise.

You've never noticed that Carol had an interest in you like that.

You offer her an apologetic expression.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize."

In response, Carol flashes you a reassuring smile and waves away your apology.

"It’s fine," she says, her tone understanding. "I’ve always known it would be one-sided. After all, you've only ever had eyes for Natasha."

Blushing at her words, you touch your cheek nervously, now wondering how long your feelings for Natasha were that apparent to others.

Carol interrupts your thoughts, giving you a playful nudge.

“Do you mind if I continue teasing Natasha? It was funny how annoyed she got when I was close to you earlier.”

You give her a skeptical look in confusion.

“I don’t think it would bother her much,” you say before adding, “Natasha doesn’t get jealous.”

Carol chuckles at your words, her amusement evident in her expression.

"Okay, sure, I believe that," she replies sarcastically.

Rolling your eyes at her playfulness, you push her side gently in a friendly manner.

“I’m not kidding,” you insist, laughing lightly at Carol’s look of disbelief. “I’ve never seen Natasha jealous over someone in her life, especially not over me.”

At your words, Carol's eyes soften as she gives you a fond look and a warm smile.

"Well then, Natasha should know she’s really lucky to have you at least,” she remarks. "And despite everything I said earlier, I hope you'll still have me as your friend."

"Of course," you promise, placing a reassuring touch on her arm. "Always."

She covers your hand, squeezing it appreciatively while holding your gaze.

Suddenly, a familiar dog squeezes in between you, pushing the two of you apart slightly before sitting in front of you, wagging her tail excitedly.

“Oh, hello, Fanny,” you greet her, recognizing the canine.

A sharp whistle calls the dog back to its owner.

Yelena stops in front of you, casting a quick glance at your hand resting on Carol's arm and taking in the closeness between the two of you.

A quick look of understanding and a sly grin appears on her face as she casually greets both of you with a wave.

“Hey Y/n, Princess Carol,” she then looks around with an exaggerated gesture. “Where’s Natasha?”

“She had to go meet some guests arriving from the other kingdoms,” you explain.

Yelena hums in acknowledgment and then shoots an accusing look at the other princess.

"So why aren't you at the meeting, Carol?"

Carol chuckles at the younger princess's words, raising her hands innocently.

“Hey, I finished my obligations. I’ve already met with Queen Melina and King Alexei. I just happened to bump into Natasha and Y/n when I was exploring the festival.”

“I see,” Yelena comments with a pause.

She suddenly clasps her hands together excitedly.

"Well, since you're both free, the archery competition is about to start. We should all head over there together."

Yelena squeezes in between the two of you, interlocking her arms with the both of you and pulling you along quickly, not even giving you a chance to respond.

At the archery competition, the three of you stand behind the fence, watching as Kate steps up to the position for her turn.

With a deep breath, Kate retrieves an arrow from her quiver and draws her bowstring, her movements deliberate and her focus intense as her eyes fixed on the target.

The anticipation of the crowd fills the air as a hush falls over the onlookers.

Then with a calm exhale, Kate finally releases the arrow.

It flies through the air, striking the target with a resounding thud, landing right in the bullseye.

Kate's calm composure disappears instantly as she erupts in excited exclamations, jumping with joy.

The crowd bursts into applause and cheers when Kate is declared the winner.

She heads over to your group shortly after with a satisfied expression, her faithful canine companion, Lucky, following her happily.

You and Carol offer your congratulations on her victory when she stops in front of you, showing off the medal in her hand excitedly.

“Nice job, Kate,” Yelena adds, holding up her hand for Kate to high-five.

"Thanks for coming to watch," Kate exclaims as she begins to climb over the fence to your side.

You gasp exasperatedly as you help and steady her carefully until she's safely on the ground. You then gesture to her bow and quiver, still strapped to her body.

"Don't you want to put away your gear?" you ask.

Kate shakes her head resolutely.

"The jousting tournament starts soon after this competition. I don’t want to miss any of Yelena’s matches."

“I’m sure everybody’s excited to see how Princess Yelena will perform in her first jousting tournament,” a new voice enters the conversation.

You recognize the newcomer — Oksana, a knight who serves under Kate and her family and also the previous year's finalist who lost to Natasha.

She offers a respectful bow and a friendly smile as she joins your group.

Yelena groans at the mention of people’s expectations for her, but Kate grabs and shakes her shoulders encouragingly.

“Don’t worry, Yelena, you’re going to win!”

Lucky and Fanny add to the excitement by prancing around them in agreement.

Oksana sighs at her words, remarking exasperatedly, “Lady Kate, please try to remember that I’m representing your house. I don't believe your mother would approve of you cheering for the opponent.”

Kate pauses at the reminder and then acknowledges the point with a shrug.

"Well, if it does come down between you and Yelena, I'm sure she's fine with either of you winning."

Yelena scoffs in disbelief, muttering under her breath.

“Yeah, I doubt that.”

Oksana chuckles at the two of them before refocusing on her original goal.

“I'm actually looking for your mother to inform her of my attendance in the tournament today. I just came back from…,” she trails off suddenly with a distant look.

You squint curiously at her sudden pause in concern, your hand reaching out to check on her.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Before you touch her, she snaps out of her daze and looks at you with a surprised look.

“Huh…yes, sorry, I was…somewhere," Oksana ends vaguely as she absentmindedly rubs the side of her head as if trying to recall the details. She then shakes her head, giving up and turning back to Kate.

“Do you happen to know where she is, Lady Kate?”

At her question, Kate scans the surrounding area, sure that she saw her mother briefly during her competition. She finally spots her in the distance, standing away from the crowds.

"Oh, there she is!”

Kate’s expression changes to one of surprise and confusion as she continues, "With Lord Rumlow?"

Oksana gives her thanks and bids farewell to the group as she takes her leave while Kate continues to scrutinize her mother’s interaction with the lord.

“That’s weird. Why is my mother talking with him?” Kate comments, perplexed at the situation.

Yelena observes the pair too and then points out in observation.

“It looks more like a heated argument. Look at how angry and red his face is."

You wince slightly at her words, confessing sheepishly, “That might be partly my fault.”

The group turns their attention to you as all three sets of eyes give you a curious look.

"I may have embarrassed him and told him off in front of some people earlier when he tried to ask for my favor in support of him in the tournament," you explain.

They all stare at you for a moment with various degrees of both astonished and impressed expressions.

“Awesome,” Kate finally exclaims while Yelena asks with a serious tone, "Do you want me to hit him extra hard during the tournament for you?"

You smile fondly at their behavior and shake your head.

“No, it’s fine. I may have overdone it a little with the threats anyway.”

Carol gives you a proud smile and a reassuring touch on your shoulders.

"I'm sure it was nothing he didn't deserve."

In response, you return her smile and place your hand gently atop hers, grateful for her support.

At the sudden friendly atmosphere around the two of you, Yelena leans in to whisper something to Kate, gesturing discreetly at you and Carol.

With an understanding nod, Kate calls out to get both of your attention.

“We should get going,” she says, appearing next to Carol and gently pushing her away from you and in the direction of the tournament area.

Kate begins to fire questions at the princess about her adventures with Yelena quickly following and engaging in her own line of questioning.

You chuckle at their energy and move to join them.

However, as you do, a person crosses your path and inadvertently collides with you, causing you to stumble back.

Once you regain your balance, you take a look at the stranger who had bumped into you. He's cloaked with a hood covering his head and body, and the empty sleeve at his side indicates his missing arm.

Realizing you were staring, you offer an apologetic bow.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there,” you say.

The stranger remains silent, his wide eyes fixed on you with a shocked expression.

Your eyes furrow in concern, wondering if he's okay when he doesn’t respond.

“Y/n, hurry up!” Yelena calls out, urging you to join the group.

You give the stranger another quick apology and a friendly smile before rushing past him.

The strange encounter lingers on your mind as you glance back over your shoulder.

You find the man still standing in the same spot, frowning slightly as he stares in your direction.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

When you all arrive at the large tournament field, you are met with a bustling crowd of excited people eagerly anticipating the start of the matches.

Drawing closer to the royal observation box, you spot Natasha pacing anxiously outside, her eyes moving along the crowds in search of something.

Upon seeing you approaching, her features relax slightly, but when her gaze shifts to the others accompanying you, her frustration returns as she marches over.

With a reprimanding tone, she addresses Yelena, pointing her finger at her.

"You’re supposed to be geared up and ready by now. Mom's still waiting for you at the tent."

A look of apprehension crosses Yelena's face at the mention of their mother.

Even you can already guess the impending lecture that Queen Melina will deliver to her for her tardiness.

In an attempt to escape, Yelena quickly turns away, but Natasha catches her, stopping her in her tracks.

Turning her attention to Kate, Natasha tells her with a serious tone.

“Make sure she gets there and is ready by the time the tournament starts."

Kate quickly acknowledges her words with a nod, promptly grabbing Yelena's wrist and guiding the resisting princess toward the tent.

When their dogs move to follow, Natasha lets out a sharp whistle to grab their attention.

“Nope, over here,” she redirects them to the private stands. “We can’t have you two distracting them.”

With the canines settled, Natasha returns to your side with a deep sigh of relief.

You offer a sympathetic touch on her arm, rubbing it comfortingly, and she meets your eyes with a grateful smile.

“Wow, look at you,” Carol playfully teases Natasha, “Your coronation hasn't happened yet, but you already sound exhausted at giving orders.”

Natasha rolls her eyes at Carol, suddenly remembering the presence of the other princess. She then surprises you by slipping her arm around your waist and pulling you closer to her, keeping you just out of Carol's reach.

Carol glances at you, shooting you a pointed look at Natasha’s action, but you just shake your head stubbornly, resolute in your previous statement.

Natasha doesn't get jealous. Bringing you closer doesn’t prove anything.

Next to you, Natasha lets out a resigned sigh and gestures to the royal box in invitation.

“I’m guessing you’ll be joining us,” she says to her.

Carol shakes her head, declining Natasha’s offer.

“Thanks, but I should return to my own people and watch with them,” she turns her attention to you with a soft smile, “but I do hope to see you again after the tournament, Y/n.”

She winks playfully at you and then gives Natasha a teasing wave before leaving.

Natasha clicks her tongue and glares at Carol's retreating figure, her earlier frustration returning in full force due to the other princess' words and actions toward you.

Curious about Natasha's sudden change in demeanor, you touch her arm gently to get her attention.

To your surprise, her frustration instantly melts away when she looks at you, and she offers you her usual warm smile.

Natasha gestures with her head toward the direction of the canines, who are now playfully chasing each other around the stands of the royal box.

“Do you want to help me put on their leashes so that they won’t run onto the field when the matches start?” she asks.

"Sure," you reply absently as you follow her, a bit distracted at trying to understand her sudden mood changes.

Soon, the both of you are attempting to attach leashes to the energetic dogs, who apparently decided that the four of you are now playing a game where they run away and avoid capture.

After multiple tries, Natasha finally manages to secure Fanny and attach the leash to her collar.

Her eyes then drift over to you, still attempting to catch Lucky. She decides to ask you the question that's been on her mind since earlier.

"So, what did you and Carol do after I left?"

You huff as Lucky dodges your grasp yet again, placing your hands on your hips exasperatedly.

“Nothing much,” you respond distractedly. “We just talked for a bit.”

“Oh,” there’s a small pause before Natasha speaks again in a casual tone, “What did you two talk about?”

You turn to look at Natasha in question, but she is seemingly very focused on Fanny’s collar, not meeting your gaze.

“Mostly about her travels and the different places she visited,” you say before pausing as you remember the parts of your conversation with Carol concerning your 'relationship' and feelings for Natasha.

You feel your face heat up nervously at the memory.

At that moment, Lucky takes advantage of your momentary distracted state to playfully jump on you and push you to the ground, barking joyfully as if he won.

Natasha appears and kneels beside you, pulling Lucky away and attaching his leash. She then gives you an amused look and offers her hand to help you up.

"Are you okay?"

"I'll live," you respond with a small laugh as you accept her hand and stand.

After making sure you're alright, Natasha returns to the previous conversation, tilting her head curiously.

"So, was that all?"

"Sort of," you reply vaguely, looking away, too embarrassed to bring up the other parts involving your feelings, but then you recall another detail.

"Oh, Carol did mention that she got me some books as a gift from one of the kingdoms she visited. That was sweet."

As you glance back at Natasha, you realize her expression has now shifted into a slight frown after hearing your words.

You tilt your head curiously as you remember that this similar reaction from Natasha also happened before when Carol was around.

Crossing her arms, Natasha grumbles, “You know, I can get you some more books too if you want.”

Your eyes widen at her words, and now suddenly, you understand what Carol meant.

A small flutter in your chest at the realization —Natasha is acting jealous.

Shaking your head with a tiny smile, you place a reassuring touch on her arm.

“You don’t have to do that, Natasha. You already give me access to the entire royal library.”

You have to bite your lips to hold back a laugh at the sight of the usually serious princess pouting at your refusal. Your heart warms fondly as you discover this new side of Natasha.

And you have to admit — it was pretty adorable.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

The jousting tournament is in full swing, with matches progressing quickly one after another.

Thankfully, Lord Rumlow got eliminated early on, sparing you and Natasha from having to see him any more than you ever want to.

Eventually, the tournament reaches its climax, with Yelena and Oksana emerging as the finalists.

Natasha leans her arms against the wooden barrier of the observation box, her gaze fixed on the field as it gets prepared for the last round.

You join her, holding Fanny's leash in your hand and mirroring her position. With a gentle nudge against her shoulder, you ask her curiously.

"Why did you drop out?"

Natasha turns to you and raises her eyebrow in question, silently asking what you are referring to.

You nod in the direction of Queen Melina, who is seated nearby, and explain, “Your mother just told me that you were supposed to participate in the tournament, but then a few days ago, you decided to have Yelena take your place instead.”

Natasha chuckles in response, shaking her head with amusement.

“I swear she tells more stuff to you than anybody else in this kingdom,” she remarks.

Wanting to understand her decision, you press on.

“So why did you do it? You love competing in this event.”

Natasha just shrugs indifferently.

"I don't know. I guess I just got tired of it."

You shoot her a disbelieving look, raising a brow at her unconvincing response.

Natasha meets your stare confidently for a moment before eventually giving in.

"Fine," she concedes with a resigned sigh. ”The tournament's fun and all, but competing in it comes with a lot of chances to get hurt.”

Natasha glances down at her now healed cut on her arm, admitting softly.

“And with how much you were affected the last time something happened to me, I didn't want to do anything unnecessary that might trigger you while you’re still recovering."

At your stunned silence, Natasha looks back up at you and adds reassuringly.

"Besides, I've won this multiple times already, and I’m finding that watching the matches with you is more fun anyway."

Before you can respond, the announcer introduces the finalists again, and the crowd's roaring excitement fills the air.

Natasha and you turn your attention to the field, where Yelena waves casually to the enthusiastic spectators as she gets to her position.

But then when Oksana appears on the field, a sudden growling at your side draws Natasha’s attention.

You also notice Fanny’s sudden agitation and do your best to calm her with soothing words and gentle scratches.

As you struggle to get Fanny to settle down, an aggressive bark echoes from behind the two of you.

“Lucky, stop moving!” Kate’s voice exclaims in alarm and concern. “What’s the matter with you?”

Natasha snaps her attention to Kate who is currently attempting to shush and calm her barking canine.

An unsettling feeling of familiarity with the situation creeps in as Natasha observes the peculiar behavior of the dogs.

“Natasha?” your concerned voice brings her focus back to you, your hand still stroking Fanny comfortingly even as she pulls hard on her leash toward the field.

Natasha’s eyes dart between the dogs and the direction of the field, trying to piece together the cause of their agitation.

At that moment, the announcer begins to rally the crowd for the final match, and the cheers grow louder with every word.

Natasha examines the scene in front of her closely, trying to spot anything amiss.

“Something’s wrong,” she whispers under her breath knowingly, her instincts alerting her to impending trouble.

With a signal from the announcer, the heralds sound their trumpets, signaling the beginning of the match.

The two horses launch into motion, charging at each other at full speed.

A glint of sunlight reflects from behind Oksana's shield, catching Natasha's eye. Her eyes widen, and her panicked shout pierce the air.

“Yelena, watch out!”

The slight tilt in Yelena’s head is the only indication that she heard Natasha’s warning before she has to swiftly duck under the swing of Oksana’s hidden blade at her head.

Yelena dodges the attack, but her sudden movement at that fast speed causes her to lose her grip on the reins and fall from her horse before rolling to a stop on the ground.

Fanny escapes your loosened grip on her leash from the shock, and she dashes onto the field, followed closely by Natasha, who vaults over the barrier and sprints toward her sister.

Meanwhile, Oksana, who is still mounted on her horse and armed with a sword, advances menacingly toward the fallen princess.

The Royal Guard knights are also on the field now, but you realize that there’s no way they or Natasha can reach Yelena before Oksana does.

Suddenly, an arrow flies past you from behind and strikes Oksana in a vulnerable spot on her shoulder, sending her tumbling from her horse.

Turning around, you find Kate visibly shaken and breathing heavily as her hands clutch her bow tightly, still in shooting position.

A choked gasp escapes from her as her breathing becomes increasingly erratic. Recognizing the beginning signs of panic, you rush to her and pull her into a tight hug, offering comfort by stroking her head as you help to calm her down.

"It's okay," you assure her as you try to steady your own panicked breathing.

Looking back at the field, you see Natasha moving to tend to Yelena.

"It's okay," you repeat softly.

On the field, Fanny darts in front of Oksana’s horse, barking furiously and scaring it away from getting any closer to where Yelena is on the ground.

Meanwhile, Natasha slides to her knees at Yelena's side, carefully cradling her sister's head.

"Come on, Yelena, wake up. Are you okay?" she asks, examining her sister for any major injuries.

With a small cough, Yelena comes to, rolling her eyes and sighing in disbelief.

"Of course, I'm okay," she says with a touch of sarcasm. "I'm just lying on the ground because I wanted to get dirt in my hair."

Natasha breathes a sigh of relief, her body relaxing. She pats Yelena's arm gently, nodding her head.

"Yeah, you're okay."

Helping Yelena stand, Natasha's attention is briefly drawn to Steve and his knights escorting an unconscious Oksana away.

An air of confusion and concern ripples through the crowd as no one is certain of what comes next.

Clearing her throat, Natasha addresses the people confidently.

"Due to the use of an unauthorized weapon, Oksana is disqualified," she announces.

With that, she raises Yelena's arm in victory.

"That means Princess Yelena is the winner of the jousting tournament."

The crowd erupts in cheers upon hearing the declaration.

Amid the cheering crowd, Natasha leans closer to Yelena and asks with a hint of humor.

"So, what do you think about your first time winning the tournament?"

Yelena scoffs, dusting herself off and replying sarcastically, "No, this was great. I love the part where my head was almost chopped off."

Natasha chuckles at her sister's response.

As she glances over to where you stand with Kate, relief floods within her, grateful to see everyone is safe this time.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

After the tournament, Yelena begrudgingly agrees to get checked up by the physician, following your insistence and Natasha's firm order. Kate decides to accompany Yelena, leaving Natasha and you alone.

However, the solitude is short-lived, as Queen Melina calls Natasha away for a meeting to discuss the incident, and the twins return to your side to check on your well-being.

Now, in the royal tent, Melina dismisses the knight after hearing his report on Oksana's condition and the information they were able to gather from her.

A headache begins to grow as she processes the situation.

At one side of the tent, Natasha stands with her arms crossed, observing her mother's reaction. Breaking the silence, she adopts a serious tone, addressing the matter at hand.

"You heard him. Oksana says she didn't want to hurt Yelena, but she couldn't control herself. You already know what that sounds like," Natasha states plainly.

Melina grimaces, fully aware of what Natasha is alluding to.

"I know," she responds with a sigh, rubbing her head.

Natasha continues, pressing the issue.

“You said so yourself — there’s only a small number of people who know about the Black Widow operations, much less who know how to implement its methods on people.”

Melina's expression turns serious at Natasha’s implication, giving her a lecturing tone.

“I've taught you that making accusations without proof is never the best course of action for a ruler. Especially accusing someone who is not even present in the kingdom at the moment."

Natasha scoffs in disbelief, rolling her eyes.

“So being a neglectful father gives him an alibi.”

“Regardless of his...," Melina frowns and waves her hand as if trying to find an appropriate way to phrase the next part, "...questionable parenting decisions, you don’t want to accuse someone as prominent as Lord Dreykov without any evidence, especially with your coronation set for the end of next week.”

Melina gives her a pointed look.

“What would it look like if you show that you distrust your own people before even taking the throne?"

Frustrated, Natasha throws her hands up in disbelief.

"Then what? We just do nothing and wait until someone else we thought we could trust tries to kill one of us again?"

Melina offers a somber expression, placing a comforting hand on Natasha’s shoulder.

"Right now, we won't be able to figure out what's going on until Lord Dreykov returns anyway. So, just stay together and protect one another until we can get more information."

Natasha frowns at the instructions, looking away to glare at the side of the tent. She knows that her mother is right, but she is still upset at their inability to do anything at the moment.

Attempting to ease her daughter's mind, Melina suggests, "Why don't you go find Y/n and spend the remainder of the festival together? It's always good to be close to the ones we love after a stressful event like this."

After a short pause in contemplation, Natasha excuses herself from her mother’s presence and leaves swiftly.

Despite the incident at the tournament, the festivities and joy among the people have continued like before, even after the sun sets.

Musicians play lively tunes while everyone joins in dancing around a large bonfire at the center of the festival.

Well, almost everyone.

After leaving her mother in the tent, Natasha had set out to find you, and although she did eventually locate you, you're not by her side at the moment.

Instead, she finds herself alone, leaning against a tent's post, arms crossed, and observing an increasingly frustrating scene in front of her.

Yelena, who was already cleared by the physician a while ago, comes up next to her sister, takes note of her expression, and points it out.

“You’re glaring.”

“I’m not,” Natasha denies through her clenched teeth.

Yelena sighs before adding teasingly, “It’s okay to admit it if you’re jealous.”

“I’m not.”

“Sure, that’s why you asked me to go find Y/n when she was alone with Carol,” Yelena accuses pointedly, “because you’re not jealous.”

Natasha chooses not to respond, but her hands clenches further at the sight in front of her.

Yelena rolls her eyes at her sister’s stubbornness, looking in the direction that Natasha was not glaring at.

Near the bonfire at the center of the festival, you are currently laughing as Carol spins you in a joyful dance.

Even Yelena has to admit — the two of you together make a pretty sight. She glances at Natasha’s displeased expression, an idea forming in her head as a sly grin appears on her face.

“You know, when I saw them earlier together, the atmosphere around them looked pretty romantic. They would make a cute couple, don’t you think?”

Natasha’s head snaps to Yelena with an incredulous expression.

“What are you talking about? Y/n doesn’t like Carol like that. She wouldn’t…,” Natasha trails off, suddenly realizing something.

She doesn’t actually know how you feel about Carol.

Conversations about romantic interests and feelings for others were not something that ever came up between you and her until recently.

Then there’s also the pretense of your fake relationship with her which was only a means to stall time for you to find another partner.

Brushing off the now uncomfortable reminder that you are still searching for someone, Natasha continues, attempting to sound convincing.

“They’re just friends. There’s no way they would get together.”

Yelena gives her a deadpan look, "Sure, because two longtime friends becoming a couple is so unbelievable," she gestures to Natasha pointedly.

Natasha's frown deepens, unwilling to accept the possibility that you and Carol may see each other as more than just friends.

She glances back at you to observe your interaction with Carol again.

No longer dancing, you are now just standing beside Carol, basking in the comforting warmth of the bonfire. The light of the flames gracefully caresses your face, making you appear to glow even more than when the sun shined on you.

You look breathtaking, and when she glances at the princess beside you, Natasha realizes she isn’t the only one to think so.

Carol’s not paying attention to the bonfire. Instead, her gaze remains fixed on your face, a subtle smile gracing her lips.

Natasha feels a tightening ache in her chest as she watches Carol lean in to whisper something to you that causes you to tilt your head down shyly, hiding your face.

Unable to watch this any further, Natasha takes a step towards you determinedly but then freezes at the sight of your face when you finally look up again.

You were blushing.

But this wasn't the same light blush you showed earlier when Carol had complimented you.

No, this expression was typically reserved for Natasha, but now Carol was able to make you blush in the same way as she had done in the past.

The realization causes the ache in Natasha's heart to intensify even more.

This doesn’t prove anything about your feelings, Natasha tries to convince herself.

You’ve blushed for her plenty of times, and the two of you are still just friends.

Natasha knows that if she asked you, you would tell her truthfully if you have feelings for Carol. She could even end this uncomfortable feeling of uncertainty right now if she just goes over to you and asks.

Natasha swallows nervously as she watches you push Carol's shoulder playfully, an embarrassed smile appearing on your lips.

The interaction makes her hesitate with a frightening thought.

What if she asks you and you confirm your feelings for Carol?

That thought causes an uncomfortable pain to appear in her chest, and she unconsciously steps back to retreat under the cover of the tent.

Losing her confidence, Natasha decides to watch you from a safe distance instead.

Meanwhile, Carol dodges your playful push, laughing at your embarrassed expression.

"All I asked was if you and Natasha kissed yet. It's not like I suggested that you two slept together."

Her teasing provokes an even more intense blush from you as you remember Natasha's sleeping face so close to yours the other day.

Carol raises a surprised brow at your expression in question.

“Wait, did you?”

“No!” you deny, finally able to hit her shoulder in reprimand for her teasing.

Chuckling, Carol catches your hand and raises her other one in surrender.

Her teasing tone softens into a genuine warmth.

"All jokes aside, I'm happy for you, Y/n. You deserve to have someone like Natasha who loves you that much."

Your heart flutters at the thought, but then you quickly remember that your relationship with Natasha is not real.

Your smile drops slightly as you voice your thoughts unconsciously, "Natasha's not in love with me."

When you realize you've spoken your thoughts aloud, you try to clarify, frantically waving your hands at Carol.

"What I mean is that we haven't said those words to each other yet."

Carol raises an inquisitive brow at your reaction, and you continue your attempt at recovering your misspoken words, lowering your voice nervously.

"We're taking it slow?”

Seeing your crestfallen expression, Carol chuckles amusedly, giving you a playful nudge.

"I'm just teasing,” she says, adding, “But I also think you’re wrong.”

When you tilt your head at her in question, Carol nods in the distance, remarking, “For someone who's supposedly not in love with you, she certainly has been glaring at me intensely this entire time."

Turning around, you search for Natasha and find her staring at the two of you with a solemn gaze.

When you lock eyes with her, she offers you a small smile in response.

Carol’s words repeat in your mind, and for the first time, a glimmer of hope appears in your heart as you wonder the possibility that Natasha might actually return your feelings too.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Series Masterlist : Boundless Devotion

a/n: This got long on accident *the fact that I really thought the previous part and this one would all fit in one chapter 😬* But thank you for reading anyway!

Taglist: @lightwhoranoutoflight, @taliiiaasteria, @romanoffprentiss, @canvascoloredin, @silentwolfsstuff, @blacklightsposts, @arcturusseer, @presser24, @dvrkhcld, @jujuu23, @screechcat, @vivs46, @cd-4848, @youneversawmehereooooooo, @pancakefan7529, @confusedspaceotter, @natbelovasblog, @izzy-b09, @iamheartless, @mrsrushman, @fxckmiup, @natty-taffy, @2silverchain, @traveler-at-heart

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff

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youremyheaven · 1 year ago

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angel imagery and vedic astrology 👼🏼🧚🏼‍♀️

i had previously made an observation that angels in cinema are often played by actors who have deva gana nakshatras. upon looking into it more, i noticed that people who repeatedly use angel imagery often have pisces rashi nakshatras, mrigashira, swati, punarvasu or purva & uttaraphalguni placements.

sufjan stevens on stage. he has ubp moon, mrig mercury, jup revati amk, punarvasu saturn amk

this is the album cover of nirvana's last studio album. kurt cobain has mars and ketu in swati. swati is associated with eggs and conception and creation. the album heavily features themes of birth and death, nurturance and violence. the original title was supposed to be i hate myself and want to die (kinda ominous considering the fact that kurt took his own life not long after) but the final title was taken from a poem written by Courtney Love, who has punarvasu sun & moon.

ill make a separate post about this but punarvasu & swati are deeply intertwined nakshatras. both deal with the nature of the universe, creation and reality itself.

Van Halen's 1984 album. this is singer David Lee Roth's last album before his exit from the band. David has swati mercury and saturn with pbp moon

swati sun & stellium, katy perry at met gala wearing angel wings

here she is at the grammys wearing angel wings

david beckham has a large back tattoo of an angel, mrig venus atmakaraka, revati jup punarvasu saturn

revati moon rihanna has the winged egyptian goddess isis tattooed on her chest

angel of the north sculpture by antony gormley. it is said to be the largest sculpture of an angel.

he has purvaphalguni sun, revati moon and swati mars, uttara phalguni ketu

this depiction of an angel is a very modern and "high-tech" and to me the polarity between depicting an angel (in itself a very archaic and otherworldly concept) in a very human albeit futuristic way is 100% the influence of his revati moon and swati mars.

the angel and the woman (1977) is about a murdered woman who is brought back to life and becomes romantically involved with the angel who rescued her. carole laure who plays the rescued woman has purvaphalguni stellium punarvasu mars atmakaraka and revati jup amk meanwhile the angel is played by lewis furey who has mrigashira sun and swati moon

l'ange or the angel (1982) is an experimental art house film and its letterboxd description says its about "The climbing of an immense staircase made up of the most varied stairs- Symbolic scenes occur on different levels where characters seem to be prisoners of their deeds and of their own folly. The steep staircase leads little by little towards the zones of great light where human beings and nonhuman beings meet."

the director has pbp moon, revati mars atmakaraka, mrigashira saturn amk

the character of Angel/Archangel in the X-Men movies has been played by two people

ben hardy, pushya moon and ketu plays Archangel in X Men. like i said in my previous post, angels in cinema are often played by deva gana nak natives and pushya is a deva gana nakshatra.

thisrole was previously played by ben foster who has swati sun, punarvasu moon, uttaraphalguni venus and jupiter

i married an angel 1942 is a very punarvasu coded film

its about a wealthy man, Willie who swears he'll only marry an angel. soon enough an angel comes into his life but due to her divine nature, she is unable to fib and has no human failings. Her honesty alienates her husband's high society acquaintances and his biggest customer and causes a run on his bank. His sister, Countess Palaffi, saves the day by teaching the angel about the real world. Willie and his now Earthier angel live happily ever after.

jeanette macdonald who plays the angel has mrigashira sun, punarvasu moon and mercury and pushya rising with purvaphalguni mars

The Vintner's Luck 2007 is a queer coded movie about a man who is visited by an angel every year. gaspard ulliel plays Xas, an angel, he has anuradha sun and ketu with ubp rising. the movie is directed by niki caro who has uttara phalguni sun, anuradha moon

its based on a book by elizabeth knox who has ketu in revati

Angel's Bone is a one act opera, which follows the plight of two angels discovered on earth who are forced into spiritual and sexual slavery at the hands of a financially troubled couple.

the angels longed for earthly delights and that has, mysteriously, brought them back to our world. they're found by a couple who nurse the wounded angels back to health. but they keep them as prisoners and decide to exploit the magical beings, clipping their wings and forcing them into prostitution to earn back their plucked feathers.

Do Yun who composed this piece has mrigashira sun revati ketu with venus and mars in bharani

Bharani is karma and concerns itself with purging and purifying whatever it touches. everything that is dirty, impure, false or frivolous is stripped away to reveal what is true and real. this specific work of art displays Bharani themes with both the couple and the angels facing their karma in different ways.

in the tv show Touched by an Angel, Roma Downey plays monica who is an angel. she has bharani sun and purva phalguni moon

Bharani is karma and bharani is also tasked with guiding souls to other realms. in this show, Monica is an angel in heaven who travels across to the earthly realm to help and guide people.

Gisele Bundchen has Pushya sun, Swati moon, punarvasu mercury mrigashira venus

Swati moon, Kylie Jenner frequently wears angel wings

she also has revati saturn as her atmakaraka and ive already talked about how much pisces girlies love butterflies<3

here's the whole clan wearing angel wings one halloween

swati sun, ubp moon, kendall jenner dressed up like a fairy

rihanna, revati moon wearing angel wings

mrigashira venus atmakaraka megan fox

as to why these specific nakshatras are drawn to angel imagery, i have a few thoughts.

mrigashira is associated with shape shifting, as Brahma's daughter assumed the form of a deer. angels are divine beings who can assume different forms and travel to different worlds.

punarvasu and swati are both connected to the universe and creation itself. it shouldn't be surprising that these natives are drawn to angel imagery.

purvaphalguni and uttaraphalguni nakshatras are both symbolised by the marital bed, union and consummation of love/marital bliss. again coming back to conception and creation. it seems to me that wherever there is creation, there are angels protecting it.

pisces rashi (pbp, ubp and revati) is the point of dissolution. its the final rashi and here, all that's been learned through all the other rashis is contained, it reaches its absolute point. its the height of moksha. spiritual liberation is the aim and again, it makes sense as to why natives of this rashi of completion and surrendering would be drawn to heavenly and angelic imagery.

#sidereal astrology #vedic astro notes #vedic astrology #astro observations #astrology notes #astro notes #nakshatras #astrology #astrology observations #angels #angel imagery #angelcore #angel aesthetic #angelic

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littlejuicebox · 7 months ago

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Midwinter Carol 10 / The Trunk

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Female Elf Sorceress OC

Word Count: 3.3K

Story navigation: [1][2][3][4] [5] [6] [7] / Click here to read on AO3.

Summary/Setting:

Fifteen years after the Ascendant and his lover went their separate ways, they run into one another at Wyll Ravengard’s Midwinter Gala. One dance is all they share. A week later, a cataclysm of events, spurned by Eirianwen’s return, uproots the life Astarion had been building for himself.

One thing is made certain: the elven sorceress is the key to any ounce of salvation he may have left, if only she stops slipping through his fingers like sand from an hourglass.

But old habits die hard, and old feelings are pulled to the surface for both the elves. Astarion is forced to confront the wounds of his past and deal with the damage he's done while trying to run from himself. The Ascendant is forced to decide whether he will continue on his current path or forge a new one... perhaps one that leads him back to the love of his life.

Warnings: This will be 18+ / in game spoilers / Eventual Smut / Angst, trauma, fluff / Gore / Violence / PTSD / Astarion’s past trauma

-----

“Wait, Ani,” Astarion warns when the sorceress releases his hand, her fingers ghosting across his as she walks away. She instantly starts to wander when the servants swarm them at the dungeon doors. The entire situation had caused quite a ruckus, and Astarion is caught between quelling his employees' concerns and providing them various instructions. He’s simultaneously signing something to Melga and Thrak as he tells another servant to send the maids upstairs.

In moments like this, Astarion is reminded that he is constantly surrounded by people and yet always alone. It’s his fault, he knows; he prefers to place himself above others, an easy way to ensure he will be able to look down his nose at them. He holds everyone far beneath him, apart from the one woman he keeps on a pedestal, built up in his mind like a goddess he worships and a religion only he follows.

Eirianwen glances back at Astarion, where she is paused on the stairwell leading to the second floor, and he lifts his gaze to her, quickly pointing to the ring on his finger before turning to answer another question from his steward, Pascal. The cacophony of voices and questions around him, all needing guidance, is unnerving. Ani recognizes the man Astarion is talking to, but is shocked to see how much he’s aged in fifteen years. He’s almost completely gray. Time is quite different for humans; she often forgets the luxury she has as an elf.

It gives her more time to hold grudges and run from mistakes.

She spots the ring on Astarion’s hand and then peers at her own hand resting upon the shiny oak banister, frowning down at the marred flesh. Despite his previous motion, the sorceress is still somehow shocked to see the matching band on her own finger. Her brow furrows as she continues to walk up the steps.

What had she missed? How long had she been asleep?

Questions dart through her mind faster than she can climb the grand staircase toward the room she used to share with Astarion. She’s still walking up the steps in a dazed, daydreaming state. Ani’s almost to the second floor when a sudden bolt of pain shoots through her body, culminating in the overwhelming need to vomit. But no, she couldn’t possibly do such a thing, she hasn’t eaten in—

Eirianwen retches. Hot, acrid bile spills onto the perfectly polished marble of the second floor. She’s doubled over and gasping for air when another violent spasm attacks her body and more green fluid spews from her mouth. She suddenly feels feverish as a throbbing pain pulses in her hand, igniting the entire limb in fire. Two servants rush to clean up the mess as a familiar arm comes around her shoulder.

“I don’t think you should be standing quite yet, darling,” Astarion murmurs, and without another word he sweeps Eirianwen off her feet and into his arms. He walks to the bedroom with Ani pressed into his chest; she just barely hears the rapid cadence of his heart.

He carefully places her on the chaise lounge in the bedchambers; it’s a piece of furniture she’d picked out, incidentally. They’d made love many times, in many positions, on this same chaise. He’d carried her here, wrapped around him, more times than he can remember. Recollections flash through his mind in rapid fire and he swallows as he blinks them away.

He leaves her there to speak to the servants on the landing and then quickly returns. Eirianwen feels awful. The taste of bile still sits in her mouth. When Astarion returns he breezes to the carafe next to the bed, on top of one of the side tables, and silently fills a cup with water. Then he hands it to Ani.

She drinks in silence. Gods, she’s parched. Holding the glass is difficult, never mind the weakness she feels in her hand. Her body is shaking.

“Who… who was that down in the dungeons, Astarion?” Eirianwen finally asks, her voice sounding hoarse, as she lowers the empty glass from her lips.

“Delilah. She stole the God Killer,” he replies as he gently takes the glass from the woman and places it on the side table. His brows stitch together as he watches Eirianwen. He’s never actually interacted with someone after Delilah’s poison has done its damage.

Ani’s eyes clamp shut. Her head is pounding. She’s trying to follow along, but it’s hard to think past the pain in her body. Another wave of nausea flows through her and she retches; no sooner had she made the sound than Astarion appeared at her side with a waste bin. But nothing comes, there’s nothing left to regurgitate.

“The dagger Edmund used was laced with a very potent poison. You slept through the worst of it but the effects will probably be there for a day or two longer. The rings are… working. But Delilah’s draughts are stronger than anything you’ve seen before, I’m sure. You were out for a few days, darling. Your hand…”

He trails off as his jaw clenches. He shakes his head and gently gathers Ani’s hair into a braid, to keep it out of the way should she vomit. Deft fingers perform the action without much of a thought, as if it hadn’t been fifteen years since he last styled Ani’s hair for her. “Jaheira is looking into it. She mentioned conferring with Halsin.”

He senses Eirianwen’s heartbeat spike up a fraction at the mention of Halsin, and feels that sickening twist of jealousy rise in his gut— perhaps being stabbed by the God Killer had been a moderately better feeling than that sensation— but quickly stifles it. “Now… we can talk more. But let us get cleaned up and then eat something. It’s quite a bit to discuss. Would you like to bathe first, or should I, darling?”

Astarion bathes first as Ani waits in the bedchamber. A set of servants bring her a tray of fruit to snack on while she waits, and the sustenance improves her physical state, if only a bit. Her spotted serval cat, perched upon the chaise, meows away. She listens to Umber’s ramblings and scratches distractedly at the large feline’s fur, occasionally murmuring a response or two.

When he exits the bathroom, wrapped in a plush crimson robe and toweling his hair, Astarion meets the sorceress’s gaze and notices she appears to be staring through him, lost in her own thoughts. He cocks his head to the side just slightly, brow furrowing in concern, before he asks, “Are you doing alright, Ani?”

She blinks and then snaps back into the room, her blackened hand flexing against the feline flicking its tail next to her.

“Umber says you let her sleep with you in the guest room, and that you’ve been taking care of her while I’ve been asleep. She likes the steak and lamb she’s been eating here far better than the birds and mice she eats on the road… you’re spoiling her, Astarion,” Eirianwen says with a weak smile, glancing to the side before stroking the cat’s ear. Umber purrs and then focuses her jade eyes on Astarion.

He drops the used towel in a basket at the end of the bed as he moves toward the cat and strokes a single curled finger up under her chin. The creature moves to playfully nip at his digit, affectionately holding it between four sharp canines with no intent to cause harm. This must be how Eirianwen often felt, all those years ago, with a part of her body seemingly always caught between his fangs. Doting on a dangerous creature.

“I think she would’ve preferred to sleep next to you, but Jaheira suggested it would be better to not. She’s smaller and far cleaner than Scratch— it was less of an inconvenience.”

He won’t tell Ani he actually enjoyed the company. It sounds too pitiful.

Umber releases his hand and then hops from Eirianwen’s side with a flick of her tail. She ducks and hides under the bed before emitting a meow; Ani’s brow furrows almost imperceptibly before it smooths again. After a moment, she moves to stand. Her eyes lift to examine Astarion in the process.

“Your ear is still split,” she murmurs. Eirianwen had never seen a laceration last this long on Astarion; his vampiric regeneration had always kicked in by now. Though she knew the God Killer’s capabilities, it was still unsettling to see.

Astarion begins to lift his hand to his ear, but before he makes contact, Eirianwen has her fingers pressed to his flesh. A cooling sensation spreads from lobe to tip as a spell mends the slice along his pinna. And then, almost by force of habit, Ani idly traces her finger down the edge of his ear as she pulls away.

The fleeting sensation causes Astarion to stiffen as his body flares with an unexpected wave of powerful, raw, aching desire. His heart jumps. His cock does, too.

“Mm.. do that again, darling,” Astarion purrs from where his head is resting on Ani’s lap.

Eirianwen fills the tent with a soft, melodic tinkle of laughter as she gently tugs on Astarion’s ear once more, coaxing a little moan from his lips, “Oh, you like that, do you?”

“You know I do, darling,” he responds while he palms at the bulge forming between his legs as his lover continues to methodically massage his earlobes. Astarion groans and rocks his hips forward as a small, relaxed smile spreads across his face, “and that’s why you always pretend to do it by accident when we’re in the tent.”

He was putty in her palms, easily molded by her will alone.

Eirianwen seems distracted as she pulls away from him; she hadn’t even realized what she’d just done. Astarion thinks it’s simply a small, habitual sliver of comfort she’d so routinely offered once upon a time, but it causes his breath to catch and all the same. The hope he's kept locked in his heart threatens to break from its cage. His ear feels as if it’s on fire, but when Astarion reaches up to inspect it, he finds a perfectly healed pinna.

He clears his throat and then opens his wardrobe, aiming to pull out a set of clothes for himself as he says, “I’ll speak to the servants about preparing lunch while you bathe; I’ll be in the office when you’re done. You’re welcome to borrow something of mine for today, though I know it won’t fit correctly. I’ve sent for your things from Wyll’s— I apologize, I should have sent for everything sooner.”

“Oh… it’s not a problem, Astarion,” Eirianwen responds, still lost in a fog as she walks toward the bathroom. Umber meows from under the bed once more. “Thank you.”

After calling down to the kitchen about lunch, and to secure a meal of short ribs for Umber, Astarion returns to his office. The pungent smell of lye assaults his senses and he quickly moves to toss open a window. The room appeared normal, apart from the gauzy white curtains flecked with blood. No one would think a murder occurred just an hour ago.

Astarion vaguely thinks the curtains will have to be replaced tomorrow just before his eyes settle on the mountain of paperwork precariously stacked upon his desk, all requiring his attention.

Business never quit.

He grimaces and grabs half of the hefty stack, trying to move the scrolls into a desk drawer. Surely much of it can wait; had it been truly pressing, his steward would be breathing down his neck this instant. As Astarion relocates most of the documents, the small piece of parchment Pascal delivered – gods, had it been less than 24 hours ago? – sealed with red wax and an unfamiliar sigil, flutters to the floor, catching Astarion’s attention. He’d forgotten all about it.

Long, lithe fingers retrieve the letter and deftly undo the wax fastening. Scarlet eyes run across the page and instantly narrow at the simple, foreboding message.

“You will find me in Elturel when you are desperate enough.

– Lady Lysandra Morgan”

Astarion re-reads the message. His fingers tremble as they fold the paper and shove it into his pocket. Desperate. He wasn’t desperate for anything, not even for the return of the God Killer. He had no true use for the dagger, nor any plans to use it; he’d certainly slain enough gods for an eternity by now.

But then a sudden shock of acid through his veins, beginning at the ring and shooting up his arm, pulls his mind to Eirianwen. He hears her stifle a whimper of pain through the walls. A sickening feeling begins to grow in his chest.

He fears he may already know where this path leads. He may have unknowingly carved the way for the both of them.

Astarion is scribbling his showy, looped signature on yet another scroll when Eirianwen enters the office. He turns his head to greet her, but the moment he does, his breath is stolen away and his mouth suddenly feels as if he hasn’t drunk anything in centuries.

He’s certainly used to thirst, but perhaps not like this. He’s sitting mere feet away from an oasis, longing to delve into her depths.

She’s dressed in his old camp shirt. He must have a strange look on his face, because Ani halts, frozen in place.

“I— I hope it was okay to borrow this,” Eirianwen says, looking down as she tugs at the bottom hem of the clothing piece, where it grazes just above her mid thigh.

It’s clear she isn’t wearing a brassiere. The threadbare cotton grazes against the peaks of her breasts, and the darkened patches of skin around her nipples are barely visible through the white fabric. The winter air from the still-open window has chilled the room significantly; the tiny buds hidden beneath the blouse are stiffening in response. His eyes flit across her chest and then back up to her face before she notices.

Is Ani even wearing briefs or is she entirely barren under the—

Astarion coughs and rips himself from his musings as he forces himself to tear his gaze away. He finishes signing the scroll in front of him and grabs another as he murmurs, “Yes, that's perfectly fine, darling. Though, I wonder… where on earth did you find that?”

“In the very bottom drawer of your wardrobe…” Ani starts, her voice containing a strange tinge of something he cannot identify, as she settles herself on the tufted leather sofa across the office. She focuses on her blackened hand, bringing the other hand to rub against the marred flesh. “I looked in the other wardrobe drawers but nothing else seemed… comfortable.”

Astarion hums a distracted response, continuing to place his signature on documents to avoid staring at the woman mere feet from him. There is a silence that stretches a moment too long.

“I found all the jewelry,” Eirianwen blurts, and then her hands come to cover her mouth as if she’s shocked by her own admission.

Astarion does not need to ask for clarification. She is, of course, referring to the several anonymous commissions he’d made over the years from her parents in Silverymoon. A trunk full of never worn, customized pieces had been locked and tucked away under his bed, until now, when Eirianwen presumably ripped it from its hiding place. The contents alone must be worth close to half a million gold. He’d spent nearly the entire first year’s worth of blood money on unneeded jewelry, designed for someone that would not be around to wear it. Astarion often wondered if her parents thought about their daughter when they, unknowingly, made each piece for her, much like he thought of their daughter when he designed it.

His fingers twitch just enough to cause a wavering loop in the signature he’s scrawling. His jaw starts to clench as he stares at the parchment before him a second longer before rolling it back up and moving to yet another scroll. “What possessed you to look under my bed?”

“Umber,” Eirianwen explains hastily, “she… she said it smelt like my parents under your bed. And, of course, I really had no idea what on earth she meant but she was insistent and— and—“

Ani stops, her eyes shutting and fingers coming to press into the lids as she tries to form a question from scattered thoughts. Astarion chews his own cheek as he considers how to answer the question she isn’t able to ask, and then he lifts his eyes to look at Eirianwen as he taps the quill upon the desk once, twice, thrice. She opens her eyes to meet his gaze, and he offers a simple half-shrug… his face is unreadable.

“After I performed the Rite and you almost died in the dungeons, I promised I would always take care of you, Ani… did I not? I am not one to make a promise lightly; you, better than anyone, know that.”

A gust of air blows through the open office window and grazes against the bloodied curtains, causing them to drift from the windowpane as the two elves stare at each other. Eirianwen sucks her lower lip between her teeth but says nothing.

“I…” Astarion sighs and shoots his eyes up to the ceiling as his fingers twist the snowflake signet pinky ring, the only commissioned piece he actually wears, “I… hope the money was… helpful in your travels. I know you had expressed wanting to travel together after— but…”

He trails off, forcing his eyes from the ceiling and back to meet Eirianwen’s gaze. He cannot actually meet her eyes, so he focuses on his favorite vitiligo patch instead. He is horrible at this. This should not be as hard as it is.

Ani nods and then opens her mouth to respond, but she is interrupted by Pascal breezing into the doorframe with a thick ledger in one hand. He doesn’t peer up from the document as he says, “Lord Ancunin, lunch will be served in the solarium in ten minutes as you requested. Thrak and Melga are currently burning the spawn’s corpse—“

“Thank you, Pascal,” Astarion interrupts, his tone tight with irritation. The steward glaces up, confused about why he is the recipient of his boss’s ire. But his eyes widen in realization when he spots Eirianwen in the room. He snaps the ledger shut.

“Apologies,” he murmurs, and after an awkward pause, inhales a sharp breath before saying, “Lord Ancunin, when you have a moment, I’ll need to go over the ledger with you. I have some… concerns.”

Pascal makes to leave the door frame, and at the last moment pauses and turns to address the sorceress, “Good to see you awake, Lady Eirianwen.”

“Spawn corpse?” Eirianwen asks, whatever warmth had grown in her chest toward Astarion instantly freezing over as Pascal disappears from the doorframe, calling after one of the servants as he goes.

Astarion rakes his hand through his hair and nods with a grimace. He cannot ever outrun the mistakes of his past when the woman before him remembers every single one. He is thankful that she is not running away, at least. “Yes, but– darling, like I said, we have a lot to talk about. Lunch first. You haven’t eaten in days, and we cannot have this discussion until you eat. Please, Ani.”

He only ever says please when he's desperate; he's delaying the inevitable, he knows. But can he not pretend for a moment longer, before fifteen years of hurt cuts him to the bone? He’d already survived death from some version of Eirianwen today, he isn’t certain he can survive a condemnation for his mistakes from this version, too.

But, he supposes, he has no choice. When it comes to her, it unfortunately seems as if he never does have a true choice, at least not if he wants to keep her within his orbit. He has always been putty in her palms, easily molded by her will alone.

----

Tags: @anukulee @viowolf

#astarion fanfic #astarion x tav #baulders gate astarion #baulders gate 3 #astarion fic #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic idea #baulders gate tav #astarion x oc #astarion x f!tav #astarion x female oc #astarion x female tav #astarion x original female character #midwinter carol #ascended astarion arc #ascended astarion #ascendedstar #ascended astarion fic

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grits-galraisedinthesouth · 8 months ago

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Canellecitadelle @Canellelabelle

The British public is a hard public to win over. We judge harshly first and are cold and guarded first. But once, you have earned a spot in our heart, you have earned one in our home; and this is exactly what Catherine has done with 2 decades in the spotlight.

For a Commoner marrying the Heir of the most high profile Monarchy in the world, the task of adapting was a matter of survival. Yet, she looks, sounds and acts with more elegance, more dignity and more alacrity than Blood Royals themselves. And yet, this kind and honest young woman, who has never put a foot wrong in 20 years, was still viciously crucified this week by the world press; led by the British press and by haters online, all the while recovering from major surgery

If the worse crime Catherine has ever done, after spotlessly behaving for 2 decades is editing her OWN mother's day picture, with her OWN children and taken by her OWN husband, so she could post it on her OWN social media to surprise the world on Mother's day with her health improvement and say "thank you" to us for our support; a "thank you" the world violently spit back in her face out of rabid jealousy and bitterness; then I would like to hand her her sainthood in the house of Windsor: she is truly perfection in a very imperfect world judging her and in a very imperfect Royal family watching her

As bad as her vicious enemies try to break her, Catherine always comes back on top. Life challenges taught her to make the sweetest lemonade out of the most bitter lemons

Today, after all the targeted hate campaigns, she still comes on top as the Nation favorite and most loved Royal, in both the YouGov poll in the UK and Ipsos poll in the US

Her Influence has only become even more massive, worldwide. Catherine is cultural Icon of our time. The name "Kate Middleton" is now a very marketable brand that stands on its own and even, has the power of affecting Stocks

The Adobe stocks were trending at 552.45 on Monday morning. After rumours trended on X that she used adobe clouds to edit her picture, by monday evening, adobe stocks were trending at 561.42, adding $3 Billion in value to adobe stock in half a day

This morning, they were up to 579.14

Catherine's name alone is now a powerful Royal Warrant on its own

Her first official return picture on X broke the internet for almost a week straight and was viewed 82 million times in 48 hours on X alone. The biggest account on X, elon Musk with 175 mil followers got on a highest viewed tweet this year of 66mill views

Her Haters did not hurt her, they made her stronger. Bullied her whole life, first by female classmates at age 12 in school, then harrassed nationally by the british press and paparazzi in her 20s for being prince William's girlfriend, to now being viciously targeted internationally by the world press and haters in her 40s as prince William's wife, Catherine is very familiar with mental abuse and bullying. Yet, she has never embraced the victim mentality, she is a victor. She is confident enough to publicly take accountability for her own mistakes, and confident enough to calmy get on with it; In that, she is British to her core

The commoner they snobbed and despised has now taken over the House of Windsor, Her soft power unmatched; She has now inserted the generations of Coal miners and working class brits, who worked slave wages to build this country into the veins of the most privileged royal family in the world. Her son, Prince George is the first Heir in history with working class and coal miners ancestry in his veins. And in that Carole middleton, who was born in a condemned council flat in southhall and still became a self made millionaire; the one the world mocked and bullied for decades for being too low class for Royalty; The one who is currently in windsor caring for William, Catherine and their children with unwaverring love and loyalty; she at last won the last laugh

12:51 PM · Mar 13, 2024

#Canellecitadelle #Canellelabelle #kate effect #catherine princess of wales #princess catherine #prince and princess of wales #princess of wales #Catherine effect #billion dollar princess #billion dollar royal baby effect #adobe stocks #get well Catherine #prince william #mothering sunday

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webshootersandwingdings · 4 months ago

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Don’t you just hate it when your dead girlfriend is reanimated by an omnipotent cosmic being but she has no soul so her body is taken over by a hostile alien slime monster and now she wants to hunt down your ex-coworker that you were attracted to?

Captain Marvel (1968) #40

#carol danvers #mar vell #captain mar vell #captain marvel #marvel comics #marvel comic art #marvel comic panels #comics #comic books #cape comics #superhero comics #comic book art #comic panels #mar vell x carol

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steinfellds · 10 months ago

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༯ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Updated: Mar. 17, 2024

────────

༯ ᴀᴜ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

: ̗̀➛ Unbreakable Ties //Mob Bosses!WandaNat x Fem!Reader

────────

༯ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

: ̗̀➛ Wanda Maximoff

: ̗̀➛ Natasha Romanoff

: ̗̀➛ Carol Danvers

: ̗̀➛ Kate Bishop

: ̗̀➛ America Chavez

: ̗̀➛ Wednesday Addams

────────

༯ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

: ̗̀➛ WandaNat

#kayoposts

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callsignspark · 10 months ago

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Mar[r]y Me - part 8.5.2

pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Mariella “M&M” Vertucci (fem!OC)

summary: A love story told through friendship, laughter, and food.

series warnings: 18+ minors DNI, discussion of insecurities, difficult family relationships, discussions of food and alcohol use, discussions of body image, conversations on what it’s like to be a fat woman trying to date in today’s society, extreme fluff, like soooo much flirting, warnings to be added as needed

word count: 3.6k

previous part | series masterlist | main masterlist

note: happy Friday! I hope everyone had lovely holidays and 2024 is going well for you so far! I did have some issues tagging people so apologizes if you didn't notified! I really loved writing this chapter, especially since it's going to help set the stage for the rest of the story! (only 4 more parts to go! isn't that crazy??) please be safe if you have snow coming towards you this weekend, and enjoy these two pining and yearning for each other more than ever.

part 8.5.2 - rambling and rings

Friday, April 16, 2021

Mary waves at the obnoxiously large SUV as Slider honks and drives away. Leaning against the entryway table, she slips her heels off and wiggles her painted toes at the feeling of the soft runner beneath her feet. Shuffling over to the entertainment console, she hums as she connects her phone, choosing the song that was on in the car.

The dreamy guitar intro floats through the air, making her smile. And the last beams of golden sunshine disappear as she dances through the living room, enjoying the peaceful feeling that’s settled in her chest and closing the blinds in between twirls.

Good things are happening at work, rumbles that there’s a promotion coming on the horizon. The monthly call back home to her parents hadn’t ended in tears for the first time in months. Most of her evenings are spent in the company of at least one Dagger family member, helping Kris and Dani with their kids or enjoying the adult-only life with Aaron and Flora. Bradley is messaging her as often as he can, every email making her heart flutter, increasing her joy with every sentence he types.

Everything is coming together in ways she had never even dared to dream about.

An early dinner with Ron, Mav, and Penny was the cherry on top of a great week. The four of them laughing and telling stories the entire time, taking advantage of the warm spring weather at the patio table Pete had reserved for Slider’s birthday. As stories and photos were traded across the table, Mary felt like her heart could burst learning about baby Bradley. The only quiet moment of the evening was when their waiter brought an unordered round of drinks to the table, prompting the men to venture inside and thank the old Navy buddy that had spotted them through the window.

“Thank you, Matt; it was getting just a tiny bit too windy for us.”

“No problem, ma’am.” The young man smiles over his shoulder as he finishes turning the outdoor heater on. “Can I get you ladies anything else?”

“I think we’re good for now, thank you,” Penny answers, glancing at Mary, softening at the sight of the younger woman lost in thought as she stares out at the ocean with a content smile.

She watches as brown eyes drift from the water to the table, gentle fingers tracing over a copy of a photo that’s older than the girl studying it. Penny stays quiet, letting the sound of waves crashing on the sand accompany the slight furrow that creases Mary’s brow as she brings the photo closer to her face.

“He looks just like his dad, doesn’t he?”

“He does; he acts a lot like him, too, more than he realizes.”

“You knew him?” It’s not a surprised reaction, just curious.

Penny hums, “We weren’t close, but I knew him enough to see how much Bradley has turned out like him. He’s a good blend of both his parents.”

“Did you know Carole very well?”

“More than Nick, by default, but for the most part, we were at different stages in life. She was older than me by a few years. I was in college and she was a widow raising a toddler. But, as you know, the aviator community is pretty small, so we were friendly. I would even babysit Bradley sometimes when the guys were deployed.”

“He was a cute baby,” Mary says softly, eyes back on the last photo taken of the whole Bradshaw family.

“He was… turned out to be a handsome man, didn’t he?” Penny asks, taking advantage of the moment.

She smirks as the younger woman looks up at her through her lashes, a shy smile stretching her pink cheeks. “He did.”

“Can I ask you something while they’re still inside?”

“We’re not together. But we are going on a date the week after he gets back.” Now it’s Mary’s turn to smirk at how Penny’s eyebrows rocket up to her hairline. “That is what you were going to ask me, right?”

“It’s close enough. Are you excited?”

“I am. I really like him.”

It’s the first time she admitted it out loud to anyone other than her best friend. She revels in the encouraging energy and words Penny gives back, both of them still giggling like school girls when Pete and Ron return.

“What are you two laughing about?” Slider asks as he slips Mary’s wrap over her shoulders.

“Oh, nothing.” When Penny winks, she has the overwhelming urge to cry. The knowing look accompanying those two words is more affectionate and maternal than anything her mother has done in years.

Their hug goodbye lasts a few seconds longer than expected, and the gentle hands that smooth some stray hairs back make her throat tighten. Slider is quiet on the ride home; familiar with the many moods of Mary, he lets her work through her thoughts with the radio on low.

“Y’okay, kid?” He doesn’t speak until he pulls into her neighborhood, giving himself a five-block buffer to determine if a pit stop to the closest ice cream shop is required.

“Yeah. Just-” Mary pauses, trying to figure out how to best explain. “Just still getting used to it.”

“To what?”

“To how easy it is to just be me out here. Surrounded by people who have just folded me into their lives with zero hesitation, like I’ve always been here.”

“Mary, were you happy in Florida?”

“I was content. Getting to know you helped with that a lot, but let’s face it; if I was happy, I wouldn’t have been so excited to leave.”

“And you’re happy now?”

“I am. I can’t remember the last time I was this happy.”

It's a cheesy line, but true. She knew that when she said it, accepting the light teasing that followed with a smile. One that hadn’t left her face as she said goodbye to her mentor, one that grows as the song starts again. She can’t help how big her grin gets. This song always reminds her of Bradley.

“I'm in love, I'm alive. I belong to the stars and sky.”

Letting the song stay on repeat, Mary stops in the kitchen for some water on her way to the bedroom. It’s still early - not even eight yet - but a full night’s sleep is calling her name, eyelids feeling heavy.

She slips her clothes off, folding the jeans for tomorrow and tossing her shirt in the laundry. A small groan of relief accompanies the unclasping of her bra before she slings it into the hamper. Turning the bedroom speakers down slightly as she enters the bathroom, a grimace instantly creases her face when she catches sight of herself in the mirror.

“Jesus…” Her disbelief echoes in the room as gentle fingers rub over the harsh red lines where her clothes dug into her skin. It’s evident where the waistband of her jeans sat all day. And the tender spots under her arms lets her know it’s time to look for better-fitting bras, again. Mary tugs the leg of her panties up, relieved to see at least one piece of clothing hasn’t left its mark.

She’s massaging the sore spots on her chest, letting her warm hands diminish the pain, when her phone rings. Her eyebrows furrow deeper at the unknown number flashing across the screen.

Usually, at this time of night, she’d ignore an unknown number and let the other person leave a voicemail, but something in her gut tells her to pick up before it’s too late.

“Hello?” There’s a muffled response, and she scrambles to disconnect her phone from the speakers. “Hello? Can you hear me?”

“Hello, ma’am. Can I speak to Mariella Vertucci?”

“May I ask who’s calling?”

“This is Lieutenant Corso in the communications bay on the USS Roosevelt. Can you confirm your identity with your full name, birthday, and the eight-digit code given to you by Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw?”

Mary’s heart stops for a second. This is it. Bradley is calling. She’s going to get to talk to him after forty-eight days. Hear his voice. See his face.

“Ma’am?”

“Sorry. Mariella Theresa Vertucci, born March 14, 1987. The code is 0125-2020.”

“Thank you, ma’am. One minute, please.” The soft clacking of a keyboard filters through the phone, the Lieutenant's tongue clicking as he types. “You’ve been verified. Does the phone you’re using have video chat capabilities.”

“It does, Lieutenant.”

“Excellent. Stay on the line, and in a few minutes, a video chat will come through with Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw. You have been allotted 30 minutes today. I am required to remind you that communication is not secure. This means, for security purposes, you cannot ask what time of day it is, what location, or how any missions have gone. Please confirm that you understand.”

“I understand.”

“Thank you. I am also required to let you know that this video chat is conducted in a private area and will not be monitored. However, the audio will be recorded, so any lewd acts are discouraged but not forbidden.”

Mary can’t help the snort that escapes. “But not forbidden?”

“Uh- the uh-” She smothers a chuckle at how the kid trips over his words. “The Navy understands that loved ones are apart for long periods of time and can’t forbid any uh- urges that couples may wish to act upon during their chats. But we are legally required to inform everyone of the recording.”

“Ah, I see. Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“No problem, ma’am. Please stay on the line, and your loved one will be joining shortly.” She giggles at how quickly the hold music starts, humming along to Anchors Aweigh as she clips her hair up, ready to take her makeup off. She’s about to wet a washcloth when the music cuts, and the video call comes through.

Taking a second to look herself over, Mary admires the tendrils that have escaped, perfectly framing her cheeks that are still flushed from the wine she had with dinner. The slightest bit still tipsy and a little frazzled about Bradley, she realizes just in time that she’s still only in her underwear, hitting the accept button and dropping the phone on the counter.

“One second! Just- oh, come on! Fuck!” She curses under her breath as she struggles to slip into her bathrobe. “Hang on, Bradley!”

Finally getting both arms in, she ties the robe, eyebrows raising in surprise at how it cinches her waist, before eagerly grabbing her phone.

“Hi, Mary.”

“Hi, Bradley.”

She greedily drinks him in. It’s been 48 days since she’s seen his handsome face or heard his warm voice - the longest since they met - and she’s missed him. Her heart clenches at how tired he looks, the bags under his eyes more pronounced than ever.

“Hi, honey.” The sweet name hits something deep inside, and she can’t help the tears that immediately form or the way her bottom lip wobbles. “Oh, shit, Mary. Please don’t cry, honey.”

The emotional reaction surprises even her; she was expecting to be a bit overwhelmed, but nothing like this. It makes her feel a little ridiculous, crying about a man she’s barely even kissed. But you love him, her brain chimes in, sending more heat to her face.

“This is your uncle’s fault!” She laughs, swiping tears away and propping her phone against the mirror.

“Mav?”

She can’t help but giggle at his disbelieving tone as she reaches for a tissue. “No, Slider. He’s in town this week, and he may or may not - but definitely did - get me tipsy at dinner, like he always does!”

She trills on about dinner, telling him about the childhood stories that were shared and the baby photos that now live on her phone, not noticing the look on his face until he interrupts.

“You getting in the shower, Mary?”

The husky tone immediately grabs all of her attention, a shiver running down her spine at the smoldering look on Bradley’s face. She follows his eyes down, surprised to see how much her robe has come undone. The valley between her breasts is completely visible, and the fabric is threatening to expose her belly button - and more - if it’s not fixed.

“Oops…” She mumbles to herself, tightening the robe so much it pushes her cleavage together.

Normally, this is where her insecurities would ruin the moment - flooding her brain with terrible things. Make her spend the rest of the call analyzing how she looks in the tiny corner box, agonizing how prominent her double chin is from this angle. But the soft fuck that crackles through the phone squashes the anxieties before they can take root, shifting her attention to admire the man looking back at her.

And god, he is a man.

Bradley Bradshaw has always been gorgeous: tall, strong, and deliciously tan. But mid-deployment Bradley Bradshaw is a vicious attack to the senses. And the hormones.

His broad shoulders have gotten broader, filling the little privacy cubicle in the communications room so much that he’s brushing both sides of the walls. His curls are more golden than usual, clear evidence of time spent flying in the Pacific tropics. His tan is deeper, too, glowing even in the harsh florescent lighting, the bridge of his nose slightly sunburnt. His neatly trimmed mustache moves with his lush pink lips, warmth building in her core as her thoughts drift to the memory of how they felt pressed against hers.

“Mary?” She hums, eyes focusing back into the present and away from her favorite post-deployment reunion fantasy. “Whatcha thinking about?”

“You.”

It's clear he wasn’t expecting that answer from the way he drags a hand over his mouth to muffle a cruse, his eyes scrunching shut.

She wasn’t expecting it either; the effects of the wine have mostly worn off, leaving her with flushed cheeks and apparently a slightly looser tongue. She can’t bring herself to be embarrassed about the overly honest answer. Communicating exclusively via email for the last month and a half has allowed Mary to gain confidence in Bradley’s feelings. It’s hard to wonder about his intentions when every email ends with him telling her how many days are left until he’s home.

“Your lips…” She continues, emboldened as the last remnants of wine soften the sharp edges of her insecurities and the pink working its way up his neck. She loves how easily Bradley blushes for her. Their few kisses have always ended with his cheeks a lovely, rosy shade. “How soft your hair is. Your mustache. How strong you are. How much I miss you…”

The words make them both pause. It’s not an uncommon phrase, every email containing some variation of the sentiment, but hearing the words out loud makes it real. Cementing the longing in their chests.

“I miss you, too.” The words are quiet, echoing against the tiled walls. She chuckles, throat thick with emotion, and Bradley can’t look away from her soft smile. His heart pounding at the emotion on her face, something he can’t quite place. He can’t stop staring as she picks the phone up and flicks the light off, “Where are we going?”

“Couch.”

He smiles as the familiar walls of her living room appear, grin going slack when she props him up on the side table, and the slit of her robe reveals a thigh that he’s dreamt about as she shuffles pillows. Bradley manages to pull his mind out of his post-deployment fantasy as she plops on her couch - that damn pink couch - and smiles at him over the arm, her eyes almost closing she grins so hard.

“I’m sorry I missed our call.”

“It’s okay, Bradley. I knew it was a possibility, and Mav let me know what was going on. I understand.”

“I want to hear about your birthday.”

“I told you about my birthday! We’ve discussed it extensively.”

“I still want to hear about it. I want to hear your voice.” He revels as she softly whines and smooshes her face into a pillow, thrilled to cause that reaction. “C’mon, please, Mary?”

“You’re not fighting fair.” The muffled complaint comes back, making him laugh, but she does as asked.

Bradley listens, humming along as she recounts her birthday for him and insisting for the hundredth time that it was his pleasure to give her presents. He lets her lead the conversation as it shifts to what’s happening in San Diego, content to watch her as she shares stories of what he’s missing at home. Happy to just admire her and occasionally ask questions.

It’s so easy to get lost looking at her. Dark hair swishing around her shoulders, just slightly shorter than it was in February. Her brown eyes look darker than usual, the low light in the room making them almost black instead of the warm brown he’s used to staring into. And despite resecuring the robe, it’s coming loose again, enough that the top curve of her breasts are visible; freckles dotted all over, disappearing beneath the baby blue fabric. Bradley thinks about what it would be like to connect the dots on her soft skin, tracing invisible lines with his fingers or lips. He imagines there’s more hiding behind the waffle material. He wonders if she’d let him find out.

The fantasy of how wonderful it would be to memorize every mark on her body is interrupted as red nail polish grabs his attention. He loves her hands, smaller than his but so strong when she’s working on a jet. Steady as she calls out instructions to her team, grease smeared up to her elbows and her nail color of the week shining through the black sludge. Mary insists that she doesn’t talk with her hands, that she managed to avoid that stereotypical Italian-American trait, but Bradley smirks as her hands swirl through the air. He’s about to interrupt the story she’s giggling through - something about the latest swear word that Danielle accidentally taught Annie - when something sparkly on her finger distracts him.

A ring.

A diamond ring.

A simple silver band lined with tiny diamonds.

On her ring finger.

On her left ring finger.

His eyebrows furrow as he tries to study the never-before-seen piece of jewelry. Mary must notice his confusion because she cuts her story off and flashes her hand at the camera. “I bought this for myself when I got promoted for the first time. I went from EI to EII, which is entry-level engineer to associate engineer. It was $50 from this little shop that was on the same block as my first solo apartment in St. Louis.”

Relief sweeps through his body, thrilled that Mary hadn’t gotten engaged with him.

“That’s awesome. Have you done that every time you’ve moved up?”

“Kinda? I always buy myself some sort of gift - last time, I splurged and got that big blender we used at the Christmas party. But I’ve only done jewelry a few times. I think I’m going to get a necklace next time, something to match this.” She explains, wiggling her fingers so the gems shimmer in the camera.

“It’s very pretty.” Bradley compliments, feeling bold enough to go further. “You look good with a ring on that finger.”

“Jesus, Brad-”

She’s cut off by the two-minute alert popping up. They had been so distracted they weren’t paying attention to the countdown timer.

“Already?” Mary pouts, forehead crinkling as she frowns. “But I didn’t get to ask you about carrier food.

“It’s bad, honey. Yours is so much better.”

“Or how you’re sleeping.”

“Reuben’s snoring has somehow gotten even louder since last time we shared a bunkroom; Bob, Mickey, and I owe you for the extra earplugs you sent.”

“You’re sunburnt.”

“I’m wearing the sunscreen you gave me; the sun is just strong.”

“I knew I should have sent the SPF 75!” Bradley smiles as Mary throws her head back in faux despair. “Oh well, now I know for next time, I guess.”

“Next time?”

“Yeah. You didn’t think I’d only send you a care package one time, did you? I gotta make sure you have everything you need. I know I missed some stuff this time, but I’ll get better in the future! I promise.”

I love you.

He just barely holds the words in.

“God, I fucking miss you.” He stares at the screen, watching the prettiest brown eyes in the world fill with tears at his words. “Oh, honey, please don’t cry. I’ll be home so soon.”

“But twenty-four days is such a long time, and I miss you so much.”

“I know, but we’ve already done 48 days. Twenty-four will be a breeze to get through.” The timer starts blinking, the last 60 seconds counting down. “I gotta get going, Mary. But you keep sending me flirty emails so I have something to read and think about.”

He chuckles at the little surprised noise she makes. “You noticed that?”

“Did I notice that? Mariella, in the kindest way, you are not subtle.”

“Well- I-” She splutters. “Neither are you!”

“I’m not trying to be, baby doll,” Bradley revels in her reaction to the pet name - mouth dropping open as she blinks at him, cheeks pinker than he’s ever seen - one he didn’t even mean to use.

The flustered hand she waves at the camera while yelling at him makes him laugh. “Bradley!”

“I would say I’m sorry, but I’m not. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Be safe. Only 24 days.”

“Only 24 days.”

“I miss you, handsome.”

Bradley's face feels hot, choked up at the look in her eyes, the softness of her words. “I miss you, too, baby doll.”

They don’t say goodbye, choosing to admire each other as the final seconds tick away.

5…

I can’t wait to see you in person.

4…

God, you’re so gorgeous.

3…

I don’t want to hang up.

2…

I miss you.

1…

I love you.

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#top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick au #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fic #top gun au #top gun imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw x oc #rooster imagine #DSS universe #MM fic #mar[r]y me fic #elle writes

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